Colors In My Life...

GRANNY GEE'S EXERCISE BOX...

2012-03-09T06:02:00.002-05:00

GRANNY GEE'S EXERCISE BOX...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I've been thinking about something, and I've even talked about it to my friends I see every day. They all laugh and love my idea... but, 'if it were reality'.......... I'm sure 'everyone' would love it!

Do you know know how hard it is to make yourself exercise? Especially when you have to for your health. There are days it really is hard to make yourself move, I know the constant pain in my body tries to keep me from moving to know 'more' pain. I push over it, it's like that song 'It Hurts So Bad'........................ :)))

My idea ... I've had it for a long time... if it were to be brought into reality would be wonderful. Let me tell you all about it! Who knows ...maybe someone will read this and think... 'I will make this!' They could call it 'Granny Gee's Exercise Box'! :)))

I was thinking one could build a big, square box with three sides (the fourth side would be the big door with hinges to open and close it to hide it from view if one wanted to).

Anyway, on the inside and top of that big box... one could make it like they do with the puppet stages... only this would be an adult-size box with an adult-size stage. At the top would be where the controls are that could be controlled by a button... or by another human!

The idea is for one to go up on that special stage... even if you had to get up on it on a special lift! The ropes or soft cables would be hanging down with their little soft cuffs that would fasten around one's wrists, ankles, waist. As long as there isn't a rope to go around one's neck.... this should work just fine!

After being 'fastened in'... one could just simply press a button or yell 'hit it Jack!' The ropes would immediately go into action on soft, low, medium, high, and 'not too high'.

Picture this: you see this person up on the stage and he just stands there smiling.... the rest is up to the automatic control! The ropes begin to maneuver their body into exercise positions! This way, that way, down there, up here... and around!

The lights are on, the music of your choice is playing... oh my, how we could exercise our body on low, gentle, medium... and for those who like punishment... high. The ropes/cables would put us through our range of motion exercises and of course... it'd help if we put through 'just alittle effort'... at least!

What more could one ask for in the exercise world? I got up early to write this... Skip got up soon-after. I told him my idea and this is what he said 'you have gone insane, totally insane!'

:)))

I believe it would work, especially for ..... for 'us grandmas'.

They did send a man to the moon!

They invented an airplane!

They 'could' invent a 'Granny Gee's Exercise Box'!

What do you think?

:)))

I mean.... really, what do you 'really' think? I've been rethinking my 'puppet on a string' exercise idea! Hit it Jack!

IF I DIE, I WANT TO COME BACK AS YOURS AND SKIP'S ...DOG! "GLOBE OF LOVE"...

2012-03-08T05:52:00.001-05:00

IF I DIE, I WANT TO COME BACK AS YOURS AND SKIP'S... DOG!

'GLOBE OF LOVE'

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES... AKA/GRANNY GEE.. MARCH 06, 2012...

I would like to share something very different with my readers that I've thought about ... ALOT. I know it will sound very strange, but... it really happened. I will say this beforehand..... even if it's not like that, I think about it... I think you would to.

Hopefully, you'll get a smile from it, Skip and I do.... 'now'. Who knows...it could be so! Either way.... it's good. Remember I told you that no matter how bad something is...... you have to find humor in 'good taste'... to make it better. This is an example of that... and I think you all can see 'that I'm going to be alright'... now. It's one of the 'fun ways' to remember Tommy.

One day Tommy was visiting, we were laughing, talking when Tommy stopped petting Fairchild, our 11 year old Rottie. Tommy loved Fairchild very much. Tommy looked up at me and said the darnest thing ...'if I die, I want to come back as yours and Skip's dog'!

It's common knowledge that we are are true 'dog-lovers'. We love, care and protect our Pups. They sleep on the bed with us (yes, they do), they are fed good,have fresh water... all in clean dishes (I wash them), have their chewbones, treats. We have a chain-link fence to keep them protected. We are always talking to them, and petting them, loving them.

I don't know 'why' that stood out to me when he said that last year at the time he said it. It always stayed in my mind.

Now, I think about what he said, and smile. I smile because we 'never know'. Of course, reincarnation could be true, or it could 'not' be true. But... I will tell you something strange... think about it. I smile when I do, so does Skip when we bring the subject up. We even 'test' it out.....

Tommy was born on November 20, 1969

Tommy died May 29, 2010

Kissy, our young Rottie, was born on November 02, 2010....... just 5 months after Tommy went to heaven.

Now... we know that most likely Kissy isn't 'Tommy'. :))) Sometimes we do 'test' him to 'see'! We'll say 'Tommy!' or talk about Tommy... Kissy never pays us any mind. He doesn't have any reactions to make us think something is strange. (I've watched alot of tv... :))).

I am smiling now... I wanted to share this. This is one of those things to bring a smile to make sadness stay at bay. Tommy would have loved this, and I can hear his laughter echoing in my mind.

Tommy and Skip, and I... always laughed and joked. This was one of our special times together with Tommy when he said that. It was a very nice compliment when he said that. 'Each of us was always saying................the darnest things!' We had such fun........

I don't think Tommy was reincarnated... as Kissy. It's just uncanny how his birthday is 11-02-2010..... Tommy's birthday is 11-20-1969.... Tommy went to heaven 5 months before Kissy was born. It's just special... because of what Tommy said. :)))

Now... don't go telling people that I'm thinking our Kissy is 'Tommy'. It's just a happy, fun thing to remember about Tommy. He could say the most precious things... this is one that made an impression on me. He knew how we cared about our pups, animals.

We used to tell Tommy about feeding some opossums, raccoons, and the squirrels, and deer where we used to live up on 'Fairchild's Mountain' named after our infamous Fairchild, the 11 year old Rottweiler. Tommy truly loved that little 'mountain', he really wished to live there where he felt peaceful.

We have wished to buy that little acre of land...of course, we can't afford it now....... that's the last place I saw my son... I go there each day to feed the feral cats we've fed for years... there are 9 of them. I walk around looking......

I look down at the deck where Tommy stood telling me that he was leaving in the morning to go to Myrtle Beach with his family... at first he was going to stay behind... something made him change his mind. Whatever it was, he was feeling so happy, excited.

Tommy said....... 'mama, I going to the beach and I'm looking forward to spending the first time with Taban at the beach playing... it's our first time'.

I saw such sunshine in his smile as he spoke. Isn't it something how this 'stood out' to me?

He died...collapsed on that beach while running, playing with little Taban the next day... he died doing exactly what he was looking forward to doing... I know this to be true.

He died....'beautifully' as we'd all hope to do some day... doing 'exactly' what we want to do, with who we want to do it with, and where we want to be.... no suffering, possibly no pain as .... he quickly 'shed his human form' to... walk straight into heaven... smiling.

I saw that little smile on his face when I stood there looking at him, my tears falling... I wasn't smiling, but... I saw his. I felt he wanted to tell me to please 'be alright, mama'. He would have known that I would almost die myself to hear that he'd died... he, my precious son whom meant the world to me. He knew how much he meant to me, and he would have been afraid for me.

I can see in my mind's eye... up on the roof Tommy was standing there pressure-washing our house, at the top of the driveway he was sitting there on the ground, in the driveway where he washed mine and Skip's vehicles, at the picnic table where he sat to eat the 2 sandwiches he swore ...'mama, these are the best sandwiches I've ever eaten!' Oh, that sunshine smile he had! Reaching into his eyes reflecting love from his heart to his mama. I felt it so deeply at that moment... I was happy that I'd made 2 'ordinary' sandwiches 'taste so good' to him.

I stand at the sidewalk to the house and see in my mind.... my tall, golden-handsome son leaning down to give me the 'last kiss' in both of our lives, I hug him back with so much motherly love. Yes, his mother loved him with her very heart. Thank-God I always told him no matter if it embarassed him, or I said it 'too much'... my son 'knew' his mother loved ...him. I 'knew' my son loved ... me.

I walk to where the gate was when we lived there... I look toward the driveway 'seeing' Tommy driving between the two trees on either side ... looking toward me ... smiling. He toots the horn on his white pickup that he was so proud of... he's smiling, I'm smiling. This was the last time we got to smile at each other...........................

Tears, more tears........ where do they come from? I'm fine ... it's just love of a 'different texture'..... liquid. I wonder if it can be captured in a little bottle to keep always? If it could, I would wish to capture all my tears for my grandchildren so, one day they could actually 'see' my love in some kind of form they could hold in their hands... there would be so many that would be 'bigger than their hands'... they would have to stand and see maybe a.... huge, transparent 'globe'... one huge 'ball' of my tears in a solid shape, sparkling in the light like a diamond.

They would see how much their Granny Gee loved/loves them. That 'globe of love' would reflect Granny Gee's love. Hopefully my words 'here' will ... be that 'globe of love' that they can read, know and hold in their hands.

They may never know me while I'm alive.... but, they can through my 'writing voice'... feel the specialness of my words for each of them. I love you, Taban. I love you McKenzie. Love, Granny Gee

　

A MOTHER'S TEARDROPS ... IN HER SON'S HAIR

2012-03-07T05:36:00.000-05:00

A MOTHER'S TEARDROPS ...IN HER SON'S HAIR

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES aka... GRANNY GEE MARCH 07, 2012

I'm going to be alright now, because I have worked so hard to 'pull myself back from the edge of a cliff'... when Tommy, my only child... died. I can go on now. That doesn't mean that I don't still cry and grieve for him, miss him. It means I'm safe now... from dying myself to keep from accepting his death, not coping with it, to keep from feeling the panicky feelings in my stomach, knowing I'll never see him again.

I will tell you honestly at this moment... I almost 'let go' ... in plain words ...I almost died because I couldn't bear the knowledge that my only child, the baby I brought into this world, the child who loved me with his heart, I loved with my heart.... died. If you want to know the real truth that is rarely talked about, read further... it is about what one really feels and what they really do, when someone they love ... dies. This is how Tommy's mother felt....

Skip worried so much for me... I could hear him, more than see him. The medicine I was given made me sleep so ... deeply, quietly, almost like..... death. Skip would watch me to see if I was breathing... no, he didn't want me to keep taking medicine, he was afraid I wouldn't wake up.

Truthfully... I wasn't aware of it... though I could hear him when he spoke to me. It was the darkness... again. I had entered 'that world' .... again. I did know that .... I could 'take a little more of that medicine if I couldn't cope with knowing my son was dead'... and I could sleep forever.

I tried to 'hold on' for Skip and the Pups. Skip... my lifesaver who kept pulling me back from the ocean of darkness... death. I just drifted away to 'knowing nothing'......... Skip's voice would lead me back. I focused on nothing, then... I would focus on Skip's voice... and work so hard in that darkness to come back.... over and over... and over.

I'm saying it now... my son ..died. I can still 'feel inside' .... shaky feelings, but... I also, feel the 'strength' that's there too. It holds me up, it helps me to be able to walk now... holding up that 'heavy load'... one that is the heaviest in this world... strange how no one can 'see' it.................. I carry it in front of everyone... everyday, every second of my life..... right in front of everyone.

If Skip could see it, he would help me carry it until the day.... that I can gently put it down, and the pain is completely in a place that it doesn't hurt me like it still can now. I'm not sure if that day will come, I'll tell you 'why'.

I have been waiting since 2001 to look into the chest that holds my mother's ashes, her photos, some of her things, to look into it without feeling that sudden suffocating sensation, my stomach instantly hurting, and tears fill my eyes, pain wrenches my heart. I can't even begin to take her things out. I feel as if I'm 'going into darkness'......... it's pure grief, pure pain, all from loving her so much.

I have been waiting to look into my brother, Rick-Rick's chest that holds his ashes, his photos, his cap, and his cellphone, and other things. The same thing happens to me.... I can't look into either of these chests and it has been several years now... not so long before Tommy died. I loved my brother Rick-Rick with my heart, too.

I can look at my cousin Jimmy's ashes with the angel that sits beside them. They sit beside my mother's, and brother's ashes as he requested ... in my happy art room. I used to tell him about their ashes sitting in my art room where there is color, sunshine and happiness... he made me promise to one day put his ashes beside them... I did. He hoped it possible to 'match wits with Earlene again'.

Tommy's chest is nearby... it's bigger than the others. It holds more things of Tommy's, one day it will be Taban's. I can't remember everything that is in that chest since he died... but, I know this... the time hasn't come for me to sit and take those things out. There are several photos of Tommy laying in that 'casket'....... the one they use to cremate a loved one.

One day I opened his chest thinking I would be able to take the little plastic box holding those photos out ..to look at them. I waited until I took out several of his things to hold, to put to my face to see if I could 'recognize my son'.. hoping to smell something that said to me 'Tommy'. My stomach began shaking, I felt that tightness in my chest, I felt like I was going to suffocate.

At this moment... my stomach feels funny, my heart is tightening up.......... it will be sometime before, or if that time ever comes for me to 'gently put down that load'. But... I'm still... alright.

I made myself open the plastic box, to take out the photos. I looked at the photos, holding them away to keep the tears that rained from my eyes from wetting them. Tears, diamond teardops... I would be rich in diamonds if every teardrop was frozen into a diamond... diamonds that sparkle in the wetness of my unstoppable tears. Skip doesn't want me to look at the photos... he's afraid for me. I'm afraid for myself.

My eyes are always drawn to his face ... he looks 'peaceful'... so quiet. There is a slight smile on his face. He eyes are closed, he looks like he is asleep, his neck is swollen (could it be from the heart attack?).

My memory of being 'there at that funeral home'... standing at that casket alone with Skip nearby.... is like seeing myself in a dream, feeling myself in such agony, grief, holding in screams of pain. Screaming 'TOMMY, PLEASE COME BACK!, PLEASE COME BACK, TOMMY!' I sit here while writing to you all.. now, feeling it all over again... I am crying, tears falling down my face. I am still alright.. this is bound to happen throughout the rest of my life. It does hurt, though.... but, I can live now.

I have sat here crying, my heart aching so. I didn't know that 'all of that' was still so close to the surface... I've been trying to 'push' it all back far enough so, I can talk about Tommy freely ... and not cry. It's love you know... love that falls into tears as they pour from my eyes. I know every mother who has or will... lose their child... will recognize what I'm saying.

My memory of taking my hand to touch my child's hair as he lay there, I began to rub his hair, pat his head just like I did when he was a little boy ..... I was crying, screaming 'inside'...'Tommy!' My fingers felt something toward the back of his head...

My hand froze in place as my mind tried to somehow make sense of what I was feeling. It was hard, bumpy... at first I couldn't identify what it was. It came to me that the 'hard, bumpy places' were ... stitches. Stitches from the autopsy.

I looked up to see alarm on Skip's face ... 'Skip, there are stitches in Tommy's head, there are stitches in his head!' I did begin crying aloud, Skip's arms holding me. In my mind ..at this moment ...as my fingers caress the keys on my keyboard.... I can 'feel' those ...stitches.

I was crying inside, my tears falling onto his hair. Yes, when my son was cremated... his mother's tears were in his beautiful hair... falling as my fingers worried with the hard, bumpy scar on his head. Touching, not touching, but touching............ ever so gently. Each 'bump' burning its memory into my fingers... I'll always 'know' what it feels like... I won't ever forget that.

I was 'in a far away place' that night ....so many people were there at the funeral home. I 'wandered' ... I don't remember staying still long.... I have said over and over... I was like a leaf blowing in the wind, when it stopped blowing, I stopped.. also. When it blew again, so.. did I move. I didn't stay by Skip's side... I 'wandered'... like a lost soul. At least... I 'think I did'. I think I thought I was doing things, but... when I ask Skip... he doesn't remember me doing anything, except to ....... cry. It was the medicine trying to carry me to a place of peace to help me, to lessen the pain...

I remember 'wandering' as our home and everything in it ... burned up... moving, wandering, watching as 'our life went up in flames'. It's the shock, the disbelief.......... the 'wanting to reach out and bring our loved one, our precious possessions back'............ I was like that in the funeral home... I was led here... there when needed, I think. How many times in my life have I been in shock? I can't count them anymore... I recognize 'shock' now... it's become very familiar to me... too familiar.

I could hear people, see people yet.. not really see 'them'. The medicine I was given kept me in a 'calm place'.... it was potent. For once in my life, I had begged to be drugged... I was drugged... Thank-God! That night ... I don't know if I was crying... I don't know alot of... anything. I think I was smiling as I cried... smiling as if to apologize for anyone seeing my tears, and upsetting 'them'. Maybe I was 'thinking'... I did that.

Maybe smiling because the medicine was responsible. Smiling the wettest of smiles.... shining smiles from my teardrops... diamond smiles... maybe to keep people from feeling pity for me. Who knows... I react differently to things from the way I grew up. I was just sitting here... thinking ... maybe I didn't... smile. I don't know. I did know 'inside' the medicine made me numb that night.... but, when we went to the funeral home that day... I wasn't numb.

I do know that the whole time I seemed 'so far away'.... I never lost sight on that box 'over there' ... in it Tommy was lying peacefully with his eyes closed... the light above where he lay... it seemed 'dark around me', but, I could see 'over there'.......... that spot of golden light shining down on Tommy. His hands were clasped together... just like when he went into the Army...

I remember seeing him stand there... with his hands clasped together.... my beautiful , tall, golden-blonde haired, handsome son with the sunshine smile. Such a wonderful smile that reached his eyes to make them sparkle with... love, mischieviousness, fun. He was always ready to tell a joke, play a prank, or to help someone. Everyone loved him, women loved him, I loved my son. I loved to hear the sound of my son's soft voice.

I remember hearing that Taban ran to the 'box' as he called it... he tried to climb up in that box to be with his daddy. He was used to laying beside his daddy when sleeping, and taking naps. He was close to his daddy. He was just a little 3 year old boy who didn't know... that he'd never see his daddy again, never nap in his daddy's arms again... at that time, he just wanted to be beside his daddy.... he didn't know his daddy wasn't 'just asleep'.

I remember Taban telling me that he was 'dead'... and he fell to the floor just like his daddy fell to the sand at Myrtle Beach. His mother told me that at preschool, Taban had begun doing that, to tell the children that his daddy died... he'd fall to the ground and say 'I'm dead'. Taban would talk about his daddy and always point up to the sky and say 'my daddy's up there'. Can you imagine how I felt for my little grandson, how my heart broke because I was 'old enough to know'... that his daddy wasn't coming back.

Taban still didn't know that... because I saw several times he thought someone meant his daddy was here, and the excitement in his little face and how he jumped up quickly to look in the direction he thought Tommy would come. I can't tell you how that hurt me, how I wished for his sake, his daddy could... walk through the door. Isn't it just awful... for a little boy trying to find his daddy... somewhere?

Isn't it sad when that little boy begins to have new people in his life, his home... who resent him, and make his little precious life bad? I can't bear to think of him being hurt... I remember his mother telling me she got angry at the guy she was with (the one who didn't work, drank, a deadbeat).... for talking ugly to Taban. He called him names. Taban didn't deserve that... also, the man continued 'to be there' for so long, he should have been kicked to the curb. Yes, I mean that... if I say it ...I hold my ground... I just said that. We met him... she brought him to our home just weeks after my son died.

It broke my heart to hear the things Taban said... he loved his daddy. Sometimes... he'd call Tommy 'Big Daddy'... I know Tommy's height made him look so tall when Taban looked up to him. Also, Tommy drove a big white tractor-trailer. He always talked to his daddy at nighttime... when he'd say his prayers. His mother used to do that with him every night.

Taban's mother has Tommy's ashes, one day she will take them to Stone Mountain to scatter them... he wanted that. When she began going with that guy, I asked her for Tommy's ashes... she didn't want to let me have them... I understood, and was gracious. Inside, I wished so much to have my son's ashes.. I don't think I'll be asked to be there when she scatters my child's ashes... When she moved on, she shut us out. I email her once a week asking to see my grandson.

She just sent an email back to me along with a copy of the email I'd written to her letting her know how I felt about her.... she said that was 'in case I'd forgotten' what I wrote to her. I admit the email was not my nicest ... because I took offense at something she'd wrote to me.

Normally... I stay quiet, smile and... go on. I 'told her off' in my email, the first time since Tommy died. She messed up bad, affecting my grandson's life, and I was upset. The guy she'd began to be with soon after Tommy's death was a deadbeat, he drank, he talked ugly to Taban. He just used her while she was 'rich'. While I was 'at it' writing to her, I added other things that were in my mind. No, it wasn't a nice email...

She had emailed me an apology for 'messing up' with that guy, and she knew it hurt Taban... that she'd try to think with her head, instead of her butt.... from now on.

She had quit nursing school, now ... she is supposed to be back in school to be an RN... I admit I was harsh when I told her that she'd probably never finish school... truthfully, I hoped to make her angry enough at me... to make her say ....'I'll show that b_____!' I just want her to do good, her every action affects my grandson.

My granddaughter's mother has done well, she remarried to a great guy, and he loves my granddaughter.... they have a loving home, they go to church, and they are your good community people who will be there when someone needs them. I don't worry about my granddaughter... she is surrounded with people who truly love her.

I emailed her back telling her that no matter how we felt about the other... it wasn't about us. She hasn't communicated since. I will continue asking in the nicest way to see Taban. He needs to know his father's mother. I need to know him.

I will say this much in credit of Taban's mother... she really is truly a good person... I loved her with my heart. She is a family-oriented person, and tries to do the right things. I understand the feelings between she and I are really 'not good... she would have to think about letting me see Taban.

What she has done has been done by a 'million' young women when they suddenly find themselves alone. She had alot of grief inside, she was lonely. I hate her and I don't hate her... I only want good things to be in her life. I'm sure alot of mothers of sons who have died... have felt like I do.

As for my granddaughter, strangely enough.... her mother communicated with me through email until May of last year. I feel my grandson's mother is involved in 'why' she cut off communication. They were calling each other and talking ... once again at that time. I never heard from her again. I want to see my granddaughter, she will be 12 in September.

I feel that to justify insurance money spent that 'might have been' my granddaughter's.. she may have told her mother that I didn't want her to have it until she was eighteen years old. I did say that one time but, later I told my grandson's mother to give it to her, that her mother would spend it on her, and family things. McKenzie's mother would do right with that money. It wasn't my decision to make.... it was my grandson's mother's decision.... Tommy's insurance money and 401K went to her.

She kept the money.... hers, Taban's, and McKenzie's. I don't think that money is 'there for my granddaughter'... anymore'. If it is, then ... I'm wrong and I would feel bad for what I think..... I hope that's the case. She knows I feel this way... she says it's put up for McKenzie. Why not give it to McKenzie 'now' when she needs it? She has a new car she paid cash for, and really I don't know what else she has 'to show for all the money spent' through this time.... let McKenzie have her money, to help them have a better life... Tommy meant for that to be.

　

Just a month before Tommy died, he'd always kept me as beneficiary on his life insurance through the years he drove a truck..... I kept telling him that he was 'married now', he needed to put his wife's name as beneficiary. He would always say 'but, I want to keep you, mom'. It came time soon after to update all... he put it in her name. He died just a short time after this. It was a mistake.... but, I wanted to do the 'right' thing.................................

He told her just like he'd always told me.... 'if something happens to me, split it all in 4 ways... to you, my wife, my daughter, my son. She gave me the money he wanted me to have.. though, with hesitation on his 401K, but... later did. Tommy had told me just a week or so, before he died that he wanted me to have a new computer, mine had quit working.

He was waiting for his 401K plan at that time... I remember him standing there in the sunshine saying 'Mama, I want to give you $2,000 so, you can get a nice computer, and I haven't decided what to get Skip'. His wife was standing beside him... both smiling. She couldn't wait for him to tell me, and reminded him to. How he touched my heart... we both smiled at each other, his smile matching the sunshine over his shoulder. There was no need for words.... we'd done this before. All through time Tommy, Skip and I would do something 'big' for each of us... when there was extra money... it was how we were... we wanted each other to have something we wanted, and might not have the extra money for. We three were always 'there' for the other. I had my family, my own family.

　

I felt anger when Tommy's wife told Skip and I about the guy she began to see just a short time after Tommy died... (she saw his cousin first)... she began shutting us out. She did tell me that 'for the first time in that guy's life, he had 'brand-named' things because she bought them for him'... she did this at Christmas... Tommy had just died the 29th of May. She bought all these things on the life insurance money meant for Tommy's loved ones. She took her friends out to expensive restaurants, riding around, having a good time... she would call us sometimes from expensive restaurants to let us know... where she was at.

Just a thought... can you imagine how I, as Tommy's mother, felt when his wife tells me she's just bought name-brand things for a drunk so, he could have them for the first time in his life? Bought all those things for him ..... with money from my son's insurance and, he'd just died? Do you know... many things such as this happened while I was in mourning, the world of darkness.... I just remember looking at her through my grieving eyes, and I would quietly smile, and nod my head. I never commented... she felt she could keep 'telling me things'... not remembering I was Tommy's mother, that I was hearing her say the 'damnest' things that I am sure another mother would have physically jumped on her for. I sat there in my grief... quietly... listening and... smiling.

She will never know she made my grief ten times heavier ... she would 'forget' I was Tommy's mother... and tell me things I really shouldn't have heard.

If I don't see my grandchildren ever again... one day they will see my stories and know they are loved by their Granny Gee. I know I'm not the only grandparent who goes through these things. I want to stay nice as possible, sometimes it isn't easy and once in a while 'I'm not nice'.................. I'm not going to make a scene to see my grandchildren.

I do know that it will bite both mothers in the ass one day... it's wrong to do that to grandparents. I used to cry so much over this... I'm alright now. I don't cry over this anymore.... my grandchildren 'have me and have Tommy' in them.... they will come to see me ...one day.

Both mothers of my grandchildren helped to make me finish losing nearly everyone left that I loved with my heart in my life. Now... I have Skip and our Pups. Truthfully... I don't hate them, I only wish the best because really both are good people... see, I knew them both at one time... I 'know' they are really loving people... I never forgot their kindness through time.

Remembering back to 'that night'... I walked back to the 'casket' where Tommy lay... I put my hand back on Tommy's hair, I leaned down and kissed him on his forehead, I softly whispered 'I love you, Son... your Ole Mom loves you'. Skip led me away... that was the last time I saw my son, my child, my only baby... Tommy.. in my life. He lay there with my teardrops in his hair, sparkling like diamonds... if they had had a scent, I would chose 'roses'.

A mother's teardrops in her son's hair... to The End.

Note By This Author:

No one knows who my son's wife was... I never had 'family' enough to know or care. Even my mother never knew her. Both of Tommy's wives were from other states. In fact, very few people ever knew who my son was... no one ever cared... they were focused on their own lives when living. Tommy never grew up around any of my 'family'. There is no one to leave my information to, so... I write my stories so, that my grandchildren will read one day to 'see' me as a person, and know what's happened through the years I don't know them.

I don't tell my life stories to hurt anyone... never. I know that most people are like me... they are basically good people, sometimes life throws twists/turns to make us make wrong or bad decisions sometimes. The sad thing is that if we don't forgive and accept that we all are human... that person always remains 'bad' in our minds... when alot of times they aren't.... it was the 'wrong combination of people, circumstances' that was the catalyst triggering 'bad' things.

This includes me, both making mistakes and forgiving... I'm no exception, I'm the most imperfect person there is. I can say this in all honesty.... I'm a good 'imperfect' person with a good heart. So are they... no matter the mistakes. I've made mine, too. It didn't mean I was 'bad'... wrong people, circumstances, wrong combinations were the catalyst. That's why I can forgive, understand... I've been on many roads in my life to learn this.

Never think that I am talking to be talking 'bad' about anyone... ever. I'm writing my life stories/colors here... it's my life. My goal is to tell 'my' story... and let others tell their stories... we all see life differently. This is how I see mine.............

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/ aka Granny Gee (March 7, 2012)

　

　

　

I WITNESSED THE MURDER OF .... OUR MAILBOX!

2012-03-06T04:14:00.000-05:00

I WITNESSED THE MURDER OF... OUR MAILBOX!

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates (aka Granny Gee) March 06, 2012

One evening just before dark .. I was standing at the glass door looking downhill to the mailbox at the end of the driveway. We lived up on a small mountain ... it was like a park. Everyone who came to visit loved being up there... the peacefulness, birds singing their songs.

Tommy loved coming up there, he would relax and one could see he could feel the peacefulness there. I wished with my heart he'd come home to stay for a while to enjoy what he loved there. We asked him to come, he wouldn't... we understood.

Each day I go there... I go every day.... since the second week in February 2011... I haven't missed one day, nor has Skip. We go there to feed the seven feral cats that live in the woods there. They love and know us, though they keep their distance. Once in a while one will come to us. We aren't 'cat people'.... but, we love them dearly. We feel protective of them.

I wish we could bring them here to our new home, but... of course we couldn't take them out of their enviroment where they know the dangers, and how to protect themselves. I would never attempt to try to move them. We will feed them until the day someone else will want to... people who will buy that property.

I walked through the house to the back deck and decided to rearrange a few things. I could look down onto the highway through the trees. It was so pretty up there, so quiet, so......................................................

The huge white pickup slid to a stop... I looked down the hill to it. I could see it had black tinted glass... too dark to see who was inside. I felt afraid for some reason... I stood frozen there as the truck ...sat there for several moments.......

All of a sudden that huge white pickup began spinning around in one spot, making the God-awfulest sound! It spun completely around as I watched in shock, feeling that terrible sound go through my body..... thinking 'are they coming up here!' They began driving forward fast, sliding to a stop at the end of our driveway. I had run back to the front glass door to see what was happening... knowing in my mind that I knew where Tommy's gun was... I was truly afraid. Thankfully, Tommy had left it there .... he had a permit for it. He used to be a bounty hunter at one time.

I stood there watching that big white truck... it just ..sat there. I don't think anyone ever saw me ... or they may have driven up our driveway... I don't even want to think what would have happened. I know I wouldn't have 'just stood there' for them to hurt me... but, for the moment I never thought any farther than to see what was going to happen... they weren't sitting there for nothing.

It seemed so quiet, I held my breath... I felt fear. What are they doing? I don't know 'why' I thought 'they'.......... but, I was proved right when the .............passenger door opened!

A very tall, handsome white guy got out, he looked around... I 'knew' he was going to walk up here... I just knew that he was. They must be mad because I looked at them from our back deck!

That guy began to walk quickly .... toward our mailbox. Our mailbox was one I had painted a farm scene on... it was very pretty. Lately our mailboxes and some of the distant neighbors' mailboxes had been destroyed...... oh my God! My eyes couldn't believe what I saw!

That clean-cut, handsome guy had something against his side... I saw him raise his arms, at first I thought it was a shotgun.... no! It was a bat!

When he reached our mailbox... he began violently beating it ...beating it like he was beating a person... he was killing our mailbox! I did go into shock, then.

Each time he struck that mailbox... I felt it. I watched in horror seeing something no one would ever sees... I felt so numb, so afraid. I stood there as if in a dream seeing him beating the mailbox with such fury... is he coming up here?

My mind couldn't comprehend seeing such a nice, clean-cut, handsome guy doing something so awful... seeing such violence from him.

He stopped after beating the mailbox 'forever'... he put the bat to his side... and began rapidly walking back to the huge white pickup truck. He opened the door... and got in.

The truck began spinning in one spot as it took off up the road. It didn't come up the driveway, it kept going.

I kept standing there... I was in total shock at witnessing something normally no one would ever see... that's how people go and murder someone... I could visualize that guy actually.... beating a person with that bat. It was so violent, making me sick to my stomach. He seemed so mad! so angry! so wanting to kill something! I 'felt' so much violence from him... I know if he saw me... I would have been in danger.

I took my cellphone from its case and began trying to call Skip to tell him...we lived in a isolated area where one couldn't just call on a cellphone and expect to have a signal... you had to almost stand on your head to get a signal. I couldn't get him.

It was getting dark and I was beginning to tremble now... they could come back. I began dialing the number to the sheriff's department. They sent a deputy out ... he was a welcomed sight. Skip drove up, he was upset to learn what happened. He knew what he'd do 'if they came back'... he reached out to hug me, saying he wished he'd been there.

We never found out who those people were, but, more mailboxes were destroyed throughout the month on that lonely old road. We never put up a pretty mailbox again as long as we lived there, because that had made the third mailbox that was destroyed.

I can still look into my mind and see the picture of that guy... one could see that he didn't look like he was a mailbox murderer... but, he was... I saw him beat it to death with my own eyes.

The death of our mailbox affected me for quite some time. I couldn't get over seeing a face on 'who did such terrible things'... he didn't ever know I saw him.

I worked for a long time making our mailbox beautiful.. I painted a barn on on it with a sign at the top of the barn door saying 'Bates Farm'. I painted chickens, a horse, and beautiful trees, grass, flowers, sky, clouds and sunshine on that mailbox. It reflected happiness.

Maybe the happy colors and the happiness from that mailbox made that guy angry.... angry enough to murder our mailbox. We laid it to rest in the trashcan... its days were over. All the colors and trees, grass, sky, sunshine, barn, chickens, flowers, horse, clouds were beaten into one...... big, crumpled mass of metal.

They slid to a stop after passing our driveway and mailbox... could it be that when seeing the happy mailbox just sitting there innocently..... they had to destroy it? I wonder how many people that guy has beaten.. he was a big, tall guy. I sensed such violence and anger in him, I sensed danger from him.

I have seen mailboxes destroyed when kids do that for a prank... that is so different from what I witnessed. That guy 'went farther' than to merely destroy our mailbox... he meant for it to 'die'.

Throughout time I sometimes take certain memories out of 'storage' to look, feel and sense them again to 'see and know why', hoping to figure out answers to questions I have in my mind. This is one of the memories I 'look' at sometimes. I always 'put it back up'.... I don't have a answer for 'why' he did that.

Yes, that was the day I witnessed a murder... of a mailbox. Our mailbox... it was laid to rest in the trashcan. It's still an unsolved mystery.

This could have been a funny story if there hadn't been such violence involved. I think to myself... I've never seen a mailbox that made me feel so ... angry. I wish it could have been kids that I'd caught in the act.... it would have been funny at the same time, as not funny. It would have been somehow 'more innocent'..........

IT'S A WILD WORLD OUT THERE ON THE ROAD... TRUCKING, LOVING LIFE!

2012-03-05T06:30:00.001-05:00

IT'S A WILD WORLD OUT THERE ON THE ROAD... TRUCKING, LOVING LIFE!

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES/ AKA GRANNY GEE... MARCH 05, 2012

Who knows if it's going to snow or not? I love our weather forecastors on Channel 5. They are fun characters to listen to each day... one could almost think of them as their friends. Each time I've ever lived here in this area... I turn the tv to Channel 5 to see them. As a child at Grandma Alma and George's... I watched it.

It 'looks like we could, but... probably not' get a light dusting of snow this morning. Even the schools in several places are closed or on a 2 hour delay. I found that unusual and wondered 'why'? Usually it's the other way around... school having to let out early as it began to snow. Now...it may not snow... and there are closings/delays like ... when we expect a 'significant amount'.

I have two doctor appointments this morning in Raleigh. I will visit my cardiologist, and shortly after... my oncologist. I deliberately scheduled them on the same day to 'get it done'. Now... I will be glad when I'm back home.

Alot of people hate to drive in Raleigh... I love it. I love to drive in much bigger cities than Raleigh. I loved doing it when I drove the tractor-trailer with Skip.

It was exciting, it was fun.... that big, old wind coming through. I can't tell you how exhilarating it was... manuevering lanes in that wild traffic, staying with the speed and flow.

Sometimes other women would drive beside me as I drove... rolling the window down... yelling 'you go girl'! Or give me the 'thumbs up'. All made me proud I could do something that not other women normally did.

Of course, there were the guys driving by, too. They really loved to see a pretty, young woman with long, curly blonde hair driving... especially one who was smiling because she was happy to 'be out there, traveling and making 'big' money, in comfort in a beautiful new truck'. That was me, I loved it though, of course.... there was the bad as well as the ...good.

I always stayed on the alert watching constantly my mirrors and 'the big picture ahead' of me. I was very safe, and I took pride in that. Still.... unexpected things happened... thank God, I was 'most of the time' .... alert. :)))

When I say most of the time... I will honestly admit there were times I became sleepy. I did alot of nighttime driving as I was the 'night owl'. I loved driving through sleeping cities on the interstate... all was quiet. Of course, one watched when it wasn't quiet at nights. There were all kind of 'goings on' in the night. Police chases, fast cars making one wonder if they were trying to get away from something.

This was funny, not funny... funny... and just plain ...awful. There were the predators of the night on the interstates... everywhere. They all did the same things but, had a different face, gender, body, color..... they did the same things.

Driving along at night, all is quiet and a car drives up beside you, never passing. Why would they stay even with a truck on a quiet and dark night, a truck driver has to be careful.. someone could begin shooting or do something stupid.

One can't see in the dark-tinted glass until...... that window rolls down to reveal.............a lighted interior, there sitting is a naked man doing things he shouldn't be doing 'in front of the world'! Then...you see him duck his head down far enough to look up into the window of the truck... grinning!

One knows what this man wants... there's no doubt. He wants some fun and hopes you will join him. Of course.. he is expecting to see a male truck driver most of the time. I've seen this at night driving... knowing me ...guess what I did?

Yes, you are right! I began laughing so hard because it's so ridiculous to see a naked man all................... sitting there under the steering wheel. He is feeling like 'such a man' and wants the world to see. From my viewpoint... it was funny, sad all at the same time. Funny... because can you imagine all that naked skin sitting on a carseat under a steering wheel and you see an 'extra finger' threatening to help quide the steering wheel?!!!

Sad... because that person must not have anyone else and have problems. Sad, because he feels he has to prey upon other people to either make money, or to feed his 'addiction/habit' which is being over-sexed. Sad, because he doesn't know how ridiculous he appears from 'up above'... if he could see, I don't think he'd do it ever again.

Now... this is the funny part of seeing something like what I just told you about. That never gets old with truck drivers, and believe me when I say this... it happens 'all the time'! Yes, it really does.

One can be driving down the interstate in daylight just as well as nighttime...... and see a car come buzzing up beside the big truck. The same old thing happens.... that window begins to roll down and 'lo and behold'.......... there's a woman sitting there.... 'massaging' herself... 'everywhere'!

One waits for the head to duck down and look up at the big truck to grin at the driver............... I loved it, though I hated to disappoint, the woman would be grinning up into .... another woman's smiling face! Her grin would fall into her naked lap ..... I sort of felt bad doing that.. but, I couldn't 'go anywhere'... I had to drive that big, old truck. Drive it, I did!

Do you know how women love to just bare their breasts to Jerry Springer? Well, this happens all the time.... it can be women riding with their husbands/boyfriends, or lots of time.... pretty, young girls having fun... they will come driving up beside a truck and ... boom! there it is..... they will quickly pull their blouses up to show..................................................... yes! their breasts to the truck drivers.

More than that... they will 'bare bottoms' in the blink of an eye making one wonder 'did I really see that!' You wouldn't believe... no, you wouldn't believe. Summer days bring out alot of what's hidden on cold days! Yes, you really... did see that.

The CBs go crazy .... the drivers will become excited. They will tell the driver in front of them to 'look at that seatcover'! They'll tell about the 'hooter shot' they just got. In front, one can see the driver in front begin looking in his mirror... waiting 'for his hooter shot'!

It's a wild world out there on the road. Oh ..the stories I can and will tell as time goes by. You wouldn't believe.... but, they are.... true. I didn't until I saw with my own eyes.

I was fascinated to see people 'do what I could never do'........ I was amazed at the 'nerve they had'.... most all done with a....... big, old smile. I was embarassed ... alot!!! But.... I wouldn't trade my experiences for anything... I've gotten to see and live things the normal, everyday person never does in a lifetime.... they only read about them and... imagine.

I may get embarassed, be shocked, or amazed .. never want to do such things, never want to be thought of as 'bad'.................. but, I'm glad I saw and know what I did, and do now, even being a little older. That's the spice of life.... no one never knows what people will do, sometimes even they don't know what they'll do.

Sometimes.... you never really know that person you call your friend, father, mother, sister, brother, aunt, uncle, cousin, or grandma, or grandpas........................................ they are people, too. They do 'things'... I know. It seems I'm always the one to see the 'things they do'... that they never show to the ones who 'know them'.

There are some crazy people out there in this big, old world. It's a wild world out there on the road.... it's a wild world even here at home. I know.

I'm shocked all the time... seeing people being something other than what others... think they are. It's like when reading in depth in a boring-looking book.... all of a sudden........... it's so amazing, interesting, and ...unbelievable! People are 'books'..........

Yes, it's a wild world 'out there'. Granny Gee knows, she's seen, she's heard, she's been shocked, embarassed, amazed.......... and .....looks forward .... to more. Granny Gee.... loves life!

Oh, how she loves the sunshine, soft-flowing breezes blowing in her hair with the scent of White Diamonds in it, as the sun warms her skin, her soul, her heart.... when it rains diamond teardrops sparkling in the light. Granny Gee loves life. She can see now... the light guiding her on her path as she goes. :)))

　

BULLYING... I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!

2012-03-04T07:12:00.001-05:00

BULLYING... I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES/AKA GRANNY GEE

I was walking from my job to the breakroom dreading what I knew was going to happen. Every day it happened if Virginia was in the breakroom. She loved to make herself look good in front of her friends. I was the butt of their joke because... I never said anything and let it go on for 3 times... plus.

I had left the mountains to come home to my mother's. I went to work in a hoisery mill only a mile away from where she lived. I was glad to be so close to home. I'd never really worked at a job, I never had to. I was curious to how 'so many' pairs of stockings could be made at one time!

I saw people I never liked on that job... I remembered how some of them abused me mentally as a child when I lived there, how they looked down on me 'then'. No one could look down on me or push me around 'now'. But... there was one woman who must have still thought of me as she did when I was young... she thought she could bully me. She didn't know................

I was in my early twenties, a pretty young lady with a big smile. I liked everybody.... or so, I thought I did. Until I met up with.... Virginia. I remembered her when I was a young child... her husband had done something he shouldn't have, he was old enough to know better. They were older than I... when he did what he did..... I was 12 years old.

I lived with my mother in an apartment in town when she met Virginia and Wayne... both were extraordinary good-looking. They were a married couple living next to us in that apartment house. We 'heard' them fighting constantly, making love just as often. They were ...loud people.

This is awful.. I know. But... my little cousins... who lived with us at that time... and I..... had been told we could hear things in the next room 'if we would place a glass on the wall and put our ear on it'.

It works! We put a glass on the wall to hear old Wayne and Virginia when they were loud one day... sure enough, we heard them good! That bed was making alot of noise, and so were they! We made alot of noise..... giggling!

I know this is awful... but, children 'will do these things'! I was no exception. I wanted to know if that glass really worked. I think I'm embarassed thinking about it... at this moment! Yes, my face feels alittle too ..... warm.... :))))))))

Wayne came over one day to look at the furnace and mom asked me to take him something... I did. My memory of this is taking the wrench, or whatever tool it was he needed...... is that when I walked up to give it to him.... he began grinning at me, talking softly to me... and he put his hand on my breast. I left the room quickly... I never encountered Wayne again... alone. Men's hands... always reaching out.....

Not long after that ... Wayne and Virginia got into an awful fight... she stuck her arm through the glass window on the door when she hit it..... cutting her arm badly. The blood........ I never saw them again... they left the apartment. I never wondered about them again... nor cared.

Years later as a young woman in my twenties, I met up with her at the hoisery plant I went to work at. There she was... just as pretty as ever, tall and leggy, with a head of blonde hair and... blue eyes. I was just as pretty but, not as tall... my legs were a little shorter.... I had curly, blonde hair.... my eyes were ... green. :)))))

She saw me and recognized me. 'Hello Gloria'! she yelled. God, she was a loud-mouthed woman. I recognized her voice... just as loud as it was when I was a little girl. She was just as crude as she was... pretty.

When she got close to me, she would run up deliberately yelling 'hello Gloria!' and hit me on my shoulder with her hand. It would hurt badly, and I felt I would go to the floor. That was the 'first'.... time. I felt anger at her as I smiled brightly at her, and spoke quietly saying ...hello.

Oh, how she laughed and looked over to the table where her friends sat, laughing. I saw her wink at them. I filed that back in my mind... I 'saw' that she thought she was going to use me in the future for her laughs, to entertain her friends. Needless to say, but, I now....... 'had Virginia on my mind'.

'Hello Gloria'! It happened again... 'second time'. The pain in my shoulder was excruciating. She was enjoying inflicting pain on me and I would look bad if I said anything.... after all... 'wasn't she just so glad to see me'? Second time....

How her friends at that table laughed... they loved being entertained... old Virginia was their hero. I could see that they thought she 'was something'. They don't know me ... yet...... my shoulder was hurting something awful. I kept smiling.......

I was thinking that maybe Virginia didn't know 'really' that she was physically hurting me each time she hit me on my shoulder. All I had to do was close my eyes and 'study the whole picture' in my mind.

Yes, Virginia meant to inflict pain hoping to make me cower in front of her friends so, they could laugh.... 'Virgina, the Conqueror'. Only.. I didn't cower when she did that... and I 'stood up under that pain'. I kept .... smiling sweetly......

Not only did I stand up under that pain, I spoke in a very quiet, sweet voice saying 'hello Virginia'. I would look up at her... smiling. Smiling while my shoulder hurt.......... and my heart hurt... I didn't deserve to be treated like that.

I almost went to the floor days later... my shoulder was sore from the 'hello blows' Virginia had inflicted on me. 'Hello, Gloria'! She did it again... her friends laughed harder. This was the 'third time'............ usually with me.... the third time 'is it'......

'Hello Virginia'... I said softly back to her. I walked away to the vending machine to get a drink with ice. I stood there with my back to everyone... no one saw the tears and pain... humiliation in my eyes. I was being bullied... that's exactly what it was. 'Three times'... she knew what she was doing.... she didn't stop. I'm going to cry, I'm going to give old Virginia satisfaction if I don't 'get a hold of myself'.

I felt like crying, and almost did. My shoulder was very tender where she'd hit me 'now... 3 times' in the very same spot. I didn't want to have a public scene, I didn't want to be embarassed. I think it's trashy to 'fight in public, much less in private'.

But... sometimes......... one has to put an end to things............... I didn't break down crying when I stood there wanting to so badly. How I wanted to just give in to the tears that threatened. I felt my body stiffen up straight, my shoulders went back proudly, I held my head up... and began smiling... once again. I'll let her do it once again.... because she 'really might not mean to be hurting me'.

I saw her again... there she comes with her false bright smile, those big old teeth shining white! Boom! She's done it again... my shoulder was bruised now... the pain, oh my God... the pain. Tears did come into my eyes right in front of Virginia... I was right! I saw her love seeing my tears and she .... waited... for a reaction from me...

I .... began to smile, quietly I said 'hello Virginia', and walked on. I heard that laughter behind me coming from that same table. I noticed by now... everyone had begun to pay attention to what Virginia was doing to me.... they had frowns on their faces.

I smiled at them... too. All the while I was crying inside, I felt sick to my stomach, I 'knew now'.... I was going to 'kick her ass'! I had no choice but.... to stop the abuse.... that was the 'fourth time'. I let her get by 'more than 3 times'... to give her a chance... she wasn't going to stop. 'I made her look good' to her friends, but, I had noticed the other people in the breakroom... they didn't like it... I didn't like the pity I saw in their eyes.

They didn't know that I was capable of 'holding my ground'... I just didn't want to hurt anyone, I didn't want to be trashy, I only wanted peace around me... I could choose that now. I also, could choose to put a stop to this. I grew up being everyone's 'whipping post', I had no choice but, to put an end to this.

I dreaded the next day... I 'knew it was time'. I dreaded bringing attention to myself, I dreaded making everyone think I was trash because I was... going to hold my ground this time, and I was ready to 'whip Virginia's ass'.

I had had enough... she mistakened my smiles, my kindness, my soft voice.... for weakness... she didn't see that I genuinely wanted to be friends.... she didn't 'see' that I was tired of being 'kicked around'... she didn't see 'what was coming her way'.......

I walked into the doorway of that breakroom, and all eyes were on me.... waiting to see Virginia hurt me again, to see if I would have a reaction to it. They didn't have to wait long.............

I began to smile so brightly, nodding to everyone... my head was held high, my body strong and ready... 'to kick ass'. I felt like sunshine was shining on me, strengthening my soul, my mind and ...my body. I felt 'cold chills' on my skin... 'it was time'....

Old Virginia was sitting at that table with her happy friends... she looked up and saw me.... she began to get up... but, before she could get completely up.... I walked right over to her smiling so brightly... my teeth were shining so white and happy now...

I said loudly 'why hello Virginia'!!! I hit her on her shoulder as hard as I could ... the force knocked her backwards to the floor, she caught herself with her hands behind her.

I stepped back and I........... waited. I was going to kick her ass if she came toward me... if she beat me up or killed me... I was going down fighting! I was tired of it, I was sick and tired of it. I wasn't going to take any 'damn' more of it. Get up, Virginia!

I heard someone gasp, a little nervous laughter... and then... I heard some clapping! I didn't look to see, my attention was on that big, old Virginia. I was the one .... waiting now.

She rose up to her full height and looked down at me... I smiled brightly back up into her face.... only she could 'see in my eyes' that she'd made a bad mistake and that it was ending now'... either she could kill me on the spot... she was big enough to do that, beat me up or........ make peace. It didn't matter to me 'now'... I was ready to die... I was fed up. One way or the other... it was ending 'now'.

She quietly said 'hello Gloria'. I 'saw' respect in her eyes and when she smiled .... it was finally.... real. I wonder 'why' she couldn't have been like that in the first place? I smiled back at her... it was real. So was what I said to her...................

'Virginia, I know that must have hurt... I didn't mean to hurt your shoulder but, I was so glad to see you'! I smiled..................................

:)))))))))))

BLUE BALL OF LIGHTENING... SITTING THERE WITH A MESSAGE TO ME?

2012-03-03T06:09:00.000-05:00

BLUE BALL OF LIGHTENING ... SITTING THERE WITH A MESSAGE FOR ME?

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES/AKA GRANNY GEE

Skip and I both woke up at 3:00 am this morning to the sound of thunder. My first thought was to go back to sleep as soon as possible 'so, I wouldn't have to know the storm was going on'. I am always afraid of a storm. In fact, at this moment at 5:12 am... I am hearing thunder in the distance.

Storms put my mind back to Grandma Alma and George's house to when I was a child living there. I always begin thinking and seeing in my mind ...'myself as a little girl' running to get a quilt. I would take that quilt and go into the living room and climb onto one end of the couch.

The quilt would be completely around me and I could see out of a little opening I would make... I always 'knew what I was going to see'. I was so afraid, but... somehow I could manage to look each time. I wonder how I knew to go to the couch to sit quietly during a storm? That thought just came to my mind.

Another thought just came to my mind..... you know how people, children always 'run to someone for comfort'........ I never had anyone to 'run to'. I always remember having to 'fight my own battles'... no one was there for me to 'run to'. I wonder 'why' I didn't run to Grandma Alma and George... I look back... I can only think ...'I never thought to, I just kept on no matter what'.

There it was! Just where I knew it'd be.... all I had to do was wait and it would soon appear. Sure enough ...out of that bedroom that was my mom's youngest sister's bedroom........ it slowly rolled through the doorway... toward me. It would stop as if... it was watching me... sit there... until... I couldn't look anymore! I would close the opening in the quilt, close my eyes tightly, holding my body tightly 'just in case' it ... would 'get me'.

Nothing would happen... each time I would wait and soon want to look to see 'if it was still there'..... if that big, blue ball of lightening ...big as a basketball....... was still there. Thankfully, it would be gone each time. I would begin to breathe freely, I always held my breath out of fear... trying to be so quiet... so, it wouldn't notice me.

That ball of lightening would sit there in front of the bedroom door.... just 'sit there'. I saw it many times at Grandma's when a storm came up. I could never look long to see 'what happened to it when it disappeared'.

Do you know... that all my life I 'knew' that everyone else saw that, also? Do you know, that it happened so much, that I accepted it as 'normal'. Do you know what? I was the only one who would see that ball of lightening.... at Grandma's house. I've always 'wondered why'? I never thought to ask that question until I was an adult... I thought everyone knew about it... I thought it was 'normal'. You can imagine my surprise when I found out differently.

I can remember seeing a ball of 'red lightening' as an adult... that was the only time I ever saw 'ball lightening' again in my life ... so far. It was a huge red ball of lightening in the air..... Tommy was a little boy.... we were in a department store shopping. We were visiting my mother at the time.

A storm had come up and I remember Tommy running off from me like all little boys do. I was trying to find him ...I looked out the big windows of the store and saw.... a big, red ball of lightening across the street over a Hardee's fast food restaurant... it disappeared.

I remember just standing there looking at that... of course, remembering my 'blue ball lightening experiences'... as a little girl. So strange..... the lights went out in the department store and I began to call Tommy to come to me... I was afraid I couldn't find him. 'I'm here, mama'! His precious voice led me to him.... I didn't think of that red ball lightening after that.

I was thinking that through time when sharing things with others, I would sometimes tell about that. No one ever said they'd seen that in their lives. Only once in a great while would someone know what I was talking about. Many years ago, I did research it on the computer for a short time to see.... other people knew what I'd seen, they'd also, experienced it.

I know this probably doesn't have any bearing on that Hardee's where I saw the big, red ball of lightening....... but, that Hardee's eventually failed in that location years later.... then, a Popeye's opened there (a very nice one!)... it failed in a year or so. Later, it went on to be an Italian restaurant... it also, failed.

For years, that building has sat there 'empty'. Who ever heard of a Hardee's or a Popeye's ... failing? I'm sure they have... but, that was so unusual .... all the other fast food restaurants have made it all these years... they all are close by. They are still 'there' ..... today.

As for Grandma Alma and George's house......... that house and all that ever lived there... they only knew lots of grief. I never saw happiness there... it did try to come there because I can remember seeing smiles ... but, soon those smiles would turn to tears, turn to anger. Yes, that house George built... was built right over hell... it is the portal to hell... the house guards that doorway to hell.

I don't know if the blue ball lightening was trying to give me a message as a child.... when it would sit there 'looking at me'. If it did.... looking back over my life at this moment.......... I can 'see' it would have been......... losing so many people I've loved, our home burning down, my husband being in those wrecks, both of us having cancer, me with congestive heart failure, losing my son...my only child. These are only a 'few' things that have happened in my life ........... 'I see' looking back.... that 'could have been a message' for me.

I'm too positive in my attitude, the way I think... to 'blame it all on blue ball lightening'. :)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) Though................. it was an interesting thought. We never ...know.

I am always ...thinking, connecting the dots I love in life, putting things together like a puzzle. Sometimes... it takes years to 'put a piece in place, or to connect a dot to another one'.... eventually, I do it. Strange.... how one can 'see clearly things' ...years later down the road, isn't it?

Strange how the 'whole picture' becomes clear as years puts us far enough from it... so, we can 'see'. It's like.......... putting on reading glasses when you become forty years old... so, one can focus on the whole picture that was... blurry 'before'. I've done that, too. :)))

ROOM OF EMPTY BOTTLES...

2012-03-02T07:40:00.000-05:00

ROOM OF EMPTY BOTTLES

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I was limping, I stopped, pulled my loafer off to look at the heel of my foot. It was bleeding and had little holes in my heel. Those nails were cutting into my heels, it hurt so bad. The inside of both of my shoes were bloody.

For so long... I had to wear these shoes... at one time they were pretty, and didn't bite into my feet to make them bleed each day. No one ever knew... I was too ashamed... too proud to let anyone know how I suffered. I would try to wipe the blood out of them each evening... I hated the smell of blood. That's what the inside of my shoes smelled like... blood.

I wished for a new pair of shoes, but, I thought no farther than that. The pain was too great. I just wanted to get home, I was tired from being in school all day... I had fought my daily 'battles' there, as I did each day. Not physically, but.. mentally.

My classmates, other kids made my life harder, never knowing how they contributed to my pain... pain I hid from them. No one knew how I suffered both.... mentally, physically. I was someone they could pick on and take attention off their 'imperfections'. Yes, I made it easy for them to 'point with their finger to direct attention away from themselves'. I had to walk 2 blocks to get home... I wanted to take those shoes off my feet.

I worried at how I'd find my beautiful mother. Would she be herself today, or would she be a 'monster' today. Everyday I always had to wonder what I would find when I got to the house my mom had gotten for her and I ... this was now... home.

I had my own bedroom and sometimes at nights I would wake from nightmares. One of the nightmares would be of my mama being under my bed having convulsions. I couldn't bear for anything to be wrong with my mama. To think about how much I loved her... brought tears to my eyes.

It was an awful nightmare that haunted me for years.... in my dream I would hear something under my bed, I would slip out of bed and look underneath... my mom would be lying on her back having a convulsion.

I would be sick at heart and scared when I woke up. I worried so much about my mom. Men tried to take advantage of her when she 'wasn't herself'. They would come here to this new 'home'. I hated them.

I loved it when my mama was 'my mama'... I loved my mama. She would smile, her eyes would sparkle with mischieviousness, and happiness, she would talk and laugh with me. She was so fun, and so beautiful! I was proud of my mama when she was like this. I wasn't proud when she was like.....

I came inside the house, I was looking around sensing like I did every day to know if 'mama was my mama'...or... if today she would be the 'monster'.

I heard her in the kitchen, I followed the sound. She had her back to me and I couldn't tell just yet. "Hello mama", I said. She turned around and smiled at me. I took a deep breath and thought inside 'thank-God'... that's my mama! I knew we'd have a good evening talking and laughing.

I walked by the little room we called a pantry. There was nothing in there, excepting.... even today I see this little room as I stand in the doorway.... bare wooden floor, sunshine coming in from the one window in there... over in the far corner a stack of clear medicine bottles piled up high in the corner.... sloping down toward me on the floor... dusty floor.

The sun was shining on the bottles, in each bottle I could see a little liquid... it was very pretty in the sunlight. It was green liquid. This room of empty bottles always made me sick to my heart. These bottles with the green liquid turned my mama into the monster she became for about three days at a time. She made my life pure hell and I was frightened of her.

The pile of empty bottles kept growing ... as it grew, I knew firsthand 'why'. My mother drank it... it changed her from beautiful to a monster. In my mind, at the age of thirteen, the only name I could think of to describe my mama when she changed ...was 'monster'. She was mean and very cruel to me. When she was my mama... she would never be mean to me.

My heels hurt so bad. I had to wear hand-me-down shoes, the nails in the heels were coming through... my feet bled and hurt. I never thought past that... I thought probably that was the way life was supposed to be. I never complained. I went into my bedroom to take my shoes off.. I just wanted to feel the cool hardwood floors on the bottom of my feet.

I ran into the kitchen to talk to my mama. Edna, my only friend, had come to see us. She lived next door to us. She was always so nice, and I thought alot of her. My mother liked her, too.

We all three were standing around the dining table, we were drinking glasses of chocolate milk. I still see the image in my mind, how funny and happy that time was. Someone said something so funny, that unexpectedly I became so tickled that I began laughing, chocolate milk spraying from my mouth.

I remember looking at my mother's eyes to see if she got mad. Her eyes were so full of surprise, and she began laughing harder. That was one of the happiest moments in my life with my mama. She never got mad at me for the chocolate milk... we all cleaned it up.

Several days went by, all went well. I was growing more tense by the day... 'it was time'. It was time, my mama was going to be a monster soon. It never failed. I wished so much my mama would stay the same way. I never told anyone at school what I lived with at home. Even as a child I was very private about 'what really went on in my life'. I protected everyone by not saying anything... it also, kept attention off me.

I was moved from here to there, made fun of depending on 'who' I lived with... I dressed good here, dressed bad there. I don't think anyone ever asked me why I'd come to school for a while, be gone for months or maybe a year or so, come back. It was a pattern.

The teachers even began to make comments saying that my mama 'not only looked just like Elizabeth Taylor, she got married as many times as Elizabeth Taylor', and moved as many times. They never realized 'it was only me' that was moved many times... they wouldn't have cared anyway.. they all had good lives and couldn't 'see' past that.

I would feel embarassed, but, I accepted that as part of my life. I didn't complain, I cried only when my feelings were hurt or I was physically hurt. I don't remember crying over something I couldn't have... somehow, I knew I wasn't good enough to have things. To have things one had to be like the girls who gave me that present with deodorant, soap and lotion. They lived in cosy, nice homes with real parents, cars, and they got to be in the Brownies, and in different things at school. At that time, I knew I wasn't 'good enough', also... there wasn't money for anything I needed. I never asked, I didn't think to.

Oh no! I heard something falling to the floor in the kitchen when I came in the front door. I felt that familiar dread, sick feeling in my stomach, my hands began trembling. I walked slowly to put my things in the bedroom. I knew I had to see my mama sooner or later. I hoped she wouldn't scream at me. I took my hated shoes off my feet.

I tiptoed quietly to see where my mom was, I heard her. She was in the kitchen. She'd made a mess on the table. The 'monster' was here now. I was afraid. I was sick to my soul, life was going to be hell for several days.

My mama began screaming at me to do this, to do that. I couldn't bear hearing her voice full of anger at me. What did I do? The whole evening went like that... she was cussing, ranting and raving at me. I asked her once could I go outside and play in the street with the kids. "Hell no!" she screamed at me. "You have too many things to do in here!"

I gradually sneaked off to my bedroom to get away from her. I couldn't feel good being in there with her, nor here in the privacy of my bedroom. She could come in here at any minute to scream at me. My mama did just that! Her face would be contorted into a face that I didn't know, a horrible monster face with demon eyes looking out at me. It seemed she took pleasure in making me cry, hurting me so, that I would. She hated me when she was a monster. 'Why'... I didn't know.

Life was hell, and it grew to the point that I couldn't take anymore of it.... I didn't have anywhere to feel safe at, I was hated at home, at school... no one would look at me, if they did they 'looked down' at me. I'm sure they thought I was white trash. A girl had already called me a whore... I didn't know what that meant. I was labeled with names I hadn't deserved ..or earned as a child, much less knew the meanings of.

My mama whom I loved with my very heart... could become a monster just at anytime. I didn't know exactly 'why' she'd become a monster but, I did know it had something to do with all those clear bottles in the pantry.... in that big pile that sloped down... in the sunlight those bottles were pretty... each held a small amount of green liquid in them... the 'whole' picture of those bottles was ... pretty. Colors attracted my attention... the pretty green always drew my eyes toward it.

Somehow, I 'knew' that green liquid in those bottles contributed to the hell I lived in for that period of time. Yes, each and every one of those empty bottles affected my young life in some way... many ways. Not only that... my beautiful mother's life. We were both victims.

That room of empty bottles... with the little splash of green color in each one. Empty bottles, green liquid... all sloping from high up in the corner into a pile downward toward the door... toward me, when I stood there. I never thought to taste it... to see if I'd like it. I knew that I liked that pretty color... green. I liked how the clear glass bottles sparkled in the sunshine... diamonds and emeralds... that's what they made me think of, in that room of empty bottles.

Those bottles, that beautiful liquid of emerald green had... strange powers. Those crystal clear glass bottles... with a splash of emerald green mixed with the golden light of the sunshine piled high in that corner... only a dusty floor beneath them, and bare walls around them, one window letting the sun shine through to highlight... those empty bottles, empty excepting for the little splash of emerald green in each bottle. I remember those bottles so well.

Those bottles made such an impression on me the day I walked into the door of that room... I don't remember seeing that 'pile' grow... I just remember the pile that was so high. That pile of bottles ... if one had taken a photo of it, it would have made a pretty piece of art... colors of crystal clear, golden light, emerald-green liquid in a stark, empty room...with a dusty floor.

Know that this author loved her mother with her very heart, know that she would be rich just counting the tears she cried just for her mama in her whole life. Just think how rich I would be if I counted the tears for 'all' the ones I've lost in my world...

I miss my mama with my heart. She was a very good-hearted person... she really would give you the last thing she had if she knew you needed it. She was beautiful, no matter the life she had... addictions are powerful. We all have had one or the other in our lives... habits are hard to change. They become 'one with us' until we no longer recognize ourselves or... others recognize us...... without them. We can't live without them. I always 'saw my mama', I always recognized my mother.

In my life my 'addictions' have been smoking as a young woman, it took almost dying and forgetting there was such a thing as a cigarette... to break my addiction. I never remembered smoking after I entered the world between 'life and death'. I know firsthand how powerful that addiction is. My next addiction was/is ..... eating good foods. Just these words in this paragraph... think about them.............. if you smoke ..you are knowing exactly what I mean.

If you don't... 'feel' the power of those words and 'know'...... that once people are addicted, it's not easy to 'let go'.... of anything. I have compassion, empathy for people who fight addiction, because in 'my own way'.... I know and have this to compare with.

I can look around me, watch tv... I know that I'm not alone in this 'addiction/habit' of ... eating. We eat for comfort, pleasure in tastes and textures of different foods as well as for satisfying our hunger.

I constantly 'fight the battle of obesity'... I'm fighting it now, and actually doing very good in my struggle. As a young woman... to stay 'beautiful, perfect'... I could only eat a couple of spoons of food, or eat several very tiny bites of food, only drink mostly liquids, dance and walk, run... to stay small enough to wear sizes 8-9. Oh... I would look at my beautiful designer clothes and know if I wanted to wear them... I would continue to starve myself. I know what it's like to be 'on both sides'.

I would like to add.... 'everyone loved me, Gloria'... when I starved myself... and stayed so tiny. I was popular, what I thought ...mattered, when I spoke...everyone heard me no matter how softly I spoke. I was 'perfect' as long as I 'had that addiction to starvation'. I had to suffer for years to be so popular, so 'loved', so 'perfect'............ I was the most imperfect being in this whole world. Strange 'how we humans' ........ 'see and think'. Don't you agree?

I suffered to be loved and thought of as 'somebody'. For a number of years now... I am only myself, I don't starve for anyone's attention or their love... I like myself.

I wonder if my mom's addiction began at some point to make her more acceptable in other people's eyes, more beautiful, more 'perfect'? Something made her have a 'starting point'.... all addictions ...do. She was 'perfect' in her beauty, her personality... just being herself. Of course, like people who have entered 'that world'.......... it becomes 'more than that'... they begin to not be able to live without what they 'need'. It's almost 'too late' for them.

My heart breaks for people who go through their 'own hells' while living here on earth.... my feeling is that when you live in 'hell' while here.... you go to heaven when you die. You've earned it by the time you die. My opinion only... I know you have yours.... I respect it, as I know you will mine.

I am sitting here... I see that 'room of empty bottles piled high in that corner'........ with a little splash of emerald green in each..... beautiful, golden sunshine making all 'sparkle'..... magic. My favorite jewelry is gold and diamonds, emeralds... I wear only gold and diamonds... maybe one day a emerald. I would think of those bottles, and their power.

I'm glad I never thought once of...... tasting that beauty... it never lured me excepting to see 'the art, the colors, the way those bottles sloped down to the dusty floor, sunshine making the bottles, liquid... sparkle'. Such beauty in that ..somehow. Strange, isn't it... strange how I think that... looking back.

GOOD MORNING EVERYONE...

2012-03-01T06:49:00.002-05:00

GOOD MORNING EVERYONE... :)))
BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES/AKA GRANNY GEE (March 01, 2012)

I wanted to say hello to everyone this morning, and to thank-you all for reading my blog here on blogger.com. It means the world to me. In fact, it means more than my words can say.

This morning I saw that there have been 2,999 page views on 'just one' of my blogs (this one!). I am so honored that anything I write... people find it interesting enough to take their time to read it. Can you imagine what an honor that is? I can.... I am knowing how it feels!

I know how it felt when I kept thinking.... 'I'll be glad when the stats show '100 pageviews'!!!' When the stats showed '100 pageviews'......... you can't imagine how happy that made me.... 'me'! :))))) People took time to read 'that many pages' of what 'I wrote'!

Can you imagine how I feel this morning seeing that it takes '1 more'... to make... 3,000 page views!!! I am happy and more inspired to 'write on'. I love to write, it has become so important in my life. Since
Tommy, and Lena have gone..... I have a way of always remembering them 'out loud'.... never making others 'feel they have to listen to how I feel'........ because it'll be here in words and 'whoever reads it ..will read because they wanted to'.

I have a way to remember all of my loved ones who are gone, a way of remembering the 'good along with the bad'.... so, that one day my two grandchildren 'will be able to see the person their Granny Gee was'. They will see me in my words, my pictures I paint with 'my colors' as I see them... they will 'see me'... they may be alot like 'me'. This is the only way I have of letting them know that 'I, Tommy's mother, their grandmother was a real person, to know that I've loved them with my heart all along as they grew up'. This means the world to me.

Not only that.... I realize that from the page views that if people have taken their time to read 2,999 pages of 'my writing', and they keep reading them.... maybe I've become 'real' to you, also. I know that each time I read a comment or email... you become more real to me. Yes, you all mean the world to me, I treasure each and every one of you. Thank-you for letting me see 2,999 page views on my writing.... I won't forget how much it meant to see '100 page views'!!! :)))))

I always have Skip to talk to, thankfully... I 'have all of you to 'talk to', also. I'm glad you are here! I hope to become important to you.... as you all have become important to me... I mean that with my very heart.

I wanted to take this time to let you all know how much you all mean to me.... more than I can possibly say. I love you all.

Love, Granny Gee
aka Gloria Faye Brown Bates

"BABY SHOES"... SUICIDE BY BIG TRUCK

2012-02-29T07:00:00.001-05:00

"BABY SHOES"... SUICIDE BY BIG TRUCK

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

As I drove down the interstate that night I was listening to the two truck drivers I was running with. They were family men... I could tell by the converstation they were having. One was talking about his wife, it was easy to sense his love for her. The other was talking about his children, his dogs. I loved it.

I liked running with them, listening to them kept me awake. Skip was asleep in the big sleeper behind me in that big truck. I drove along imagining in my mind the pictures their conversation sparked. Sometimes, I would pass and be in front of their trucks as their conversation on the CB would begin to slow them down.

Sooner or later... they would realize that they had dropped speed to talk.... it was easy to do when talking... they both would pass me up. It was comfortable driving along with them. Both knew I was a woman driving a big truck.. what I liked very much was neither felt the need to be other than what they were... family men. Alot of drivers wanted to 'play' while on the road. One could listen to the CB to know it... they rode the highways 'having fun'. These kind of truck drivers 'left alot of themselves behind'... as they traveled up and down the highways. Alot of them gave truck drivers a bad name....

I was wanting to stop at a rest area 'really bad'. I wanted to keep going because I was making such good time traveling with those two trucks. I saw a sign saying that there was a rest area a few miles ahead. Soon, I'd be driving through St. Louis, Missouri, there would be no stopping then. Night or day... the traffic was something to be reckoned with.

I began debating whether I wanted to go on ..or to stop. I probably wouldn't get with more drivers that late at night to make time go by as it had tonight. I was in front of them now...they were talking about fishing.

I saw the exit off to the right leading into the rest area... I was on it without thinking about it further, driving into the parking lot for big trucks. I parked the big rig and turned around to see Skip sitting up on the side of the big bed. I told him I had made good time traveling with those two trucks and didn't want to stop, but, I wanted to go to the bathroom.

We got out of the truck, my legs were stiff from sitting so long in one position. It hurt and felt good at the same time to walk that long walk to go the restrooms. Drivers almost always... have to 'walk a million miles' just to get to the restrooms.

I looked down at my white sneakers and I could see from the night light that I'd scuffed it. I wanted to wipe my shoe off. Climbing down from a big truck on those steps, it was easy to rub one's shoe and get it dirty. Size 6 1/2 shoes..... that is why some drivers gave me the CB handle "Baby Shoes'... because my feet were little.

I couldn't imagine when I began driving a big truck what my CB handle (name) would possibly be... it was "Baby Shoes". I didn't talk on the CB very much, if I did... I talked like I normally talked. I didn't talk the lingo that truckers talked... I didn't want to sound 'cheap'... that was very easy to do 'if' one was a woman.

How many times I cringed when I would hear women truckers on the CB talking ... they would change their voices (or maybe they always talked 'that way') and say things I knew I would never say. No... I was a sissy driving that big truck... I wasn't 'tough where one could see or hear it......... my strength lay 'within ..no one could see or hear it, unless I was pushed. That didn't happen very often. I could hold my ground when I needed to. I didn't have to act trashy to do it... I spoke quietly and looked straight into a person's eyes to make sure they understood exactly where I was coming from.

When I say I was a 'sissy', I was in the way I could be dressed very pretty and if need be... I knew how to 'get dirty'... but, no one knew that I did. They'd see a small 5 ft. 1 1/2 inch female with long, curly hair, and a bubbly smile and laughing eyes.. sweet, clean and wholesome... most never saw that smile leave my face. I never wanted that smile to leave my face, I loved to smile and be happy.

We walked into the restrooms. The first thing I would do (my secret!)....... was to peep at myself in the mirror! Those wonderful, long mirrors all the way down one wall! I would smile at myself and instantly the tiredness would begin melting away... I loved to walk and see how I looked in the mirrors 'all the way' down the wall. Of course, if I didn't feel pretty... I wouldn't look in the mirror any longer than necessary.

I washed my hands and used the dryer... I never had the patience to just stand and wait for my hands to get dry. I wiped them off on my jeans, took a last look in the mirror, walked outside to meet Skip.

Skip asked me if I would like him to drive now, and I let him. We hadn't driven very far up the road when we became aware of the CB.. there was alot of excited talking going on. I looked at Skip and back at the CB. It's seemed like something happened while we were in the rest area.

We heard the drivers saying how awful it was! That woman... it's a mess! She jumped..... that driver is in bad shape! I was beginning to realize that the two trucks I was in front of ..... and traveling with... were somehow involved!

We got closer, and now... knew that up ahead a woman had jumped into the path of one of the big trucks I'd been in front of, killing her. She was laying on the road. I began to feel sick inside, both in heart and my body, I felt all my strength leave me. I began to feel cold chills as I replayed in my mind the time we had stopped at the rest area when I'd been in front of the other two trucks.... oh my God! It could have been me that woman jumped in front of! I began to tremble. I was in shock.

I'd always heard that there were alot of people in time who had committed suicide by jumping in front of big trucks. I had already heard drivers telling their stories and now... this was almost one of my stories on the road.

I had always heard that for some reason... people chose to jump into the path of a big truck to end their lives.... my question has always been 'why'? Because... it's so final... so 'the end'... so 'not coming back'... 'there's no turning back'. Can you imagine what in the world could be in a person's mind to make them do 'that'? I can't.

I kept telling Skip that it could have been me who hit that woman! If I hadn't exited the interstate when I did... that's all that kept it from being me. While we sat there and waited... the rescue and law enforcement came... I could see that poor driver.

He was in another world... of terror and grief, realizing that a woman committed suicide in front of his truck... making him a part of her death without any choice in the matter. My heart went out to him as I watched people putting their hands on his shoulder trying to comfort him, I saw his face.... he was in shock, not knowing anything but, the horror that had just happened in his life. This was a family man... I knew... I had listened to him talk for several hundred miles ... about his wife, children, dogs, going fishing, church. Look what happened to this 'good' man.....

Forever, that man had to carry the weight of that inside..... just like Tommy.... neither had any say-so in what happened. Both were good men to be forever scarred from something so horrible. It's so unfair, yet.... unfair things happen. I know what happened to my son helped to cause his death... it disguised the symptoms of heart trouble.... he went through so much before he died... in his mind, in his personal life... he never had the help he needed. He tried so hard to be strong........

I think about things such as this... I think to myself that if you aren't careful when 'you go out into the world'........ someone's life can just 'reach out and touch yours'....... without you giving permission. It could be in a good way... or in a 'bad' way. You have no choice if you don't 'see it coming'. Life is like that... it's sad when it's in a 'bad' way.

It makes me think of Tommy. One year after that man stepped out in front of his big truck... my son died. He never could get over what happened. It played constantly in his mind, torturing him every minute of his life. I know... my son, my only child, my baby... called me almost every day of his life to talk to his mama. If he didn't talk, it was okay... his connection was there with his mama. When a mother can't make everything better for her own child... can you imagine how helpless a mother feels? I could only 'be there'. It still didn't keep him from dying.........................................

I woke up thinking about these things this morning... it's the first time I've thought about the time 'it could have been me' that hit a person with a big truck... I never had associated it with Tommy until this morning when I woke up. Just thinking about it ...is too much. It was too much for Tommy. I can still hear his soft crying in my mind saying.... 'mama, mama'.............

"Baby Shoes" could have been a part of that woman's death when she decided to commit suicide in front of the big truck. Life happens, sometimes we 'don't see it coming'......... sometimes 'we have no choice in the matter'.

GRANNY GEE'S LOVES...

2012-02-28T06:02:00.000-05:00

GRANNY GEE'S PHOTOS .....THE LOVE OF HER LIFE.

GRANNY GEE/GLORIA BROWN BATES...2011

PA SKIP/SKIP...WITH KISSY (ROTTIE

AND CHADWICK)...2011

TOMMY WITH HIS SON, TABAN...

TOMMY DIED MAY 29, 2010...

at the age of 40. He had 2 blockages in his heart and had a heart attack while running and playing with Taban on the sand at Myrtle Beack.. he did what he wanted to do ...that was to play the first time with his 3 year old son at the beach... he barely made it in time because he walked into heaven as he was videoing Taban looking at the waves.

A group of people had been watching this tall, blonde-headed guy running and squealing with joy with his little blonde-headed son... they thought it special... thank God they were there when Tommy collapsed...no one else was around. I wish I knew who they were.

The man called the last number on Tommy's cellphone, which was me (he'd called an hour earlier to tell me they arrived safely, I was so thankful). The first words I heard on the phone were 'Ma am, I have a man collapsed here on the beach, he isn't breathing'... my world almost ended.

TOMMY WITH HIS DAUGHTER, MCKENZIE...Tommy loved his beautiful little daughter, McKenzie. He never got to see her like he wanted to. She can grow up just like Taban knowing her father loved her just as he loved Taban.

TRUCK STOPS OUT ON THE ROAD...

2012-02-27T06:56:00.001-05:00

TRUCK STOPS OUT ON THE ROAD...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

Traveling by big truck... the inside like a luxurious motor home... I love it! Skip and I both drove team on our big truck... yes, Skip slept behind me in that big old bed... while I drove that big truck!

I learned to love big, nice truck stops along the way. I also, learned to love even the smallest, shabbiest truck stops on the road. Each one was a safe haven for a truck to stop, the drivers feel safe enough to sleep, rest there.

Most truck stops have nice showers where drivers could enjoy. I loved going inside to the driver's lounge to take a nice, hot shower. In the driver's lounge would be bigscreen tv's with seating like at the movies. There would be movie theaters in there for drivers at some truck stops, depending how big, how fancy. There are laundermats, barber shops, restaurants, 'everything' at truck stops.

I love the giant truck stops that had jacuzzis in them, huge shower rooms, all white and sparkling. Thick, white towels and bath cloths, and lots of water pressure. One could even have a massage if they desired.

I loved to sit and eat supper with other drivers, listen to their stories, their experiences on the road. I loved the bright lights, colors of the truck stops. I loved the hustle-bustle of truck drivers and 'regular' people coming and going ..constantly.

One could see runaways, homeless people, prostitutes at the truck stops. Each hoping to get what they wanted or needed from the drivers who entered the truck stop. Usually it was money, or a ride, or a 'date' they wanted. Like with Skip and I... even a prostitute had a proposition for 'both of us'... she'd 'do the both' for a certain amount of money. I learned to 'not be shocked' when we were approached... soon, after it happened so often, I learned to just smile and go on. They were on their path in life, so... was I.

There are alot of scammers at truck stops, especially near the casinos out west. They gamble and lose all their money, walk across to the truck stops nearby... and begin to weave their stories to fit each driver they encountered. The regular story was that their car was broken down 'somewhere', their children were waiting for them to get back. They needed money to get to where they were going, and they were hungry. Sometimes, Skip and I would let ourselves 'be taken' and hand over money. We'd justify it by saying 'at least in our hearts we know what we gave the money for... no matter the scammer had other things in mind to use the money for'.

Truck drivers are easy to scam if it's done 'just right'. They are away from their families....... children, wives, mothers, fathers, sisters, cousins, uncles, aunts, so forth. If someone approaches them 'just right' and 'make the right sounds'... and reminded them of one of those special people they love.... that driver will pull his hard-earned money out to help them. These people 'know' that... and they pull out all the tricks to separate a driver from his money. I began to learn them and quit giving my money away.

Homeless people .... now, I care about homeless people, though they can be sly and tricky, too. I didn't like the ones who had 'that gleam' in their eyes and would try to con me. I could 'see' the ones who were quiet and never asked for anything... those were the people I noticed. I wanted to make a little difference in their life. Many times Skip and I did make a difference with food, money, and paying for a night for them to stay in a motel... where they could get away from their life on the streets for just alittle while. We wished we could do more, but... we did the best 'we could'.... hopefully others did the same behind us and kept the 'good things' going.

Some truck stops were dangerous, some rest areas were dangerous. One driver that was our friend, also, drove for the company we drove for. We were always meeting him out in California somewhere on our routes. One particular time we met him... we didn't recognize him for the bandages on his head... but, we recognized his truck. He'd been beaten up, robbed and left for dead in a rest area we always stopped to sleep at on our way on I-5 North in California.

That particular rest area also, 'had prostitutes coming out of the bushes' literally ...each night. They would slip to the trucks under the blanket of darkness, servicing drivers and making their money. It was a dangerous world... in that truck stop/rest area. It wasn't well lit at nights, one could get hurt just as that driver did.

Another driver we knew from our company was a woman who drove alone. We met up with her on one trip out west... she had been attacked one night walking the long walk a driver has to walk from the giant parking lots at truck stops.... to just simply go in to the bathroom, or for whatever reason. She came back to her truck that particular night, as she neared her truck.... she saw a man close by. Of course, one would think it was just another driver, she didn't feel alarm. She got to her door to unlock it when she felt the man come up behind her... what happened next one can guess. She was raped brutally ... no one knew it was happening.

All one can hear in those truck parking lots are the sounds of big truck motors, and the smell of diesel fuel. Strangely enough ...as sissy as I am... I love it! I feel excitement today 'inside' when I hear the motor of a big truck, or a Greyhound bus, and smell those diesel fumes. It's intoxicating! I want to go, to travel down that highway... looking out the big windshield! I love seeing 'everything' from the very different people, real blizzards most people only read about, storms you wouldn't believe if you've never experienced them when they 'come up out of the blue'!

No matter how weary and road-tired one was... even the smallest, shabbiest truck stop became 'home' for a little while. Who cared if you felt safe, and could shower and eat a good meal? The ones I didn't like were the ones where once in a great while we'd stop at... were 'strange'. The people would be strange, the atmosphere just didn't feel good at all.. we didn't want to hang around them... these were ones way out in the desert or 'out of the way'. One could make up horror stories visiting truck stops like them.

What a contrast between working in a hospital setting, in a office wearing the prettiest dresses, and high heels! That's what I did prior to going to truck driver school, and began driving with Skip. Skip taught me the 'important' things about driving a truck. Out west driving a car or truck isn't like driving here in North Carolina... no, not at all. The mountains 'out west'... you can't even imagine, nor do they compare with anything 'back east'!!!

The dangers are only too real 'out there' if one isn't alert at all times. The driving conditions are never the same.... one trip all could be 'perfect weather'... the next trip could have a white-out/blizzard or a blinding dust storm. These are storms that if were 'back east' ... no one would believe... they've only read about them.

The winds could be horrific, blowing trucks over. I've been in alot of these winds, dust storms, blizzards, outrunning tornados up on I-40 in the Texas Panhandle... I was with my hero, Skip. I felt safe with him behind the wheel... so, would you if he were in control in such fierce weather. He's 'cool as a cucumber'!

I have felt our truck lift up and almost go over while traveling at high speeds down the interstate. I have been in and have driven in the famous fogs one read about in California. Hair-raising, adrenaline pumping, butterflies in the stomach rides! Sometimes... too much excitement for me! I've watched as a big truck lifted up and went over out on the plains where there aren't trees, only sand... allowing the wind to blow forcefully ...nothing breaking its speed.

I have many stories of 'on the road again'.... it's a 'whole other world out there'............ it's as wonderful as it is as ... dangerous. It's exciting both in a good way... and in a 'bad' way. Nothing ever stays the same, it's never boring ... one can keep their finger on the pulse of their country traveling from one end of it to the other, and back.... constantly for years. We traveled almost in every state when I drove with Skip.

Truck stops... home away from home... safe haven... grew to mean alot to me on the road. I could see the lights shining at nighttime and feel excitement knowing that once I get to the truck stop... we could get our showers, supper and.... rest. We could be be 'safe' there for the hours while we slept... we were in the safety of numbers... hundreds of other trucks like a .... wagon train in the old days. In the desert.... one could imagine......... and 'see' in their minds how it could be.... just like in the stories you read about.

Truck stops could be like the main place in town one went to when coming into town back in the old days. Hitch up your horse, park your big truck.... come on in, pay for a shower and fresh towels, and a nice, clean bed to sleep in (we did sleep at the motels when we had time).

Truck stops.... I am at home when I am at a truck stop, I know them so well. My eyes can scan and I 'can see' things the ordinary, everyday traveler never sees when stopping at one... just like I used to be. Two worlds co-existing... side by side.... as close as you and I walking inside a truck stop... your world and my world would be different...yet while one looked at both of us............ we would look like we are in the same world. We are, but... we aren't.

WRITING... A PLACE TO PUT MY IDEAS :)))

2012-02-26T07:24:00.000-05:00

WRITING... A PLACE TO PUT MY IDEAS :)))

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I was thinking of ideas that I thought were great ideasin the past. I have even thought ofseveral 'inventions'. Have you ever donethat? I find it frustrating to forgetabout it, later in time try to remember it. I find out that I 'have for-real forgotten it'. I never remember it unless by some freakaccident ... it comes back to my mind.

What bothers me about this is those ideas I have had inthe past were 'brilliant ideas!' I justknow they were! Here is one forexample... and if someone does it... wouldn't it be fun?

For example.... 'Panty Pocket'. One could have a little secure pocket in each pair of their underwear thatzips or has a drawstring at the top. Inmen's shorts it could be called a 'Short Pocket'. :)))

Just think ... one could secure their rings, or money...just zip or tie the top of the pocket up, and go on and exercise, or ride thatspecial State Fair ride without fear you'll lose your valuables.

I think adults would appreciate my ideas on having adultrocking horses, and seesaws. I wouldplay on them as a Granny Gee now! I knowI wrote before about never getting to enjoy these things as a child... Ipromise you I would enjoy them now, as a Granny Gee. You would see me grinning from ear to ear...and get an idea of what I would have done as a child. Yes, ole Granny Gee would love to have herown rocking horse.......... she might not find anyone to enjoy the seesaw withher... I don't know if Skip would seesaw with me... let me ask him now....

I just asked Skip... he said first of all... we wouldhave to have a privacy fence around it... and yes, he would check it out... andhe would want to put me 'way up in the air!' :))) Honestly... I didn't want to'fly'... all I wanted to do was to 'seesaw just a little bit'. Now ..Skip wants to send me to the moon.

Anyway..... see...if I hadn't wrote about this... it'd all be forgotten. Don't you think it ...'nice to have a placeto put one's ideas, no matter how important or unimportant they are'? If I choose to share my ideas all I have todo is to publish it online, so, you can read them!

So, even if they aren't the greatest, most important toanyone else... it may trigger an idea in another person... and at the end... myideas aren't wasted... they've been printed in a special place... here! I love it!

THE SUNSHINE WILL DRY MY TEARS, WARM MY HEART, FILL MY MIND WITH HEALING LIGHT... I WALK FORWARD 'JUST A LITTLE STRONGER' ...ONCE AGAIN...TOMMY, LENA, FAIRCHILD

2012-02-25T05:50:00.001-05:00

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

This morning Skip and I were talking about mywriting. I was showing him the hundredsof pages I have written in three months. I held the stack in my hands and said....

"I have written all of this because of...Lena". Lena and I wroteeveryday, several times a day for.... twelve years. Lena died in August of 2011... when she died,I couldn't stop writing.

I found that I couldn't stop writing... she and I wrotejust like I write everyday... we wrote about 'real life'... we used words thathad meaning and never used 'empty' words.

I miss Lena with my very heart, and I have to be carefulwhen thinking of her... it makes me cry. She was an important part of my life each day, and each morning earlythe first thing I did was to turn my computer on to find Lena's emails...they'd always be there. When theyweren't.. or mine weren't there to her... something was wrong. We would worry so much about the other untilwe knew what had happened. Yes, Lenameant the world to me.

Lena is 'why' I write now... she isn't 'there' to writeto now. That's 'why' I write to you, andyou all mean the world to me. I'm goingto be writing to you... for the rest of my life. Lena would be proud of me.

I'm always 'here' too, when you write back to me. I love the emails I get from differentpeople, I always answer them back. 'Why?' Because they are importantto me, and someone thought I was important enough to take their time to writeto me. I think you are important enoughto take my time to write back... and I always will.

Do you know... I lost Tommy, Fairchild... our 11 year oldRottie, and Lena close together... they were so important and special to my'private-real' life. If someone asked meto describe how it felt for that to happen.... I could only look at them and say...'I don't think there are enough words to describe that kind of pain'. I know I've told you that it is the worse,and I know alot of you understand... because you can imagine, and I know thereare some who have and are now, on that same path I travelled.

My only words to someone who is suffering as I have anddo now... keep picking yourself back up, keep dusting your pants off. Doesn't that sound so easy to do? When you lose your most loved ones, I promiseyou.... those little words no way compare to how hard it is to do.

But... somehow one has got to keep going forward... weall have other loved ones who need us, too. So... you just have to keep doing that, go forward... fall down, get up,fall back down, crawl..cry, scream... get back up, fall back down, cry...sob... weep, but, no matter what... get back up..... after a 'million' times,one gets stronger.

One can still have 'weak' moments, I do. I'll feel them 'coming on'... or out of theblue, they can happen. I will cry it outuntil my eyes are sore from so many tears, I can't breathe good, and my bodyfeels so weak.

Do you know what? 'NOW'... I open my eyes and I 'look forward', and in my mind 'I goforward'... soon, I'm alright again. Ican 'know' that no matter what... I'm going to make it... 'now'. I may be going forward 'in tears'... soon..the sunshine's warmth will dry them, warm my heart, fill my mind with itshealing light... I walk forward 'just a little stronger'... once again.

I FELT A WRENCHING SENSATION IN MY HEART... SOMETHING PULLED SO DEEPLY FROM MY SOUL.. I BEGAN CRYING INSIDE... IF I COULD HAVE KNOWN THEN, WHAT I KNOW NOW...

2012-02-24T05:46:00.000-05:00

I FELT A WRENCHING SENSATION IN MY HEART... SOMETHING PULLED SO DEEPLY FROM MY SOUL... I BEGAN CRYING INSIDE... IF I COULD HAVE KNOWN THEN, WHAT I KNOW NOW...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I was watching tv when I saw something about the 'invisible homeless'. I knew about homeless people who are in every city living on the streets, hidden out of view in tunnels, alleys, and places normally not frequented.

I know it touches my heart because these people brave the elements 'every minute' of their life. Can you imagine that? Every minute, second of their life. It hurts my heart so much. People and animals have to suffer so greatly in this world just to survive the weather... and 'man'. There's always something to prey on the weak.

Here in Raleigh, I got to see on tv one of the faces... of the invisible homeless. It shocked me, and made me sit upright. The cameras panned to a SUV...to an attractive black lady who appeared to be in her late 30's ...maybe. She was sitting under the steering wheel, tucking blankets around her body. She had on a toboggan framing her pretty face... though ..something was wrong. Her face was filled with stress, her eyes filled with tears.. I could see she was cold.

I 'felt' such pain inside for this woman... she said she slept in her car. I had the impression that either she parked in different places, or maybe her car didn't have gas to go. I stopped 'my life' for a few moments to 'really feel her'.... I felt her helplessness, her grief for her broken life. I really felt this so deeply from my soul when I saw....

I didn't get to see all that transpired... but, I did see that something really good and special was given to this woman.... I watched her burst into tears and I watched and felt her emotions on her face as she hugged a woman... her eyes were closed so tightly, and the tears..........

Oh, the tears were streaming down her face.. whatever was given to her meant the very world to her. I saw how her face had wrinkles around her nose and eyes... from the 'raw emotion' ..... my heart actually 'squeezed hard, I felt something pull inside my soul, I felt pain for this woman. I am sitting here 'wanting to cry my heart out'.... she reflects others we don't see.

You won't believe this... on Raleigh's Channel 5 (WRAL).... they showed a preview of this same woman sitting behind her steering wheel... and said that tomorrow evening one can hear about 'Raleigh's Invisible Homeless', people who are living in their cars. I want to watch this very much.

It hurts me so much... because think about it... it wouldn't take alot to make you and I .... have to live in our cars. Unless, you are most fortunate to have alot of money these days, and good health... people like you and I are only... a few weeks, or months from being homeless. Only 'a little money' ..... separates us from living in our cars.

I was just thinking that this old world is so full of pain as well as joy... I think I've known alot of both... maybe just a little more pain than joy.... life isn't the easiest financially.... we are like alot of people, young and older... not really that far from .... being homeless. I've thought about this alot in a 'very real and honest way'. I don't pretend to be anything but, me..... I have my pride but, it's in the most honest way now, as I've grown older.

I always think to myself that 'now'.... if I 'fall on my face'...... that the fall hopefully wouldn't be quite as far... if 'I've never pretended to be something I'm not from the beginning'. I would hope someone would have compassion for me, knowing I'm real, and so 'imperfect'.

I think back to my youth... how haughty, arrogant... (I hate to admit that... I really do. 'Who in the hell did I think 'I' was'?).... snooty I was at times. Like my beautiful clothes, shoes, cars, money, home, my looks 'made 'me' better ....than anyone.

I see members of my 'family', people I know ...doing the very same thing.... 'now'. 'Who in the hell do 'they' think they are'? I 'see myself' in them... nothing can touch them to make them know 'now'. It will take years to 'wake them up'.... just as it did me....... material things are most important ...now.

'Looking down' on someone who is less fortunate.... is most important now... because that's what it takes to make them feel 'big'. If they do give.... they want the whole world to know what they did... so, they can be thought of as so giving and wonderful.

They can't give in a quiet, meaningful way never wanting 'credit for giving'... they want their name there... so, they can be thought of as 'doing their part'.... they don't see that at the same time as giving... they are embarassing, making someone feel little by wanting to be 'loud about giving'. And..... of course, the person will take it because they so desperately need it, and smile with ... a red face. I've been on both ends... at one time or other since I was nine years old... when I began to learn ....'needing'.

I had a big heart 'then'.... but, it wasn't 'big enough'. I wasted so much time being like that.... 'flying high'. The higher I flew, the 'farther I had to fall'......... and .... fall I did. I fell hard... in disgrace, shame, embarassment many years ago. Yes, 'who in the hell did I think I was'? I deserved what I got.

I just saw on tv again... about watching the invisible homeless tomorrow evening at 6:00 pm.... I got to see again that same woman with so much emotion on her face... tears are streaming down my face at this very moment... I could feel deeply for her... more than my words can say.

I wonder if I 'feel so deeply now'.... if it's because I should have years ago.. and when I 'had alot'............ I could have made more of a difference than I did. I wonder if my words could 'touch a younger person/people'.... while they 'have everything in their life... money, youth'.... to reach out and help someone. I've wasted so many years.

I can say that even not 'having everything now'... I do reach out, both Skip and I... and help without asking if someone needs it. If possible ...we 'just reach out' when we have extra... sometimes, we do without to help.... nothing can match the joyous feeling inside when .... giving.

I don't (neither does Skip).... care about all the 'glory and credit' for giving... we do it quietly.... only 'we need to know inside' ... what we did. No one ever has to... only whoever receives... sometimes 'they don't know where the help comes from'.

It 'doesn't matter where it come from'.............. as long as it comes to make a good difference in someone's life when they need it. Aren't we all so thankful... when 'out of the blue'........... just the right things fall into place for us? We sometimes wonder 'how did that happen'..... what's more important is 'that it happened'... sometimes, it saves our lives.

I know all this ....'now'. I don't care if no one ever knows what I've done in my own way.... I do what I can, I 'let go' and go on with my life. I never expect nothing back... never. I think alot of times this kind of knowledge comes with age..... it would be a very smart, caring young person who learned this lesson early in life. Life would be so joyous for them if they learned it early.... I know it would have made my life more joyous..... I could have created so much happiness where there wasn't any............ if I had known.

I know..... 'now'.

　

HELLO CHRISTMAS DAY... I FINALLY GOT HERE

2012-02-23T06:14:00.002-05:00

HELLO CHRISTMAS DAY... I FINALLY GOT HERE

Sunday, 25 December, 2011

I just opened the curtains to the world and I felt a smile in my heart. I've made it to this moment ... it's Christmas Day ... and I feel good inside. I'm even looking forward to Skip and I preparing the turkey and dressing and all the traditional things for our... Christmas Day meal later today.

I'm so glad to be right here... in this very moment... I made it! I'm going to be alright now. I am finally 'head-on' with Christmas Day... and I'm a winner now, I'm not going to be so sad today.. this must mean I'm getting just a little more... stronger.

The pain is there... but, I've faced it head-on and I 'wrote 500 times on the mental blackboard in my mind'.........the things that hurt me (Tommy is gone, he can't be back, it hurts... let's go forward... you have to, Skip and Kissy and Chadwick are 'here' for you). I kept repeating those words inside.... trying to take the power away.. to hurt me.

It's not as bad as I thought it would be though... like just now, I'm hearing a very powerful Christmas song in the background that swells my heart up with emotion and tears came to my eyes.... 'fall on your knees and hear the angels' voices'... the choir was singing. All I can tell myself is... life is going to be like that sometimes... let's go forward. Here I go....

I made coffee and got out the big, red coffee mugs for us to drink coffee from this morning. Skip is still in bed and so, are those spoiled pups. I got up earlier so, I could do something I've wanted to do so long... but, for some reason thought I ..couldn't. That's what I'm doing at this very moment... write.

I began November 2nd this year... and haven't stopped. I'm doing now, what I always wanted Skip and Jimmy to do.... write. I know that I'm not a 'true' writer.. I write from my very heart and in words that are only my own... not in the proper form one 'should' write in.

Skip CAN write beautifully and Jimmy is gone now... he died December 16th, last year. He could write beautifully, also. Now.. he can't, he's gone. Maybe.. Skip will be inspired to write... he enjoys reading what I write... and when I see a little smile on his face while reading.. I can't tell you how that makes me feel! I've 'touched' him in some way with what 'I had to say' while writing.

I hope my words can mean alot ..to other people. I know if I found words someone kept writing from their heart... those would be the words I would like to read. Maybe... just maybe... I could cause you to smile just a little bit or even better... make you laugh out loud... that would make me smile and laugh.

I know just lately I've been sad alot... but, I don't stay that way. Even happy people can feel so sad, sometimes. Guess what? It isn't even the 'end of the world'... no, not at all.

Now .... last year when Tommy died ... was a different 'ballgame'. It DID feel like the end of my world... and I won't lie to you.... it ALMOST was. So, I'm not going to sugar-coat anything because who knows.... someone at this very moment may be reading what I have written about losing their child... wouldn't I seem so 'flip'.. just simply saying 'it isn't even the end of the world' to them'?

I haven't found anything that I've read since Tommy's death to help me in any way... so, I quit looking. Maybe just my experience by telling it like it really has been can in some way make a little difference... somehow. It won't take their pain away... that's for sure... but, maybe 'knowing someone else has and is experiencing what they are also, experiencing in their life and is still 'going forward' from that experience'... can give them hope.

I will say this... a person reaches out as best as they can in that time of being the weakest.. for all the life-savers they can grasp hold of.. because myself.. I was AT the point of not wanting to even reach up anymore from the sea of grief I was floundering in.

No, I... WOULDN'T have reached up at all.... if you want to know the absolute truth....... if I hadn't heard Skip constantly 'in the distance' saying 'Baby Girl, are you alright' and he never stopped talking to me or 'being there'. Our pups were 'there'........... though I couldn't 'see' Skip and the Pups... they were 'there' and they kept 'pulling me back to ...here'.

I know they had a battle on their hands... I ALMOST couldn't ...hold on to them... my life-savers. Their voices and presence led me on that dark path... back to them once they lifted me from my sea of grief.

I crawled and I fought so hard to reach them through blinded eyes of tears and the weakness of my body, my soul, my heart. I've never fought so hard to come back to...life. I had died...inside. It hurts me now, to think about this.. my words in no way can describe what I came through... but, I promise I will keep on trying to tell it like it is... like it was... through time.

If you are going through something like this... don't quit... listen closely and follow your loved ones' voices when ...you can't see. They want you back... or they will have to experience what I'm experiencing and have experienced...you are experiencing or have experienced........... 'listen closely'... you don't have to see... just follow their life-saving voices and 'feel' them ...go forward to them. Even living.... we have to go forward to the light.

For now, it's time to begin Christmas Day in my life... Skip and those spoiled Pups are up now. I won't dwell now... on sadness, though there will be 'moments'.. and I'll just have to smile through my tears and 'know' everything's all right... this Christmas Day I'm with my loved ones... though one, two, three... are missing.... it's still going to be alright.

I'm going to do my part now... I'm going to help make it nice as possible... after all, as Barbara says.... (and I've always thought and said, also).......... Christmas IS a magical time. We all have to contribute to making it that... special. It's time for me to go and ... help make it wonderful today. How lucky I am to have my family... Skip and our Pups! Those spoiled pups........... :))))))

I'M SURE THAT WOMAN WISHED SHE'D NEVER MET THE YOUNG GRANNY GEE! I DIDN'T MEAN FOR 'ALL THAT' TO HAPPEN!!!

2012-02-23T06:02:00.001-05:00

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I wasnineteen, a pretty girl with a happy smile and I was glad to be around ...people! I had left the North Carolinamountains to come back home to Raleigh. I wanted to be around people, lights, town... yes, I was happy 'to behome'!

I was isolated living in those mountains... fourteenmiles from both towns I lived between. I'd never been left alone in my entire life.. I was abused, mistreatedas a child... but, I'd never been left alone. I had gotten married too young... I ran away to marry a man... at thattime he was a 'God' to me. I was tooyoung, and he was 'too worldly'... he loved lots of women.

I was younger, he told me what to do and, he left me allalone in the countryside, while he'd be gone. I'd never been in the countryside before going there to live. It terrified me... I wanted to go back totown to live where there were lights to warm my soul, light my path... to keepthe darkness away. I was afraid of thedark.... I had grown up knowing 'things happen in the dark!' I was left me alone for days and nights. That's very scary for a 16 year old girl whowas used to living in town, around people at all times.

I needed a job, and I decided to apply at Shoney's. I was thinking in terms of salary plustips... I would make good tips! I wentthere, talked to the manager, and filled out my application. I knew I had the job before leaving because,she asked me to come to work the next day.

I'd never worked, never had to work. I wanted to work and learn how to take careof myself. All of this lasted .... oneday! You wouldn't believe what couldhappen in just.... one day.

I showed up early for my new job with expectations ofhaving a fun day on a new job... one I'd gotten all by myself. I had all kinds of plans in my mind now, I was going to make my own money. I was living at my mother's home, andsoon.... I wanted to get my own place. This is what I had in mind ...until...........................

The manager was a very nice woman, she liked me but, I amsure she hated my guts when that night came! I'm sure she wished I'd never come in to apply for that job.

I was smiling brightly with happiness at all the otherwaitresses, and waiter. They were allsmiling back at me! I 'knew' I was goingto like it here. I was shown how tocarry a giant tray that was 'bigger than I was'... with plates of food, saucersof pie (that strawberry pie sure looked good!).

The dishes on that tray that I had to carry were big,thick, heavy dishes. I was strong,young.... but, the weight was almost too much for me! Not only that... that terra cotta tile floorwas too slippery to walk on!

The customers liked me, they were giving me lots oftips. I loved hearing the coins rattlingas I dropped more in my pocket. What Iloved best were the dollar bills, and five dollar bills that were silentlystuck in my pocket! This was in that oneday!

There was one thing that disturbed me early that day whenI took my first break. Myfeet were really hurting from walking on that terra cotta tile floor. I was shown to the employee breakroom, Iimmediately sat down to rest my feet. Iwas alone at the table, and since no one was in there... I decided to take myshoes off (they were new, white and like the ones worn by nurses).

When I took those shoes off, the pain seemed to get moreintense! They tingled. I closed my eyes and began to slowly rub myleft foot with my right foot. It felt sogood sitting there, rubbing my feet like that. I had on stockings, and the silkiness of the stockings made it easy toslide my feet against the other!

I still had my eyes closed, rubbing my feet and was 'inanother world' one where my feet were...... hurting and feeling good..... atthe same time! I heard a soft voicebehind me coming from the doorway!

"Baby, keep on rubbing your feet, rub them, rubthem!' The soft, voice sounded excited,it came from one of the male waiters! Istopped rubbing my feet, I was embarassed as I turned around to see ..... 'whatin the hell!' I couldn't believe myeyes... that waiter was standing there 'humping his hand!'

I'd never seen such, much less knew what he wasdoing. I knew he was in the throes ofpassion by the way he moved quickly! Iwanted out of there. He was moaning as Iran quickly past him, back up the dim hallway to the door leading into thedining area!

Each time I was standing behind the counter to bend overto get something... I would feel pressure on my backside! That male waiter would be rubbing up againstme! It began to upset me greatly, thoughI kept smiling. I didn't like this! He would mumble words to me that I couldn'tunderstand. I began to feel there was'something bad wrong' with this guy.... I began to keep my distance, he found away to keep invading my personal space.

I had gotten the hang of what to do... when disasterstruck. When disaster struck, it set offa chain of events that 'ended my wonderful career as a Shoney waitress! The male waiter 'was the beginning!'

I was moving quickly carrying the huge tray with onehand, it was loaded with those big, thick, heavy saucers. Each saucer held a big piece of strawberrypie.... I meant to have some of that later! The weight of it all was pressing my hand 'down', I was hurrying andthat slippery floor made me slip.....

Oh..... my.... God! I watched as that big tray left my hand, I tried to stop it! I watched those big, thick, heavy saucers flythrough the air spreading.... red strawberry pie 'everywhere'! I was so embarassed, so in pain, so 'wantingto melt into the floor'.... the noise it all made!

Red, strawberry pie on everything, on the countertop...broken, white pieces of the saucers were stuck here and there in thatstrawberry pie! I heard people gaspingwondering 'what in the __ just happened.... they couldn't see me! But... they did when I began to raise up frommy knee! I don't think anyone asked me'if I was okay'... but, I heard the manager's voice as she came running toward............................. Oh ....my..... God!

Down she went! Shewent sliding down on that slippery floor and slid up to me.... strawberry pieon her! I looked at her in horror! I knew she was dead! Someone yelled "call theambulance!" I was asking, beggingher to be okay! She just laidthere! I wanted to leave! I stayed.

The ambulance came, they loaded her into the truck andtook her away.... I was left there not knowing what to do. I began to help clean up the mess, all thewhile that same male waiter stayed behind me.... mumbling!

I could understand what he was saying now! He kept saying "It's your fault! It's your fault she's hurt!" This only made how I felt worse.... and theknowledge that 'now'... I knew he was 'crazy'!

Just before my shift ended.... a call came. The manager's leg was broken, she wouldn't beback for a while! When I left thatShoney's restaurant that day.... I knew I wasn't coming back either! I never got paid for that day.... what wasworse.........

I never got any of that strawberry pie!

:)))

LITTLE SOFT LIGHTS...

2012-02-22T04:33:00.000-05:00

LITTLE SOFT LIGHTS...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

In a darkened room there is a ficus tree

with soft, clear lights glowing to cheer me.

It's raining outside, the sky is gray

the little soft lights inside keep sadness at bay.

On days like this, it's easy to become sad and down

I just turn the lights on the ficus tree, the lamps that sit.. around.

Light is so important to one's mind and soul

We all need it to brighten 'inside', it's worth its weight in gold.

I've been in the darkness many times in my life, I know

how much light means on my path... as I go.

I can see now... my path is free and clear

my son's memory tucked in my heart, feeling him 'near'.

LITTLE FIREPLACE IN THE CORNER...

2012-02-22T04:15:00.000-05:00

LITTLE FIREPLACE IN THE CORNER...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

February 16, 2012

There's a happy little fireplace that sits in the corner of the living room near the ficus tree. The fireplace is burning, the soft lights are shining on the tree. That corner glows with ... happiness. Happiness that spreads around the room right to .. whoever is sitting there. Your soul can absorb the soft, beautiful light... it feels so good.

When one is 'full of light inside'... it feels like you are 'glowing it to the outside' of ..you. That's a rare feeling... but, at this moment... I feel that special glowing feeling. I feel like the light is 'spilling out from me' through my eyes.... this must be how it feels to 'be inside the fireplace as an ember, a log'.... burning and reflecting its light 'outside'. What a warm feeling! Happy feeling!

I love to feel such feelings, and wish to feel more of them. It's been so long since I've felt such. This is the first of many as I find peace 'inside'. I feel that lately such a change has happened 'inside' of me. I 'feel like that little fireplace'... a soft, glowing warmth inside my soul wanting to reflect ... out.

Yes, something is happening inside me to change my sadness, my grief to a feeling of bittersweet... a feeling that now... I can bear. I know I've talked lately alot about this... I feel I am getting happier, and happier. I have my own little fireplace in my soul, burning a soft red-orange...spreading a soft glow that lights and warms my heart. I hope I can reflect that from my eyes, my actions and spread it to others.

I would love to be a magical person and bring peace to everyone who touches my life. I know I am only human and can't be perfect... but, I can wish! :))) I know that if I stump my toe.... I will still say .....'damn!'

FORBIDDEN VIEW...

2012-02-21T04:30:00.000-05:00

FORBIDDEN VIEW...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

Growing up in rural Virginia, Skip always looked forward to the summer months, not just because he was out of school for summer vacation, but also, swimming in the local river which was beautiful and had a white, sandy bottom.

The true highlight of the summer was when the harvest of string beans took place. A group of women would assemble at his grandmother's home to string and snap the green beans.

It was common practice for some of the women to not wear undergarments ( 'drawers' ). They would sit with their legs apart using their dress to hold the green beans they were working on.

Skip would find a seat on the bottom step which gave him a 'good bird's eye view' of what was 'normally concealed'!

One day when the women were snapping green beans, Skip's father drove up from work. He walked up to the porch and stood for a moment looking around.

He said "what are you doing, boy?" Skip said "I'm not doing anything". His dad said to him "don't lie to me, boy! I know exactly what you are doing!"

"Don't you know that the Lord will strike you blind?" his father asked. Skip immediately squinted one eye and said "I'm going to take a chance with this one eye!"

I have laughed over this through the years. Skip has been a mischievious person, and he has the funniest stories. I love to write about them sometimes.

You remember the story about the brownies! I'll be writing more funny things about him, too. They've entertained me so much through the years, I feel like you'll get a laugh, also.

I look forward to writing about some of his 'grandma' stories! Especially ... when she saw ghosts late one evening. Her boyfriend's name was Marley. He would come to 'court' her and they would sit in the parlor. I love how that sounds. So romantic.........

Marley saw some ghosts one night, too! Not only that, he had quite an experience with a rattlesnake! I will write about these stories in the future.

I laughed so much watching Skip as he told the above story... I could 'see' him as a young boy doing that! Curiosity! :)))

PURPLE SHAMPOO...

2012-02-20T02:26:00.000-05:00

PURPLE SHAMPOO!...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I went to get my hair trimmed yesterday at Raffles. I am going to say that the girls in there do a nice job cutting hair. I'm glad I found them.

My hair has become a 'champagne' color where it's lightened up naturally... I'm happy that the older I've become... my hair color seems 'pretty much even all over'..... where it's lightened up.

Skip likes it, I like it... and now, I don't want to put color on it. I'm going to leave it like it is. I love my natural color!

Now.. yesterday I almost made a mistake. I asked the girl who cut my hair what could I use to make my hair shine more? No big deal.

Immediately she and the other beautician standing nearby said to use Matrix Total Results, but... don't use it more than twice in one week. The other beautician told about a woman using her Total Results shampoo more than two times... now, she has purple hair! Oh... My ... God!

Well, I decided I would come home and 'use the shampoo just one time'.... and use it quickly! I jumped into the shower and got my hair wet... took alittle of that shampoo and put it on my hair, worked it in and rinsed it quickly .... I didn't want to take a chance on having 'purple hair'!

I got out, toweled off, dressed and then, began drying and fixing my hair. It has become thin since Tommy died, the beautician said stress, grief can cause one's hair to do that. It should begin doing okay now. I've always had very thick hair.

Anyway, I noticed that there was a little 'silvery' sheen on my 'champagne' color.... I decided to read the bottle! As I read that bottle I decided I'm going to give that new bottle of shampoo away! The shampoo is purple in color, and on the front of it... it says 'So Silver'....now, I don't want my 'champagne' color to turn 'silver'!!! No way! I want my own color, nothing to keep up.

How lucky I am for the way my hair is 'doing by itself'... yes, I'm going to give that purple shampoo away. If anyone is reading this who knows me personally.... and it's convenient to give it to them... just let me know... this purple shampoo can be yours with .... no charge!

SKIP LIKES THAT LOTION!

2012-02-18T11:23:00.001-05:00

SKIP LIKES THAT LOTION...
BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

That sure is some good lotion. I like the smell of it, and I like how it feels when I rub it on my face and hands. It feels good!

Skip was telling me about the lotion he'd found on the shelf in the closet at the end of the hall. I asked him what color was it, what scent was it. He told me it had a nice floral scent, and it was pink in color.

My mind was on something else at the time, so... I didn't dwell on the lotion at that time. I did think though... I would check it out, and use some of it..... but, I couldn't remember 'that' lotion.

That sure is some good lotion! Skip had used it again. This time it piqued my curiousity! I wanted to use some, too! I wanted to smell that beautiful scent he kept mentioning! The phone rang, I ran to answer it, forgetting that lotion once again.

Several days later, after I had taken my shower I happened to think about that nice-smelling, pink lotion Skip kept raving about! I wanted to smell the nice floral scent he described... of course, I love floral scents. Also, I wanted to know 'how' that lotion come to be there on the shelf, and I couldn't remember it!

I walked down the carpeted hallway to the door, opened it. I saw the pretty bottle right away. I was thinking that bottle was something else, but.... I don't use my reading glasses all the time... and after a time I forget things that I do have.

I reached for it, decided I needed my reading glasses to read the pretty label. Skip uses reading glasses, too. I don't think he read this label with reading glasses on.

I read:

BODY ESSENCE

Raspberry Shea Butter

Ultra-Moisturizing

BODY WASH

Shea Butter Beads

Softens and Conditions Skin

24 fl.oz.

I began laughing thinking of seeing Skip putting that wonderful 'lotion' on his face and hands, how he enjoyed using it! I laughed until I got weak... I couldn't wait to tell him that his beautiful lotion was in actuality............

Raspberry Body Wash!!!

TABOO...

2012-02-17T10:48:00.001-05:00

TABOO...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

Fuzzy and happy..2 shot glasses full... juices left over from a steak... the essence of another...mating ritual... giving a part of your spirit, your energy... vamping out, severe cravings for..................................................

Blood. I have been watching a documentary on vampire 'people'. I've been watching them put little 'Xs' on the skin, criss-crossing the skin with a razor... and drinking the blood before it cools. I can't even imagine 'drinking someone's blood'. I've been watching them 'slurp' it up!

I won't knock it because... it might be goo, but, I can say I don't want to be ... full of someone else's red-red
blood! I would waste it by getting sick. One woman says 'it's just a part of life'. They say that drinking blood is a way of 'embracing life'.

I think I would rather hug someone, and let that be my way of embracing life. I think I'll let my hugs be my 'part of life'.

I was thinking of the disadvantages 'for me to drink your blood'....

First of all, if any dripped out of my mouth when I was savoring it... it would drip red on 'everything'! I would have a hard time getting the bloodstains out...and gracious, suppose someone knocked at the door! Would I go to answer the door with a bloody smile? It might be good if there are people there with ill intentions.... they'd be scared of me', instead me scared of them... they would 'know I might bite them!' I bite... anyway! :)))

Red isn't my favorite color, though I like it! But... I don't want your blood! You might need it! I don't want to need your blood, nor do I want to crave it!

I was thinking that if there were alot of 'bloodsuckers' in a crowd... and someone accidently got cut.... would everyone rush with their mouths open, tongues flicking in and out in anticipation to get your blood? Seems like there is a danger of being 'sucked up'.

I can think of alot of situations people have 'glood'... like in hosptial... one's IVs. Can you imagine someone who needs some blood standing there with that 'craving gleam' in their eyes, a little crazy half-grin on their lips, that ole tongue licking their lips? In and out... in and out.......................................................................

I can 'see' it now... they pull that little razor out and put an 'X' on your bag of blood... and stick a straw in it, suck out a couple shot glasses of it, put a bandaid over the hole to seal it up. You are lying there watching in disbelief, all the while thinking you are 'high' on medicines! Who are you going to tell, what are you going to say? Press the call button to tell the nurse 'hey, someone is in here with a straw in my bag of blood sucking it all gone!' Of course, she wouldn't believe you.

I don't like the metallic taste of blood. Yes, I've tasted blood, I know you have too. Oh my gosh, I wouldn't want to crave blood and someone's 'nose began to bleed'! I wouldn't want to suck a nose!

I'm thinking now... I don't knock those vampires but, I don't want to be one. I have respect for everyone else's beliefs. It doesn't mean I believe in them, or want to practice them. I'm not ever going to let anyone see my nose bleed! One never knows who is watching... or how fast someone could... jump on your nose! :)))

Yes... I know this sounds silly, but...I, like you.... sometimes have very silly thoughts. Someone could be standing closeby... with that 'craving gleam' in their eyes, that little crazy half-grin, that ole tongue flicking ...in and out, in and out.... in and out! Oh, I'm going to watch my nose, too! You just might want to watch yours... too!

I wonder what that man is looking at...standing here in this library... he seems to be ... is his tongue flicking over his lips.. why, I wonder 'if' that's a crazy, little grin on ... his mouth? His eyes..... wait a minute... he's not craving blood... I think he is just chewing on his gum! :)))

Note: I am going to wait until Sunday morning and publish 2 stories online. I'm ready to take a break from the library! I'll be writing at home from now on! Thank-you, Ms Nancy, for your offer... it means so much because I know how sincere you are. You are the best friend anyone could have!

I WANTED TO TELL YOU ABOUT... THIS WEEK AT THE LIBRARY...INTERNET SERVICE

2012-02-16T10:40:00.000-05:00

I WANTED TO TELL YOU ABOUT... THIS WEEK AT THE LIBRARY...INTERNET SERVICE
BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I am going to vent this morning about my internet service. I can't get at this time internet like I used to always have... that was Centurylink, the very best in my opinion. It was fast, reliable and...wonderful. They don't have it 'quite here yet'... though the neighborhood is just now, getting ready to petition for Centurylink to bring the internet this far.

When we moved February 2010, I thought since we were just several miles from town... we'd have it. I was wrong. I have to get internet service through Sprint. I have a mobile hotspot unit that I can use for wireless internet... it's more expensive to use than Centurylink where I had unlimited internet cheaper. I have 5 Bigabytes with Sprint for 59.00 monthly. It's awful, some days I can't get internet at all if it's very cloudy, or many people are on it, or for whatever reason.

Well, I ran out of my 5 gigabytes this past weekend, and have been going to the library to write my stories each morning this week. I have and haven't enjoyed it. There are about 8-10 computers in there, and it gets crowded with adults, young people and little children. People sit down next to me, coughing sneezing and I can tell they are very sick with colds. I have to be careful about getting sick with colds. I could end up in the hospital. I keep my hands away from my face, and wash them soon as possible.

I know my readers have noticed my stories being later each morning this week. I wanted you to know what has happened... and that after Saturday, this weekend... my internet data usage will begin again. I won't have this problem again. I love being home and getting up early to write each morning getting my story written, published online like I normally do. I love staying in touch with my audience, getting and reading my emails from you, and seeing any comments you've left on my blog. That means the world to me.

On Facebook, I got so many wonderful birthday wishes that I want to take my time to read when my internet is back to normal. I tried to use the last bit of data usage this week to read and answer emails... I used it all yesterday evening. All be back to normal this weekend.

Oh, the reason I don't want to go over the internet data usage is because when we moved here last February 2011.... I didn't understand how it worked... I went over the 5 gigabytes.... our bill was $474.00! I learned the hard way, and I didn't like it!

Thank-you for 'listening' to me this morning. This was on my mind. I love the library on my own terms. Anyway... Granny Gee will glad to be on her own internet... in her own home. :))) Talk to you tomorrow!

Note: Well.... as of last night our friends asked us to make up a petition for a neighbor who said she'd take it around the neighborhood for signatures to get Centurylink internet where we live... Skip and I got it typed out, signed and now, it's in our neighbors' hands to sign it. Keep your fingers crossed, mine are!!!

RE-LEARNING... SKIP CRIED... 'RUBBER' GIRL... PROOF OF WHAT YOU CAN BEAR...

2012-02-15T11:45:00.000-05:00

RE-LEARNING... SKIP CRIED... 'RUBBER' GIRL... PROOF OF WHAT YOU CAN BEAR...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I turned the oven on, put the biscuits in. When it came time to take them out, I stood there looking at the bright red heater element that heats the oven. I felt confused... I was in a medicated fog, it'd been several months since I had surgery, I was still very ill.

I wanted to begin doing things again, I was tired of staying in bed or sitting. I really had no business in the kitchen, I wasn't strong enough... and it had been a 'lifetime' since I'd cooked, or cleaned. The most I'd done all this time was to get my shower, and put on a fresh nightgown.

My hands had forgotten how to do things. Everything hurt my hands. They were sensitive from all the chemotherapy treatments I'd taken over the months. My fingers felt like 'rubber'... they couldn't hold onto anything long at a time.

The chemotherapy changed how my feet, legs and hands felt. I felt like I was a 'rubber' girl. A rubber girl with a body of such pain I can't describe. I still suffer that pain every day of my life... as much as I used to hate pain, I've learned to live with it. The type of surgery I had caused it, and I had two of those surgeries!

Once Skip had given me $600.00 at Walmart... I was standing there holding the bills, each one slipped out of my fingers and I never knew it. Skip saw them and ran to retrieve them! I couldn't hold the bills, nor 'remember' to try hold to hold them. My fingers never felt the bills leave my hand......

I got the potholder and opened the oven door. I took the biscuits almost out when... my hand touched the red-hot heater element. The pain was immediate, it burned badly. I didn't immediately pull my hand away because for a brief moment... I wasn't sure 'where, why' my hand was feeling pain! I put the biscuits on top of the stove. I looked at the top of my hand stunned that I'd just burned myself.

My hand had two places that were badly burned on top of it. I just stood there not quite understanding 'why' it was hurting so bad. I looked back at the heating element inside the oven, it was red-hot. I was trying to focus on what had just happened throught the fog of the medicine clouding my mind.

The pain was great, I was feeling wet tears on my face. I touched the tears with my burned hand... the salt of my tears made the pain more intense. I didn't know at that time... the tears, the salt would burn an open wound.

I looked back to the burn on my hand... I was seeing all through a medicated fog. It was strange... it'd been many, many months since I'd been in a kitchen to cook. I was very sick, somehow I couldn't grasp 'why' my hand was hurting. I remember standing there holding my hand, looking straight at the red-hot heating element... it burned bright red. Thankfully, I remembered to reach up to turn the stove off. I was alone.

I still carry those two scars on the top of my right hand, both are about an inch long. When I look at them, I remember the 'dream-like' feeling... it was like I was reaching for something 'not knowing' it could hurt me. I wonder if this is 'how a little child feels' when it reaches out innocently to something, and it hurts him/her? So innocent, so 'not knowing'. I stop to this day at times, to think back to 'then'. I had to learn again... I know how that feels now, I've been on that path for some distance.

Each day I got up with the thought in my mind... 'do something, even if it doesn't amount to anything, just do something, I've got to get stronger'. I'd never been so weak in my life... at this time. I was at the weakest point in my entire life. I couldn't remember doing things, I could 'but, I couldn't'. I had been diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma and 'came back from death'.

I had been sick for over a year this first time... I only knew the softness of the bed, my pillows, the materials of my nightgowns, towels, touching my pups, touching Skip's hands... nothing ever touched my hands to hurt me. The pain I knew in my body was unlike any pain I'd ever known... 'but, I knew it'... I 'knew' this kind of pain.

Skip would plead with me before he left for work to please not to do anything, please be careful, don't fall down, stay close to bed. I would promise to do as he asked everytime... 'but, knowing I was going to get stronger, and I couldn't do it staying in bed. I think Skip 'knew' I would break my promises... he always said I was 'fighter'... he told everyone that when he talked about my condition.... I heard him, when I couldn't talk for myself.

I went through months knowing in my mind that I was going to die. Skip and Tommy would buy expensive Ty Beanie Babies for my collection of beanie babies, and all kinds of things. I would sit and cry when they were out of my sight thinking they were spending money on me to make me feel better.... it was a waste, I knew I wasn't going to live...yet... I knew I wasn't giving up without a..... helluva fight! Yes, life was going to know I fought for it!

I remember telling Skip and Tommy to not buy me more expensive beanie babies, they bought the ones that were hard to find and paid quite a bit for them. My collection grew. When over a year later, and I'd become stronger... I had a very nice collection! I lost most of them in the fire that burned our home down, and we lost all of our belongings.

I never saw Skip cry until I was deathly sick, he didn't know it, I couldn't reach out to him... but, through eyes wet with tears... I could see him sitting, head bent over in his hands... crying. Skip was crying! Over 'me'. He didn't know I saw him. Skip and I have always been very close... soulmates (yes, there is such a thing). I saw Skip cry over each of our pets when they died, I saw Skip cry over Tommy. Skip never cries.........

Tommy's eyes would hold tears in them as he talked to me. Tommy loved his mama. He'd come back from Germany, he couldn't bear me to be as sick 'enough to die'. I always tried to appear stronger when he was around, I think he saw through it. I've seen my son cry... if I listen carefully in my mind... I could hear him. I don't think I want to do that now.

I remember telling Tommy, just as I told Skip the day the tree snagged my wig of my head! that from now on... we are going to find gentle, good humor in my illness. Laughter is healing. I told him just as I told Skip... 'we can find humor in good taste'... we'll all feel better. This was in reference .... to my bald head that held several little curls on top... yes, I did look like the Gerber baby... Skip called me 'his 'Gerber baby'. From then on, we'd all gently laugh about the awkward moments 'a woman has when she has a bald head!' We didn't focus on that, but, we knew from 'then on'... how handle that.

I remember one day as I look back into my 'memory bank'... I wanted to go outside and work in the flowers I once had pride in. I hadn't been outside without Skip... he'd always walk with me outside holding onto me, we would sit on the porch, or the steps. I meant to get strong enough to go outside on my own, I would be very careful.

I went outside, I was walking slowly... my body was too weak to be doing that. You have to 'know me' to understand wha I 'meant to do'. I meant to 'get well, strong'.

Whenever 'I mean to'...I'm usually going to accomplish my goal. I 'meant to live, to get well'... I wasn't ready to die. I can say honestly... I know how easy it is to die when very ill... it's only too easy 'if you give up'. I saw, and said in my mind constantly with determination 'I mean to live'. I made myself visualize things I was going to do in the near future 'that was more than I did at this moment'. Oh, how I pushed myself... in the long run, it paid off. I became strong, though in pain constantly, I was strong. It took some time to get to that point.

I had opened the back door to the porch, I held on to the door and stepped out onto the porch. The sun was shining so beautifully, I felt its heat on my face. I closed my eyes and for a moment... I savored the sensation of warmth, healing warmth... it felt wonderful. That simple little moment was a treasure to me. Golden sunshine kissing my face, I felt myself smile.

I saw a hoe sitting just off from the porch... I wanted to get it and use it to hold on to, to walk down the steps. I made it to the edge of the porch and reached for the hoe. How it hurt my body... the incision from my surgery was a large one, on my back around the whole shoulder was a 'half-moon' scar. Also, there was a rib missing, taken out during the surgery. Oh, now one can know the pain.....

I began to pull the hoe to me while holding onto the post that went to the ceiling of the porch... it 'was so heavy'. I managed to get it up on the porch to me... all the while I was bringing it up... I was trying to think 'what was so different about how it felt in my hands'.

I looked down at the hoe to see 'why' it felt so strange in my hands. I remember propping the hoe against the wall of the porch so, I could look at 'why my hands hurt'. I stood there holding both palms up close to look at them to see... I put one palm under my left palm to hold it up... I took my thumb to gently rub the left palm... it hurt!

I brought my right hand back up to place it palm-down on plam of my left hand... I gently began to rub my hand over the surface. The pain was great... I closed my hands together and held them to my chest. I noticed tears falling onto my hands... they were from my eyes.

I brought my hands up to my mouth, I held them close. My hands were too soft, too tender to touch something so hard, so strong. They weren no match for the handle of that hoe. I left that hoe sitting propped up against the wall of the porch... went back inside. It wasn't 'time' for that... not just yet.

I wanted to get strong enough for my body to hold its own again... I wanted to hold my ground in life. Somehow, I knew I would. I'm still here now... not a day goes by without that pain, my body remembers well my fight to live every day of my life when I go to move. I can never forget that, I'm reminded every day of it. But... guess what? Everything is really going to be alright. I can deal with it.

I would have never believed one's body could go through so much... and each time something else was added. I believe it now! I may be in pain constantly... but, most all the time ... I won't let you know it. I'm not going to lay down, whine and cry, nor am I going to give up. I tell Skip that I understand 'why' as a little girl 'I went to hell' to live... it taught me to be 'one hell of a fighter'... I came from the right 'family'.

Remember that saying (of course... I could get backwards!)... 'God doesn't give you any more than you can bear'. If you want to see proof of that... think of Granny Gee. I'm still here, and here are a few things I've 'beared'...... look below:

I fought for my life three years, I have non-Hodgkins lymphoma that can flare up anytime. You can't imagine the painful tests and procedures one's body goes through during this time. You wouldn't believe unless.... you've been on that path.

Skip fought for his life, he colon cancer. Twenty eight inches of his colon was taken out.

Skip had two, almost three bad wrecks.

Throught that time, we lost five precious pets from old age, one with cancer.

Our home burned down, we lost everything.

My son, Tommy, died unexpectedly.

We lost seeing Taban, Tommy's son. We lost seeing Taylor McKenzie, Tommy's daughter, our grandchildren.

Through all this time I lost 19 loved ones, my mother and my brother were among them.

I had congested heart failure, almost died, I made it!

Those are a few things that I somehow got back up from... to go on to live. I will say it again... when my son died... I almost didn't get back up, I almost didn't. I can make it now, knowing he's gone, the sadness will always be in my heart.

When a mother's child dies and she loves him with her very heart, and he's the only child.... I can't tell you what it feels like. I pray you never have to experience it. I can only say... that was worse than any cancer, and if I didn't have Skip and our Pups... I would have honestly 'let go'... that's how bad it hurt... it hurt enough for me to ....die.

Now... May 29th, this year... will be two years Tommy's been gone. I made it to 'now'. I'm going to be alright now. I was at the weakest in my life when Tommy died, I thought I was when I diagnosed with cancer. It in no way compared to losing my baby, my child, my son.

I don't waste time in questioning 'why', I live in the present, I cry, and sometimes, I feel mad, but... 'I mean to live'. I hold onto the smile in my mind, a smile like sunshine... Tommy's smile. I'm most strong... again. I have Skip and my Pups, my world. I have all I need.

NAKED... A LIMB SNAGGED IT AND TOSSED IT IN THE AIR!

2012-02-14T11:16:00.000-05:00

NAKED... A LIMB SNAGGED IT AND TOSSED IT INTO THE AIR!

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

My scalp tingled, and felt very strange. I was feeling fear, my stomach hurt. I wasn't feeling well at all. I'd been through a major surgery, and now... had begun chemotherapy. I stayed in excruciating pain, now 'this' was happening.

I had to hold on to things to walk, my body was very weak and I'd lost all my muscle tone, my mind was in a medicated fog... always. Now... 'this' was happening... there was no mistakening what was going to happen.

The oncologist told me that some of the drugs that were in my particular chemotherapy treatments would most likely make me lose all my hair. She told me that I had the option to take chemotherapy... or be like some of the women who had cancer... opt not to take the chemotherapy treatments.

The oncologist told me that I'd be surprised how many women who were so vain over losing their hair... opted not to take chemotherapy to save their own lives.

I had long curly, beautiful hair. I didn't want to lose my hair... it had taken some time to let it grow this long. Always... I got lots of compliments on my hair. I asked her did alot of those women die... she said yes, they did. It didn't take me but, several minutes to decide to have chemotherapy.

Skip was always by my side.. I never went to tests or to anything medical by myself. Skip was always there with me. He asked the oncologist 'where' could he buy me the nicest wig that would look like my hair. She told him, and when we left the office... we went there.

Skip helped me to choose the wig, one that was almost as long as my hair, just as curly. It was an expensive, human hair wig... it was beautiful and lightweight. The lady gave us a box with the wig we wanted.

We got home and I put the pretty box with the wig up... just in case... really when I would need it. I felt that scared feeling in my stomach. I didn't want to lose my hair... but, the oncologist said some of the drugs caused hair loss. I remember thinking in the past that 'cancer made one lose their hair'... that's untrue. Certain drugs will cause hair loss.

I decided I would go have my hair cut short... I had the feeling that it 'was going to begin coming out'. My scalp felt so tingley, strange.... I'd never felt this feeling before. Actually... it felt like when I placed my hand on my hair that 'my hair hurt'. The night before I'd felt this same sensation in my scalp, it hurt alot to just lay my head on my pillows. I'd never 'had my hair to hurt'.

I went to the beauty salon, I was so sad as I watched the lady cut my hair off. I'd taken such pride in my hair, it was long and beautiful, curly. I felt tears in my eyes, my nose burned inside, I wanted to cry my heart out.

The next morning I was alone, Skip had already left. I made my way slowly to the bathroom to take my shower. I got into the warm shower and began washing my hair, my scalp felt painful touching it. My biggest fear came true... my hair began coming out in my hands. I began crying.

My tears were mixed with water from my shower. I cried as I took my shower. I reached for my towel and began to dry off. I finally made myself look into the mirror... I began crying again.

I began wondering how could I go to bed tonight sleeping in a wig. I couldn't imagine letting Skip see my head without hair! I could hardly bear seeing myself in the mirror. I had never felt less than a person in my life... as I did now. I had no hair, excepting on top I had some curls left.

I put the wig on, my scalp felt awful. It was tingling and felt so uncomfortable. I almost felt like I wanted to die... how could I let Skip see my head without hair, just how could I? I knew that I had to think of something because that was sure to happen. I couldn't wear a wig all the time.

That evening skip came home, he didn't notice that I had a wig on! It looked so much like my hair. As the evening progressed, I became more upset... how could I go to bed without the wig. I was in too much pain from the surgery to sleep on the couch. I had a incision that began almost at the top of my shoulder that rounded to almost under my left arm. The pain was unbearable... my hair loss only contributed to it.

I began sobbing. Skip quickly cmae to see what was wrong. I told him that I couldn't just let him see me without hair. I was so embarassed, so ashamed. I felt him put his hand on my shoulder, when he spoke, I listened in amazement.

He told me that this was only temporary, he loved me with his heart and I meant the world to him. He told me that the loss of my hair didn't make him love me any less, that it would be growing back. What was important now... was to do all possible to get well.

When he said those words, I instantly felt like a thousand pounds had been lifted off my shoulders, I took in a deep breath... I knew inside that everything was going to be alright. That night I took the wig off and placed it on its stand. My scalp felt so 'naked'... cool from the air. Now... I knew 'why' men who were bald, wore caps when it was cold! I was now... baldheaded... though I had several curls on top of my head. Skip nicknamed me his 'Gerber Baby'.

I never did get used to wearing the wig, though it was beautiful. I wanted my own hair back. I went through many weeks of chemotherapy, finished it. I began to notice that my hair was growing back!

One day we went to the lake... there were trees nearby. We were walking near them and... the unthinkable happened!

I felt my face turn red, I was so embarassed! As we walked close to one of the smaller trees... a limb snagged my wig and took it right off and ... tossed it up in the air! I felt like my dress had blown up to my waist... instead my wig was gone... leaving my scalp naked for God, and everyone to see!

I stood there... deciding whether to cry and melt into the ground from embarassment... or the thought came to my mind that this was really funny! I was thinking that if I would begin to find 'gentle, good humor' in things... all would be better. Guess what I did?

I began laughing as I watched the expression on Skip's face change to a smile! I was feeling better as I laughed! I could see Skip was so glad that I took it this way. I reached up on that limb and took my wig back and I... stuck in on my head!

I asked Skip if I had it on right... he said "no, it looks alittle sideways!" I gradually turned it until it was right... Skip's face was my mirror. I told Skip "I can't believe my hair came off!" We both began to laugh again in a 'good' way. I thought to myself that... with humor in good taste... everything is going to be alright. It honestly made everything better.

It seemed laughter in good taste gave me hope, made me know that yes, indeed my rocky path was going to get better, though it took a long time. I was on at that time in my life, the hardest path I'd ever traveled.

When we began to smile and laugh, things got better. Even when I had injections it would hurt so bad, I would smile through my tears, sometimes I reassured the technican or nurse, that it was all right... I knew it was going to hurt, but, to get well I had to get through this. Sometimes, I saw tears in their eyes.... for me. I was amazed. Truthfully... I met more 'angels' on this path, though rocky, who went out of their way to make things better for me.

That was the only time I ever lost my wig! It never got caught on anything else to make it come off. When it became time to put it up, I was so thankful. I had it shampooed, fixed, rolled it up a certain way to keep the curls 'just right'... stored it back in the pretty box. I never thought I'd have to wear that wig the following year... I did have to once again. I didn't stay in remission long.

That wig was a life saver once again... it made me look normal. People complimented it... that made me feel like an imposter. I felt the need to tell people that it was a wig... I didn't want them to think I was something I wasn't.

The wig is gone...I think we lost it in the house fire when we lost all of our belongings. You wouldn't believe all that happened to us in the past 12 years. I don't, when I stop to think about them. I can't look long, I have to go forward. I don't want to get trapped in the past, I've come too far.

I'm glad to think of one good, funny thing concerning that wig... it really was funny when that limb snagged it like that... it bounced it up into the air, when it came down... it landed right in that tree! It created a 'good' memory... when it could very well have been a 'bad' one. I'm smiling gently as I 'look back'. I hope you will, too. Everything turned out alright!

YOU HAVE CANCER!

2012-02-13T11:47:00.001-05:00

YOU HAVE CANCER!
BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I was walking to lose weight, I didn't have alot to lose. I began May 16th, 1998. I, also, decided to
quit smoking. I had smoked for years, not heavy, but... I did smoke.

I had begun chewing the Nicotine chewing gum, it was working. For several weeks I hadn't smoked and realized not smoking and walking... I should feel wonderful. I always felt wonderful whenever I
had walked in the past. I began taking my pulse and it was staying very high.. I knew something was wrong... but, what?

I kept walking, soon I had begun coughing. I thought coughing was because of an allergy to something in the air. The coughing began not long after I quit smoking. It was a light, soft cough... nothing to be alarmed about.

In June, I noticed that I had begun to feel weak. I walked across the parking lot to go into Walmart, only to feel like I couldn't make it any farther. Inside, I went to the blood pressure booth to take my blood pressure, pulse. My pulse was up to 92, my blood pressure never alarmed me. My pulse did...
I knew something was wrong......

My cough became severe, and I constantly coughed. Skip was transportation fleet manager at a local company in Raleigh, NC. Sometimes he drove a truck when drivers were out. He was gone alot but, he began to notice my cough, he noticed my weight loss and would ask me if I ate while he was gone. I told him I did.

My cousin, Jimmy, had come from Arizona to stay with us. He was there throughout the time I became deathly ill.... he came while I was in 'good health' and watched as I changed quickly over a matter of several weeks. He 'sort of' watched out for me while Skip was working long hours.

I began to stay very cold in 100 degree weather... I would lay down in the bedroom without the air-conditioner, covered under many blankets. I was so cold, I was sinking into a darkness. I can remember in the darkness that my skin itched. I itched all over, constantly.

In that darkness, I would hear Skip's voice asking me if I had eaten, and such things. I would try my best to act like I was okay.

I remember one day after my shower I was standing in the bedroom putting on a nightgown, I was so weak. Skip walked in and saw me... I saw his eyes widen in horror. At first, I didn't want to ask him why he had such an expression. I did ask.... he said he couldn't believe how quickly I'd lost so much weight. I was too sick to notice. When he had been seeing me was at night time when I was in bed, my nightgowns were long and roomy, he didn't see my weight loss.

Skip had made appointments with several doctors, one a specialist. I had begun to talk in a whisper, it
would take my breath if I spoke long.

I remember taking my showers, the steam would take what little breath I had.. away. One day the steam made me lose my breath, I began crying for Skip to help me. He was just outside the door and heard me. I was so weak, I was dying.

My journey was just beginning.... I almost didn't live to take it. Over time with the specialist and tests at Rex Hospital in Raleigh, NC...... no one could diagnose what was wrong with me. Dr. Griffith, my specialist, thought it was Sarcodosis at first. I had to go have a fine needle aspiration. My breath would barely lift the little ball in the spirometer.

The fine needle aspiration was horrible. I laid on my stomach on the bed while the doctor took a long fine needle, stuck it into my back to a mass that was on the outside of my left lung. The woman doctor who performed it became very nervous, knowing she was hurting me. She had to get someone else to come to finish it.

Later, after the procedure, I was taken to x-ray and as soon as the x-ray was taken, the nurse hurriedly made me lay down! I knew something was wrong... I asked what. My left lung had collapsed. The long needle had caused that to happen when the woman was trying to get some of the mass to send off to be biopsied.

On July 13, 1998... I was scheduled to have a thoracotomy on my left lung.... Dr. Robert Peyton did my surgery. He was a heart/thoracic surgeon. The huge mass was laying on the outside of my left lung, resting against my heart.

I was crying though I didn't know it was 'me' crying. I was in darkness and had just begun to open my eyes. Somehow I was sitting up in a chair in the unit. I could barely see Skip and the nurse who was with me. The pain, oh my God, the pain in my chest.

I could hear someone walk heavily into the room and I could sense a big person more than see her. She said her name was Dr. Deutsch in a loud, unfriendly voice. What she said next I could actually 'see in my mind in giant letters'. "YOU HAVE CANCER! I DON'T KNOW IF YOU'LL SURVIVE IT OR NOT!" It seemed like she screamed this so loud to me to make sure I heard her.

I couldn't see her for the fog in my head, the medicines, the surgery had done this to me. I do remember I began crying, I could see and feel Skip's hand on my shoulder. The nurse didn't like how the doctor had come in to tell me what was wrong.... the doctor abruptly left the room 'after she did her job'.

I didn't come out of this 'dark' world for many months. I stayed in a fog from the many medicines I had to take. I fought taking the pain medicines, afraid I'd become addicted. That made my oncologist angry at me ... she couldn't understand that I'd come from 'family' who did take 'medicines'.... I was so afraid to even 'begin'.

Needless to say.... I suffered badly from all the pain in my chest from the surgery. I suffer from the pain even now, that will be there forever....it's my tradeoff to live. Nerves were severed and such, causing
pain for 'always'. I cope with it to this day..... though I talk, laugh.... the pain is 'always there'.

I had to go through chemotherapy for months. I had CT scans often to see if the non-Hodgkins lymphoma had come back. Later it did come back inside my right lung. I had to have a second thorocotomy surgery on my right lung one year later... July 16, 1999.

I went through chemotherapy for months once again. I will write at another date about the chemotherapy, about losing my beautiful, long hair.... and losing it a second time. So many different roads I traveled on.... all from having non-Hodgkins lymphoma.

Looking back, I can see (I know this sounds so strange with all I survived).... that getting so deathly ill..... 'saved my life'. I never-ever remembered smoking a cigarette after I quit May 16, 1998.... I forgot that I'd ever smoked. I forgot that I'd done many things having to learn to do them again through those three years. I will write about those experiences later in time.

I will also, write about how people I'd always known would turn and go the opposite way when they'd see us.... once they had learned I had cancer, and almost died. Some of those people are dead now... ironic, isn't it? These are some of the people who wouldn't meet my eyes, turn and go the opposite way.

I hope that you wouldn't do that when you learn someone has been so sick... they may not be able to talk to you... if they can see you, they can 'read you' .... with their eyes. The pain is so great, no one knows unless... they've been on this path. It hurts so bad. It only makes things worse, it stays in that sick person's mind affecting their well-being.

I remember Skip always trying to keep me near him, afraid something would happen to me. He'd talk me into walking into the supermarket or a store sometimes... I remember how it hurt my heart when people that always 'thought so much of me before'...avoided my eyes... and turned away. I still see some people now... who did that.

I don't bother to do anything more than smile brightly and have a false, cheerful voice that greets them. I go my way... now, I'm the one who 'wants to get away as soon as possible'. But.... I know if I saw them as sick as I was, I would go right to them.... and care... even knowing they avoided my eyes, and turned away from me. I would for-real care with my heart.

I have non-Hodgkins lymphoma. I live in pain everyday of my life from the two thoracotomy surgeries, not the non-Hodgkins lymphoma. I only complain when some days are worse but... I wouldn't trade the pain for anything. I'm so grateful to be alive, I want to live.

I have a history of congested heart failure, the drug adriamycin affected my heart during chemotherapy. That is another tradeoff to live.... I am grateful... sounds strange, doesn't it?

People who smoke know that it's next to impossible to quit smoking. This will sound strange, when I quit smoking.... it began to help set off a chain of events that 'while I was dying'.... quitting smoking 'saved my life'. That does sound strange, also... but, it's true.

I will mention one more thing before I finish my story this morning... when I began the cough, Skip took me to an urgent care office in Garner, NC. I thank God for that urgent care doctor. We were thinking maybe I had pneumonia... again, instead of 'just allergies'.

The doctor did x-rays on the premise... I'll never forget for the first time in my life feeling alarm, real alarm that something 'bad'... was really wrong.

He said "Mr. and Mrs. Bates, I don't like what I see... there seems to be a big mass of dead cells on the outside of her left lung. He urged us to go to a specialist as soon as possible. I'll never forget how kind he was. I do remember maybe a year later... I called back to thank them for saving my life, to let that doctor know he was right. He didn't know it, nor did I... but, he was the first of many angels on my new path in my life.

WHITNEY HOUSTON DIED...I FELT GRIEF FOR HER

2012-02-12T08:42:00.001-05:00

Whitney Houston ... I learned of her death this morning on tv. Forty eight years old, so young. My heart felt such sadness for her. She, like alot of my own loved ones, have fought many demons. I'm so sorry for the pain her daughter, and her mother feel. I have such compassion for what people go through, no matter what they are fighting in their life. I care. Granny Gee

GOOD MORNING EVERYONE! :))) IT'S WORTH STOPPING FOR A FEW MINUTES TO CREATE A LIFETIME MEMORY...

2012-02-11T07:00:00.002-05:00

IT'S WORTH STOPPING FOR A FEW MINUTES TO CREATE A LIFETIME MEMORY...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

Good morning everyone! I put my story here last night for this morning. I woke up thinking about how nice it really was to be outside at the right time... to get to appreciate smelling that wood smoke last evening. It really was special. It's strange how something like that can take your mind back to a happy time, isn't it?

That was a special time when we stayed in Gatlinburg, Tennessee for over a month. The hotel we stayed in had a creek beside the cement walkway at the hotel. We would stand there and watch the water running merrily on its way to 'I don't know where!' I would watch it swirl around the gray rocks, making a happy 'watery, splashing' sound.

This touches one's soul when taking time to appreciate such specialness in life, nature. It's worth stopping for a few minutes to create a lifetime memory. This is a
'old' memory. See how it brought me happiness many years later? I bet you have such special memories, too.

I remember the metal bars that made a rail 'fence' along the cement walkway... the bars were so cold to touch, but, that didn't stop us from leaning over them to stand and dream for a few minutes while watching the clear water moving rapidly along its way.

I remember while at that hotel, we would walk on those hilly 'up and down' sidewalks enjoying looking at happy people's faces, hear their laughter ...they heard ours, too! I would look 'everywhere' and see the colors of the lights in shop windows, signs... so much happy stimulation to one's senses. I loved it.

It was so nice to walk back to the hotel, go inside and build a fire in the fireplace, turn the coffeemaker on... those things made for a cosy evening. We'd open the curtains to the big, wonderful windows and sliding door to let the outside come in! All the while ....being cosy and warm inside!

Yes, I am sitting here smiling as I type... it IS worth stopping for a few minutes to create a lifetime memory!

SMELLING WOOD SMOKE ON THE COLD, COLD AIR...FEEDING FISH IN THE POND

2012-02-10T19:07:00.000-05:00

SMELLING WOOD SMOKE ON THE COLD, COLD AIR... FEEDING FISH IN THE POND

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

This evening Skip and I walked outside in the cold, cold air. We could smell the wood smoke coming from a chimney at a small nearby house. It smelled so cosy and nice. It made me think back to when we stayed in Gatlinburg, Tennessee for a while.

One night we were walking from our hotel in the town of Gatlinburg, enjoying the crisp, cold air. We could smell charcoal and the aroma of steak cooking! It was a wonderful smell, guess what we did? We began to follow our nose looking for the restaurant that had steak cooking!

We walked up and down the hilly sidewalk until we finally came to a small restaurant where the aroma of steak cooking... came from! We went inside ... it was so nice, and warm inside. The scents inside smelled delicious! We sat down at a round table with a red and white checkered tablecloth... there was a candle burning inside a pretty blue jar. How cosy this wonderful restaurant was! We could see outside the big window as we waited for our steaks to come.. how I loved looking at the colors of the neon lights. Colors soothe my soul, colors make my eyes happy!

I will tell you this... those steaks were absolutely wonderful! They warmed us up on the inside, we were ready to go back into the cold again to walk, and enjoy the night lights, listen and feel the hustle and bustle of other people who were also, enjoying the crisp night air, and shopping in the quaint little shops that were open. How happy this was! This is the memory brought to my mind this evening as we walked and smelled that beautiful wood smoke. A wonderful memory.

We also, walked to the fish pond below our house. We took several bags of bread to feed them. As we got to the water's edge, the little fish were waiting for us. It's strange... they are used to being fed and when you walk to the edge... there they are! Little catfish, big catfish come to the surface of the water when the bread is thrown to them. I made my bread last longer by breaking it off in small pieces. I watched and listened to the catfish making the water splash... and they made a kissing sound when they stuck their little mouths out of the water to eat the bread! They made me think of our sweet Kissy when he eats! It was just... precious!

We enjoyed very much this winter evening. I wanted to share it with you. I hope yours was as nice!
:)))

TWO SPOILED PUPS!

2012-02-10T06:27:00.000-05:00

TWO SPOILED PUPS!

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I was watching our two spoiled pups this morning. They melt my heart when I look at them. Kissy Fairchild, our 1 year old Rottie, and Chadwick Elsworth, our mixed pup (a wonderful mixture he is!), who will be 5 years old on Skip's birthday.

They were laying on our king-size bed when I walked into the bedroom. Both looked up at me when I came in to make the bed up. Their eyes were sleepy looking, I hated to make them move so, I could make the bed.

I did what anybody would do with spoiled pups such as ours! I went to the top of the bed to begin making it, ha! Yes, I did! I began fluffing the pillows out, and smoothing our sheets, bedcovers down to where those two spoiled pups were laying. I thought to myself that I would go back later 'when they've moved', and finish making up the bed. Now... I wonder how many people who really love their pups would do that?

I walked to where they lay, and hugged Kissy so gently, kissed him on top of his head... he stretched out. I did the same with Chadwick Elsworth, he began stretching as well. Before I left the bedroom I patted both on their rumps. They are like children, so trusting, so loving. No matter what...they love you.

Our pups can hear a wrapper, no matter if they are in the house or, outside. We can open a wrapper on something, turn around and guess who's there? Yes, Kissy and Chadwick.

I watched them this morning when they began eating their breakfast. I laugh when I see them doing things ...they are like children. They do things that take alot of thinking... it's so interesting!

For instance, they both do something that is totally hilarious! They'll eat some of their breakfast and one will wander off... the other will wait for a moment and run, not walk, run to the other's bowl.... and grab some of the other's food! The one who wandered off will come back... and wait for his opportunity. Soon, it comes... he'll then, go to the other's bowl and do the same thing! They think this stuff out! I stand there and watch in amazement.

Kissy does something I've never seen another pup do. We keep a bucket of fresh water both outside and on the inside. The inside bucket of water sits on a rug beside the door that has their pet door installed on it.

Sometimes when I open that door... Kissy will come to it and simply push his pet door open... stick his head in the bucket of fresh water, and drink! He does that every time, he never walks to the other side of the door to drink when it's open! That also, amazes me!

We will make bowls of oatmeal for them, when we eat that for breakfast. It doesn't have to be sweetened, or have butter or milk in it. They love it plain.... but, they eat it only if we will get a spoon to feed it to them! We can put those same oatmeal bowls on the floor for them to eat... it won't get eaten!

Kissy is a force to be reckoned with. He is like an electrical wire, he is full of energy. He is huge and energetic. He loves to 'express himself'! He hears the commercial on tv... he is ready to 'express himself'. Skip taught him that when he was smaller. To 'express himself', he will grab the nearest chewbone, run back and go around in circles while one of us puts our hand on his back, saying 'Kissy, express yourself!' It's so funny to watch him dance around!

It's hard to just pet Kissy, he can't be still. His huge body and weight feels like a person, when he accidently steps on our feet! I have to make him sit just for a moment to 'give him sugar'. That makes him so happy that he seems to have more energy!

Chadwick is a very fast pup. He loves to run circles in their fenced in yard... Kissy is right behind him. You'd be surprised how such a large dog can move so fast! I love watching Kissy's little ears fold back when he runs.

Chadwick will come to us and he will jump lightly up to kiss us. His kiss is so gentle and soft. He is completely opposite of Kissy. One can hold and pet Chadwick easily.

I look at both of our pups, my heart feels such love for them. We sacrifice alot to be with them. We don't like to go out at nights, and leave them alone. We find ourselves hurrying to get back to them when we are gone long periods. We love them very much.

We will bring little pieces of chicken, or beef when we eat out, back to them.

I was wondering how many people feel the same way about their pups? I know that many, many people have pets in their homes now, also, travel with them like we do. Hotels, motels will accept pets now, where once they wouldn't.

I wonder if 'you' have spoiled pups, or pets? I'd be interested in hearing about them!

Happy day to my readers! Granny Gee

TINY SPARKLING POOL OF WATER... MEMORY FLASHBACK

2012-02-09T06:15:00.002-05:00

TINY SPARKLING POOL OF WATER... MEMORY FLASHBACK

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

This morning I was washing 2 bowls, 2 cups, and utensils. I put them in the other sink (double sinks) to sit for a moment after I rinsed them. I dried them off with a fresh drying cloth, put them away.

I remember not long ago writing about when I helped my sister by rinsing the dishes she washed... then, sneaking them back into her water to be washed again.

This morning is the first morning that I didn't put dishes in a dish drainer. I decided that I am tired of having a dish drainer sitting out. I will wash and dry every glass, plate, whatever we use... and just simply put them up in the cabinets.

I think writing about drying the dishes sparked this 'new' idea of washing, drying and putting them away. This morning as I did that... I kept flashing back to being that little girl again... how fun it was to play. That was a happy few minutes with one of my sisters (my father's daughter)... truthfully, there weren't many of them.

I have a little problem now... do you know how it is to let your cabinets get in disarray? Well, mine are like that... and no matter how neat I make them... after a period of time, they'll begin to look crowded again. I need to rearrange them again, soon.

I was thinking how strange it was standing at the sink as I rinsed a silver long-handled teaspoon... the spoon held a little water in it. For some reason I stood there and just looked into that water that sparkled from the overhead light. In that tiny pool of water... I could 'see back into the past'... see me standing there at that sink, my sister beside me.

It was bright around us, our smiles and laughter just as bright as the light that surrounded us. We had just begun bonding... we never knew each other before I came there (only a short time before this incident).

I can't see my stepmother until she began beating me in my back (I was 9 years old). I wondered as I looked into that little pool of sparkling water in the spoon.... was she standing behind us and saw that 'her' daughter, my half-sister, was going to love me? I wonder if she watched us hating to see us playing and laughing together? Then... I wonder 'why?'

You know how it is to sometimes 'think back' for a moment when you do something that triggers a flashback into the past. This morning was my morning for thinking back, when washing and drying dishes.

Oh... about those cabinets. They need to be stretched bigger if you want to know my opinion. Also, my opinion only....... I think some of the shelves need to have 'like a wine-
rack'.... you know the 'square holes'? Well, instead of putting wine bottles in them ...put
cups into each hole. In fact, a section of a cabinet shelf could be like this... made out of woven wire. That space could sure hold alot of cups, even glasses... all laying on their sides as they are slid into each slot. I think I would like that.

Here's to wishing all my readers a very nice day! Granny Gee

I WONDER WHY SHE DID THAT?

2012-02-08T03:56:00.001-05:00

I WONDER WHY SHE DID THAT?

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

Yesterday, we came home and there was a SUV parked in 'our front yard'... right in our yard on the wet grass! I couldn't believe my eyes to see someone parked in our front yard. We have a circular driveway... and if one can't go through it when our vehicles are there........ simply just back out to the road... you can see both ways. No, I just couldn't imagine coming to yours or someone's house when it's raining, and park in your front yard on the wet grass.

I couldn't believe seeing that SUV sitting there, and it was raining. The ground was very soggy. It upset me seeing the vehicle there, and the very real possibility someone would be spinning to pull back out to the driveway. There was a woman at our door, she turned as I walked up. I asked her 'why, was she parked in our front yard?'

Anyway, it turned out she was looking for someone. She apologized that she parked there, that our driveway was blocked and she couldn't drive around. She left, and thankfully the SUV didn't leave spin marks in the grass.

I kept thinking that I wished I had been nicer to the lady, but, I'd been focused on her car parked in our wet yard. Oh well. Now... I hope that doesn't come back to 'bite me in the ass'.

You know how sometimes if you aren't at your best.... later you'll meet that same person and you have to look at them in their eyes? All I know to say is... "I'm sorry, that wasn't me, that way my twin sister, and she couldn't believe someone would park in someone's front yard, especially when it was raining!"

Truthfully, I feel bad that I didn't just talk to the lady instead of becoming irate with her. Even wishing I hadn't been irate doesn't change my question as to 'why' she parked on the wet grass. I can't imagine parking in someone's wet front yard. I wonder why she did that?

I wonder what would that woman would say and think of me 'if' I had came to her house, backed into her wet front yard and parked? No matter, I still feel bad for being irate with her! I wish we always had a second chance to do things over.

I wonder if you'd been as irate as I was? I'm interested in what your reaction would be? I will be looking for comments! :)))

YES, I DID THAT...

2012-02-07T06:05:00.000-05:00

YES, I DID THAT...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I was watching from the window my son's grandfather dig two trenches to back his pickup into ... the trenches would make the back end of his truck sit lower to the ground. This was so he could put a ramp there, it'd be low enough for the cow to walk up to go inside the bed of the truck. There were wooden sides around the bed of the truck making a 'fence' to keep the cow inside.

We had cows, and a bull in the fence. They grazed in a field of grass, lots of trees were nearby. The rock quarry was yards from the fence... they could walk to the water's edge to drink.

He would be coming the next morning to get the cow to take it to the sale. I watched him leave. I was mad at him and a thought came to my mind. I was a very young girl, and .... sometimes, mischievious. Oh yes, an idea came to my mind... I knew what I was going to do. He'd know too, when he came the next morning.

I walked outside to the garage and opened the door, went inside and got a shovel. I walked to those two trenches, stood there wondering if I had the nerve. Yes, I must have the nerve because the next thing I knew I was shoveling dirt in one of those trenches, stopping to stomp the dirt tight. I kept doing this until... both trenches were full. They weren't trenches anymore... that was even ground!

I put the shovel up and went inside to wash my hands. The next morning he came sure enough. I saw his truck stop and he got out to walk over to where the trenches should have been. I saw him look toward the house, then, back to the ground. He went to his truck and took his shovel out and... began digging two trenches, so he could back into them.

When he finished, he backed into the trenches, loaded the cow into the truck, and left. I walked back out there, got the shovel and filled, and packed those trenches again. Even ground.

STRANGELY ENOUGH...

2012-02-06T06:57:00.001-05:00

STRANGELY ENOUGH...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I went to bed last night thinking about something strange that occurred Thursday morning. I'd like to write about it in just a few words here. Who knows, someone may understand 'why' it happened.

I was in an establishment Thursday morning, along with several other women. We all heard something unusual at the glass door. I heard one woman say "It's a crow trying to get into the door!"

I looked toward the glass door, sure enough in front of the door there stood a big, black crow! He was pecking at the glass, and his wings were beating against the door. I couldn't believe my eyes. That crow meant to come in!

After trying to get in the door, the big crow gave up and walked away to join another big, black crow nearby on the sidewalk. I walked to the door and opened it to see what the crow would do. It never paid me any mind and went about his own business.

I think somewhere in the back of my mind... I thought if that big crow 'came for me'... then, it might be 'me'.... oh, never mind. I think we all are superstitious whether we want to admit it or not. I will say that I was glad that crow never looked at me!

That big, black crow and its actions became the main topic in our conversation. One woman wondered 'who was going to die next'. Another woman began to tell what happened 'years ago' whenever a crow did something similiar, and what her mother said would happen. Everyone had a superstitious tale to tell.

Myself... I kept my mouth shut. I felt some unease, I admit. :))) I did feel better though knowing when I opened that glass door to 'meet that crow head-on'......... that crow never paid me any mind. I did that to 'go ahead and get it over with'... 'just in case'.. that crow was looking for me! :))))))))

　

　

MY PATH TO THE BATHROOM AS A LITTLE GIRL

2012-02-05T06:27:00.003-05:00

MY PATH TO THE BATHROOM AS A LITTLE GIRL...

I walked into the kitchen. I hated to go to the bathroom at Grandma and George's, but, of course I had no choice. At nighttime, it was scary to open that big, brown door to the back porch! I was a little girl in a new place, sometimes it was very scary.

I went to the door and pushed the little lock back to unlock it. I opened the door ever so easy so, as not to make 'anything notice me'! I was afraid... I turned the porch light on. I left that door opened to a crack... I waited as I peeped out....

I looked toward the screen door and saw that it was hooked. The back porch was screened in. There was wood stacked in a neat pile to my left. This was where George would put the wood when he chopped it. I was always fascinated watching George... he was blind but, he knew where he was going, he did everything from cooking, washing and trying to make the house clean. George was a good man.

I tried to help in my little girl way. My other cousins when they lived there would do just as I did. We were children, but, did the best we could. All of us children who came to stay, to leave, to come back to Grandma Alma and George's .. had to learn to survive. We all went through things children should never know. Grandma Alma and George did the very best they could do. She was paralyzed, he was blind.

I was a little girl learning to be afraid of all kinds of things since coming to Grandma Alma and George's. I saw things there I'd never seen, nor had been around. I couldn't understand why I didn't have my own home anymore. Everything I did here was scary and it seemed things wanted to get me!

Things would fall on me when I would open the cabinet doors to get a glass to get water with... brown bugs with legs! I would begin shaking all over and my chest felt so tight, I would feel faint. I would knock them off from me, while jumping up and down. I would begin crying, I was so afraid of those bugs. They would sometimes fall onto my head, and I would scream while bending over to knock them off my head.

The door to the back porch was beside that cabinet with the glass doors. Opening that door took alot of nerve... plus, 'having to go' to the bathroom ..I would have no choice. Picture a little girl, eyes wide with fear, peeping through the crack before fully opening the door. I peeped to make sure nothing was on the porch to get me!

I 'had to go', I stood there standing with my legs tight together. I had to go bad! The coast looked clear! All I had to do was to open the back door now, and go just alittle way and open the wooden door on my left to the bathroom.

I quietly opened the door, stood there very alert. I tiptoed just a short distance and I heard something! It was coming from above me, up on that dark, old wardrobe! Oh no!

I turned to run back into the door, before I could ... something big jumped almost on my head! I screamed and ran into the door, slamming, locking it behind me. I was crying.

I heard George and Grandma Alma wondering what was wrong with Faye. George told her he would go see, I could hear his feet shuffling.

"Faye, Faye", he called my name. "What's wrong, Faye?" He came into the kitchen holding onto the doorway he'd just entered. He was looking toward me, though he couldn't see.

"George, please help me!" I was crying in frustration because I had to go! "Please stand here so, I can go to the bathroom!" I told him something big tried to jump on me!

Grandma Alma's voice was behind him, she sat in her recliner in the next room. She wanted to know what was wrong. George told her he thought a big wharf rat had jumped from that wardrobe, and almost landed on Faye!

I saw George's kind face, even his sightless eyes ... begin to smile. He felt for me, and he told me to let him open that back door, for me to go to the bathroom. He said he'd stand there and protect me.

He opened the door, the porch light was still on... I leaned my head so, I could look past George.... I didn't see anything. "Go on to the bathroom, Faye".

I ran the short distance to the bathroom, opened the door, turned on the light and oh my God! There it was again!

I began screaming for George to help me! "George, it's there again!"

"What in the Sam hell is in there, Faye?" George was beginning to lose patience with me, and his voice was raising.

I was frozen in fear as I stared at that fat, pink thing with legs... it's little belly was the color of my skin. It was looking at me! It looked like a pink, fat grasshopper! "George, it's a kididdlehopper! It's going to jump on me, help me, George!"

"___dammit, Faye!" George hollered. He was ill at me now! "That damn thing's not going to hurt you!" George told me to tell him where it was, and to move out of his way. I told him and he leaned down, took his hand and waved it in the direction of that kididdlehopper!

That kididdlehopper jumped toward George! I screamed and jumped back, George jumped, and bumped his head on the bathroom sink. George was good and mad now! ___dammit! George was going to holler now!

I couldn't see where that kididdlehopper went! I became fascinated watching George! George amazed me... when he got mad. His voice could get so loud, and his eyes would seem to bulge out of his head. He was like a big loud clap of thunder! Yes, that George could get mad!

"George, I got to pee!" I said in a little voice. "I got to pee bad!" How George heard me as loud as he was hollering, I'll never know, but... he did! "Get in here and pee now!"

I carefully went in, watching for that kididdlehopper. I pulled my panties down and got up on that tobacca-stained commode. When I finished, I hopped off the commode right onto........................

You could hear me screaming for miles... as I scrambled to get out of that bathroom! George was thundering with his voice, I was running like lightening. It was indeed a storm in that bathroom!

I made it out of the bathroom, my little panties around my ankles! I tripped on them, naked butt in the air! I was down on the cement porch, I knew that wharf rat was there somewhere! I was jumping up to get back to the safety on the other side of that backdoor!

Cold chills were all over my body, I was shaking and felt sick. That pink kididdlehopper had been there on the floor looking up at me when I almost put my foot on it! I ran to my Grandma Alma and she held her good hand out to hug me. She held me to her chest, my grandma cared so much.

George came back into the sitting room (I named it the Arena). He sat down in his wooden chair with a caned bottom in it. He always sat beside Grandma Alma's recliner.

I heard George making a funny sound and looked over at him... his face had broken out into a big grin... I heard and saw laughter begin to come from him! George had a big Santa Claus belly... it began moving up and down, and George laughed so hard! He couldn't speak, though he tried. It was fun to see George's happy belly begin moving as he laughed.

My grandma looked at him, she too, began laughing! I stood up and looked at both of them... I couldn't believe they were laughing! I'd just been fighting for my life, survived two battles with a giant rat that tried to jump on me, and one of those dreaded kadiddlehoppers that scared me everytime I saw one!

Their laughter was contagious... I began to laugh. Just watching their faces with that happy expression on them made me want to laugh, too. I forgot about fighting for my life, and watched my grandma's and George's laughing faces! How I loved Grandma Alma and George, especially when they laughed. They didn't laugh all the time...

Note by this author: To this day I still have the heebie-jeebies when I see a pink kadiddlehopper! I just can't take it! I can feel so weak and I feel like I can hardly breathe... but, I take a stand. Either it's got to go... or I got to go! I wish I knew the real name of these grasshopper-like creatures... to me, they look like little people with pink, fat stomaches. You wouldn't believe the countless battles I've been in with these creatures through the years... I always dread to see one!

ANOTHER NOTE BY THIS AUTHOR: MY FRIEND, BRETT, SENT ME A LINK TO TELL ME THE NAME OF THE 'KADIDDLEHOPPERS'........ THEY ARE CALLED 'KATYDIDS'. JUST LOOK FOR THE ONE WITH THE FATTEST, PINK BELLY AND INTELLIGENT EYES! THAT'S THE ONE! BELOW IS THE LINK:
https://www.google.com/search?hl=en&q=African+flower+mantid&gs_sm=e&gs_upl=425l425l0l2278l1l1l0l0l0l0l89l89l1l1l0&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.r_cp.,cf.osb&biw=1280&bih=909&um=1&ie=UTF-8&tbm=isch&source=og&sa=N&tab=wi&ei=JNUuT9SBEKrc0QGnnZj3Cg#q=pink+katydid&um=1&hl=en&tbm=isch&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.r_cp.,cf.osb&fp=b55e1a54242e9b95&biw=1184&bih=594

　
　

　

　

　

MY MAMA'S ST. CHRISTOPHER'S NECKLACE, MY GRANDMA ALMA'S ENGAGEMENT RING...

2012-02-04T05:40:00.000-05:00

MY MAMA'S ST. CHRISTOPHER NECKLACE, MY GRANDMA ALMA'S ENGAGEMENT RING...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

At fifteen, I came back to live at my mother's house. I was glad to be with my own mama. She and my Aunt Ruby had come to save me! I was living in Roxboro, NC with my real father and stepmother, and 2 half-sisters.

They confronted my stepmother and told her I was leaving with them, if she tried to stop me they'd simply whip her ass! "Go get your things, Faye!" my mama told me. I was so afraid of my stepmother that I wasn't sure if I should... but, when I looked at my mama, my beautiful angry mother... I knew I didn't have anything to be afraid of.

My stepmother had better not hit me again! My Aunt Ruby was right beside my mama, and she looked just as angry! I 'knew' what they were capable of! They didn't take any junk off anybody!

My stepmother had beat me in the head and face with her bare hands, making blood go everywhere in that bathroom. Not only that, my real father came into the bathroom and looked at me with such anger and... hate in his eyes.. and drew his hand back and slapped me with all his might... it was the first and only time he ever hit me. The pain he inflicted on me.... reached into the depths of my very soul.

My stepmother loved that, as my father walked out of the bathroom she began slapping me in the face again, screaming at me. I was hurting so badly in my heart, the physical pain, and I could smell... all that blood! It was going to be a mess to clean up, didn't she know that! We kept everything so spotless!

I could see the blood making splats of red dots on the white porcelain sink, up on the sparkling clean mirror, on the white floor of the bathroom. In my shock and pain, I could see the mess it was making. The front of my blouse was... soaked in red blood! I couldn't believe 'how wet' my blood was! I touched it with my fingers... it was so red, so wet.

I tried to tell them that I didn't do that, I honestly didn't do what they accused me of! No one listened. They didn't want to believe I didn't do it... of course, my half-sisters would 'never do such a thing!'

My half sisters had told them I'd went into my father's bathroom to take his razor to shave my legs with it. I didn't do it, to this day I can honestly say... I really didn't do that. I never-ever would have thought of using his razor. I knew exactly 'who did it', but, I never told.

One of my half sisters used that razor, and I got into trouble for it. It wasn't the first time I got into trouble for them... I was the oldest, I felt protective toward them. Also... I wanted them to love me. It never worked, looking back... they were too much their mother's daughters... they never saw me as someone to love... they always saw a red flag instead.

When they looked at me, they saw anger.... they never saw past that to 'see me'. I was my father's first child... and here I was 'in their house!' How dare I be there.

I can understand... strangely enough I understood 'then'... I tried to always be quiet as possible, and help clean up, iron and rake leaves, make good grades in school, stay out of the way sitting in our bedroom. I would speak quietly, and smile. It didn't make any difference if I tried to be 'perfect'... all it did was to keep me in trouble.

I asked my stepmother for my mama's St. Christopher's sterling silver necklace, and my Grandma Alma's engagement ring. She had taken them from me one day when I was washing my hands. I'd taken Grandma Alma's ring off so, as to keep it from getting wet. It was laying on the sink.

My stepmother, came into the bathroom. "Gloria Faye, you are going to lose that ring!" Give me that ring and I will put it in the mosaic box where I keep things to make earrings one day for your sisters, she told me. She told me to give her my mama's necklace, also. I was afraid of her, and of course, I handed them to her. I didn't want to let her have them.

"Gloria Faye, you lost that ring and necklace, I don't have them!" My stepmother glared at me, daring me to say more. I felt fear as a young girl going up against her. I told her she had taken them to put in that box for my sisters, to please give them back. She said that I lost them.

Mama told me to come on, I wanted my treasures back, they meant the world to me. I had to go, forever never knowing what she did with my mama's sterling silver St. Christopher's necklace and my Grandma Alma's engagement ring! I never knew all these years. It still hurts me to my very soul.

To this day, I remember how my stepmother looked me right into my eyes, my face........ and lied. I remember how I never would have believed 'she' would have lied.

I hadn't yet 'opened my eyes to really see' .... that 'perfect, good people' can lie, and they aren't always as perfect and good... as one would think. I think maybe my eyes began to 'open' at that time... I was on the brink of 'seeing' people do things that..... no one else could believe they'd do.

I was just a young girl, I was still believing in right and wrong. Though my stepmother mistreated me, lied to me.... she was 'good, and she was perfect'. So, how could she have lied like that? I knew she mistreated me... but, I didn't know she..... lied, too. I can look back at how that bothered me.

I didn't think 'she would lie'.... she always made sure the house was beautiful, our clothes were starched and ironed perfectly, our hair and make-up just right, everything was 'perfect', even down to the wonderful meals that I couldn't eat because I couldn't swallow for being so nervous (I lost so much weight there).

So... even to this day.... I think about her lie.... and how she looked me straight into my eyes, daring me not to believe her. I'm even amazed... now. I sit here and 'see her face' at this very moment. That woman lied.... and that wasn't the only time.... she lied just before she died ...a lie that affected my whole life. I'm amazed.

That woman could lie. I've forgiven her.... Strangely enough, I still loved her. I just shake my head ...thinking of her. What a woman.

I know anything is possible... I wonder if it possible that my mama's St. Christopher necklace and my Grandma Alma's engagement ring could.... come back to me. If not, I would wish to know what happened to them...

　

POOR LITTLE DIRTY GIRL... YOU SMELL SO BAD!

2012-02-03T04:26:00.001-05:00

POOR LITTLE DIRTY GIRL... YOU SMELL SO BAD!
BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I was standing by the windows near the cloakroom at school. My face was burning, I was so embarassed. Nobody had ever told me that ....I held my head down, hot tears falling on the front of my dress. I wanted to sink into the floor.

Gloria, we aren't trying to hurt your feelings, we care and want to help you. One of the girls standing there was looking at me with pity... well maybe... it was compassion in her eyes ..now, that I look back.

I looked up into their faces ... Deborah, Mary Pat, Kathy, Betty, and several others. I was too embarassed to look anymore and hung my head down. Just let me get back to Grandma Alma and George's. I wanted 3:00 to come so, I could go home!

I'm too ashamed to tell them. I never knew, I never knew until these kind girls took it upon themselves to tell me. They were trying to help me. Grandma and George did the best they could, I knew no better than what I was told to do, how could I have known?

Grandma, grandma! I was calling my grandma as I opened the screen door. I wanted to tell my grandma what those girls told me! Grandma Alma was sitting in her recliner, she had her head tilted to one side looking for me to come through the door to her sitting room (the Arena). She had a smile on her face. I loved my grandma with my very heart!

I ran to her, as I began to tell her what happened at school today, I began sobbing. I felt awful! I was so ashamed to be in the world. I felt too embarassed to tell my grandma what those girls did.

"Faye, what's wrong?" My grandma was looking at me with tears in her eyes, she knew something had hurt me deeply. I couldn't talk, I was crying my heart out.

I finally stopped crying, I took the hem of my dress and wiped my eyes, and my runny nose. My eyes burned, and I felt so sleepy now. I always felt sleepy after I cried, everytime I got a whipping I would cry my heart out, and I would crawl into bed and go to sleep. I could be at peace there.

My shoulders were jerking, and I was sniffling. My nose kept running. My dress hem was soaking wet with tears, and from wiping my nose.

Grandma, do I smell bad? I asked my Grandma did I stink? Grandma, some girls at school made me so embarassed today. They said they had a present to give me, to help me smell better. Oh, Grandma, I was so ashamed! I'm so ashamed I could just kill myself! I feel like nothing!

My Grandma Alma began to talk softly to me, she told me she could understand how I felt. She told me she was so sorry that they only had cold water at her house. There was only cold water in the bathtub, too. George had to heat my water each morning for me to bath, he couldn't bathe a little girl. No, he couldn't do that at all.

I was too little to heat my own water to take a bath with. At my home... at my home? Why couldn't I be back at my own home? I began to cry again... my mama was gone and I didn't know when she would come back to get me. My little brother, Wm Ernest was gone, also. I began to cry harder... my heart was broken.

I laid my head on the arm of my grandma's chair and weeped. Grandma was crying with me. We both cried together. She took her good hand and rubbed my head. I felt such love from my grandma.

I kept thinking about those girls and the present they gave me. There was a bottle of Jergen's lotion, and a bar of Dial soap, and a plastic bottle with Tussy deodorant, and a ... washcloth.

Grandma and George had washclothes. George was blind, he always had clean washclothes, I helped him to fold them. George did the laundry by himself, I tried to help him. How much can a little girl do?

I would tell him everytime he would walk toward something that he could bump into to hurt him. I loved George with my heart... except when he hollered so loudly. George could really holler... it'd make you jump!

That night I decided when I got up in the morning to get ready for school that I would wash myself very, very good and smell so nice. I never wanted anyone to think I smelled bad ... never again!

I kept thinking about how I didn't know that I didn't bathe good enough. No one ever told me. At my house, Wm Ernest and I always got into warm water in our bathtub, we got to play in the tub when we took our baths at nighttime.

My mama always made sure we were clean and had the softest towels to wrap up in. She would dry us off and put pajamas on us. I loved the clean smells at my home! I missed them!

My mama would tuck me into bed every night and she'd pull the cover up to my ears, she'd gently tuck the cover on each side of my ears to keep them warm. I loved my mama with my very heart. (As an adult when I lay dying... this vision of my mother tucking the covers around my ears to keep them warm... stayed in my mind when I was in the 'dark world'.. this vision comforted me.)

Where was my mama? Where was my little brother? When am I going home again? Our home was so clean, my clothes were so nice. No one ever said I smelled bad before!

This little girl didn't know... she had just begun one of many journeys in her life. She'd never know the security of 'family'... never again as a child. She'd just went to hell... she just didn't realize it ...yet. Life was going to get rough... she was going to have to learn to toughen up to ...survive.

This little girl never saw her brother, Wm Ernest... again until once when they were teenagers, only several times in adulthood. He'd been taken to Wisconsin to live with his father, the man I first knew as 'Daddy'. I never saw him again.

My little sister came into the world, and I only knew her for months.. she too, was taken from my world as a little girl. I lost the most important people of my little girl world. I can't begin to count the tears I cried as a little child.. my mama was gone... coming back from time to time...only to leave again.

My little precious brother was gone forever in my childhood, he had meant the world to me. My beautiful little blue-eyed baby sister was taken away at the same time I was taken away from Grandma Alma and George's to go live with my Grandmother Lola.

My little sister was taken to her new parents. I never forgot the kind voice of the lady who held my sister... she told me that I could see her again. It's strange how her voice traveled in my mind... always. It was so... kind. I think she cared with her heart.

I never saw my little sister after I was taken once again... to go live with my mama again. I never saw her until I was in my early fifties. How she touched my heart. She was by my side when we went to my Grandmother Lola's funeral.

I never see my brothers and sister, though I don't..... I love them all very much. They are 'my' brothers and sister. My father wasn't their father.

I can look back to the day the girls at school gave me the 'present'... they opened my eyes up to knowing a person needs to always smell clean.. I always bathed even with cold water, and I always smelled good. I really love my showers to this day... I love to smell so wonderfully clean! I love bubbles and warm water!

I think I will say 'thank-you' to those girls now. It was always hard to ever look them in the eye after that. I was moved so many times between grandmas and my mama's ... that I would see them only from time to time... I was changing schools constantly.

Do you know.. looking back? Even as a child, I never told on anyone... rarely did I complain about how I was treated. I think I was just 'playing ball' and learning the rules as I went. I don't think I knew that I could tell someone what was happening in my life... I accepted it and did the best I could.

People would say mean things to me as a child... looking back... couldn't they 'see', didn't they know what was going on? Didn't they even ...care? Couldn't they see that .... poor little dirty girl?

They did see and love the little clean girl, they could see me ...then. I was loved and the center of attention 'before'.... what in the world happened? I never knew until I was older... but, God... how I suffered.

Look at your babies and 'just imagine for a moment'.... you wouldn't let them be at the mercy of other people, and be little dirty girls, or boys. They are so little and so fragile, and ... precious.

I was a precious little girl at one time, but... at the age of nine... my fairytale ended. I became a stepdaughter, unwanted daughter, unwanted child. Where did my fairy godmother go? I became the child who was always on the outside looking in ...at what I used to know... a cosy, warm, and loving home, beautiful little dresses and lacey socks, warm meals, toys that were for me.

Someone used to make me good meals to eat, brush my long hair until it would shine, care for me... where did it all go? I couldn't find it anymore.... until I looked from a distance into your windows as I passed by... at your cosy, warm, loving life.

I'd become a poor little dirty girl... I was too little to know. Others saw what I had to learn... no one made anything easy for me. I had become ... nobody.

Now.. I look back at that child and wish to hug her, and make everything alright. It's okay now... she stayed dirty no longer after she knew. Life was hell for her... but, she went through it ... clean!

Another good thing this author would like to say... I'm very clean, it's been many, many years since I lived in hell, and now... I'm somebody... I'm a happily married person with two spoiled pups. It's been a very long time since I lived in hell. I live a very quiet and private life.

My Aunt Frankie used to tell me I could choose to not have bad things in my life. I'm a good 'somebody' ... and I'm so clean! :))) I'm smiling now.... I see I'm ready to go to bed now. Goodnight now... I sure have enjoyed talking to you. You all mean the world to me!

:))))))

REAL HAUNTED HOUSE

2012-02-02T06:04:00.000-05:00

REAL HAUNTED HOUSE...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

"Yes, a real haunted house!" My cousin, Raymond, told me about a real haunted house. I didn't believe a house could be haunted!

We were young teenagers wanting something to make us feel a thrill. Everyone knows what I'm talking about. We were fifteen, Raymond was sixteen. He could drive.

Raymond and his girlfriend, his best friend and his girlfriend, were going to the haunted house that night. Raymond asked me if I'd like to come along.

Of course, I wanted to see a real haunted house. At the moment it was in the middle of the day... they were on the way to look at this house in the daylight. I wanted to go with them. "Come on, let's go!" Raymond invited me. I jumped in the back seat of his car, he took off!

I felt excitement, even just a little fear in my stomach. A 'real' haunted house! I've never been to a real haunted house! In fact, I'd never gotten to do much of anything in my teenage years. I wasn't allowed to do anything excepting go to school, and just live in hell everyday of my life. It seemed to me someone would have been glad to let me go do things, maybe never come back to be a bother to them.... you know, just disappear.

I wasn't even allowed to get a part-time job! All the other kids in my DE class were getting part-time jobs... excepting me. I felt anger that I couldn't. Looking back now... how sad that I wasn't allowed to begin growing into my own... I was too sheltered.... too sheltered in hell. Anything seemed like heaven when I was away.

I could have gotten into alot of trouble 'if' I'd known 'what to get into!' Looking back, I'm glad I didn't do that! That's not saying I was perfect. I was in trouble for a short time in my life when I was a little older, wrong people... wrong place... wrong time. I know how well something like that can happen. I was someone who never wanted to be in 'real' trouble. Young people can be led so easily, they believe in their idols, their peers and think they can do no wrong.

"Don't drive so fast!" I told Raymond to slow down, he was driving fast down that dirt road. We were somewhere in Wake Forest, North Carolina... only he knew where we were going.

Raymond slowed down and turned right onto a dirt path leading up to an old, old house. The boards looked dark grey, some of the windows were broken. It was overgrown with briars, and vines and trees. No one had lived here for a while.

We got out of the car and began to walk up to the house. The steps were broken and one couldn't walk up on them, the steps had rotted out. One could gingerly step up on the sides of them to make it up on the porch where....

The boards were mostly missing on that porch and I could see down through the holes. How in the world can one get into that front door without falling through to the ground, and God knows what else!

Raymond and his best friend held onto the doorway and managed to jump across the hole there. They began helping us girls by holding their hands out to us, saying they would help us inside. We got inside and began to explore the first floor.

We all began going our own ways, each finding something that interested us. I had never been in a house that was as old as this. It had a fireplace that fascinated me... it was beautiful to me! I saw an old book lying on the dusty floor. I picked it up to look inside to maybe... see a name? No, no name in this dusty old book.

I could hear the voices of Raymond, his best friend and his girlfriend. They were laughing and chattering away. I went to find them.

They were upstairs... one had to be so careful navigating those steps! They were dangerous, holes in them, the wood was thin in places from age.

I made it up the steps... finally. I walked to the window at the head of them. I looked out over the roof, to the window to my right... to see inside of the room there. I only saw bare walls and a dusty floor. It was empty.

I looked to my left.... feeling shock as I did! I couldn't believe my eyes... there was a rope with a noose on the end of it...hanging from the center of the ceiling. My knees felt weak and I felt afraid. I wanted to go away from here. I wondered if Raymond and the others saw this!

I walked to my left, looking for the door to that room with the noose..... there wasn't a door at all there in that hall that opened into that room! I couldn't understand that. I walked down the hall to the only doorway on the left... that was at the front of the house, it was a dusty room with bare walls. Raymond and his friends were in here.

"Did you see the noose hanging from the ceiling?" Raymond asked me what noose? His eyes showed just a little fear when I asked him. He was brave, but... Raymond could scare easily! I felt more fear when I saw Raymond's eyes, he could be scared easily but, not as easily as I could be.

"Come on, I'll show you! I can't find the door to that room!" I walked into the hall. I took my hand and touched the wall as we walked back to the big window in front of the stairs leading back down. I bumped the wall, I told Raymond that I couldn't understand where the door would be to the room I knew was behind there!

We all walked to the window at the back of the house, in front of the staircase that led down.... I pointed to the room to the left. No one could believe what they saw.... a bare room with dust on the floor, and a rope noose hanging from the ceiling. Immediately, the guys turned to look down the hall, puzzled to where a door would be. There wasn't a door.

We grew tired of wondering and made our way back down those rotten, old steps. We let the guys go first out the front door, they reached to help us girls to get back onto the porch. Thankfully, no one fell in that hole there... it was about four feet down if one fell into it.

We piled up in Raymond's car and drove slowly away. All of us were looking up at that old house.. we were on the left side of it where the room was with that rope noose. We could see windows up there.... I was wondering 'where was the door to that room with the noose?'

Raymond said we'd all go that night back to that haunted house. Didn't that rope noose prove that it was haunted? It was strange to see a noose hanging from the ceiling like that. Yes, we all knew 'we had to go back' that night! People are braver when in numbers.

That evening as it was getting dark, we drove down the dirt road toward the haunted house. I was feeling afraid, I was having second thoughts. The guys were talking brave-talk... how they weren't afraid of nothing.

The moonlight was beautiful, I was so glad that the moon was out. I'm afraid of the dark... I know 'bad' things can happen in the dark. I know.

Raymond slowed down on the side of the road instead of driving into the driveway. I was so glad he wasn't driving up to that haunted house! I was feeling nervous, my hands felt shaky, my heart was pounding. I think I wanted to go now... I might see something I don't want to see!

He stopped, everyone opened their windows. We sat there, nothing happened, we began to relax. We were laughing and talking when........................

"Did you see that?!!!" I froze, because Raymond's voice sounded strange, I felt cold chills on my bare arms. Raymond was pointing at something, his eyes were wide and his mouth.. was hanging open!

I looked up at the window where the room had the rope noose hanging from the ceiling, the room with no door to it. I saw.... in that window a little blue light the color of blue one sees on a highway trooper's car! It was hovering in the dark window! I was cold with fear, I wanted to go!

"Let's go, let's go", I said. No, Raymond said let's wait just a minute to see what happens!

In the moonlight, I watched what appeared to be a black sillouette of a man in a top hat coming out of that front door. I knew he was going to fall! In the moonlight I could see this man walk smoothly across that front porch and as he began to step down .....

The sound of tires spinning, my body being thrown back against the seat, and hysterical laughing.... I heard Raymond say "I'm getting the hell outta here!"

We all began comparing what we saw with our eyes, we all saw the same thing. We all asked the question "how did that man walk across the porch like that?!!!"

We all saw the man stepping down to ......... steps that weren't there! It was real, it was a real haunted house.

I never went back there, I think Raymond did. I don't think they ever saw anything else that was strange.

I know I saw enough to keep me away.... I don't like haunted houses at all. Especially... dark, haunted houses. Why I don't even go to the fun Halloween haunted houses... do you know 'why'?

Because I know 'bad things happen in the dark'... I know. I'm afraid of the dark.

REMEMBERING OUR PETS FROM THE PAST...

2012-02-01T05:12:00.001-05:00

REMEMBERING OUR PETS FROM THE PAST...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

We had a family of Bassett Hounds who have since died, leaving a sadness in our hearts. They lived many years, they lived a good life. We made sure of that.

There was Garraway, my red-headed Bassett Hound. He was tri-colored. He was mostly red-brown, white and some black on his back. Garraway was very intelligent... we nicknamed him 'The Professor'... sometimes 'China man'. Garraway had several nicknames. He was called 'Red', and 'GG'. He was the father Bassett Hound.

Ms Sadie Maye was black and white. She was beautiful, she had beautiful eyelashes. She was soft as cotton. She was the 'boss', and ruled the house. She had one litter of puppies, she and Garraway. I found homes for each one, instead of selling them. All I asked for was a good family, a good home.

When she had her puppies, I saw one lying on the floor still in the thin membrane-like sac. I picked it up and gently pulled it off the baby puppy... this was the puppy I kept. His name became Chadwick Elsworth (our Chadwick today is named for him).

Chadwick Elsworth was nicknamed Baby Bird... he loved to move the covers around to make his nest. He had eyelashes like his mother. Soft, beautiful Chadwick was red and white.

All three Bassett Hounds lived a long, good life. They all three raised a Rottweiler puppy, Kissy. This was our first 'Kissy'.... today our Rottweiler is named after this special dog, as well as Fairchild, the Rottweiler we got when Kissy I died. We loved our pups, they loved us.

We got a snow that was 28 inches deep one winter. Skip and I always looked forward to snow, though it doesn't snow here alot in the winters. This was a real snow!

We let the pups go outside... it was so funny to watch the Bassett Hounds hopping like rabbits in the snow! Garraway ran after me, barking like 'this is your fault my belly's cold!' I was laughing so hard that I fell down backwards into the snow. He was really telling me off!

We did shovel paths for them to run on. Bassett Hounds and their short little legs could only hop in snow that deep... it was fun to watch. Kissy, of course, had long legs so, the snow never bothered him. He loved it, too!

Ms Sadie Maye died laying on the bed where I'd been laying, so sick. I'd almost died in that same place from my illness. My Sadie Maye died quietly there, instead. It was late at night, Garraway and Chadwick were crying softly 'looking up in the air'... it was so strange. They were seeing something we couldn't see.

When Sadie Maye died, it was during the time I was fighting my battle to live. I won't forget hurting so much knowing she died. She, along with Garraway, Chadwick and Kissy, had laid around me as I lay seriously ill. I was freezing cold in July... I wonder if they were aware of that... I could feel them, more than see them.. laying around me close... maybe trying to keep my body warm.

I know now, there are so many people who care about their pets. Their pets become part of the family. That's the way we've always been. Each time one died to go to Rainbow Bridge, we grieved just as if each pet had been a person. They each held a special place in our lives, and meant the world to us.

Remembering them at this moment... how well I knew each one of them, loved each one of them. How loved each one of them was. They knew it. Do you know when I wrote about all the people I loved who died, how it could fill a sheet of notebook paper, in the past 12 years? Well, I didn't mention that these special dogs died during that time, too. The pain was so much for them, too.

I wanted to write this to remember our pups from the past... they were our family, too. I love you, Garraway... Ms Sadie Maye... Chadwick Elsworth, Kissy, and Fairchild. Each of you lead a long life in our care. This is written in honor of you.

　

BIGFOOT'S IN THE HOUSE!

2012-01-31T16:01:00.000-05:00

BIGFOOT'S IN THE HOUSE!

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

You don't have to look for Bigfoot anymore. I know exactly where he is! He's in my house!

I've finally decided after much thought howmysterious little scratches like the one on my nose this morning, gotthere. Ever so often this happens, I'mnot aware of it until... I look in the mirror!

There's a darn scratch on ...my nose! How did it get there? I touch it, it's real because it's sore... itis a very real scratch. Okay... so howdid it get there?

I take my shower, wondering 'how did the scratchget there?' I don't recall doinganything to make me get a scratch on the bridge of my nose. How did it get there?

I'm thinking ... it begins to dawn on me. Bigfoot! Yes, I think Bigfoot did it! He'sbig, he's powerful and I know he would do that! Yes, yes, I'm sure it was Bigfoot!

When we go to bed at night, our huge 1 year oldRottweiler, Mr. Kissy, comes to bed with us. Chadwick Elsworth comes to bed with us, though he will go and lay on hiscovers on the couch. Mr. Kissy willstretch himself out on the bed after he goes through his routine of imitating abird!

Yes, Mr. Kissy will begin using one paw, then theother to gently move the top cover around to make a 'nest'. We know when he is going to settle down to goto sleep...he begins making his nest. He's a bird.

Mr. Kissy is something else. He is so huge, he looks like a big, black bear! He is as strong, and silent as a bear. He has unusual eyes that look ... human-like. He has the face you want to shower with baby kisses, and it ... puremelts one's heart. Mr. Kissy is a bigbear!

Chadwick Elsworth is mixed, and a fine mixture heis. He is a medium-sized, blonde-coloredpup, he is almost 5 years old. He hastalked Mr. Kissy all he knows, afterall, Chadwick Elsworth learned from thebest! Chadwick Elsworth favors a coyotein his beautiful color, and size.

Chadwick is very gentle, though he is mostprotective of us. He will bite someoneif they come into his fence. That's whywe have signs around his fence, so people will stand back. Chadwick will raise Cain when someone ishere, it's his nature.

Chadwick Elsworth spent most of his life with Mr.Fairchild, our 11 year old Rottweiler, who was a force to be reckonedwith. He taught Chadwick Elswortheverything. Chadwick Elsworth is tough,though looking at him one wouldn't realize how strong, how fast he is.

Mr. Fairchild died, he had cancer. His ashes sit on Skip's desk in a white tin,with black paw prints on it. It has abrass nameplate with his name, on the tin. We had him cremated when he died. Skip cried when he died, I cried, too.

Mr. Kissy is tough, also. He is a very quiet, serious pup who isconstantly looking for something. He hasthe nicest temperament, he loves people, children. If Mr. Kissy ever growls at anyone... I'mgetting away from them, there's something 'bad' wrong with them. We've never seen anyone he doesn't like... ifhe ever showed aggression, we'd think twice about that person.

Mr. Kissy likes to reach out, that's right. He likes to reach out and touch you. When he does, we say 'I've beenbig-footed!' His touch is full of power,and when he reaches out playfully you have to soften his touch! It hurts! :)))

Sometimes at night he will want to touch one ofus, to wake us up... he bigfoots us. Iknow that's 'why' I woke up this morning with a scratch on the bridge of mynose! I've been big-footed! Don't look any farther for Bigfoot... he ishere, here in our house. By the way, hisreal name is Mr. Kissy! Kissy FairchildBates... he's named in honor and memory of Fairchild.

Now you know where Bigfoot is, and what his realname is. Yes, Bigfoot's in the house!

AMEN! HALLELUJAH! TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL VISITING ANOTHER CHURCH...

2012-01-31T08:19:00.000-05:00

AMEN! HALLELUJAH! TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL VISITING ANOTHER CHURCH...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

She's looking at me again! I kept singing 'Amazing Grace', as I wondered 'why' she turned around to look at me. The next song was 'Little Brown Church'... I loved this song, and I sung with my best voice! It felt wonderful!

Someone punched me in the back, and I didn't want to turn around to see 'who'. We were all standing up in church, singing songs. I was in the choir at my church (I was visiting this church), I knew I could sing (later .. I would find out how badly I sang! when the choir director asked me to sing with my mouth, but.... not let my voice be heard!).

I was the youngest in the choir at my church, I hadn't been singing long. I loved it, I'd discovered I could sing! It was fun. I was catching on to little frowns here and there from the older women here at this church. I was a child and I didn't understand 'why'. Why some of those old-ass women looked right mean at me!

We sat down and listened to the pastor talk about someone was surely going to hell if they didn't change their ways. I knew I was going to change my ways. I was only twelve years old, I sure didn't want to go to hell! He screamed 'Amen!' making me jump in my seat. Hallelujah! I couldn't take much more of this! All this screaming, hollering, jumping up and down.... I saw this at grandma's all the time... I came to church where it was peaceful, no one to scare me, or make me nervous. This new church did all of that. I'm not coming back here anymore!

I was trying to stay awake, I didn't sleep good last night. Grandma and George were fussing about something. I hoped they wouldn't go to hell. I didn't want anyone I loved to go to hell, now that I've just learned about it.

Damn, I didn't want to burn up. I think I had better stop saying the word 'damn'. I'd been using that word in my mind since my mother washed my mouth out with Ivory soap when I was younger. It made me remember that word, that's what Ivory soap did! Damn! There he goes again! Amen! Give me a hallelujah!

Damn! That preacher sure can scream, he scares me everytime he screams 'amen!' and 'hallelujah!' He's talking about people who talk in tongues now... what in the ...... is talking in tongues?!!!

I'm not sure what this means at all... I only had one tongue! I was at this church 'visiting'. An older lady wanted me to come to her church this Sunday with her. I wasn't sure if I liked this church better than the Baptist Church I'd been attending. It seemed older women took it upon themselves to save my soul... I must have looked like I was surely going to hell.

What? I look to my left to see the older woman I was with.... why, that's white stuff on her mouth! Oh my God! I began panicking... I'd seen this not long ago on my mom's face when she suffered a seizure. I slid over away from the woman, staring at her in shock! I never thought about how others probably were looking at me!

This woman began to talk, she jerked like that chicken I saw one time... when someone chopped its head off! I cried for that chicken! She stood up hollering 'Thank-you, Jesus!' She began to walk like that chicken up the aisle... I just couldn't understand this! I'd never seen such in my church. I felt very nervous, my stomach had butterflies in it.

That woman's head was going backwards and forwards... she was walking, she really did look alot like that chicken! What the hell! Why she just fell on the floor, she's rolling! That white stuff coming out of her mouth!

Damn, I've got to get out of here! I'm going to hell as sure as I stay in here, I keep being shocked, scared... I keep saying ugly words!

I wanted to go outside where the other kids were playing. This was the perfect opportunity to 'get away'! I looked around, people were praying and saying 'amen!' and 'hallelujah!' They were talking but..... wait a minute, is this 'talking in tongues?' I think they were talking in tongues, I couldn't understand a word they said!

I got the heck out of there. When I got outside, a boy handed me a.... straight pin. I looked at him and asked him what that was for? He said to protect myself... stick somebody back if they stick you!

What have I got myself into! Damn that girl! She just stuck me with a pin and ran. I'll catch her ass, and show her how it feels! I ran and sure enough, I caught her. I stuck not one time, but, two times! She cried. She deserved it. I was mad now! I didn't like being stuck with a pin.

Ouch! _____!!! That hurt like ____!!! I chased that boy until I grabbed him by his shirt, and I stuck him in the _____! That'll teach you to stick me!

I've got to get away from this church... it's dangerous here! I thought my life was hell, but, this was something else. I wanted to go back to grandma and George's!

I stood on the churchsteps watching those boys and girls running, laughing and............. bleeding!!! I looked on my arms and sure enough, there was blood running down my arm. What the____?!!!

A boy ran up to stick me again, I stopped him in his tracks. I told him he would be most sorry if he stuck me with that pin, I wasn't playing anymore! He laughed and ran back to stick somebody else!

I came to this new church and feared for my very soul... that preacher said somebody would surely go to hell. I could see 'why'... those kids were mean! They needed to be inside listening to the preacher so, he could scream and scare the hell out of them. He'd already scared it out of me!

I peeped back in the door of the church... there were grownups lying all around in that floor! They were moaning, talking strange, why.... that looks like that white stuff on their mouths! Amen! Hallelujah! That preacher shouted. I can't take no more, I've got to go... no where is it calm, or safe for me!

I keep looking toward the street... it isn't far to just walk back to grandma and George's! I'm going to walk back home! No one is paying attention to me, those kids were too busy sticking each other with those pins! I walked back to grandma and George's and swore to myself that I wouldn't be going to church with that lady again. I knew I'd surely go to hell if I did... I didn't like those kids sticking me with pins....

ANOTHER GRIEVING MOTHER'S FACE... DREAMING

2012-01-31T06:57:00.000-05:00

ANOTHER GRIEVING MOTHER'S FACE... DREAMING

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I was thinking about a mother's face this morning when I woke up. I lay there seeing her face in my mind, and thinking how sad I felt for her.

She has been deceased since some time before Tommy died... even then, I cared but........... always that 'but'........... how could I have in any way know what went on in her mind?

I remember seeing her sad face, her eyes seeing me, not really seeing me. I remember she just didn't talk at all, no words were needed. I just hugged her, I don't remember if I said 'I'm so sorry', or if the words came out at all.

I see her face as I look in my mind... I see a face filled with grief that no words could even begin to have helped her. She seemed to have just with-drawn so much. I knew this woman, at one time I was very close to her.... many years ago. She was one who came running with my mom to 'save me' when my stepmother beat me in the face, and my dad slapped me for the first and only time. She loved and cared about me, back then... but, not for always.

I just looked back this morning with sadness that I didn't fully understand what she was feeling inside. She was on medication to help her... because you see.... she didn't lose just one child, she lost two children.

Two children within 3 months of each other. They were adults like I. Her oldest child supposedly committed suicide... there are many stories about 'if' he really did. Her middle child, her only daughter... was killed in a crash... a log truck hit her.

I was thinking this morning that it was bad enough (really the word 'bad' doesn't do justice at all when you describe grief... it's not even close to describing 'how bad').... it is bad enough to lose children through illness, or unexpectedly.... but, when something so awful happened at the same time of their death... all I can say is ... oh my God.

She lost 2 of her babies in the most awful of ways. I don't think 'then'... I stopped long enough to really think about it, than to just know it was 'bad'. It hurt my heart... thinking about it now... my heart feels the pain moreso.

I think I know why. I've lost a child now, and I can understand. What I can't imagine is......... losing 2 children in such a 'bad' way.

My poor aunt... yes, she was my aunt. I knew her, my heart felt for her then.... now.... I can understand better, I feel so bad for her.. it's too late to tell her. I love you, Aunt Ruby. What you must have suffered in your mind, what you must have suffered. I can't even pretend to imagine.

I woke up this morning wondering if I could think of a grieving mother's face...... her face came to my mind. The other day when I wrote my story about The Face Of A Grieving Mother... I was showing you a picture of my face... I didn't think past that.

This morning, I woke up ..thinking past my face. I do feel such sadness, and regret that somehow I didn't get to tell her that I cared more than even I knew. I didn't know I would know as a mother what she felt... until I, myself lost my child. The caring was there all along... it took losing my child for me to 'see how much' caring was there.

I can see 'why' people don't seem to care when you lose a loved one... they can't imagine how it feels, because this is one of those things that you have to experience... to know how it actually feels.

They care but, they never realize 'how much' until it happens to them... the caring was there all along.... it took something bad happening in their life... to know that. Their mind instantly goes to 'someone just like them... someone who has been through the same thing'. This is the moment ... they deeply care. They understand 'now'.

I feel sad about this because... if we somehow 'knew' before we each had to experience somthing 'bad'... how things felt ... we could let someone who is suffering know that we care with our very hearts. Then again... if we didn't experience these things... how could we truly know if we care or know 'how it feels'? Experience is the teacher here, I'm sure. We have to do as that old saying 'walk a mile in someone's shoes'.... in order to know how it really feels.

I have walked in alot of shoes... I know how alot feels. I was thinking that I've learned many lessons in life.. and it's amazing... I have alot left to learn.

I would hope these lessons won't be as painful as it seems most of the others in life for me... were. I would like to learn happy, joyful lessons now. Of course, I've learned alot of them in my life, also.

The biggest being in knowing how it feels to give something needed to someone who really needs........ seeing their eyes light up with joy, and hear it in their voice. I love to do that. I know how it feels to be on both ends. I have needed, also.

I know it feels so good when needing something, and someone makes it possible for you to have. It means the world.

I know how it feels in my heart when I have given to someone who is down and out, how it seemed to mean the world to them, too.

I would like to be rich now, because I would surely make such difference in people's lives... they would never have to know it was me who made that difference. I'm finally old enough to not have to have credit for everything I do. I would help people 'behind the scenes' and watch from a distance to feel and see their joy... not let them know for sometime, if ever... that I cared for them.

I can see I've changed subjects now... that means I've written what I meant to... I can go on to other things now... to talk about. I think I'll dream about being rich... and the 'good' things I could do not only for myself, and loved ones... but, for people who can't think of one person, place or anything, that could possibly cause money to come their way to help them. I know how it feels... I've felt this before, too.

I'm dreaming now...who knows... I've heard that dreams come true! I'm thinking at this very moment of special things I'll do when I'm rich..... one being to be near a homeless person who is wishing only for a coat... I would give them that coat, and warm clothing and blankets and a room paid for, for a month. Not only that, I would be seeing what resources there were to help them in their life, their future. I'd never forget them.

I have in my mind seeing so many homeless people living in the streets at night time in California. We went to areas one would never believe existed, it's a 'whole other world... many worlds within this whole other world'. I won't even pretend I understand them. They made quite an impression on my mind... I also, saw many 'dangerous' worlds... children have to live in them.

I did understand that I saw people with many needs, many people I could only give maybe a couple of dollars to, and whatever I had to drink or eat at that time. They didn't care if I'd been drinking from the cup, or eating from a sandwich... they just saw something they'd wished for and couldn't get easily. I really looked at each person I came in contact with. I cared, I cried over them... no one ever knew I did that. I think Skip did, though.

There are people like that in all cities, and I haven't seen them in small towns, but... I think they are there... where, I don't know. I've seen them all over the United States, my attention going straight to them, instead of just seeing the beauty around me. I saw the not so beautiful, too. I cared.

Not only these people... people, everyday people in my life that I know of, people I personally know. People everywhere are needing, I'm needing, we all need something. Don't you agree? Even not being rich, we give to make other people happy... sometimes we do without ourselves to do so.

I don't think one can buy what we feel in our hearts when we've done good, and know that we have. I don't think anyone can buy how good it feels in our hearts when someone is good to us, too. Gratitude, for so much. Happiness, gratitude and the feeling that someone cared. Money might not can buy that.... truthfully, money is needed to buy 'what others won't give freely' from their hearts.

Yes, I wish to be rich... I would make many deserving people have food, clothing, shelter and know what resources are there for them to take advantage of to help themselves when they are past my help. I would want them all to succeed in life.

I have wondered what it'd be like 'if every rich person' did as I would if and when I'm rich... I wonder if many people would be left that needed or wanted for anything?

I know you wonder about people trying to take advantage... well, they would be the ones making the loudest noise... I would look past them to the quiet ones. You do know alot of times when someone gets hurts, the ones who aren't hurt the worst, scream the loudest. The ones hurting most are the 'quiet ones'.

I would be so happy to be able to carry out my wishes I have in my heart... joy would be felt everywhere. I would make many smiles, many eyes light up with happiness. I would stand at a distance and smile, too... my eyes would be bright from joy and tears. It would make me happy to make you happy.

We all have dreams that may sound silly... this is my silly dream. In my mind .. I know it to be possible to come true. I have been there, done that, and want to do it again! :))) I'm back to dreaming now.............................. I wish to be rich... soon. I have a heart rich in caring, love, compassion, empathy. Now, I need the money to buy what others can't give for free... and give it freely, myself. I'm dreaming... I believe.

　

NO MATTER HOW LIFE HAS BEEN...

2012-01-30T07:20:00.000-05:00

NO MATTER HOW BAD LIFE HAS BEEN...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

DIAMOND TEARDROPS

Diamond teardrops dancing in the rain

sparkling, shining to hide my pain

colorful rainbows in the sky

distract me so that I don't cry

I loved my child with my heart

Tommy, I'm so sorry life pulled us apart

My son, my heart, my child

I love you. Your 'Ole' Mom

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

1-29-12

I woke up thinking about this little 'poem' I wrote yesterday as I wrote 'THE FACE OF A GRIEVING MOTHER'.

I love diamonds, tears remind me of diamonds. Have you ever cried (I know you have) and your tears catch the light... as you cry you see little sparkles of shining colors shoot out from your tears?

I have cried, I have seen the colors shoot out from my tears, shining and bright. I wonder if one could interpret those colors as 'healing power'?

I remember times when I have cried, colors in my tears have caught my attention. For instance, when one night we were driving in the snow to the hospital... my cousin had just died.

Tears were falling down my cheeks, my eyes were watching the soft, quiet snow coming down. The headlights were shining on a white road ahead of us... I was looking at that when I began to see my tears between me and the headlights.

How they sparkled with color, with clarity! Diamonds made of my tears, colors of the rainbow in my tears. This distracted me from crying as I opened and closed my eyes, my lashes wet with tears. How my lashes sparkled in the reflection of the headlights.

I could see snowflakes traveling toward the windshield, my sparkling eyelashes framed this beautiful sight. Even in grief I could appreciate such beauty... God's beauty. Captured in a frame of diamond tears and rainbow colors.

I was thinking that my cousin, Jimmy, would have wanted at least something ... just something to mark the time he left this world. Jimmy, it did.... we had the softest snowfall that night... unusual as we don't always get snow in the winter here. You would have smiled knowing 'something special' happened at the time you went away... something that makes me always remember when you left this world.

That night I framed the picture in my mind forever, of that soft, beautiful snow, snowflakes in the headlights, snowflakes falling quietly against the windshield. Diamonds made of teardrops, just as for my son, Tommy... whom you loved very much. Diamonds of such clarity, little rainbows of color. Crying....

I would be wealthy if I were paid for all the diamonds I have cried in my entire life. I have had the saddest life, yet... I've had the happiest life. I forgot the sad when I was happy. I've lost many, many people I loved dearly in my life.

I was hurt deeply each time one of them died... hurt badly when I, myself, was at death's door.. never knowing until a year later that one of my most favorite aunts died. Even if I'd known, I wouldn't have known ... I was that sick for so long. I was in the battle of my life.

Patsy... my Aunt Patsy. You died when I was so ill, I never knew. I remember you with my words here. You were another person in my very young life who cared for me, just as my Aunt Frankie.

You had that soft voice that was clear in the darkness of my mind, I could 'see' what you told me. Only one thing you promised me, you couldn't be here to make come true. You meant to be... you promised me from the time I was very little into adulthood. I understand life is like that... not all promises can be kept... sometimes we go away before we can keep them.

I love you, Patsy. It's a wonder I didn't see you somewhere as I battled for life.... I was 'out there' too. It's a wonder I didn't meet you out there, just to reach out and touch your hand in hello, goodbye, I love you. At least ...... something.

I can write on, fill up a sheet of notebook paper with all the names of loved ones ... ones 'I truly loved in my life' ... who have died through the past 12 years. It seems all my life I was never around death... until just after I won my battle to live. Since then, I've seen so much grief.

So much has happened in mine and Skip's life. He was in two very bad wrecks, one being in a tractor-trailer wreck in Moriarity, New Mexico. Traveling on Interstate 40 West, it was raining and two young girls were traveling too fast on the wet road, they hydroplaned hitting the steering tire on the big truck Skip was driving.

It sent him flying through the median, across oncoming traffic on the opposite side of the interstate. The big truck hit and broke down a Shoney's billboard, landing out on the desert floor. Skip was hanging upside down, hurt. He heard some men coming, one saying 'I wonder if that truck driver is dead?' Skip yelled at them to please help him, he wasn't dead at all!

A woman ran a stop sign hitting him in the side..... only two weeks after the tractor-trailer wreck. Her van turned upside down in the middle of the road, she was lucky to have lived. Skip and my mother's husband were so lucky to have survived that wreck.

Skip was almost got broadsided a couple more weeks later.... when cops were chasing a bank robber! The bank robber barely missed Skip as he almost went through the stoplight as it changed. Skip was on the way to physical therapy. How ironic is that? The bank robber went under that light and crashed only yards away from Skip.

Skip was beginning to be very sick as he took care of me when I was ill. How he worked, and took care of me, carried me to all those treatments, tests... no one could understand. I know how, because I am like him... love, pure love. We love each other that much.

He was losing so much blood. If someone, or even you... ever lose blood when you go to the bathroom... from the rectum...... go running to the doctor. Skip didn't because he was fighting so hard to keep his world together... a deathly sick wife, his dogs he loved very much, working... he was taking care of them all, including his wife's cousin who'd come to live with them.

Skip was under so much pressure, he was so sick. I was so sick, I became aware of how sick he was... I pushed so hard to get 'well enough'... to force him to go to the doctor. Thank-God, I did.

When Skip went to the hospital for surgery... they had to give him alot of blood before they could even do surgery. I was still very sick, but... I took care of him just as he had me for three years.

We were both sick together. No one knew, and if they did... no one came around. We never told many people, we kept alot from Tommy, who was driving long-distanced then. We've went through so much..... alone.

I went into congested heart failure. The drug adriamycin damaged my heart from all chemotherapy treatments I had. The doctor didn't tell me this until long after.... it was my tradeoff for living... I accepted that ...gladly. :)))

These are a few things I've 'looked back on'.... this morning. I have so much to be thankful for. I am, from the very deepest of my heart. Believe it or not... these are only 'just a few things'... we have experienced in this lifetime. Isn't it really... amazing? I am amazed when I sit from time to time 'to look back'.

No matter how bad life has been.... it's been good, too. I'm so thankful to be past 'so much bad'. I look forward to the good things in life... I will embrace each, appreciating more than ever the happy things. At this age ..I have never appreciated so much. I have never in my life to 'not' take things for granted, as I do now. Never will I do that again. Isn't it amazing how we learn and grow through the years... just to find this out? I'm amazed... all the time!

These are my thoughts this morning... I wonder what your thoughts are this morning? :)))

THE FACE OF A GRIEVING MOTHER

2012-01-29T07:29:00.002-05:00

THE FACE OF A GRIEVING MOTHER...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

This morning I got up feeling like I was still in 'yesterday' when I sat for several hours writing about what happened to my son (The Worst Happened... Oh My God). I think it will take a little time to get past 'being burned by the flame'... I 'went into the fire' yesterday when I wrote my story.

I really got burned this time... it hurts bad... it's so hard to shake the remnants of such pure, raw, grief off ...this time. My mental skin is painful from the burns I've suffered... going back.

I noticed last evening how I felt after finishing my story. I could imagine how an actress/actor felt after playing a role in a movie. I thought that it must be hard 'to come back' to now... reality.

I felt this way when I finished writing my last word. I could still feel the grief, the pain... my eyes felt like I'd been crying alot. In fact, I was crying alot, I just didn't realize it. I was 'back then'.

My head has felt like I was still in the fog that kept my path to my memories hidden. Today, I am still pushing through the fog to get off that hidden path... I want to be on the path with sunshine so, I can see where I'm going.

I want to put mental flowers and trees in front of this hidden path to hide the entrance... I can look at beauty to distract my mind from going there. I know that I will go there. Instead of parting the limbs and flowers back... I will instead, pick a flower to smell its wondrous fragrance... maybe pick more to make a bouquet.

I will walk away... hopefully, satisfied that I've found beauty and hold it in my hands.... instead of finding the grief I know to be hidden there, and walking away with pain in my heart.

This is the first time I have made myself 'go back' to remember so much. So much has been forgotten. I don't think I could bear to go 'back to then', again. I can't describe the pain, the grief of doing that. Being a grieving mother, I 'know' that I will go back ... again. I hope not for some time.

I know there are flowers and trees there now, they weren't before. Only that stark, foggy, scary path was there. For now, I don't have to see it unless..... I part the trees and flowers to see if I'm tempted to enter. I hope I won't be... this time was 'too' much. I think in my mind, I will put a colorful rainbow there, also. I'm always distracted by colors.

The strange thing at the funeral home 'that night'... somehow, I was standing there, outside. People were all around, someone said "look at that rainbow in the sky". I remember looking up, my eyes searching for the rainbow, I saw it. I wonder if Tommy helped it to be there.... he knew his mother was always distracted by beautiful colors. I was thinking for a moment back to what I have not told you about... at that funeral home. Oh my God.

I can't think about 'this' for now. My stomach feels sick, my heart is so heavy, my eyes feel like I've been crying for so long. I will have to wait until later to tell you about 'at that funeral home', so.. you can know too, what that was like. I thought I was strong enough to do it now... I'm afraid I still have to gather more strength to be strong enough to tell you.

This is a mental picture of a grieving mother. She holds her head down, cradling in her lap a pool of clear, sparkling tears. They are the teardrops of pure, pure love for her child. They are the diamonds of her eyes, because her child is gone, they still shine and sparkle with her love. Liquid diamonds fall freely... teardrop diamonds of the purest love in the whole universe. Love for her child.

Yes, every teardrop is a... diamond. Her soul is rich with such love one can never describe in words. I am a grieving mother... you would not believe how rich I am in teardrop diamonds.... each made of the purest love for my child. They sparkle, they shine with the purest of love. I miss you, Son. Tommy, I miss you with my very soul, you were my only child, my only baby.

A grieving mother... one can't imagine what a grieving mother goes through. It's so easy to say that 'in time' she'll be alright, when in fact, it does put distance between 'then' and 'now'. It doesn't lessen that pain in her heart, the grief she'll feel for her child until the last breath she takes. Her tears will form diamonds for the rest of her life.

It doesn't matter what anyone says... how can they possibly know? I don't know if anyone 'really takes time' to sit and talk to a grieving mother to 'really see' what she thinks, what she really feels. Truthfully, others 'can care'... but, they 'don't really want to know'. I understand 'why'... they know it can happen to them... it really can... you know, it happened to me.

I was like that 'before' it happened to me. We think we can walk around confident 'those things happen to others, not to us... somehow they must choose that to happen in their life'. I promise you that it not only happens to you, you don't have to choose it... it happens so unexpectedly. It 'chose you'... you didn't have to do a thing for it to happen... to you. I know... it happened to.... me.

I know no one has ever taken the time to just stop, say 'tell me what it is you are really feeling as a grieving mother'. I think the reason 'why' no one takes that time to talk to a grieving mother is .... they can't bear to look directly at such emotion because... it's too horrible.

They would be burnt by it, just as you would be if you accidently stepped into a fire. Just that 'seeing', that 'hearing', just 'feeling' that raw emotion from a woman who has lost her child 'if' she were to honestly show it in front of you..... you wouldn't be able to cope with seeing, knowing such. You would suffer a... mental breakdown.

As a grieving mother, I know that I won't let anyone see how I hurt inside, I won't cry in front of anyone. I will walk away from you to keep you from seeing something so personal, so private, 'so... so mine'. It's mine, it's my love for my child, my only child.

I'm glad I've begun writing... now, I can talk about grief, grieving. I don't have to worry about anyone looking to see if they see tears, pain in my eyes. I don't have to feel embarassed, no one can see me. I don't have to worry about making someone feel uncomfortable around me.

I can write about the emotions, and whoever reads my words can take away something hopefully to know someone else can possibly feel the same way they have, or do. I can write, and whoever reads what I write will want to read, nothing is forced on them.

So, I won't cry on your shoulder, or make a spectacle of myself in public, nor make you uncomfortable. If you read my words, it will be because... you really want to. You can see and know inside how this feels, because........... it really could happen to you, it really happened to me. I didn't choose for it, to.

No matter that we know one day we are going to .... die, no one wants to. We don't want to outlive our children, we want to watch their lives come together and see them... finally succeed and be happy in life.

Tommy was talking about going back to school. He'd been talking to a parole officer, and he was encouraging Tommy into that field. He was very interested and he really listened.. this was just prior to his...... death. Actually...just days 'before'.......

As a grieving mother... did you know that each time I type the words 'die, death, dying', or anything to do with 'death'... I feel sick in my stomach? I make myself do it... each time I do, I feel a wave of pain in my stomach.

I just sat for a moment to let the feeling subside... it's pure grief, you know. It's just pure grief. Sometimes, I want to be so angry, I want to scream out in pain. I don't.... I know that it won't change not even one thing. I hold all these powerful feelings inside myself.

I don't think there's a body big enough to hold all this kind of pain without there being an outlet of some sort. Thank-God, I can write... I can't just talk about this verbally. I just can't do it.

I want to be positive and try to handle it all in a positive way. I don't want to stay down and not stand back up.... that's the 'easy' way out. Thinking about it.... there's no 'easy' to it, either down or up. Whoever coined that phrase didn't know what they were talking about...... 'that's the easy way out'.

In regards to a grieving mother.... no way is easy, even if they were to stay in a drugged state. I stayed in a drugged state for 3 months... I know. I've never been on drugs in my life, but, I begged to be drugged. Isn't that amazing... I begged to be drugged.

In my life, I've met things head-on to knock them out of my path, so, that I could survive, live. This time, I almost couldn't.................. I never felt the need for drugs, nor alcohol.... until this one time.

I'm glad I didn't continue with the medicine, I almost died from taking too much. I realized Skip kept calling me back from that darkness, wanting me to be alright. In fact, I think he put his foot down about that medicine... he never 'puts his foot down on anything' regarding 'me'.

He watched over me as I slept too deeply, worried over me... he couldn't bear seeing me like that. He said he could see my breathing almost stop, and he couldn't bear it. He wanted me to fight, to come back.

When either of us are sick, such as when we both were diagnosed with cancer... we had to pull that fighting spirit out of each other.... to make us fight to live.

I promise you that Skip and I.... know exactly 'how to press the right buttons' to pull that fighting spirit out! :))) We call it 'Dangling The Bait'... our way to make the other succeed at something we find so hard to do, we make each other 'get up and do what you have to do ..to overcome'. I smile now, thinking about him 'pressing my buttons'. I know how to do it, too! :)))

Skip, my hero... you pulled me back. I've never loved a man as I love my husband. Our pups stayed by my side wanting me to be here, also. If I don't have anything else, and I really don't... I have Skip, our Pups ... who are perfect for me. I have all I need.

Do you know what's strange about being drugged 'then'... I could talk, laugh in that state. I know I had the sensation of 'floating' and 'drifting' from here to there. I described it as feeling like 'a leaf being blown about in the wind, when the wind stopped, I stopped.... when the wind blew, I blew'. Somehow... I was 'here and there', 'everywhere'.

That medicine somehow.. protected me from what I saw, felt at that funeral home... it made me 'float above it all' trying to keep me above the sea of grief, so, I wouldn't drown right there in front of my son's body.

I was like a balloon, softly bouncing here and there, everywhere.. to where he lay, away from where my child was in that... box. Back to where he lay... I don't know where I was... I only have all these fleeting images in my head.

One could imagine a balloon getting away and just taking off up in the sky until it disappeared. It made me think of something unusual just now...... that happened when Taban was born. We went to buy a gift and a balloon to take back to the hospital.

We came outside, I was holding the balloon... it got away from me. I'll never forget standing there helplessly watching it go farther, farther away from me... to never see it again. I wonder if it was an omen to let me know that .... I wouldn't see Taban anymore, one day?

I don't see Taban anymore... his mother broke that bond. Tommy would have been so sad about this, he meant for his mother to know his son... he knew that it was impossible for his daughter to know his mother... her mother made it impossible for him to know, his child. I realize the mother had to go on with her life, she began dating soon after Tommy's death. That's when mine and Taban's relationship was broken.

Truthfully, I know I sound bad... and it is bad, for now... I do hate her. This is from someone who tries very hard to be a good person. In this instance... I really am a very bad person. I'm the first to say so. I'm ashamed of it... I am working on forgiving her for things I can't write here.

No one is perfect, me being the fartherest 'from perfect'. I know I sound like the 'best' person sometimes... sometimes, I'm not. I know where my faults lay, I really work on them... constantly.

I do still feel hate, anger, dislike... I'm not sure honestly.... if any of us can truly get that out of our heart to ...never feel it again. I've tried as hard as anyone possibly could... I manage to 'almost not to' hate. I feel that as long as I try very hard, I'm succeeding. If I didn't do anything, I think that would be worse.

I've had to just 'let go'. This has compounded the grief over losing my son. I realize this has happened to many grandparents, I'm not the first, I certainly won't be the last. I don't understand 'why' a grandparent can't have a relationship with the grandchild... though the woman is with another man.

I think possibly because that 'other man' resents both the child and the 'previous man'. Then... comes 'the next to that man', his parents. I never saw Tommy act like that with her children and their father. He even had the highest respect for their father, and liked him. Truthfully, I think the mother of the grandchild should be strong enough to make that decision... not a boyfriend.

This is my opinion... especially when a boyfriend is a drunk, a no-good scoundrel, and doesn't work. All he can see are.... money signs. This happens in this area quite frequently... women think they are loved when their husbands die... they don't know about those 'Widow Seekers'.

They 'want the money, they want to be supported, cooked for'... while they buy them a new pickup, ride around bragging that they don't have to work. Why... it's surprising how much respect they get... I've watched this for many years. This is another story I have written about some time ago... The Widow Seekers.

I 'see' them, and there's no respect 'here'... from me. They play on the emotions, manipulating them like a weaver weaves her colorful threads to get them 'just right'.... to make a cosy, soft blanket to wrap up in against the cold. Watch out for those Widow Seekers.

They don't like for you to 'know' them, they will go in the opposite way if they realize you 'see' them. You threaten their cosy, soft blanket... how else will they get to keep warm... if you stop them? They don't work... it takes time to manipulate a widow... no, they don't want you near if they know you 'see' them. I 'hide my seeing'... and watch, listen, learn.

Life can be very sad... for so many reasons. It takes so long to one day realize how petty, how unimportant the reasons were to prevent a grandmother from knowing her grandchildren, much less a father knowing his child, one who cared, loved with his heart.

Tommy always sent each week, money for his daughter... no one ever made him do it, he was never in court to be ordered to do it... he did because he loved his daughter. He began doing this at the beginning, even giving the mother his bank card to take the money each week.. trusting her to do right.

Not only did she take the money each week, she took money to pay for treating her friends, and buying other things... that wasn't the agreement. She was a young girl who didn't know what an honor it was for a man to give his bank card to her.... and they were divorcing. Amazing.....

I remember looking at that balloon as it glided through the air until I couldn't read 'It's A Boy!' anymore, and for a brief moment I wondered 'if that was a bad sign'. As quickly as that thought entered my mind, I shut it out. This is going back to Taban, my grandson. Above .. I talked about not seeing him again. This thought and mental picture comes to my mind when I think of him.

I think 'now, at this moment'... I've been getting on other subjects, I am 'getting past' my visit to that dark world now. I feel my face relaxing, my stomach doesn't feel sick and my heart is lighter. I think talking about the Widow Seekers helped me. I love to talk about them... their ways. They think they are so ..... slick.

I find humor in thinking about them... I love to find ways to describe them. These are some of the most charming creatures in the world... they sing, dance to the rhythm of ... money. They smile the brightest, they are happiest, most wonderful souls. They have it made!

You will never see a wrinkle, if you do, there won't be many (the ones that are there were put there while they were 'seeking' a widow.... it was taking too much time!) on their faces.

Truthfully... I know we need 'all kinds of people' in this world for 'all kinds of things'. Regardless... we have to have things to think about, to study, to laugh and talk about.... so, we can be distracted from the grief, pain, sadness inside each of us.

The colors of life .... can distract one. I'm glad to be seeing them now... instead of the darkness I thought I'd never escape... for a time... I really thought I would permanently be a part of. Colors distract me, I'm happy to see them.

A note...

I do work on my hate for the one person I feel it for. I'm sorry I ever felt it, because at the same time... I love that person just as much as I feel the 'hate'... for that person. I'm not perfect... I can only just try to be a better person, the best I can be.

At this moment ..truthfully.. I don't feel hate at all... I honestly think what I called 'hate' is really... pure ..... anger. I only feel that at times, so... I'm getting somewhere, I'm making progress.

I'm sure that's what really counts in life... trying to replace negative with positive... replace hate with love.

In fact.... I'm sure that in life............. love is the whole reason we live, we all need and want it, we would die without it. Yes, in my opinion only... I think 'LOVE' is the secret to life, it's so easy to do.... yet, so hard to do ...sometimes.

Love..... that's all I would like to carry in my heart. It's so light and happy, doesn't 'weigh' anything. Hate...... is so dark and heavy, and pulls my soul down to the ground. Love is like the rainbow in the sky... filled with many colors.

Colors of life.. colors in Granny Gee's life... if it's a fairy tale... I still want that! I will 'go find me some rose-colored glasses', if that's what it takes to not feel 'bad' feelings inside. I hate to hate.. I don't like dark colors unless .... I'm happy enough to wear them... lightly!

To My Son, Tommy:

Diamond teardrops, dancing in the rain

sparkling, shining to hide my pain

colorful rainbows in the sky

distract me so that I don't cry

I loved my child with my heart

Tommy, I'm so sorry life pulled us apart.

My son, my heart, my child

I love you. Your 'Ole' Mom

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates

　

　

　

　

　

THE WORST HAPPENED... OH MY GOD

2012-01-28T06:24:00.000-05:00

THE WORST HAPPENED... OH MY GOD

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I was in my artroom when the phone rang. I answered it, and heard Tommy's wife ask me "are you by yourself?" I said that I was, sensing something was wrong, I quickly asked was it.

She told me that it was, but, she didn't want to tell me. I reminded her that I was a strong person, and if it was about Tommy, I needed to know.

Tommy wasn't alright, but, he wasn't hurt physically. I began going into shock, how many times in my life have I been like this? I recognized the numbness, the sick sensation in my stomach. I closed my eyes and asked her to tell me what was wrong.

I knew Tommy was working, and was on the road going out west. He hadn't yet called me on this day. She told me to please go sit down and she'd tell me.

What she told me made me begin crying. My son, my son. There were hundreds of miles between us, something bad has happened to affect his life in the most awful of ways.

She told me that a man was killed, though it wasn't Tommy's fault, he was in bad shape emotionally. There were people with him trying to calm him, reassure him it wasn't his fault. What they couldn't do was to take away the horrific images burned in his mind, and what had just happened. It would affect him the 'rest of his life'.

She said she was going to him, but, he said to stay put until he knew what to do. I wanted to go to him immediately. I was sick as if it were me... I felt my son's grief and pain. She said she'd call back later, that she knew he'd be calling me.

"Mama, I've killed a man".... I had to sit down when I heard my son's voice crying softly to me. I couldn't reach out to touch him, nor comfort him when he needed me. "Mama, I killed a man".

"Tommy, what happened?" I asked him. Tommy began crying as he told me what happened.

He was on I-40 West in Tennessee, getting ready to cross the Hernando de Soto bridge. I knew exactly where he was at, I could visualize the bridge in my mind. It was a long bridge with fast moving traffic on it, 3 lanes of traffic and no.... breakdown lane if a car had mechanical problems. Skip and I had traveled over that bridge many times in the past.

I became aware of Tommy softly crying and saying "mama, I tried to get over, I tried to get over and a car cut me off and I didn't want to hit it, there was a family in it." Tommy went on to relate to me that he saw a car stopped up in the distance ahead of him in the middle lane (the same lane he was in)... he began trying to get over in the left lane, the right lane wasn't open enough for him to get over in it.

The car didn't let him come over, instead it drove up beside him. Tommy could see what was going to happen, and did his best to 'squeeze' between the car that was stopped ahead of him, and the car beside him.

The door opened ... a man stepped out of the car! Tommy began crying more intensely, but, softly. He never talked much over a whisper.. he was so affected by what had happened.

The man stepped out .. and Tommy tried to squeeze between him and the car beside him. "Mama, I saw an explosion of red in my right sideview mirror!" He broke down and cried, and kept on crying. Oh, how I was hurting for my son, my child. The worse thing had just happened to him, I couldn't help him.

I talked to him quietly, hoping to help him regain control. It worked but, he'd begin crying again. "Mama, I stopped the truck and I got out, no one stopped, mama... no one stopped".

No one stopped during the time it took the state troopers and rescue to get there. Tommy was alone in the middle of Interstate 40 West on the Hernando de Soto bridge with ....... what he saw. He was down on his knees.

Tommy sobbed, he didn't hear me, I cried with him. I felt like it was me who was there and had done it... I felt the pain from my son that greatly. I can't describe it any better than that... it felt like I had hit the man.. I was 'feeling' Tommy's grief and pain.

Tommy got out of the truck .. what he saw made him go down on his knees. My son was a tall, muscular man... I know many people saw this gentle, big guy on his knees... no one stopped to help him, nor comfort him.

"Mama, I kept thinking what, what? What is that? What is that in the road?" Tommy told me that body parts were in the road, the man's torso was beside him, he could see the man's heart.

"Mama, the blood, mama, there was so much red". I heard a man speaking in a kind voice to Tommy. Tommy told me the trooper wanted to talk to him, he had to hang up.

I sat there in shock, I cried until I couldn't cry anymore. My baby, my son.. this was going to kill him. He would never get over this. Tommy was a big, gentle guy who loved everybody, he wouldn't hurt others though, he'd fight for the underdog. He wasn't perfect, but, he was a good person. He had a soft heart.

Through the weeks following, the trucking company he worked for.. made him leave his family, and North Carolina to come to Indiana to stay at their motel to see their doctors. My son wasn't allowed to stay home to be comforted, and surrounded by his family. They had a law in that state that made it legal to make him come there to be treated.

For weeks, Tommy stayed ..constantly calling all of us. He had to cope with all that happened... by himself. He had to stay there so, he could keep his job.

Tommy went back to driving after several weeks, telling them he was going to be alright. Tommy was never alright after that. He could never be around red things again. I remember him calling one day....

"Mama, I saw a red painter's rag laying in the road, the wind was blowing it, making it move". Tommy couldn't bear to see it, he broke down. He called me to talk to me. This was only once in numerous times Tommy did this, until....

April 1st, 2010.... Tommy had been at the terminal in Greensboro, he was on his way home. He'd had an emotional breakdown... they let him drive all the way home on the truck, alone. Tommy's emotional state of mind was in a bad way.

Tommy went through things that I won't talk about when he did come home that added to the turmoil in his mind. It seemed he lived in pure hell from the time that man was killed, until..............

Soon... the anniversary date that the man was killed on, was coming up. Tommy couldn't cope, he never coped with the death of that man. The doctors said he was suffering from survivor's guilt. He couldn't bear that any action of his, though it wasn't his fault, caused the death of a person.

Tommy came home and he called me everyday. His wife was in nursing classes to be an RN, and when she was gone to school, he'd call and sit, and not talk alot. I held that phone many times ... he didn't need to say anything, I didn't need to say anything... he just wanted that connection with me, his mama.

I think Tommy somehow knew something bad was going to happen... I think subconsciously 'he knew'.

I sit here, feeling sickness in my very soul because I've visited the past to a very painful time. Yes, that's a tear that rolled down my cheek... it does hurt so bad, it really hurts so bad.

I can't in words describe the grief and pain Tommy suffered... I could see, sense, and feel it as his mother. I'm feeling it right at this very moment. I know there are many things I haven't remembered because pain,shock, grief has a way of numbing one's mind, one's memory.

I do know that a month or so, before Tommy was home in April... he introduced me to Farmville, the Zynga game, and I went on Facebook... Tommy wanted me to. He did get interested in that game and he spent alot of time on it when he came home... while he'd sit with his cellphone in his hand ...with his connection to his mama... me. No words at all had to be spoken. It seemed to calm him.

Tommy knew his mother loved him with her heart. I think he 'knew' something was going to happen... it was his way to give me something to hold on to... when it did. I don't know this... I am looking back and I feel maybe that's 'why' we both had that special 'mother and son' connection.... 'just before'. Really... at this moment ...it's hard to think about it all for the pain.

May 19, 2010... the day came ... it was May 19, 2009 when the man stepped out in front of the tractor-trailer Tommy was driving. It was the day that destroyed Tommy's emotional frame of mind... he never got over it. Tommy was never the same anymore.

The strange thing is ... later when we saw pictures of that car sitting on the bridge.... only the door was gone. One always says 'if"....... we kept thinking only 'if' that man had stayed in his car... 'if' he just didn't step out ...... the man's dog stayed in the car, the dog nor the car was hurt... only the door from when the man stepped out of the car.

The man was on his way just over the state line to his elderly parents' home to mow their grass. We never learned 'why' his car was stopped in the center lane on the Hernando de Soto bridge.

May 28, 2010... Tommy came to our home that Friday to pressure wash our home. Skip came home early that day, it was unusual for him to come home early in the day. This was our last day, evening with Tommy.

Remember... I told you how he was smiling and saying he really loved those sandwiches I made? We were sitting at the picnic table... he said those were the best sandwiches he'd ever eaten in his life. Remember?

His smile was like the sunshine, his eyes were full of laughter... isn't it amazing we got to see the 'old' Tommy just for that evening, that day? Isn't it amazing ... we got to spend time with him at all that day? I look back and I .... thank God with my very heart.

May 29, 2010.... Tommy went to play and share his first time with his little three year old son, Taban, at the beach. He was looking forward to it. Tommy did get to run, and play with Taban as he sent me photos from his cellphone of Taban. As Tommy was videoing Taban, his fingers let go of his cellphone............

Tommy walked into heaven at Myrtle Beach having done what he wanted most to do.... the first thing to make him feel excitement since the man died... he got to play with his little son at the beach.

"Hello"... I said. "Why do you have my son's cellphone?" I recognized the signs again... I was going into shock.

"Ma-am, I have a man collapsed here on the sand, he isn't breathing!" I began slipping into the dark world of grief, pain...

Do you know something strange? I found photos Tommy gave me that was taken on May 29, 2009... they are of Tommy and little Taban at a big lake... both of them were squatting down with their backs to the camera... looking out over the lake.

Another photo of Tommy and Taban... father and son walking up the dirt lane at the lake... with their backs to the camera...... at the same big body of water, father and son spending special time together.

One year later on the exact date... May 29, 2010... father and son at an even larger body of water, the ocean...... spending special moments together.... until one was called home.

I don't know that a mother ever gets over the grief of losing her child. I know I haven't. I am thankful to be out of the dark world... I fought very hard to climb out of it.. the whole time it pulled me back.

I'm here in the sunshine now. The pain still hurts but, it's easier to cope with grief in the sunshine. I can see my path now, it's not dark anymore. I think I may be fortunate to have come out of the dark, I didn't know that I would.

Everything's going to be alright now. I think Tommy might be smiling at me this moment. I'm sitting here with his navy blue jacket on, I wear it sometimes. It feels like a hug. I always felt special when my son hugged me, and said "I love you, mama".

Nannie Gee.... this is to you!

2012-01-27T06:09:00.000-05:00

Nannie Gee, would you email me at gloriapaintsat@yahoo.com ..... I've tried to find you on my and Tommy's FB to email you! Granny Gee/ Gloria

I can't tell you how honored I am for you to look forward to reading my stories. It means the world.. and you should see my smile... now! You made me feel good!

THE SHEER JOY OF BEING ALIVE!

2012-01-27T04:32:00.001-05:00

THE SHEER JOY OF BEING ALIVE!

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I went to Rex Hospital to have carpal tunnel surgery. My hand had grown progressively worse as time went by.. the pain was unbearable. I was glad to be getting surgery.

I changed clothes, put on the gown provided, got up on the hospital bed, pulled the sheet up. The nurse came in to put an IV in. I lay there nervous, wishing for the surgery to be over.

The doctor was going to be late... I laid there for an hour with the IV still in me, taking in fluids that later... would almost take my life.

The doctor finally came, the surgery was done, we left the hospital with discharge instructions. That evening I began having a little cough, probably from an allergy. That happened sometimes. That night I told Skip I couldn't breathe, we went back to Rex Hospital Emergency Room.

I had an x-ray, all seemed to be okay, all the while I had IV fluids. We left the hospital and went home. I was still coughing.

The next day I coughed throughout the day, not feeling the best, but, going through the day okay. That night when we went to bed... I began to lay my head on the pillows. My pillows are always like 'stairsteps', and I have three pillows... I sleep good that way.

As I laid my head on my pillows, I sat straight back up, I sat there a moment calmly, not worrying about anything... when the thought went across my mind like you see a ticker scrolling across the bottom of a screen. My thought was: you are going to die if you don't go to the hospital now.

I thought for a moment that it had something to do with my imagination as I wasn't suffering at all... just this allergy that affected my breathing... and made me cough. I began to lay back down when... I stood straight up and spoke to Skip. I said "Skip, get up, please take me to Rex Hospital, I'm going to die if you don't". Skip never questioned me, got straight up and began dressing quickly.

I began dressing quickly, also. As I put my shirt over my head blocking my nose... I began to feel suffocated. For a brief moment I panicked. The thought went through my mind: get to the hospital now.

I never panicked, I was calm, twice this thought had come to my mind. I 'knew' something was wrong with me.

We got in the pickup and drove toward the hospital, as we got to the stoplight... I told Skip to take me 'now' to the rescue building. He looked at me and said " but, I thought you said you didn't want to go there, even if you were dying!'

I turned my head, looked at him calmly and said "Skip, take me there now, I'm going to die if you don't". I had no idea of 'how I knew this'. I never felt panicky, excepting the brief moment my shirt covered my nose. Skip never said a word and drove the couple blocks to the rescue building.

I was coughing more, it was aggravating me, I was sick but, didn't know what was wrong. The cough I thought was from an allergy was making things worse.

Skip went inside and came out with an EMT, a young guy. He walked to me and began asking questions, he noticed I was coughing alot, and I told him it was allergies, it seemed to have just now gotten worse. He bent down to look at my ankles, and immediately made me lay down in the rescue truck.

The next thing I knew I was fighting for my life.. I was embarassed at first .. I don't like to make a public scene. I tried to be calm and 'not make a fool of myself'. It became impossible to be still and stay lying down. I didn't know what was happening to me, I only knew I couldn't breathe ... my hands were grabbing air, my body wanted up from that stretcher!

I began fighting and I had no control to stop myself. I couldn't breathe. I heard a calm voice speak to me that I recognized. It was Randy, one of the EMT guys that I knew from working at the hospital. He asked me if I wanted to hold his hand. In my mind, I said "yes", in reality, the fight for my life had begun.

In my mind I knew the road to the hospital was ten miles, I knew as the amulance traveled where I was. I kept thinking in my mind of where I was, how long it would take to get to the hospital. I was fighting to breathe and sit up as these thoughts filled my mind.

Randy kept telling me to lay back down. I couldn't breathe! I couldn't breathe! In my mind, I was so sorry I was fighting, but... I couldn't stop. I couldn't breathe! I remember for a moment I even felt ashamed for not doing as he asked ... I couldn't just lie flat down when I knew I was dying!

I could hear the siren sounding overhead, I knew cars would move out of the way. It wouldn't be long, I would have medical attention! In my mind, I could 'see' them working on me. I knew what they would do, I'd watched many battles to save lives, there.

I was beginning to lose consciousness. I remember the rescue people on both sides of the stretcher, rolling me toward the glass doors. All was blurry and moving quickly now. I saw Donna! Oh Donna, please help me! Please help me, Donna! I screamed to Donna to please help me. The blur of the nurses and recognizing Donna faded away... I heard someone say "get a catherer in her now!"

I woke up smiling, my eyes looking for Skip. I saw a blonde-headed woman standing beside me. She was smiling back at me, I felt so glad to see this woman, though I didn't know her!

I could see I was in the emergency room, as I was looking, she introduced herself as Dr. Smith. I looked back at her smiling, so happy to be alive. I said "I think I must have had a panic attack!"

Dr. Smith told me "oh no, you didn't have a panic attack, you had the real thing!" She said "do you see this ventilator?" I looked. She said "I was getting ready to put you on the ventilator!"

I understood what that meant! I'd worked in that very hospital and knew what happened in the emergency room when patients were in crisis. I was so fortunate to be alive! I had made it!

I smiled when I saw Skip, I could see he'd been afraid. Skip and I are very close, and I'm his world as well as he is mine. Skip was glad to see me. I was glad to see him! I learned that fluids had built up in my lungs, beginning to 'drown' me!

I was transferred to Rex Hospital to the Intensive Care Unit for heart patients. That night I smiled at everyone from the sheer joy of being alive! I was so happy to be alive! Everyone smiled back at me, some wondered aloud about me seeming to be so much better, so quickly... after what I'd just come through.

A young guy came to get me ...to take me to x-ray. He asked me if I'd like to go slowly in the wheelchair, or would I love to fly? I smiled at him and told him "Oh, I want to fly!" He smiled and said "let's go!"

It was an amazing, wonderful flight of life. It was late at night, no one was in those long halls of both floors we traveled on. I felt the wind rushing by my face, touching my big smile of happiness... I'm sure the wind thought I... was the sunshine! We were on a flight of celebration... I was alive!

The tests that followed afterwards, the rest of the night were uneventful. I was ready to go home, I waited for Skip to take me home! I was ready to go back home to my life, to my pups, us.

I just wanted to live, I smiled in happiness to have come back from that dark place, again... the dark place of death.

I can feel 'me' smiling now... I don't remember everything from that night, but... I do remember all I told you, very well. I just can't inject enough of how wonderful I felt that night.... I'd just been to the brink of death, I could fall to death or fall back into life! I'm so thankful I fell back to life!

:)))

I SAW DISASTER COMING... I WAS HELPLESS TO STOP IT!

2012-01-26T05:58:00.000-05:00

I SAW DISASTER COMING... I WAS HELPLESS TO STOP IT!

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

What a beautiful, sunny day! I stood on the deck looking down the circular driveway where I could see Tommy riding his Yamaha motorcycle. We lived up on a small mountain in the foothills of North Carolina, where we owned 19 1/2 acres of land.

Tommy had lots of room to ride his motorcycle without getting near the highway. He was a tall, young boy of ten years old, very handsome. Strawberry-blonde hair, blue eyes and a sunshine smile! My son!

I stood there watching the clouds moving, shifting to make new shapes. I loved watching the sky... I always let my imagination free to dream, trying to see what the clouds had shaped into.

I became aware of the motor on Tommy's motorcycle, he was at the top of the driveway now, and drove around to where we had a huge garage we'd just had built. It was a 32'x 54' structure with a big sliding door and a cement pad in front. Tommy stopped on the cement to look at his bike, then, he took off toward the rock quarry not far from the garage.

He rode around the edge of the water and the big granite rocks there. There were always short, thick gray snakes sunning themselves on those rocks. They were water moccasins.

I went back inside to get my glass of tea, and came back outside on the deck. I could see Tommy down at the foot of the driveway, getting ready to drive back up the driveway. I heard him accelerate fast and up that hill Tommy came straight toward..........

We had a water spigot at the edge of the driveway with Dewberry bushes on either side. There was a centerblock sitting there, the reason for it being there was forgotten some time ago. The spigot was in line of the driveway coming up the hill from the road.

I stood there on the deck frozen in horror as I saw Tommy coming fast on his motorcycle straight toward that spigot and centerblock! I began screaming to Tommy to not hit that centerblock! Tommy never looked toward me, nor did he hear me!

Tommy kept coming fast and hit the centerblock, throwing him high into the air, his motorcycle going forward and turning over in the grass. I began running toward Tommy, as he raised up off the ground. He stood up before I got to him and began laughing!

I was crying, I knew in my mind that my child was going to die. I saw it coming... I screamed trying to get his attention waving my arms, he never saw me and kept going toward his....... "Oh, thank-God, you are alright, son!" I

I held my son tightly so thankful he wasn't hurt... all the while he was squirming to get away to check on his motorcycle. He was laughing and I was crying, but... finally smiling. Tommy was alright. I breathed a deep breath as I looked up and thanked God.