The Not So Thankful Thanksgiving

 The day before Thanksgiving and these truly are thoughts and words from my heart. 

When I was an idealistic, naive child I believed all things adults told me. I was eleven years old, just started wearing a bra, when I discovered there was no Santa Claus. Yep, I was devastated, like a kick in my gut. 

Even earlier, I was probably around seven, I lost a beautiful necklace someone gave me as a precious gift. I cried and cried. I'm not sure how long later, but I remember it was a bright sunny day. My mother called me into our kitchen, looked out the back door and said, "Peggy! Look! I see something shiny in the grass, go see what it is." Full of curiosity and wonder I walked out the door, down a step, and into the middle of the yard, guided by the small sparkling shine of the small object lying beautifully in the grass. It was my necklace. 

Clearly I was ecststic. I looked at my mother who was closely  watching, her face full of joy,  and  I exclaimed, "Mommy!!! It's my necklace!!"   

" Peggy, it's a miracle!" 

In my little mind,  it was!!!

Those two stories are exactly how we are led to believe a lot of things that just aren't true. IS there a real Santa? You tell me! Was it a "miracle" that my necklace was found? Or did my mother buy me a new one and carefully plant it in the yard  to help her sad little girl smile again?

As humans, we all want to have a happy ending.  We all want to spin or twist the truth so we can feel better; have a happy ending. Yet when will we learn that the truth always comes out?

The myth or fairy tale surrounding Thanksgiving is not an exception  to the lies we are sometimes taught by well meaning people. No one wants to believe that the things, people, communities and cultures we are a part of  have a history of slaughtering people and basically stealing what was once theirs. But that's what the Brits of the 1620's did when they claimed this land as their own. Yet here we are, celebrating their crime, acting as if the white man , yet again, is innocent.

Instead of being thankful for this land, which really isn't ours, I use this month to ponder and intentionally think about what I have to be grateful for. The list is long and sincere. But I'm going to call a wrap on this blog and send you all good wishes and love. 

As historian David Silverman who wrote the book, This Land Is  Their Land states in an interview:

"... the "myth is that friendly Indians, unidentified by tribe, welcome the Pilgrims to America, teach them how to live in this new place, sit down to dinner with them and then disappear…It’s bloodless and in many ways an extension of the ideology of Manifest Destiny.”

This relationship between Wampanoags and English settlers rapidly deteriorated, culminating just decades later in one of the most brutal conflicts in colonial history: King Philip’s War."

Dear Milo,

 I miss you so much. Scrolling through Instagram I came across something that made me think of you, that made me cry. Walking Enzo today made me think of you too. It reminded me of the many times we walked together on that same path.

Sometimes the ache in my heart hurts so bad it feels like something inside of me is being twisted...tightly twisted. Like now.

As you lay there dying, you wouldn't look at me. God! I felt like I had betrayed you. You HATED the vet. You'd tremble every time. 

I had to say goodbye to you, Rosco and Tasha in the same year. I think Tasha died of a broken heart. That was pure hell. It tore my heart to pieces and I'll never be the same. 

ANYWAY Milo, I still love you so very much. I wish I had done everything differently.  With you, Rosco and Tasha. I'm trying not to make the same mistakes with Enzo and Elliot. 

I miss you sooo fucking much my boy. I wish I could touch you, hug you, and tell you what a very good boy you are.

You will forever be in my heart!

Continued Ramble

 It's such a beautiful day in Phoenix.  My husband is at his volunteer job, and I am peacefully alone. I've been doing chores here and there, but I've also been sitting in the moment,  enjoying the breeze and honestly,  feeling a sort of nostslgia in my soul. 

Writing has been difficult lately. I can't seem to find the motivation or even the words, but yet, here I am. Most of the time I enjoy being by myself, like today. I'm sitting on my sofa, soft wind blowing my lovely linen curtains., almost dreamy. Phone down, screens off, I sat in the moment and just soaked in the feeling of a beautiful summer day. 

After a bit of quiet, I picked up my phone and went to facebook. Immediately I saw a  post by a sweet, old friend. He has cancer, and will basically have to have part of his face removed. He posted a picture of himself so he will be able to remember how he looked. His post was very factual and definitely void of a "poor me" attitude. 

I felt slightly nauseous. "Why him?" Of course that's the first thing I think of when stuff like this happens. I always ask why. He's been a friend since 1972, when I became a Christian during the Jesus  Movement. We had a fun pact, if either of us weren't married by the time we were 25, we'd marry each other. Needless to say, we both married before we hit 25. About ten or fifteen years ago my life seemed to blow up in my face, and however remotely,  he was there for me. Encouraging me, offering hope.

Now it's evening and the day has been full of  first world problems.I accomplished a few tasks, had a couple of reds and am now ready to settle in. 

I feel as if I'm becoming numb to life. It's intriguing because numbness is so, ... well, it's so numb.

Now....it's the end of October.  It's been a while and my friend has had his surgery. He's still recovering. I can't even imagine what he's going through. I'm sure he's lost a lot of weight, which isn't good because he already was skinny. My heart aches for him. 

So, the first world problems have escalated and become intense; there's some new, horrible drama every single day.  Watching our beautiful country fall because of an insane regime is painful, to say the least! I've been to a few protests, although I don't think it's done a single thing except anger dear leader. At least it's something! I can't think about whats happening too much because it takes me down a dark, depressing rabit hole of doom. 

Moving on! It will be a year this Thanksgiving since Tasha's death. I still miss my Milo, Rosco and Tasha so much. I have regrets...many regrets. What I've learned from them is to not make the mistskes with Enzo and Elliot that I did with my other dogs. 

For instance, food. 

 I always wanted to fix my dogs meals;  quality, homemade food!  But my husband wasn't for it and I didn't have the confidence to actually do it. He said it would be too expensive, I believed him and didn't pursue the matter. So they had processed food, which, in my opinion, is very unhealthy.

Then there's this:

Years ago we had the sweetest, most gentle dog named Murray. When my in-laws were here from England. Murray had diarrhea on their bedroom floor. Murray NEVER, EVER did that in the house. And diarrhea? Clearly something was wrong with his gut. My husband was angry and embarrassed, my in-laws were disgusted, I was sad for Murray. But I didn't stand up for him. I just dutifully cleaned it up, but it was indeed, traumatic for me. Never again!

Can't forget this:

 I'd get frustrated and sometimes angry when my dogs barked too much. I mean, what the hell??? Rosco had severe anxiety so it wasn't his fault. Barking is what dogs do, and if you have a dog who barks, patience, strategies and training are what humans need!!!

I'm sure the list goes on, but I'm glad I learned from past mistakes. I've always had rescues, and just like humans, rescues especially, come with baggage.

One thing I do know, I will always stand up for my dogs. I won't make excuses when they snap or jump, but this time I  positive reinforcement training. just like I used to do when I taught. 

Learning from mistakes and regrets is vital for forgiving yourself. I'm really not sure I'll ever be able to completely. But that's a whole other conversation. 

This morning I made our first fire in our outdoor fireplace.  It was peaceful and serene, a sweet moment. The dogs in the yard with me, the cool air and the warm fire with it's flames constantly changing and dancing...loved it!

As I was enjoying the moment, I looked up, and at the very top of the trees was a white dove, bright white! I feel Milo's presence every time I see a white dove. The beautiful bird was clearly looking down, staring right at me. The skeptic in me kept looking up, surprised, yet wondering. "Is it you Milo??? Is it?" All the while the dove was looking at me, not moving. I felt Milo in my soul!

The thought occued to me that I possibly could be wasting precious time continuing to grieve, or intentionally focusing on the loss of three amazingly loving dogs last year. Right there, in real human time were two loyal, beautiful dogs who love me unconditionally; strongly! 

Although it's been over a year and a half, Enzo, Elliot and I are continuing to bond. They trust me. That's huge! When they bark crazily if they hear another dog, or think someone or somrthing is here that shouldn't be, I stay patient...at least 99% of the time I do. (They bark a lot! And we have to be good neighbors. ) To distract them I ask if they want a "no bark" treat, and they both stop and come running. They know I won't disappoint!

Well, that's my ramble for today. That's enough for now. I hope it won't be so long  between writings next time. If you read this, know that I love and appreciate you and your time. 

Soooooo...be good! But if you can't be good, be careful! (Not my words, but they fit.) xoxo 

A Military Coup Against This Regime Is Our Only Hope

 Waking up each morning with a dark cloud that envelopes me is nothing new. At least nothing new as of January 2025. Since then, it's been a painful sight watching democracy fall under an insane, narcissist, paranoid, rich, old reality show host. Why does it seems like so many powerful people in this country are actually afraid of him? Musk is the biggest example. Is it because he has control over the Epstein files and there's way more to them than we can imagine? 

He cozies up to Putin, who has long time been an enemy to democracy.  Putin cleverly, and deliberately became a fascist authoritarian over his once democratic Russia. Trump is now following suit by surrounding himself with extreme loyalists who will support any and all of his strategies to change the constitution.  Of course he wants to stay in power, and if not him, a family member or loyalist. 

His military (birthday) parade is now chilling in light of how he is using armed forces to take over cities.  He uses the excuse that he is trying to wipe out crime in spite of facts. It's his way! He implements threats, bullying, and violence. 

Christians have been his main support along with White Supremacists, KKK, and groups like Proud Boys. At first I was shocked that Christians could support a person who is the antithesis of Jesus and what he taught.  But now it makes sense.  Although American Christians say their religion is based on grace and acceptance, the truth is, there is a certain grace period after acceptance.  And when that period  runs out, thus begins rules, regulations and a timeline. If a person continues to "sin" the church  community decides the outcome. 

Church people feel safe with rules and regulations. It helps control human desire for sex, power, and money without having to delve into the root of the matter; without having to learn the whys of their own behavior. Of course, in Christian rationale, the whys are limited to one little word, sin. Believing humans are born with sin gives good reason why not to trust yourself, let alone others.  Living by grace alone is scary. I mean anything could happen, right? We could lose everything, right? Our hard earned money, our homes, our superficial sense of values. We'd have to truly understand and actually help the poor and afflicted.  And we'd have to do that freely, with no expectations.  That is if you're strictly going by Jesus's example.

Anyway, that's the only way I can make sense of why Christians support such a ridiculous leader. Right or wrong, that's the only thing I could come up with.

These are the thoughts and words of my heart...my venting. I can't avoid the daily drama and atrocities of this regime, even if I try to avoid doom scrolling. I get knots in my stomach, I get so angry I want to scream, sometimes I cry. 

Watching the fall of my country, the young, wild, and, what I used to believe, compassionate United States, is beyond words. It's not even been a year that he's been in power.  The way he treated President Zelinski was nothing short of shameful and disgusting. I can't even.......complaining he didn't wear a tie?????? It made me ashamed to be American. I seriously hate to think of what it will be like for my grandkids if nothing is done to stop him and his lies. Maybe I'm able to have a tiny glimmer of hope with people like Governor Newsome and Govenor Pritzker. But aside from that, the future looks pretty dark.

Personally, I think a military coup to stop THIS WHOLE REGIME would be an answer. Maybe our only answer. The military should not be used against it's own people, against state leaders!!! It's absurd! If enough military leaders and enlisted soldiers would stand together and say enough is enough, and actually STOPPED following trump’s orders, it would be powerful. One can only hope and pray that will happen!!!

"Don't give up, I know you can see

All the world and the mess that we're making

Can't give up and hope God will intercede

Come on back

Imagine that we could get it together

Stand up for where we need to be

'Cause crying won't save or feed a hungry child

Can't lay down and wait for a miracle to change things

So lift up your eyes

Lift up your heart

Singing mercy, will we overcome this?

Oh, one by one, could we turn it around?

Maybe carry on just a little bit longer

And I'll try to give you what you need

Me and you and you and you

We just want to be free, yeah, yeah

But you see all the world is just as we've made it

And until we got a new world, I got to say

That love is not a whisper or a weakness

No, love is strong

We got to get together, yeah

Gotta get, gotta get, gotta get

'Til there is no reason to fight

Mercy, will we overcome this?

Yeah, one by one, could we turn it around?

Maybe carry on just a little bit longer

And I'll try to give you what you need

Yeah" dmb

 

Prayer

 As an infant I was baptized Catholic. As a child, I grew up Catholic.  My grandparents who lived close, were Catholic, my mother was Catholic and I went to Catholic school from five years old, to thirteen, where I had nothing but bad experiences. (And that's putting it mildly.) Nevertheless, the idea of a God was so branded into my whole being, that even today, it's difficult to not believe in a higher power.

I'll spare you my spiritual journey, but the mini version of where I am now is that I believe in Jesus's words. I know that his teachings, his life and his sacrafice has profoundly impacted me and the world where I live. But something happened recently that disturbed me so much, I stopped all that I was doing and had to just be still. Be still and listen. 

I saw on social media a group of lawmakers praying as a group, outside, on what looked like to me, the White House lawn, with loads of journalists  there filming. The two women, (one had a mic) were praying passionately,  speaking in tongues and English, along with about twenty others. Journalists were also there snapping puctures, and of course, filming. The whole scene disturbed me. It distubed me that I was disturbed. And as I always do, I asked myself why.

 I sat and asked myself why because my whole life I was taught that prayer was  good.  Why did I feel a tinge of anger and even embarrassment?

It took me a little while to clear my mind of chatter and emotions and just intuitively listen to that still small "voice" deep inside. My first clear thought; a scripture:

Matthew 6:5,6 “When you pray, don’t be like the hypocrites. They love to stand in the synagogues and on the street corners and pray so people will ·see [notice] them. I tell you the truth, they already have their full reward. 6 When you pray, you should go into your [private; inner] room and close the door and pray to your Father ·who cannot be seen [or who is in that secret place; or secretly; in private]. Your Father can see what is done in ·secret [private], and he will reward you."

Prayer is sacred, it's set apart as spiritual, and from what Jesus said, it should be private. It's sacred, holy, and mystical. Clearly, Jesus taught that people who pray in synagogues  (churches) and on street corners, are hypocrites. Interesting!

The last few yesrs I've been using only Jesus's words for my faith. It has eliminated so much dogma. So, I'll leave it there and not arrogantly go on and on with useless debates and interpretations. In the meantime, stay strong and be kind. xoxo

Out of the Ordinary

 Lately I've been hearing and reading about purpose; gifts we offer to our world. 

I've got to say though, that  lately my past seems more dominant than my present.  Perhaps it's time for me to be introspective, perhaps this time in my life is a mysterious new beginning? I wish I knew. (However we are in Mercury retrograde!!!)

In the past, I devoted most of my adult life to teaching.  Even though I didn't have a teaching degree, I taught. I was a good teacher and truly cared for each student. When I entered my little classroom,  I felt the switch in roles. I went from Peggy, to Ms. Peggy, there was a huge difference. I "became" the teacher and I believe I taught with love, compassion, understanding and determination.  After about twenty-five years, I knew it was time to call it a day and take the Ms. Peggy hat off. I wasn't sad,  because I knew it was over, I was ready. Let's say it was bitter sweet ending of a long chapter in my life . 

Then there is my love of beauty. It has always been a love of mine. Beauty in every area, on every level. Specifically, in my world, I've always wanted to be surrounded with beauty.  When I saw that a realtor was looking for someone to stage client's homes I jumped on it!  The first time I staged we were on our way to a consultation with a client. I was nervous and unsure. As we pulled up to the house I immediately knew what was needed to make the house shine for potential buyers. Again, it was the feeling of transforming into another person who knew exactly what to do. It was amazing, and I think I was pretty good.

Just like everything in life, that too ended, and again, I knew it was time.

Now? My passion? My purpose? Other than loving, caring for, learning about, and respecting my dogs, I don't see a purpose. 

However I am passionate about trying to change what is happening to my country. But I am such a tiny part of this giant country of mine. And I can't find any sort of organized resistence. 

This dark, political cloud that hovers over our country now has caused me to think beyond my five senses. That, and of course the fact, if lucky, I have about fifteen years left, give or take a few. 

So, there is a nationwide march one day away. I'll be there!

I'm in the process of making my own sign with a sad Lady Liberty which will say, "Dear World, we are so sorry."

There ya have it! Thoughts, words, ramblings. Stay aware, always move towards love and be kind to animals!

And the song below? It's for my sweet dog, Elliot. He truly is the light of my life.

The Elusive Joy of Home

 At a very early age I was a believer. Not necessarily in God or religion,  but in all things magical and happy, all things that felt like an other-world type of home. The tooth fairy, Santa Clause and Hans Christian Anderson's fairy tales were much more relatable,  hopeful and promising in comparison to the god I learned about in Catholic school. However, as we all know, there comes a time when reality's icy cold hand slaps you in the face and tells you to wake up. In actuality that's when one really starts dying, isn't it? Oh, the deceitfulness of evil's subtle ways!

It seems there's this space between childhood and our senior years that is full of responsibility, joy, fear,hope, despair. There's no time for magic or even happy endings. We're focused on survival and keeping children alive. 

As a person in my latter years, I have changed so much since I was wide eyed and innocently naive. I believe those fairy tales and loving make-believe givers of gifts all pointed to a bigger power...THE power. Most of the time I feel as though I'm walking around with no real hope, especially lately in this country of mine. Walking around in my own head with nothing but questions.

Then, there will be a book, a piece of poetry or a song that stirs something deep in my soul. It feels a lot like homesickness, but it's a good feeling because it tells me some power, THE power, loves me and that I'm not far from home.

"Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again." CS Lewis