Rainy Night In Phoenix

It's a rainy night in Phoenix. The slow, steady kind of rain...the kind with rhythm.





 It rarely rains like this. Usually the evening sky is as open as a playing field waiting for it's next game. Not tonight. The colors before sunset were magnificent.  But I must say.  I'm not a fan of rain. It's grey and reminds me of tears.  Giant tears from all the pain this imperfect world needs to shed.




 I know, rather dramatic.


 But I mean it. I don't like rain much.  And I didn't realize it until I moved here. I thought I was this great fan of all the four seasons the great plains had to offer. However, I slowly started to realize that my favorite season, fall, was limited to about six nice days that didn't feel like hellish "Indian Summer", or freezing winter.



Then, I moved to the desert and had this sort of aha moment.  I knew that sunshine really did put a smile on my face, palm trees are wispy, but beautiful and happy, and living without oak trees made the sky open up as I've never seen before.




My beautiful little sister posted this quote on my fb page:



So with that, where do I start?  What should I focus on?  Death?  I love that subject. Aliens? Not so much, but I would indulge.  Sex? Always! Magic? Indeed! Intellect? Sometimes. The meaning of life? YES!






So,at church today I interpreted what the pastor spoke about to sort of fit into this category.  The meaning of life...Now, before I begin to ponder, just remember I am writing from this type of mood:  My beloved dog, companion and confidant just drowned in our little fountain out back.  I had a very bad week at work, and because of the latter, my self confidence has been dashed upon rock as a lost ship in a huge storm out at sea.  Last but not least, I am old and still have a house payment.

hmmmmmmmmm...You probably should stop reading here if you want encouragement...because you wont' get that from my blog..the blog where I vent and not many people read it anyway so go for it Peggy!


In my 40's and 50's I was full of hope and purpose. I believe I helped many kids reach their full academic potential and I feel that I had almost saved my part of the world. Now, in my 60's, I'm not so sure and I'm tired.







The world has changed. Even the educational world is just a place where data is what rules in each student's life and paperwork is as important as personal and professional relationships.





I'm old. I don't seem to fit into that frame of thinking. I'm not sure if I want to. Yet until my house is paid off, I can't move.  I carry on.



It's a rainy night in Phoenix. Rain has always given me a sort of melancholy mood.  So it's befitting for it to rain tonight.

I am one of the fortunate ones. I have the most amazing, beautiful, intelligent, talented gradkids on the face of God's earth. (And yes, the earth REALLY does belong to God in spite of all the damn nut jobs.)  I live for these babies; for these individuals who are growing up in this complicated world with the intelligence of someone I wouldn't have even began to imagine "in my day".






My grand daughter Maya for instance. I had the privilege of being able to watch my grandkids while my daughter and son in law went to party on Saturday night. (My daughter was all like, "I'm so grateful for you mom, watching my kids.) But I AM SO GRATEFUL for her having these children that are part of my heritage, part of my blood. And I get to be with them.  Soooo...Maya, my grand daughter, wasn't feeling well. It was sweet lying with her on her sick bed, chatting about life.

She said something like, "Poppy, (that is what SHE named me. Thank God, because I'm not fond of the name "grandma".)  you were really a "real" hippy weren't you?"  "Of course!" I answered, "Welll, yeah, I really was."

The rain has stopped now. Even the slow, steady rains don't go on too long here in the desert. I'm glad of that. So I"m going to end this rambling blog.  Life is funny.  If you don't remember one thing I have to say, remember just this: It goes by way too fast.  And suddenly you're gone. Like my Lexy.  You're damn gone.  And there ya have it.  Good night Phoenix.  I love you!

Missing Lexy

As I was driving home from an early morning workout, that dull ache hit me like  when you swallow something bitter, not knowing it's bitter. I miss Lexy.  Moving slowly and not having a lot of tolerance lately I realize it's just grief.  So on the way home I was able to cry a little. As I looked up at the morning sun coloring the sky, I saw a sort of arrow shaped cloud. It reminded me of Lexy and how fast she used to run.  How she LOVED to run  and jump.  The cloud seemed to follow me. I hope it was her letting me know she's whole again.

I miss her so badly.




 But I started missing her when she was going down hill. I didn't think about missing her then, my mind was only focused on making her comfortable and trying to find ways to help her with now uncontrollable bladder.

She wasn't a cuddler. She didn't warm up to people quickly at all. She would have happily lived without them, But not me. I was her savior. Saving her from horrible abuse.  I think she was always very grateful for that. Before me she lived a very painful life. Someone brought her and her male companion to our church.  I tried to give her to a student of mine, but the mother brought her back as angry as hell. Apparently Lexy dug out a hole in her bathroom window trying to get out. The woman kept her in the bathroom all day while no one was home. Lexy wasn't having that.  So that was that, I brought her home. She'd throw up in the car each time she would go anywhere with us. I had to put her on doggie anti-depressants. I had a little school in the second story of the church where she was originally  brought with her little friend.  Once when I took her to work with me she went to the place where she had last seen her friend.  She spent quite a while sniffing and look ing for him. It was just sad. It seemed though, that I knew what was going on her head.  Right after I took her home for good, I knew she had to be fixed When the doctor opened her to neuter her, there were puppies.  How tragic is that?  I think she fell into a depression because of losing her puppies.


 I just sort of knew.






I tried to give her good, relatively happy life and I think I succeeded. She was most happy when she was running. She didn't need a lot of petting or physical contact, but she had to be right there next to me.  In the end, I would cuddle her a little when I would pick her up to take her back to her bed.  I would sometimes lay on the floor and say her name in her ear in a high tone; it seemed like she heard it.  I miss her and wish I would have held her more before she died.

It's just dull.  It's not sharp. The pain that is. The missing her thing...it's dull and achey like arthritis.  When I was young the stupid adults back then didn't put emphasis on how very important our four legged family members were. As a matter of fact they didn't consider them family members, just animals that were to be kept outside. I mean sure there might have been some exceptions, but not many I remember having a couple over one very cold, snowy evening.  There was dog shit in our front yard.  We weren't able to clear it very well. The woman actually said she was offended by the dog shit. I never quit thinking of that and her insensitive comment.  For God's sake, it's my home, just leave then, right?  Today I would have told her to go home and never come back .

I miss Lexy.  I'm doing things slower and a every now and then it hits me.  I wish I would have done so much more.  I loved that dog.

Tribute to Lexy

Dear Lexy,

I am so sorry I was not there to rescue you from the way you died. I'm just sorry. I don't know what else I can say.  I feel as though I failed you, but I know I really didn't.  You knew I loved you the best I could.  There are regrets. I wish I had taken you out more in the end. I was going to get a stroller so I could we could go on walks.   I wanted you to be able to sniff at the air and feel the sun.



This little letter is a tribute to you. You were one of a kind, that's for sure.  A survivor.  My heart hurt for you because of your severe abuse before I met you. But I won't get into that.  You finally felt safe with me and knew I wouldn't give up  or send you away, or punish you.  I remember when we put you and Murray in the basement and closed the door when we left. You both had run of the basement, which was large, and everything you needed from toys to food. But when we got home, you had managed to dig a hole in the door and get back up to where you could jump up on the bed.  You were a determined girl!!  ...all we could was scratch our heads in amazement and laugh.

Speaking of jumping...although the neighbors hated it, you were able to jump our four foot fence like a gazelle and then run like the wind. You were beautiful and graceful and a princess who later turned into the queen of the house.  When we took you to dog park, you could have cared less about the space or the other dogs.  You stayed by my side and jumped up and down like a yoyo.  It was pretty funny.


But the bond you made with me in my lowest, most difficult time was something that would make you a part of my soul forever. You kissed away my tears and became a part of my survival.  You were my angel and stayed by my side like an intensive care nurse.  I can't thank you enough for that.  When I would travel alone, I wasn't alone, you were there, in the back seat, sharing the experience.

Then a little over a year ago you quit going with Phil on the daily hikes. At first you stood by the gate and watched them leave. I could see the disappointment in your eyes.  One day you just quit standing and watching;  you accepted the fact you would probably never climb the hill again. I still took  you to dog park though.  Even if I had to carry you part of the way. You sat with me and watched Tasha and Milo play and explore. Sometimes you too would venture off to take in all the sights and smells.

I've had so many other dogs in my life, so many that I have loved, but I loved you deeper because of our bond. You would bark or do something strange and I was always able to interpret what you were trying to communicate.  Even Phil saw this.  So this is my good bye, this is my little tribute, this is to say I love you and miss you so.  I miss your love, your little white self, I miss your dark, black eyes that showed so much expression. I miss your smile.  You hadn't smiled for a long time. I hope you're running free now, smiling like you used to when you ran like a bullet between Phil and I in the field.

I will never get "over" your absence but only learn to live with it.  A friend of mine told me that my father was there when you crossed over. Dad knew more than anyone at that time how much I loved my pets.  And the weird thing is, after my friend texted me that, it wasn't too much later that Ian texted me that someone up there was watching because "The Cubbies just made the playoff series." Dad was crazy passionate about his Cubbies.  Maybe he really was there for you. I'd like to believe that.


In the meantime I'll look for your face in the clouds,




I'll listen for your bark in the middle of the night,



 I'll hope to see you in my dreams,






 and I'll try to feel your love when I need you the most.






 I hope I was there for you when you needed love and nurturing.  But you were there for me so much more. Thank you for that my little queen.

From your loving friend and lifetime companion!



The world is much more quiet today
everything seems as if time is slow motion,
very still

Your heart no longer beats
Your breath no longer rises and falls
Your eyes now absent
What's left is a shell
once a part of you.

If God is God
Then your soul has wings
 you have flown away
from  pain
from your body
but also from me

I release you and hope that my grief won't hold you back
If God is God
it won't.

Thinking of Mom

My mother has been gone now for years.




 I don't really keep track. But one thing is true, I think of her every day.  I believe I thought of her everyday when she was alive too; I guess that's what it is with daughters and mothers. I've said it so many times and it's true, she taught me how to love. That's the main thing that I remember about my relationship with her. She is part of my soul and nothing will ever change that, not even time. 




 She died on a brisk day one October morning.  My father had already been dead ten years so when she left, things were just so final, so changed.  Death visits us all, and there is nothing we can do about it.  It's mysterious and dark.  Many people say that they will meet Jesus or something else to that effect.  I hope so..I hope I'll  meet him because there's a lot I want to ask him.  But I also want to meet the others whom I have loved and who have gone on, including my four legged loved loves.

It's a wonderfully cool October morning. I'm getting ready to go to work, sitting up in bed, looking out over the sunny red tile roofs, the green trees, the shaggy palms and the soft foothills.  The sun and birds are the smile on my face, the sweetness in my heart.  But my mother is the foundation of my love. Thanks mom, I still hope I make you proud! kisses from this world!....your Pegala

We;ll Make the Most Before the Jig is Up!

This is the end of another birthday. I must admit it was interesting.  Non-eventful,  but interesting.  If you've read me at all, you know that I believe Dave Matthews sings my soul. What I cannot express, where I can't find the words, he does...and even more so, he puts just the right melody to the deepest expressions of soul; my soul anyway.  Amazing art that it is!  I took the day off from my job.  At my age I sort of wish I didnt' have a job, but at the same time, if I didn't I think I would go mad. 

I've been feeling such a  deep meloncholy today...is it because I've been alone to think?  If I'm with someone dancing, talking, having a good time, I don't have to just think.  Hmmmm something disturing about that.  I just wish there would be someone out there that would get it.  I believe there is.  My husband is younger than me. Not by much..but he is.  Life is  funny like that. 

That's why I love this song...thanks to my friend Heidi..she gets it. I think that's why she's such a fan.  There are words and melody that make such a fine couple, they express so many peoples deepest thoughts, desires. Happy birthday to me...I do love life...as much as I hate it, I love it!
If I could fly at the speed of light, I
could get to Canis Major in five thousand years
Butterflies and black and bluebirds
I’ll never be the same since I met you
Pennies thrown into a fountain
Make a wish, blow out the candles, take a breath
God is troubling when you consider
believers that would welcome the end of the world

Got a job and it pays me
I want love more than I deserve
I read the paper, makes me crazy
There’s gotta be a way to make it work, oh

Ashes, stardust,
look at us crawling out the mud
Let’s go around the block
we’ll make the most before the jig is up
Dreamers, the big talk,
we’ll never know the thickest never stop
Ashes, stardust,
look at us crawling out the mud

I know that dying is scary to us
but everybody do it one, two, three
On the sidewalk, the dandelion
is reaching from a crack up to the sun
Words can be a wicked tool
For twisting truth I wanna be true to you
Blood and bones, black holes and stones,
all those things pave the way for you and me

Got a job and it pays me
I want love more than I deserve
I read the paper, makes me crazy
There’s gotta be a way to make it work, oh

Ashes, stardust,
look at us crawling out the mud
Let’s go around the block
we’ll make the most before the jig is up
Campfires and high rise
you never did quite know when to stop
Ashes, stardust,
look at me crawling out the mud

If I could fly at the speed of light, I
could get to Betelgeuse in about six hundred years
Butterflies and black and bluebirds
I’ll never be the same since I met you
Baby, dying is scary to us
But everybody do it A, B, C
God is troubling when I consider
believers that would welcome the end of the world

Got a job and it pays me
I want love more than I deserve
I read the paper, makes me crazy
There’s gotta be a way to make it work, oh

Ashes, stardust
look at us crawling out the mud
Let’s go around the block
we’ll make the most before the jig is up
Ashes, stardust
look at us crawling out the mud
Ashes, stardust
look at me crawling out the mud

Butterflies and black and bluebirds
I’ll never be the same since I met you
If I could fly at the speed of light, I
could get to Betelgeuse in about six hundred years
Butterflies and black and bluebirds 

Could I Have Been....Anyone Other Than Me?

I have to be honest with you, with myself.  I want people to read me.






  Most people want that. They want to be known. The older I get, it seems the more that even words don't matter.  But words are all I have...are all we have.




 They are the most common way to communicate. So here I am, fingers to the keys, trying to find the words to express what the last 60 some years have been to me...My 60 some years.  That's right, 60 some.  Geeeesh.  I can't believe it. I feel so, so much younger. (And honestly, because I've tried very hard, I look younger too.)






But the fact is, I'm not. I'm nearing the end of the story.  My father died when he was my age. I think of that all the time.  My husband says, "But you're so much healthier than he was."  And he's right. I am.  I used to want to die at 75.  I'm not so sure anymore. It depends on what that looks like.



My 50's were my best years physically.  I felt so magnificent. I felt as if I could compete with any 20 year old.  I remember once when visiting my son in college, one of his fraternity brothers asked him to introduce his "sister" to him.  What a charmer!!!!  And yes, it was so damn charming. I ate it up.  In my 50's I had a 20 something hit on me.  That was great for my sexual identity. And I could go on.  The fact is, I'm in my 60's and identity is something I don't think about any more. I know who I am and know what my purpose here on earth is/was.


 

I've always said that I feel like a cat with nine lives. I'm actually on my 9th I think, but I alway wonder "what if". You know?  Just what if I had been............There's a Dave Matthews song that totally rings a bell with me:

Could I have been
A parking lot attendant
Could I have been
A millionaire in Bel Air
Could I have been
Lost Somewhere in Paris
Could I have been
You're little brother
Could I have been
Anyone other than me
Could I have been
Anyone other than me
Could I have been
Anyone

He stands touch his hair his shoes untied
Tongue gaping stare
Could I have been a magnet for money?
Could have been anyone other than me?
Twenty three and so tired of life
Such a shame to throw it all away
The images grow darker still
Could I have been anyone other than me?

Then I look up at the sky
My mouth is open wide lick and taste
What's the use in worrying, what's the use in hurrying
Turn turn we almost become dizzy

I am who I am who I am well who am I
Requesting some enlightenment
Could I have been anyone other than me
And then I'll

Sing and dance
I'll play for you tonight
The thrill of it all
Dark clouds may hang on me sometimes
But I'll work it out
And then I
Look up at the sky
My mouth is open wide lick and taste
What's the use in worrying, what's the use in hurrying
Turn turn we almost become dizzy

Falling out of a world of lies
Could I have been a dancing Nancy a dancing Nancy
Could I have been anyone other than me?

The questions are with me, but not always.  I'm pretty accepting. I've always been an addict for change, for adventure.  Still am.  If an opportunity arose, and it would have to be really good, would I?

"could I have been anyone other than me?  .

Dear Student,

Dear Random Student,

I don't think you realize how much I care for you.


When I tell you that you have to read the instructions carefully, I'm not kidding.  You do.  But then again, some of you don't care. I wish with all of my heart I could make you care, but I can't.



Your most important goal is to make the grade. The grade that will earn you the respect of your family and everyone else in between.  So, lying, cheating and doing what you have to do seems like the easiest way. After all, that's what  adults have taught you through their actions. The next election will prove that.


I don't know if you know this, but I pray for you. Whether you believe in prayer or not is your choice, is your privilidge, but I do.  I pray for every day on my way in to work.  I mention you by name to the big guy upstairs.  It's because I care and I know your problems are pretty much beyond me or anyone else in the educational field.  Even the counselors.  They have some advice...but no answers.

I want you to realize I wake up at 3 a.m. and wonder what I can do to help you.



 One of my main goals in life is to see you succeed.  And from what I've seen , there is no easy way.  You have to read everything, you have to try and find answers when there don't seem to be any.  You have to endure and not figure that someone else will do it for you.  Because maybe someone can tell you what page the answer is on, but they can't embed it into your mind for further reference to build on.


My confession is this: I'm too old to change courses. This is what I do best, so I will continue for the monetary rewards. And if there is a student who benefits from my concern, my time, and my care, then I'm all the more richer. 

Sincerely,
Your random educator

My advice to future teachers? Don't do this unless you mean business and are not in it for the money.