R.I.P. Robin Rogers

I just got the news that my friend and blues musician, Robin Rogers, has passed away. I met Robin in Clarksdale, Mississippi at Ground Zero Blues Club when Morris played there one night. Our late friend, Dennis Brooks, introduced us to Robin. I am so glad that he did. I was instantly drawn to her.

Dennis said that we needed to hear this new blues singer. Morris was more than happy to share the stage with her. Wow! What a voice she had! Her soul just burst forth in her music. But more importantly than her voice or musical abilities, Robin was a wonderful person.

During the time that I was privileged to spend with Robin, we made fast friends. We had a lot in common -- including our disease (Hepatitis C). We shared our stories, along with fears and apprehension about the future of our health. Robin was upbeat and positive that everything would be ok.

The last time I saw Robin, we were at Gary Vincent's studio (again in Clarksdale). We ate gumbo and sang and laughed. What a wonderful memory! Oh, the laughs!

Robin, I will miss you. You aren't sick any more. You are not suffering any more. I am happy for you, but sad for my own loss.

Hope I Die Before I Get Old

Mom was moved to a nursing home this week. This came as a result of her cracking her pelvic bone in two places last week. I know this is NOT what she wanted. She was a patient of this nursing home a few years ago and she told me that she would rather die than have to go back to this place. They say she is only going there for physical therapy and will get to go back home when she is able to walk again. But she told me that she wouldn't be going back home. I hope that was the enormous amount of pain medication she was taking at the time talking to me and not Mom.

I vowed that she would never have to be in a nursing home, but she doesn't want to move here. Maybe she'll change her mind. I hope so. We'll be traveleing to visit her in a few weeks. I hope she will be much better by then.

Not being able to see her and know how she's doing is so difficult. She has always been there when I needed her. Now that she needs me, I'm not able to be there and that hurts.

My Son, The Soldier

I got the long-awaited phone call about midnight from my son in Afghanistan. I was so happy to hear his voice. I had an uneasy feeling about him all day and then he called. Call it what you want, but I believe he knew I desperately needed to hear his voice. I know it was an answer to an unspoken prayer. After we talked for just a minute, he was gone.

I got on the internet and did a search on where he is. There are lots of sites relating to his new home. Some tell of the dangerous conditions. Some tell a story of a soldier's tribute to his comrades. Some give facts and information about the region. Some are just funny. You would have to understand how the troops that are engaged in combat missions feel about those who stay at the FOB's (forward operating bases). I'm not saying I understand it all, but I've got the general idea. So, there's a video on YouTube called "Fobbits". It's a rap song about the troops who stay, guard and work only at the FOB. I thought it was funny. I know I have a warped sense of humor, but. . . .I know Trevor would like it. :)

Being a "war mom" is hard. I go from despair to elation to loneliness to thankfulness in a matter of minutes. What's up with that? I am glad my son is a brave soldier. I am proud of him and the work that he does there. But I will be more glad when he is back on American soil. He is doing what he feels he should do for his country and that is something for which I cannot begin to express my gratitude and love for my son.

I looked at my hair closely today. I have a huge gray patch that wasn't there a month ago.

I have to make myself NOT think about my son as a child. I know that he is a man now. But sometimes I still see him as my baby boy. A carefree, happy-go-lucky child. A child who relied on me for everything. A child who brought me more happiness in my life than I thought a livng being could.

I look forward to the day that I can hug his neck and tell him I love him. There's just something about hugs.

I love you, son.

I'm Baaaacckkkk!

After a long hiatus, I've decided I need to get back to writing. I spent some time this evening talking to a good friend and former sister-in-law. She was very young when I was in the family. Amazing how she has matured into a lovely woman. We have a lot in common. I never realized that until tonight.

I have had a lot of people from past years come into my life as of late. Sometims I wonder if that's a sign that I'm coming to the end. I hope not, but if so, it's OK too. I have had the opportunity to apologize to some people that I needed to apologize to. For that I am most grateful. No hard feelings on either side any more.

I have reconnected with childhood friends. I have found that the friends I made as a child have been lasting frienships. Even though I hadn't had contact with many of them in over 3o years, it seems as though we've been able to pick up where we left off. That is just amazing to me. It hasn't been an awkward reconnection as I would have imagined. Wow!! We just caught up on as much as each cared to share and are moving on from there.

And new friends too. Some I've met through my exposure to the blues music life I am so happy living now. And some are younger - friends of my son. But they are all such wonderful, positive people.

No man is an island. And with all the friendships I've rekindled and made recently, I'm not even a peninsula!

Holiest of Days

Just thinking about today being Good Friday and all. It's a very humbling experience to think about what was done on this day so many years ago when Jesus Christ died for the sins of the world without having committed any sin himself. That is true love that he laid down his life for his friends. I want to be his friend, more than anything. I feel so unworthy and I am so unworthy of this perfect love. I will keep trying, though.

Thank you, God, for sending your Son to the earth for me. Thank you, Jesus, for allowing yourself to be killed (if only for a little while) to atone for all my sins. Please forgive me when I have miserably failed in the race of life.

Blue on Blue

Th-th-th-that's all, Ethel.

What will I say, what will I do?

I'll be going to Canada soon to meet a family I've never met - my family. Let me explain. My mother was Canadian. My father was American. I was born in Farmington, New Mexico. My mother died the day I was born and my father's American sister raised my brother and me.

I have only know the paternal side of my family. Don't get me wrong. They are a great family. But I have always longed for more. Maybe it's a female thing. I don't know. But I have always wanted to know more about my maternal family.

I have always know OF them. My maternal grandmother used to write to us and send us birthday cards and gifts, Christmas cards and gifts. I loved her homemade popcorn balls. :) My Aunt Bobby and Aunt Thelma wrote to us when we were kids and kept in touch with my Aunt Dolis, who was raising my brother and me.

I remember one holiday (not sure if it was Thanksgiving or Christmas) when my father was visiting us. We were going to make a call to Canada to talk to my grandmother. Now mind you, this was in the 1960's when international calls were not only expensive, but not the easiest connection. We didn't make contact that day, or any other day.

I have always wanted a relationship with ALL of my family. Before the wonderful internet, it was almost impossible to locate "lost" family members. But then came the internet, the World Wide Web and online geneaology. I found the name of a cousin and was able to find his telephone number in August 2008.

You never know how those things will work out. Would he hang up on me? Think I was a crazy person? Think I was trying to get something?? None of those fears materialized. He was so nice. After we talked, I began receiving calls from many of my cousins. Come to find out, they had been looking for me too!

We are making plans for a big reunion on the family farm. There will be camping, camp fires, and many many stories to be told.

Yet, I am still nervous about meeting them. What will I say? What will I do?? We have made arrangements for two of my cousins to meet me at the airport in Saskatoon and then travel to Unity. I will be there for 5 days. I anticipate that the time will fly by way too fast! But that's OK.

I hope my Mother knows about the reunion.