Blogs are kind of like strange memoirs for people who feel they can not write.

I am going to memoir it up here I have decided.

The name I chose for this blog.... 9 years ago

 Gathering Feathers ~ Scattering Stones....Means something to me spiritually... and live life-ely
 So far, I have written a lot about death and loss, redemption and Rebirth....
Gathering Feathers.... gathering the emotions of hurt left behind and making peace with it, as well as the feathers of those I love who have passed away.
Scattering stones...addressing those issues, creating with stones, loving the things that God put on the Earth.

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My Mother gave birth to me on her Sister's 25th Birthday.
It was a hot August day.
My Mother smoked a carton of Pall Mall Menthol cigarettes during her labor with me.
She told me that my Aunt, My Uncle and my Father were all outside of the window where she spent her labor, my Aunt yelling in to her to hurry it up and birth me because she was going to miss giving her her birthday present. I think my Mother gave birth to me at 11:30 pm. She made it.
I loved my Aunt and my Aunt loved me.
A year after I was born she gave birth to her own little girl... Anne.
We spent so much time together, it was as if we were sisters who didn't live with each other.
We were very close throughout our lives.
Shared the typical joys and heartaches, distanced ourselves from each other, Drawn back to each other, to distance again.... but always had such a tight bond. Our own siblings also had tight bonds with each other...it was very cool that when one of our Mom's was pregnant, the other followed on her heels... so we are matched sets of Cousins basically.... 3 sets for 3 ages.
My Brother lost the other half of his match almost 4 years ago to cancer.
I lost my other half, my Anne this past December. Cancer.
20 days after she passed away my Husband was diagnosed with Stage IV Renal Cancer.

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And so begins a memoir of a very unimportant person.
Me.

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I think that what I will do with this is share a photo of what I created today... and describe what I made to eat.
My Husband is currently very ill with renal cancer... but he is doing well.
I love to cook, but that has taken a back seat because he is not loving to eat right now.
He has lost a lot of weight.
The Dr put him on an appetite stimulant... he takes it sparingly.
The night before last he told me... "Guess what I am craving!" I said... 'what? " He tells me, " I am craving Corned Beef Hash, the kind in a can. I think the name on the can is Hormel"
Well. as soon as he said it... I saw the can label in my mind and went down to the store to buy a can of it.
I heated it up in a pan.
He ate half the can.
Last night, I fried up the other half for him AND he wanted a fried egg on top.
We are making progress.

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And so begins the sharing of Our Journey...
The Caregiver who loves her Husband who is trying to get well.

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I made this Tree Of Life today.
It is Copper Wire sculpted over a little lovely slab of moss agate.
I quite like it.
So does my Husband.
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Words of Life for today;

This is the Day that the Lord has made, Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Psalm 118:24

September smells so good, someone should make a mans cologne out of it. A little tiny mix of gasoline scent on there too.
Was thinking of my Father as I mowed. He smelled of September, with some gasoline mixed in there. Made me miss him.
He was a jerk to my Mom, and had terrible character because he was so messed up in his head... but deep inside there was an incredibly awesome person and I loved his deep inside self.
Alcohol and dysfunctional upbringing create surface monsters.
We are amazing beings, that we can love despite the shortcomings and failures of those around us... including ourselves.
I think of our Father God Whose love capacity puts ours to shame. I am humbled and grateful.
Crappy things happen.
Love anyway.
I really love the aroma of September. 
❤️  

To Thine Own Self Be True

That time when you were a kid, and you knew in your heart of hearts that you would meet David Cassidy SOMEDAY.

And, then you did. Over 40 years later. But, you did. 

And, you were just so impressed by the kindness of this man. Because, you knew in your heart that he had been raked over the coals for profit, and you had an idea that he was bought and paid for by a scary media machine.. but that is kind of like a conspiracy theory, right? I mean.... who in your life who loved you would allow you to be used this way! 

And your friends... they kind of laugh at you that you went to see him a SECOND time... that you had seen him years earlier... that should have been enough, right? I mean... HAHA.... David Cassidy. And, all the explaining about how good a show he was doing had no bearing on the conversation you were trying to defend. 

How much he loved his Art.... and he had his Art his Talent... his great influences... the artists who he loved, who loved him as well. John Lennon, BB King.... 

His band... comprised of people who respected his artistic ability, sense... who cared deeply for him, and he for them. Having just listened to the new release "Songs My Father Taught Me" it is so evident the respect these people had for him. The shows I saw of his in these later years translate that family feeling as well. 

A man in his element. 

A man not in his element. Used, controlled, and kept in a cage. Never allowed to express his talent. Later, he performed on his terms but the demons had already done their damage...and they are hard to shake when they appear as the ones who should be looking out for your better interest. 

I am shaken by the A&E Biography presented last night about David Cassidy. Not because I am surprised, but because what he went through as a human being was much more tragic than I had imagined... and what I had imagined was pretty bad. 

The work he had been doing these past 10 - 15 years seem to be a reconciliation of what could have been... and should have served as an acknowledgement of his talent. As fans... we should have honored him... not by telling him we loved him so much, and that we wanted to hear "I Think I Love You".... but by what he was putting out. He was putting out himself. And it was pretty awesome. 

The show I had seen in . 2011 or 2012 was a beginning... it was like seeing him making peace with the previous 40 or so years of his life... he honored the series which made him famous, his co-stars, his step mother, his Father, he dipped his toes into his true musical loves but he did not jump in. He referred much to his Mother, Evelyn Ward... sharing his pain in her illness. He shared his love of Family... his marriage, his son. One thing that bothered me greatly about this show in particular was that there were way too many women of my age and older who were sporting the peacock hair and cat suit like wardrobe of the '70s , like they had never grown up.. still stuck in mullet land.... looking for something. He actually had to be whisked off from this show... and I was stunned that at his age of 61 or 62 that this would have to be something still clinging to him.... it was scary and highly disturbing. 

2016, it was as if he had found his groove in being honest with himself out there on stage... he shared about his inspirations, his friendships... the show delved into his history of life. His musical history. His talent was exposed, and it was wonderful! 

I kept wondering later on... what event happened in his life from June of 2016 to February 2017 to have caused this hard slide back into the slime of regret and hurt. We will never know, and it is not for us to know. But, there is something to be learned here. Honor, those you love. That means honoring their life. Build them up, don't break them down. Love them unconditionally. Pray for them. Be kind. Always. Be kind. Pray. Seek God and Pray.

Maybe I am so bothered because I grew up hard. My father was hard... he was not a builder up, he was a destroyer... and I loved him. I loved him so very much, because when he was not destroying he was a pretty cool guy. every body loved my Father. In my own life, I reacted early on to others by repeating that destruction.... but quickly learned that hurting others was not a vehicle I wanted to use to make myself feel better. Because it didn't. 

I spoke for awhile with my eldest daughter today on the phone. We spoke about generational sin, what that means... what it is when we repeat the sins of our fathers... or mothers.. exactly that. Not some hokus pocus bestowed on us by God... but sin we have chosen to transgress in to our psyche... and having an excuse for it. How many generations it can go before someone in that line says... "STOP"!!!!

 David Cassidy... the last year of his life reminds me of a culmination of what happens when we do not let it go.... let it eat us. How many times... do we step out of our wheel but find ourselves thrown back into it? Today, I want to encourage you to step out. Break the cycle. Break the sin. It is what is required of us. No matter who we are. 

I am going to miss this guy. 

Rest In Peace David.

Thank you. 

These photos were taken by me at a David Cassidy concert in June of 2016. As far as I was aware, there were no copyright advisories, warnings... etc. 

Brushing Off The Storm of Inner Negativity

The Storms of Life can make us feeling angry, disillusioned, and betrayed when there seems to be no one who understands and who maybe does not want to understand. 

This photo was taken during a recent winter storm here in the Hudson Valley of NY. Even through ugliness, there is beauty to be found. 

Through the storms of life, we are able to define our friendships and fine tune our future goals. 

Change, is never easy but it brings forth good things.

It also compells us to sweep the cobwebs, do some inner Spring cleaning, get us ready for Summer. 

thank you Lord for Storms. 

Today. My Husband lost his job. Very scary in today's climate. We will survive. And it will be OK. I know this. God is here. Working. I will Scream anyway, only inside my head. Whaaaaaaaat? Haha.

The Scream by Edvard Munch.

Out of retrograde ~ leaving my Father to the Universe

 

So. I guess we are pulling out of Mercury in retrograde by tomorrow. 

After spending these past 3 weeks in some reflection (SOME my EYE!!! LOTS!) I need to now share about my Father. Who, in the previous post about my Mother and Fashion I told that he beat her. Well, he did. I suppose there would be many who would say... he is not worth the effort to write about.  Well, that is not true either. 

In a world that loves to point out dichotomies with no gray area in between.. I can tell you that yes. There is a lot of gray area. Life is  a lot of gray area.

I loved my Father.

As my best friend said in a sympathy card to me after his passing, 'He was larger than Life'. He was. He was the guy who everyone wanted to be around, the guy that his workmates went to for help, the guy who was always ready for a scotch no matter the time of day. He was a guy you could count on. If, you were his friend, and if you had something to offer him in return. But, a kid does not see the IF part. They see the BIG part. The larger than life part. 

He did have a good heart inside. He was a very troubled man. He messed up terribly. My feeling is that, if he did not love my Mother he should have done it right and saved her from the beatings, and us from the abuse as well. Being afraid of your Fathers fury is not the way a kid should grow up...but... plenty of kids have and have survived it.

He felt guilty over his behavior, I know that. He took me to Mass every Sunday over a course of maybe 2 years when I was very young, lets say 5 & 6. He had a terrible temper. It caused him to be highly abusive mentally and physically. When I think about these things I cannot figure out why I loved him! But I did! Maybe because when he was making something, he would throw us a few boards, a hammer, some nails and we would build these horrible things that we envisioned being works of art. When he was cementing he would throw us gloves and sit us down with wet cement to play with (who does that? Who tells kids under 10, have fun with this but don't get it on your skin or it will burn your skin off?) Our Father, that's who and play with it we did. Adding rocks and pebbles to it, pouring over the ground on the side of the house, again making terrible structures that looked like crap but were truly gorgeous to us. And yeah, he did this to get out out of his way...but....we worked right alongside him the entire time. Several Summers up in the Adirondacks, he brought us camping. I will never forget those Summers. Now I realize of course that it was during those times they were having the terrible problems in their marriage. I still do not know particulars, it is their business anyway. But I can express that they were wrong to jeopardize the well being of their children in their quest to find themselves in their own wreckage.

Of course, what is done is done. And the time for forgiveness (again!) is here. I won't mince words.. his funeral... was very hard. We, (my Brother, My Sister, Me) were excluded in spirit although we were there. His girlfriend of more years than he and our Mother had been physically together (for that was another dysfunctional mess...he never gave our Mother a divorce!) really didnt want us there. She tried to get the Church to turn the funeral around in 2 days time after his death to avoid us getting to DE in time. But... we did get there in time. Her children, they went on and on about what a great man our Father was, how good he was to each of them, they shared these wonderful stories of his love for them and I have to say that each word of theirs ripped up my heart every single time. I felt as if I was going to collapse. 

When our Father left our Mother in the early '80s it was after a terrible blow out. A traumatic beating that he gave her. And... I hit him... to get him off of her. I hit him with our horses bridle. I told him to leave, and to never come back. He never did. Essentially, he turned his back on us. WE were his old life, and he went to the woman he had been having an affair with for some time. The woman whose children were praising our Father after death. 

While her children thought it was funny in a way that he was our Father for 20 years, and then theirs for 20 years... I could not find the humor in it. I do not fault them though. Really, what do you say. I do not think they meant for their words to hurt as they did. There were many other things about the whole event of our Father passing that are too upsetting, but none of it was generated by any of his 'step' children. Because I loved him I have been able to forgive him. His girlfriend... is another story and one that I work daily on. Although I have come to a point where I am not harboring negative thoughts against her. So, I am getting some where.

Now, when I think of my Father, I remember the picture of him with my Mother above, or other ones very similar. Choosing to think of him this way is soothing and good. Because that is when he was my Daddy.

So, today, I let these thoughts out to the Universe... out to God... out of my head. I release the negative about my relationship with my Father and embrace the positive. 

This life is too short for negative. Rather, I use it as a lesson, a stepping stone to learn from. I hold more firmly on to God, and I thank God for my Father , who for a short time taught me humility by the simple act of taking me to church for a few short years. 

My Momma ~ good fashion ~ and bad times.

Peasant Blouse

       I am thinking a lot about my Momma. I am thinking about how she was when I was younger. I am thinking about the way she regarded me, and perhaps what ideals she may have held for me, her oldest daughter.
       I grew up in the '70's. Born in 1960. Our life, my brother Sister and I was one of confusing turmoil. Our Father, beat our Mother. Regularly.
       I remember, that I was always upset with her for not standing up for herself. I always thought she was weak, and I also thought she did not care about us. I could not have been more wrong, on all counts.
       My Mom, she had a lot of class, along with a great sense of good fashion. I was an overweight self depreciating teen. I hated myself. I hated everything. Now, I know that what I hated most was that a weekend didn't go by that our Father did not demean our Mother in some way. AS a child, yeah, even an old child who grew up with it there is some form of accountability, guilt, shame, etc associated with growing up this way. I do not know how she felt,. she never said, we never ever talked about what happened to her. She never asked me how I felt about it, she never acknowledged that yes... the night before he cracked a chair over her head and hit her till she hid under the table. What she did instead was, while kids my age were buying and wearing cheap frocks from India making them all the rage, we went to a beautiful boutique uptown and she bought for me to wear fine peasant blouses crafted in cotton gauze's and finely tatted bodices. When I wanted the ski vest that everyone was wearing she looked at them and felt they looked like the Michelin Man... gauging how terrible I would look in such a thing and mail ordered a REAL Ski vest by Aspen IN my school colors that was so unbelievably gorgeous that I never felt bad about not wearing exactly what the other gals were. 
        All of my clothing was ordered from JC Penney and it all fit perfectly and looked wonderful. I was not allowed to have the status Quo... I had to have the best and that was that. 
       For a short time my Mom and Dad were hanging out with different people.  Charlie and Ruth Noller. I will never forget them. There was a respite from the hitting, and there was a nice little honeymoon time. They started going out to dinners, and they went to NYC to go to see Pippin. I remember when My Mom was looking for the perfect dress... there was a gorgeous boutique in the next town over. She bought 2 halter dresses, long dresses that had medallions in the solar plexus area. One dress was a tie dyed mermaid hued gown in velvet, the other a tiny floral print in earth tones in a rayon type material. She looked absolutely stunning in them, and she got to use them several times... happily. During this time, I was taking Chorus in school. I was very upbeat about it, I loved it! My Mother knew I loved to sing (since I was quite young... having memorized the entire soundtrack of Mary Poppins and keeping pace and pitch with it's entirety) She began to buy for me gowns for performances. I had several simply beautiful ones. I would wear them for a performance, but always made sure I used them for Thanksgiving or Christmas.
       During that crucial time of teenaged dome... the beatings began again. She withdrew into herself. I blamed her even more for what was happening.
       It was never her fault. However she reacted, what ever she did or didn't do. It was never her fault. I have forgiven myself.. but I still feel ashamed for having given her more grief on top of what she felt she could not handle already. I love my Mother so much. 
  Peasant Blouse pictured above.