YES, THIS IS CHRISTMAS!

CHRISTMAS 2020 another gathering with my little family

down for the books.

Each year my children get older it becomes harder to gather as 

all are so busy with their own lives so I appreciate the one day out

of the year that they spend with me all in the tradition of Christmas.

This year was quite different. I did not put up a tree this year.

I just could not see lugging all the Christmas decor out of the attic

just for myself to enjoy and lugging them back up there.

I know does not sound like my normal self, but this year,

it is what it is.

As each year, once they all leave with full bellies and

presents having been given, I begin to

reminisce of Christmas' past.

When Children were younger and hanging with me and

family was the only choices they had or wanted.

The years of Santa Clause and surprised on the tree,

Big family gatherings when they were still big but

small enough that we could still gather.

How I miss all those years.

Yet, as I have said Christmas change, traditions become those

of the grownups that were once our children.

So I compile here a few of Christmas past,

for you all to enjoy and for this Momma/Mumsie/sister/aunt/Nannie

to remember...

Each Christmas was one of my children by the tree, the last

one was a dress up day at school but it would be wise

to say they were over the photo thing.

Roddie's second Christmas at the Collins home that my sister,

Celena and her hubby, Ted had bought by this time.

I am thankful for all those years they continued to family tradition

of gathering at the big house. This was the last Christmas

that we were all siblings together for Christmas.

There were the Christmas' that the Riera's went on vacation/hunting trips.

and this the first with our Katie.

Roddie was not too sure about Santa but he held it together.

One of the many things I am grateful for is the fact that my Momma

got to be a part of Jillys first few years....

... and I remain grateful for all these and newer memories.

It has been a hard year of loss for so many.

My prayers are with all those suffering this year.

A happier New Year is on the horizon....

I feel it!

 

Memories of childhood sick days.

I am up early every morning. If it is past 4:30AM,

I have overslept. It takes me a while to get going in the

morning and I have this wild thought that if I sleep late I 

am wasting precious time that I could be doing something else.

My Dad always was a 4AM early riser, so perhaps I get it 

from him. This morning as I drink my coffee I get an early text

from Kd, JoJo is sick, threw up most of the night

"can you keep her today"

Sure! and having my sister, "aunt C" here, well that will

make it an even sweeter day once she feels better.

As I await our JoJo I am reminded of childhood sick days

of mine. There were many. Because I was the baby of a large

family and born to my parents in the 40's, Dad was retired

from his photography business and Mom worked at 

Randolph's Restaurant in front of our street.

So on sick days, it was Daddy who did the nursing.

He was so good at it. 

Yes, it was a rule, when we were home sick from school,

we didn't play, we didn't dress.

We stayed in our PJ's in our beds, watching Tv, reading,

coloring.....

How I loved sick days with my Dad especially on cold

winter mornings. Why? Because it almost always

meant he would go to the grocery store and you could

bet there was a new color book and colors in 

those brown paper bags. Sometimes a comic book too

and some favorite foods, but always, always a color book.

As a child I waited for it.

AS an adult it warms my heart to think of this

man I called Daddy who, at that time was probably 

in his 50's going through the color books to find

the best one for his little girl.

I will admit, I think there were a few mornings when it was

extremely cold that I faked a sickness. 

Yes, for the flannel pajamas, gas heaters,

new color books and....

a whole day by myself with a man I adored.

I would do it all over again.

Love you, Dad!

 

THINGS THAT HAVE CHANGED.

I have not been blogging enough.

I have not been writing enough.

Life has changed so much for so many and I

need to put all the thoughts that flow through my heart and mind

down somewhere so as to remember this life right now,

the year 2020.... 2020!!!!!

I think every year that we live to add a candle to that birthday cake 

is something to be thankful for and celebrate.

In no way is this a complaint blog, just thoughts.

All the miracle babies born and made during this pandemic

only see eyes and masks when looking into the faces

of those they love. The fact that this is their year

I pray it is never their normal. I think a lot about

my school nursing days and just how many little people needed

speech therapy. this generation will be filled to capacity for speech.

Baby's learn so much by looking into the faces they love

and mimicking what they see to form words.

To keep them safe we wear masks around these young blessings

or we stay away for fear of spreading the "virus".

I hope this is not going to be the "new normal" for all of us.

The virus still lingers, I will not get into my personal beliefs

on what is wrong or right about the things being done to hopefully

stop this pandemic. It is not my intent.

However, I am a social type of gal.

I believe there is so much to be said with a smile

and I have been known to hug EvEryone, from a person

I have known my whole life to a stranger I have just met because

they have done something good or kind for me.

Shoot I have probably been known to hug a few trees,

especially since its safe to hug trees right now.... lol

So social distancing has been hard for me.

I have become quite comfortable in my cottage, painting away.

Seeing my grandgirls once a week. Although I have always loved

my own company and quiet solitude. I also like visiting, coffees,

meeting friends and family. The longer I go without doing this

the more comfortable I become, which is fine but I don't want to

loose the part of me that is social. So I try and "pay it forward" 

when I can, whether it be as simple as paying the way for 

cars behind me getting on the ferry, giving the 

proper amount of change to the person in front

of me at the grocery store, to gifting a home portrait 

to a suffering family. I don't want to loose the self I am.

I continue to take one of the grandgirls each Friday night

to have quality time with them one on one doing whatever

it is they want to do. It is my prayers that when my time comes to leave

this life behind that their little hearts be filled with memories from 

Mumsie's Cottage. Not fussing or correcting but playing and cuddling.

  The blessings I get from having these children

 in my life is priceless. They love me unconditionally 

just as I love them, they are always filled with compliments to boost my

day. For one instance, I had Jilly Friday night and she stayed here most

of yesterday to help me bake and deliver cookies. She loved the giving part

insisting that she carry the box that held the goods of her favorite cookie.

While we baked she made a video of my baking antics

 and she and I played around with the editing. 

 I ask "Jilly can you edit out my wrinkles, make me look

younger?" she without hesitation said, 

"Mumsie, you can't edit the perfect things"

be still my heart!

I visit with my sisters on the bayou as often as I can and sister, C

is coming tonight for a few days.

It remains hard for me to visit my oldest sister, Simone

who is 24 years older than me (80), through a window at her nursing home.

She loves it there and we know she is well taken care of but each time

I visit her, struggling to hear or speak to her through a glass pane

because she can never work her phone to speak to us, I just

want to hug her.... I know and understand the rules are to protect 

herself and the other residents there but it still is not fun to 

visit this way. I will end with one thing I began to change

beginning yesterday. I have not been known as a negative person.

Dramatic, over the top, whimsical, eclectic... are a few.

But negative, I try not to be....

lately I have noticed on several occasions my conversations

have a negative tone to them. I do not like it and I do not want it

to be part of me. I am far, far, far from perfect,

but I am not a negative person. Yesterday I began the

focus of keeping my words and actions on a positive level.

It becomes hard during such a crazy time in our lives,

Covid, election, sickness, death...

Death.. have lost so many wonderful friends and family this year.

These are all reasons why I need to make my actions those

of a positive person. When I become to see that my words

bring out negativity in others its time for a change.

Today I begin to follow once again my Daddy's Golden Rule:

IF YOU DON'T HAVE NOTHING GOOD TO SAY, DON'T SAY NOTHING.

Merry Christmas to you all, will make 2021 the year I begin blogging and

writing more.... It will be the gift I give myself as I still

have not gotten that book completed.

Thanks for following along! 

Big hugs and kisses, mask or no masks!

Pink Cottage in the future...

 Since my termite inspection on the Cottage and

seeing that it not only needs a good outside cleaning but has a few pieces

of wood rot, I have been thinking maybe it is time to give it a new face.

Which brings me here after searching Pinterest for ideas on 

Cottage Colors, I come across the scheme I think would be perfect for the Cottage:

Light pink, with white/creme trim and some type of blue for stripes

on window overhangs.

I pass these colors by the besties and after a few texts and pics

I share with them, they are on the same page as me.

But this morning, this morning, I see and read this:

"I ALWAYS SEEM TO NOTICE PINK HOMES.

PERHAPS IT'S BECAUSE THEY ARE RARE.

WHAT SORT OF PERSON LIVES IN A PINK HOUSE?

CREATIVE? CONFIDENT? ARTISTIC? FUN?

GENTLE? CARING? CONTENT? BLISSFUL?

LOVING? SWEET?

... and now I know without a doubt the Cottage will be painted pink.

No doubt about it. Why?

Because even if I don't hit all these marks I strive to be each and

every one of them.

Pink it is!

Living alone is not the same as being alone.

 October 16, 2020

A good friend of mine, sent me an article about

"learning to enjoy being alone"

He sent it because he knows how I love living alone.

It had me thinking that I hope people don't think

I am lonely because I choose to live alone.

So let me give some insight into this thought.

I love living/being alone but I am not lonely.

Sure, there are days I miss my parents, grand girls,

boo, and I am a very social person.

Yet the solitude I receive from living alone in my Cottage

is something I never take for granted.

I lived alone for a part of my nursing school days

and it was my first taste of living alone independently.

It was short lived as soon after nursing school, I moved back

home to help my Mom care for my Dad.

Then I married my high school boyfriend and stayed married

for thirty years. During those years, my ex worked 7 and 7

so I had some independent time but I was also a Momma to

two amazing kids. Once they grew up, people spoke about

"empty nest" stuff. I never felt it. Of course, there are times

I miss my children being little and having to be with me 

but the fact that we raised two children to be independent of us,

well I consider that having been a good parent as it is our job

to raise them to be this way.

Then, after thirty years, my ex and I decided we were going 

for divorce. I did not think so much of living alone...

Until I did that, lived alone.

I bought my cottage, the type of old home I have always preferred.

Decorated it as I wished, invited friends and family often,

have the grand girls over for sleepovers but mostly,

I live at the Cottage alone... and I love it.

Yes, I have a boyfriend who I enjoy spending time with

but living alone is the right choice for me.

I have always said I love my own company too much.

Fact of the matter is, I really do.

I love getting up early, having my first cup of coffee

talking to the Boo via phone.

I then have the day to myself, I can paint or clean house.

I can cook or not cook.

I can read or play a game, I can bathe when I want and

not bathe if I choose to. I have no dirty clothes except my own

and that goes for dirty dishes as well.

I love the solitude living alone gives me.

Not having to be responsible for anyone but myself and

my two cats is reassuring for me. I love a clean Cottage,

but I don't over Obsess if I choose not to do house work.

If I want to paint all day or lay around and do nothing all day

is not judged by anyone else.

So, for me, living and being alone is not the same as lonely.

 

Speaking out

 I have not said much about how I feel about the pandemic.

mask wearing or not wearing, is it government based or a real threat.

Having two sisters, one very sick and the other just positive with no symptoms,

I know this is a real illness and my nursing knowledge knows that some

of the things put in place have been right.

So, this blog is more about our children, our precious future generation

those who will lead our country when, if we are lucky to live a long life,

will be the leaders of our beautiful US of A.

Whether you wear a mask, don't wear a mask, how you feel about masks,

not my reason for my next sentence.

I fear for the babies born in the last few years.

Being a school nurse for the end years of my career,

we know babies learn how to speak by looking at the faces of

not only those they love but also others who speak to them.

These "young-en's" are looking into the eyes of masked mouths...

leading to a generation that, as I see it, will need speech therapy.

Babies and young toddlers need to see faces to learn about

happy and sad, angry, etc. our facial expressions teach them so much.

Virtual schooling is my second point.

I am aware and glad that parents can choose the type of class

they want their children to learn. I know the virus is scary and I go on 

a limb by saying, if the virus is one that once you get it you are

immune and most children get a mild case of it, maybe it would be okay

to let this be their immunization. I know still we are not sure about 

this so won't say much about this but my focus, again, is on the child.

Children need interaction, They need to be away from their parents 

in a safe place where they can not only learn from a teacher, 

but socialize with their friends. We learn how to fix problems by

working through similar issues with our peers when we are young.

Children need to be with their peers, they need sleepovers, and playing

outside. I have mixed beliefs on home work, as if they get all day 

schooling home should be for outside play, sibling interaction,

parental rules, etc. But I also believe that homework teaches children

about being accountable, organization skills, how to employ a sense

of how they need to work things in to their daily lives.

This makes for great work ethics when they join the work force.

Yes, I believe when this virus began and we knew so little of it,

it was wise and necessary to keep families home. Now that we know more,

I am all for children returning to schools as they are not just learning

reading, writing and arithmetic. Social skills that cannot be learned by

reading in a book. I believe (and again, this is my viewpoint, right or wrong)

not going into school is having some children so afraid of just so much.

Whether they wear masks to school or not, I believe they need to be in school.

Parents who have to work don't depend on school as baby sitters but they do

understand when their child is at school, they are essentially safe and this gives

them a sense of peace as they work to bring in the money needed to run 

their family home.

I do also, have a viewpoint on masks in school.

Although I believe children and parents need to follow whatever rules

that each school has in place. This teaches children that rules and laws

are meant to be followed. Having no young children of my own right now,

I can say this: I do fear for the learning of children while fussing with a face

that is masked. My grand girls adjusted to mask wearing and their Mom

says they just put it on with out fuss. They have been taught along the way

of why a mask is needed and why school is needed.

I do wonder though, how much oxygen is blocked by mask wearing.

I won't say much about this as I just don't know.

I will put my "soap box" mentality down now.

Whether you agree or disagree, it is not not written to become a 

discussion, just some thoughts I think about as we learn how to live

through this Pandemic season.

I am very happy I live in a country with freedom of speech,

whether right or wrong.

Mr. BUBBLES, A HISTORY LESSON...

Yesterday afternoon after a long morning with

the grandgirls working the lemonade stand, just

as I was relaxing after they went home,

I get this awesome photo of my great Niece, Emalyse

sent by my nephew Miki.

To most, it's a cute photo of his beautiful girl bathing

getting ready to have a bubble bath.

(excuse my drawn in bathing suit top)

Yet for he and I, Oh for he and I, this

photo says so much more, sooo much more!

For Miki and I, Mr. Bubbles was a thing.

To assure understanding of why this photo pulled on

Aunt Lil's heartstrings, a history of Miki and I's relationship

must be inserted here.

Miki was born to my sister Rosie and his Dad, Pat Tamplain

when I was a Junior in high school.

Although I was close to all my nieces and nephews 

he and Minta, my niece were born at a time that I 

could have a more adult relationship with them.

Because he lived in Golden Meadow I had easy access

to him and boy, did I "access" him.

On the October day he was born, I remember walking 

the halls of South Lafourche not being able to wait to get

home to find out if we had a boy or a girl.

He was not just a boy, he was the cutest little ball

of white curly haired energy that I could have hoped for.

I finished nursing school, bought my dream car,

280ZX and most afternoons he was my copilot.

Because car seats were unheard of then,

 he stood in the front seat, singing along

to whatever Aunt Lil put on the radio. 

This boy knew his music.

He loved that my car talked to us, 

in a beautiful female voice, most often saying

"You are out of gas"

But what he lived for, was our almost daily trips 

to the store to buy, you guessed it,

Mr. Bubbles!

It was a favorite of mine as a child, coming

in a powdered concentration more like washing powder

than bubble bath. By the time Miki could 

enjoy it, they had a liquid form as well.

Bottle shaped like Mr. Bubble himself.

Our visits ended with a bath given by,

you guessed it, Aunt Lil.

The thing with Miki, just as he has lived the first half

of his life, nothing was in moderation.

A whole bottle of Mr. Bubbles went in the tub.

I won't ever know in his mind whether this was 

intentional making sure I would be back the next day

to take him on our ride or he truly needed Mr. Bubbles.

The reason made no difference because

I can admit, I loved these outings as much as he did.

It has always been one of our favorite memories that

we have spoken about often through his life.

I was his babysitter, his aunt Lil but 

always, always his friend.

Even today I hope he remembers that I was always

there for him dishing out as much tough love as 

I did tender love. 

Getting that photos of sweet Emalyse brought back

all these memories and so much more.

I wish life was not so busy that she and her brother

could know me better

but just receiving the photo make me realize

that they know Aunt Lil even if it is mostly 

by stories, told by their Dad,

about

Mr. Bubbles. 

Love you, Dear Miki.

The Letter

A few weeks ago, my cousin, Buddy's wife, Phena asked for

my mailing address:

"... I was going through Mrs. Anita's scrapbooks

 (my daddy's sister, my godmother, her Mother in law)

and found a letter your Dad wrote to the family"

I sent her my address and expected a small postcard saying hi.

Yesterday, in my mailbox was a wet envelope from Phena.

(time to get a new mailbox but that is another story entirely)

What I received, what I will share with my siblings is a jewel

of a letter written in my Daddy's handwriting that immediately recognize.

Always, when signing his name he added that line underneath Freddie

with a dash going through the horizontal line.

  There is no doubt that he put the ink to this paper.

As I read the letter, my eyes fill with tears.

Mixed emotions as I read my Daddy's words to his parents.

1944, I was far from being thought of, born in 1963.

In his words I read through the lines so much.

His way of letting his parents know the inevitable, 

trying to sound brave but his fear comes through.

He trying to calm the fears of his family while I can only

imagine just how scared he was.

Bravery as he speaks of going to avenge the one he loves

as he had lost his baby brother months before at the age of 18

 in the very same war he was about to fight, WWII.

That he spent his morning in church touched me as I can 

count on one hand how many times Dad went to church 

with us yet he was steadfast in making sure us kids went every week.

At the age of 26, having my two oldest siblings being born

and raised by my Momma in the bar room he had opened, 

one my Mom ran and kept open until he returned home.

When you loose your Daddy at the age of 20, you know it was too young.

Yet, I was also glad he lived to see me grow to an adult and witness

me receive my nursing license, a dream he knew I had wanted since

the age of 5.

The letter had me realize though that I was too young to have lost my Dad.

All the questions and conversations we had not had because

I was just too young to know how much he had sacrificed

to raise us all, what questions I would have asked had I been older.

Here I share a rare jewel, a gift from a cousin, found in my Nannie's scrapbooks.

( here it is again in two parts for easier reading)

Daddy rarely spoke of the war. Most from that war did not.

Each story he did share with me is locked in my memories.

One of the rare things he did speak of was one I have always

kept close to my heart and shared with many as it 

says so much of what a terrible thing war is, even if

it is a necessity sometimes.

"The day I was shot was the happiest day of my life because

I knew I was either dying or going home."

The front line fighting was over for him.

I can't thank Buddy and Phena enough for returning this

to my siblings and I. The original will be framed and hung in

the cottage as each of my siblings will get a copy of this gift.

In closing, I would like to believe one of the things I 

was given from my Daddy was not wealth, not riches

but the wonderful gift of writing.

Mrs. Loretta, like no other...

Over a year ago, Boo took me to visit a lady.

No, I don't know if lady is the right word....

A matriarch, a classy woman, or maybe her name

stands alone with no subtitles,

Mrs. Loretta Beech.

It was one of those beautiful cool days where we

rode around Gonzales without me knowing where we

might be going next. 

Finally the truck pulled up in the driveway of this

huge home, I would say a Louisiana Mansion.

"I used to work with this lady and her sons"

He explained.

No other words were needed for the encounter I was

about to meet.

He rang the bell of this front door that seemed to be

as large as the whole front of the cottage.

When the door opened, there she was, 

a miniature lady with a cast on her arm who I had

now remembered meeting at Mrs. Barbara's memorial.

Her size meant nothing when this woman began

to speak and talk. The reason for our visit became

apparent when she led us around the home to a painting

she wanted Randy to have because he had given it to her.

As he looked at the huge, ornate framed painting of a bird.

she insisted he had given this to her and she wanted to return it

as she was selling and moving with her son to Mississippi.

He was almost speechless as she insisted this was his.

You don't argue with a woman like Mrs. Loretta.

From that moment on, the painting was his

"because she said so".

It is how she was, that little firecracker of a woman spoke 

and you listened. After she gave us the most awesome tour

of the Louisiana mansion that stood with a "For Sale" sign

in the yard, we sat in her family room

and did what we just don't do enough of

anymore, we talked. There was no rush in the visit. Although

the broken hand she held upright must have been hurting

she was going to command when the visit was over.

Then the stories began and I found out more about Randy

that I may have never known had it not been for this beautiful woman.

She and her first husband had began a boat business that Randy

worked for back in the 80's. When her husband died

she took over his duties along with her sons and became

like a second Mom to boo. 

Even with that said, she was a tough cookie back then.

They talked of old times,

the great work boo did along with some mistakes he made in life.

She said things like the way they were, but she also 

 made it clear that she saw the man he could be and

kept him close to her through the business.

 I believe Boo chalks up his work ethics and the man

he is today partially to this woman, from the way he speaks of her.

It was evident the way she spoke of him and to him that

she adored and loved him and the feeling was mutual.

There were a few times when her words put tears in Randy's eyes

making him choke up. This does not happen often with boo,

yet she was able to bring him to this point more than once.

She didn't care. If she had something to say, she was saying it

whether you were choked up, crying or laughing.

Funny, a story teller, I admired her, fell in love with her the first

time I met her. The type of Mother/woman figure you hope

to become when you are in your 80's.

Let me give you another glimpse of who this woman was.

Boo's mom had been cremated and although she was in 

a very sturdy jar she loved from Spain, it was not to be her

final resting spot. Boo was always looking for a better urn

to place her remains in. He questioned Mrs. Loretta about

one of her many beautiful things that surrounded her dwelling.

He explained his dilemma questioning where

he might be able to find one of her pieces to buy one.

  Without even thinking about it she tells him to get it.

He picks it up and brings to her and she says simply,

"It's yours"

He tried to protest, but her commanding voice again made me

realize, no one questions Mrs. Loretta.

After about a two hour, maybe longer visit, we begin to

say goodbye. As we leave I know I will never forget this 

little lady, no this woman.

Her body may have been frail but her commanding presence

reminded you she was still "the boss".

We may have left her beautiful home, but boo still had lots

of stories to tell. He shared of how this woman molded him,

never gave up on him, even when he didn't deserve it, she

gave him chances that not everyone who worked for her got.

Of course, she also was not afraid to chew his Arse if he needed it,

but she saw the man he was to become way before he did.

I know this visit meant so much to the both of them.

It even meant so much to me.

After that visit, we spoke many times of going back and visiting

her again. Because the beautiful painting hangs in his living room,

we think of her every time we look at it.

  Just as life seems to do to us, it got busy and complicated and

we never made it for another visit.

Yet, we spoke of her many times

and each time, just how much she meant to him/us was

present in every story.

This morning, Boo with a heavy voice says he got some

very bad news this morning.

His beloved Mrs. Loretta passed away at 88 years old.

We do not know of the specifics but we are both so very sad

to hear this news. We talk for about 15 minutes about what a loss,

and how we wished we had made it there to visit with her.

As much as I wish we had, one visit was enough for me to know

I will not only never forget her but her impression on my heart

will be there forever. RIP you beautiful little woman.

Many prayers for her family who I know are feeling a huge loss

this morning. I will end this extended blog, that still does not

seem like enough to try and put her character into words, with the words

of a song that I hope gives comfort to all those who loved her:

JUST 'CAUSE I'M LEAVIN'

IT DON'T MEAN THAT 

I WON'T BE RIGHT BY YOUR SIDE

WHEN YOU NEED ME

AND YOU CAN'T SEE ME

IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

JUST CLOSE YOUR EYES AND SAY A PRAYER

IT'S OKAY, I AIN'T SCARED

I MIGHT BE HERE

BUT I'LL ALWAYS BE RIGHT THERE

EVEN THOUGH I'M LEAVIN'

I AIN'T GOING NOWHERE

                                                    Luke Combs lyrics

AUNT JEANNIE, THE LOVE OF SONS

I am so very saddened to write that my Daddy's baby sister,

his last living sibling, JEANETTE COLLINS ESERMAN,

 passed away on Saturday, July 4th 

due to complications from a fall at her home.

The last of my Aunts and Uncles on both sides of my parents.

A generation ended.

Let me share a bit about my thoughts during this time.

Just a few months ago, we buried my Uncle Roy, her husband.

It was before the quarantine and such a beautiful tribute to his

life of Catholic service. Now Aunt Jeannie has joined "Daddy"

which is the only thing I ever remember her calling him.

This couple, married over 55 years, were simple yet such

hard workers. A funny couple, always lovingly fussing with each 

other but there was no doubt of their love.

They never lived above their means, raised their two sons,

Reggie and Jude to be smart, caring men who have

contributed so much to the World.

How proud they both were of these boys and their families.

Aunt Jeannie, given the chance, was going to tell you all her boys

had achieved and what their children and daughter in laws were

doing. She was a "one of a kind" kind of aunt.

I loved going to her home when Reggie and I were young.

I loved old homes even back then and their home always had

things to admire. I know she is free from anything that ever

hurt her in this world.

Now I want to take a little bit of space to brag on my cousins.

First, Jude, their oldest, although lived away, did what he could

stayed in touch, came down when either of his parents needed him.

Good Sons...

and Reggie, oh my dear cousin, Reggie.

The epitome of a good son. 

Because Jude lived so far away, most of the care of their 

parents lay on the shoulders of Reggie.

Working in Golden Meadow Middle School and living in Raceland,

every day he stopped in to check on the both of them.

After his Dad died he found himself the soul caregiver for his Mother.

She did not want to leave her house to go to a nursing home or 

assisted living. She was always a home bound type of woman and 

he was going to do all he could to respect her wishes.

Pay bills, fill meds., doctor appts. Upkeep of the home,

all of this rested on him.

So I want to share what I shared with him as we spoke on 

the phone on that Saturday morning as he sat near his

deceased Mothers hospital bed.

I reminded him:

"You have nothing, not one thing to feel quilty about.

you have been the best son to both your parents and

even more so since your Dad passed away. When it would

have been easier and probably better for her to be in a 

nursing home, she did not want that so you made it possible

for her to stay in the home she loved."

I know Jude would have done all the same things had he

been closer. I say to my dearest cousin Reggie,

"AS I CONTINUE TO THINK OF THE LOSS OF SUCH

A BIG PART OF OUR CHILDHOOD I THINK OF YOU, 

REGGIE AND I AM COMFORTED BY THE THOUGHT THAT

WHEN MY TIME COMES THAT I NEED HELP, IF MY SON 
AND DAUGHTER ARE HALF

 OF WHAT YOU WERE TO YOUR PARENTS, 

I WILL HAVE DONE A FINE JOB. YOU ARE THE

EPITOME OF WHAT A GREAT SON LOOKS LIKE.

MATTER OF FACT, IF YOU LOOK UP THE

WORD SON IN THE DICTIONARY YOUR NAME MIGHT 

JUST BE THERE. LOVE YOU DEAR COUSIN"

...and I do, always have, loved both my Eserman cousins,

but because Reg and I were the same age,

we were close and continue to be.

So as her life, like this blog comes to a close, I understand

that his Mothers funeral will be so very different than his Fathers.

Very private, closed casket and immediate friends and family only,

I think how appropriate for Aunt Jeannie as that is who she was.

She quietly stood behind her Husband, never wanting the spotlight

on her, private and loved spending her days in her home.

RIP Aunt Jeannie, I know it was some type of reunion up in 

Heaven with all the Collins Clan together now forever,

and I am more than sure there was a choir to meet her

and Uncle Roy was waving his hands directing that choir

to be the best for his beloved "Momma" wife.

The Shire

" I paint home portraits on slate covered with old music sheets"

Is usually my short answer to what I do as a retired nurse

who now finds herself with this new found talent of painting.

Most of my paintings are so much more as something 

beautifully odd or almost miraculous comes about more

often than not. This brings me to the story of THE SHIRE.

I have young friends I call the Barker twins.

These girls, I swear remind me of myself when I was 

their age. They both are little momma's and animated 

and we have great conversation when we speak/text.

Kristen has ordered quite a few portraits from me and

says she loves my work. Each time she picks up a piece,

she puts her name down for more portraits. Kayla,

likes to talk about as much as me but just maybe

one notch lower than I. I call them my Barker twins.

So here is the story:
A few weeks ago, Kristen' name is up once again for a painting.

I text her, "K, your name is up and I have written that it is for

your boss."

She excitedly explains that she wants that spot!
 Her Mom has lost one of her best friends just days
before from a horrible tractor accident while working on his master piece.
THE SHIRE
Yes, he owns a home he calls the Shire. He also was a single

parent for many years to his one child who now lives in London. 

In the middle of a global pandemic, she was able to get a private plane

to get as close as she could to her deceased Daddy who 

was everything to her childhood.

Then the "miracles" or coincidences started happening.

I did not know this man, he was a retired lawyer who

had his Shire moved to his land in three pieces and put his carpentry 

work to use as he was bringing the Shire back to its beautiful beginning.
With the twins history, they say after he finished law school he traveled
the World by back pack and fell in love with Paraquay and Uruguay.

He built a guest house in the image of a cajun home from the 

ground up. He tore down an old barn and gave most of the wood

to Kayla twin so she could build a stand for her baby's birthday.

From the minute I got the text, and then the photos, I was deep into 

this project. I studied all the most beautiful photos of the home  

and felt like this man was with me from the beginning.
I even felt like I could see his shadow in the windows of the photos he sent.

Along with the photos I used to paint the Shire, I also taped up a photo
of himself, and his daughter, Jessica when she was young for inspiration.

Yet, as I began, I felt he was making sure I got it right as it was going

to be a gift for the woman he loved, his baby girl.

This home, this estate was beautiful, the work he

was doing here was phenomenal.
Sometimes I felt his hand led my work.

I love every home I paint and as I have said before, because I pray

for the family I am painting for and asked many questions,

many special things come to pass my work. it is far more than

just a painting. However, this one had me feeling I was not

the one in control of this piece.

As I was finishing up ideas began to come into my head,

"Add a very small photo of he and his daughter when she was young."

"Wood burn a piece of the barn wood to say 'THE SHIRE'"

Paint his dog in the front of the house,

"Paint a carving in the tree that says Papa loves J".

I looked at the songs I picked, two hymns about love

and the middle one I tore out of a Led Zepplin music book

"STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN"

A poem I had called  THIS IS MY FATHERS WORLD

and it was so fitting to this man I never met that I had to add 

it along with a love letter to the back of the slate.

It was then time to show the Barker twins my finished project:

Just like they always do, they praised my work and could not wait to

gift it to this grieving daughter, Jessica.

I was nervous, I was excited, I could not wait for her reaction.

Yes, I cried watching this, yes I want to meet this daughter

whose Daddy loved her to pieces.

Yes, I'm saddened that I never got to personally meet her Father.

But I cannot say I feel like he is a stranger as 

like i have said, he has been with me from the beginning of this project.

It was one piece, maybe the only piece I was actually saddened to finish.

As I sealed it, took down all the photos I had taped all over my work

station, I was sad about it being done.

I cannot thank the Barker twins enough for trusting me with this 

most precious gift to an only child who must be hurting in 

ways she can't even yet begin to comprehend.

I pray that as she travels back home to London, with THE SHIRE

accompanying her, she places it in a place where she can be

comforted on those hard days. I pray that it is comfort it brings

always. I ask that you all remember this story and remember this 

family that did not loose their loved one to Cover-19, but to 

something that he just loved doing, remodeling his beautiful 

Shire. May he rest In Peace.

Thanks again, Barker twins, I love you two to pieces!

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

Bringing back a 1974 memory....

Almost a year to the date, a friend of mine, Tina Leger

sent me a text:

"Would you consider remodeling my childhood dollhouse?"

Whether she reached out to me because of my house portraits 

or of other crafts I have done, or if she knew I had a love for miniatures

and have a wide collection and a history of mini building,

I am so glad she did.

I almost immediately said, "I would be honored."

Last June I picked up her childhood dollhouse built by her 

GodParents when she was 5 in 1974.

Right away I was excited, loved the build, knowing it was not built 

by any kit I had worked with before.

Tina had made notes for me of things that she would like to have

me add to the home but other than that, she gave me free reign

saying "I trust your judgement, your talent."

I did not work on it for almost a year.

It was protected in my back yard shop.

The shop however, was a small mess. 

Not an area I was crazy about working in at the time.

It was filled with things I had made and was more storage than shop.

Even though I was not working on it, my mind was thinking 

of things I wanted to do with it, looking at miniature magazines again,

looking at on-line sites, storing ideas in my head.

Window boxes, shingled roof... but I still did not start it.

Then the pandemic started, Quarantine began, I still had over

90 home portraits to do but I felt it was time to get my shop in order

as well. I knew my friend, Tina was like me, missing her little grand girl.

She was this sweet girls every day sitter as her Mother taught other

people's children. When schools closed down, this little Momma

was able to be a stay home Mom for a time and she had to be so 

glad for that aspect of quarantine. Not so much for her Lovey.

I am proud of her son and his little family as I am for

my son and his family, taking this quarantine serious,

but has us grandparents lonesome.

So, in that aspect I needed to start the dollhouse for myself as well.

So the shop got put back in order, I primed the whole house and 

began an old craft that I had put on the back burner a time ago.

I split my days partly doing the dollhouse and the other part painting

my  home portraits. Yet, was getting drawn into this house.

As I worked on it, adding shingles, wall papering the inside,

building and filling window boxes, I thought

of the little girl who had loved this little house

and that same little girl, now a grandmother, Lovey, and the

memories she would be making with her sweet Grandgirl.

I remembered my own little dollhouse I had as a child,

nothing home built such as this, just a little plastic house

that I absolutely loved. I remember putting the little house

in sunlight so the light would come through the windows

and my little family had sunlight to live in.

I prayed for Tina and her family as I worked and 

enjoyed this project.

The inside of the home had never been more than white painted walls.

So I began doing all those things I used to do,

wallpaper, make wood floors, moldings,

I was finding another love that I had put on the back burner

for too long.

I put all Lovey's ideas she had sent with the house on sticky notes

and incorporated them into her house.

She wanted me to also do something I had never done before, 

that was to merge my dollhouse reconstruction  with my

painting.

I could not wait to complete the inside, paint the outside,

add roofing shingles so I could start painting trees, shrubs, etc.

A dog house was needed I made one and added it to the side.

window boxes were filled with little flowers I had been saving

for years waiting for a project that needed them.

I made curtains, sealed walls and floors so that

a two year old sweet pea could play with it to her

hearts content.

I began sending photos to Lovey and with each photo

came a compliment or admittance of tears being shared.

A text saying,

"I am so happy with my dollhouse. You brought it back

to life and its much prettier than it was from the day I 

got it. This was enough to now make me shed tears.

This was a challenge of the heart. I wanted to give

Lovey all she wanted so she could share many years with her 

Sweet Pea....

And as I always try to do, I pick up things

at thrift stores, garage sales, etc. I save them because

I know a time will come that it will mean something

big to someone else. One of Lovey's notes were

to add something like the flower, sweet pea or 

something to remind Sophia that she was her Lovey's 

Sweet Pea. Then I remembered and I hunted...

for a pure silver small top that had a sweet pea

on it......

... and when I finally found it, it was perfect! 

A perfect fit behind the dollhouse right below the chimney!

Not only are there two little peas that move around in the pod 

but the saying was perfect for Lovey and her little Sweet Pea.

"SHALL WE STICK TOGETHER AS LONG AS WE LIVE?"

Yes, with every piece of work I do, there is at least one

of these small miracles/coincidences that are hard to explain.

With that the dollhouse was finished and delivered to 

my wonderful friend. What an honor to be such a big

part to such a wonderful piece.!

Thanks, Tina!

Addendum:

"What so ever you do for the least of your brothers, that you do unto me"

It has taken me some time to write this blog.

I was missing my grand girls as Tina was missing her Sophia

so it was hard to find the things I wanted to share here.

As I took upon this project another dear friend,

JoAnne Kauffman, was looking for someone to gift 

her miniature collection to. Another friend, Gloria

told me about Jo's post and I immediately sent her a message.

I am the chosen and I am overwhelmed that as I finished

this project, having me follow my love for miniatures once 

again, here was someone who I have known since her daughter

and I were friends in middle school, who I then worked with for

many years at Lady of the Sea who wants to gift me her 

collection! Saturday the boo and I will pick up these 

kits, and tools, and books all about Miniature world

and I am just so very excited! 

When you do for others, things come to you.

I don't know how I will ever thank JO enough...