Siblings Unite

Yesterday was a rare affair.

Many do not know that the Collins children span

from Simone, the oldest 81 and myself, youngest at 57, 23 years.

Something happens when the matriarch and the patriarch dies.

My Dad died in 1983 and part of us all went with him.

Family gathering that were once mandatory became "if you can make it"

in the big house we were raised in.

We were not all able to stay as close as we were when he was alive.

Yet, we tried, and we tried hard. 

Celena, sister and her hubby Ted bought the family home 

and every Christmas while Mom was living,

hosted Christmas Eve at their house. For my family

it was a given, go to church then meet at C and Ted's.

It no longer was mandatory but on any given Christmas you 

never knew who would be there. Oh what fun we had at these gatherings.

Like all families, they became extended the little children became

adults and it just became harder to gather as a family.

Then Mom died..... and another piece of our heritage and heart 

went with her as well. C and Ted sold the family home

as their little family no longer needed so much space.

All of us became busy in our own lives and although some of us 

remained visiting whenever we could it was always one here

or three there. It was not all together as it had been in the past.

Simone made the decision to go to a nursing home when her health 

became that she needed medical intervention daily.

We all tried to visit as much as we could, many of us

made her birthday celebration each year but never all of us.

Then Covid... what covid took from us...

Let me be sensitive to those not as fortunate as us,

we have been blessed that none of us died from this dreaded disease.

I know many families have not been as lucky.

What it did take away from my sister, was family,

visiting, hugs, kisses, relationships. 

The home had to keep her and their other residents safe, we 

all understood and appreciated that.

For her, she had to be lonesome, with long days.

Some of us visited at the window when we could always

at different times but that does not give you the human touch we all need.

So it was a wonderful feat when C was able to coordinate

a day at the home where we all could visit at once.

We surprised her with all 5 of us with a visit that allowed

some of us to hug and kiss her for the first time in over a year.

The gathering was also for us siblings as well as we

realize always how we need to gather in the name of

our Collins family and our parents honor.

We sat for three hours just talking...

talking about our families, sharing photos, my brother 

speaking about Vietnam and we  all shared what that

war did to him and our family. Most of our memories

are personal but I will say that we all left there with a better 

understanding of how our lives have led us to the 

people we are today. I was able to ask and get answers to 

questions that I had about when I had cancer.

It was a beautiful day and we all felt the love our

parents bestowed to us when they made us a Collins

Simone Marquerite

Lawrence Joseph (diseased)

Veronica Ann

Peter Romel

Rosanna Marie

Celena Monique

Lillian Therese

Connected by blood, United by love.

Thanks siblings 

"... and I don't know if you knew so I'm taking this chance to say

that I had the best day with you today"

-taylor swift

 

Notes

This morning, after fixing my coffee, I see this

bright orange sticky note under my chalk board...

Of course, I am curious enough to have to look at it, 

figuring its one of the grandgirls who put it there.

I know right away it is Jolee when I see her spelling

and change of ink colors,

"MUMSIE'S COTEIGE"

Yep, that is our JoJo.

She has Mumsie correct, Cottage, spelled as she hears it.

I chuckle to myself as I remember this message she left on

another visit, 

"ROBOT'S RULE" 

That day she was practicing her robot moves around the cottage 

so I again, knew it was her art work.

 I also knew because she is the one more apt to leave me

small messages such as these around.

I believe she will be most like me when it comes

to writing, reading and making sure she leaves a mark in her world.

It also brought me back once again to a childhood memory I remembered.

My mom, when I was growing up, worked at Randolph's Restaurant

in front of our street. She could walk there as she didn't drive

and I can see her even now, walking there is her starch white 

nursing uniforms which was the attire for waitresses back then.

She usually had the morning shift and would be back home before

I got home from school but there were evening when she was

called to work. I didn't like these nights.

I always felt most secure when both Mom and Daddy were home 

when I went to bed. Therefore, on these nights I tried to stay up 

to wait for her. Because some were school nights I was not allowed 

to wait up. Yet, on those evenings as I thought of her 

taking people's food orders as I made my way to bed I 

would leave her little notes on the kitchen table. 

I wish Mom was one who would have saved such notes

as it would be hysterical to read them now. 

I was a nighttime kisser and hugger and liked laying across

her recliner so she could rub my back so when she was not there

that connection was lost. Although I can't remember what I wrote on those

notes, I have the memories of sitting in the kitchen writing these

notes. I remember feeling like I wanted her to know

I loved her, I missed her and what better way to talk of how

you are feeling rather than writing it down.

How I miss the days of growing up and being able to 

spark those memories when looking at a sticky note that now

lives under my chalkboard. I will save them.

One day Jolee will be an adult and I know she will be sparked

of memories when looking into Mumsie's scrapbooks.

1968, a little girl, and a disease called cancer.

The year was 1968, the disease, cancer.

Childhood cancer called Wilm's Tumor.

Back then, without the development of MRI's or CT scans,

there was X-ray, radiation and chemotherapy and surgery.

and although these treatments are still used today,

they were much different than today's treatments.

Wilm's Tumor back then was considered only to have a 10 percent

survival rate, now is almost always curable.

So, I come across this small photo today and I remember

the event well. How much a 5 year old can remember still

amazes me. This photograph, taken by the Time Picayune

made the newspaper to showcase this young artist who was 

painting the halls of Touro Infirmary where I had recently 

been diagnosed with cancer. I was chosen to model with her.

No, they did not let me really paint but how

prolific that 52 years later, I would hang up my

nursing cap to become an artist.

It was a good day. I had not yet started chemotherapy so my hair

was still there and I did not know yet just how sick those medicines

would make me. I had the 'train marks' on my belly put there

by some doctors and nurses who were in charge of

radiation, and although they brought me into a treatment

room without my parents to draw these marks I had

yet to receive the radiation that would burn my skin

and cause lasting problems. 

Yes, there I am at 5 years old, with my little pink robe and 

bunny slippers innocent to the unknown that my parents and family

was facing. I can look at this little girl and now feel 

compassion for her.

Although I have no bitterness for the things that saved my life back

then and am so very glad that I not only survived but have had

this beautiful life because of those treatments, I do wish back then

adults explained more to little children as they do now.

Ironic thing is, all the things they thought they were protecting

me from by not telling me did not do that.

Instead, this five year old little girl kept her feelings inside of herself.

Her fears were real and yet she kept them to herself because

isn't that what the others were teaching her?

Her fears were the same her loved ones had and yet

they were kept inside and sealed away because we were not

to speak of it. The little girl grew up and thankfully, beat the

odds given to her back in 1968. 

Now I speak for that little girl and try to be a beacon of hope

and honesty for all those other little girls and boys out there

who face cancer, for all those who will grow up and beat their own

odds that are stacked against them. I write because I want those

little children and their families to know that hope must exist.

That even though their lives may not be into adulthood that

their path matters.

For one day there will be another child like

them facing the horrors of cancer and the treatments that are needed

to beat them and their lives has played a part in the 

course of that other little child's hand that life had dealt them.

We don't always understand this life.

I don't believe it is meant for us.

However when little children suffer people not only hear it

but they feel it, deep down where their own souls live.

Every life matters and this is not noticed more than when

a small child faces unbeatable odds.

It is why I speak out, not for myself anymore but for the

job I must continue to do. 

Because I survived I carry the torch for others who will walk

this unfavorable path. I must be a voice of hope as no matter the 

treatments, the radiation, the surgeries, the long term effects of

those said treatments, life is still good...

so, so good and I have no doubt that the life after this one

will be as well.

Walk on my fellow childhood cancer peeps, speak out boldly

don't be afraid, you will be okay your family will be okay.

Oh, and....

THANK YOU!

Thank you for your life of service against this dreaded disease.

It matters, your life matters.

 

Falling In Love, not just for lovers

If you know me, you know I am a lover of words.

I love to look at the bigger picture, reading between the lines,

trying to explain my vision to others who may not 

view things in the same way.

So this morning, as I searched through photos to find

the perfect photo of my Dad for Fathers Day,

I cam across this quote.

Jeez, I wish I had written that myself.

I am and tend to fall in love with those

similar to myself, who hear a song and feel the same

emotions you did the first time you heard it,

what you were doing on that said time.

An old soul, I was known to be had. 

Falling in love, well its not just for lovers.

It is also that which you have for your children and grandchildren,

that unconditional love.

Then there are those for your friends, your besties,

cousins and neighbors who also land up becoming 

loving friends along with the other titles.

As I continue to work on the book I am writing,

I use my love for words to try and explain all the deep emotions

I feel on any given day, the thoughts or things I hear and see

that have me going on a rampage of thoughts and deep feelings

I have. Someone recently told me that my home portraits are 

more than just a painting, they are an experience.

I love that saying so much that I am contemplating putting it

on my business cards. To ge a feel of the place I am painting

is key to my art. That so many see and get my vision is a

God given blessing. I have not painted for many who have

not become my friends... 

Yes, I love these as well and my list that I add to daily does

not overwhelm my heart to the point that I cannot add

another person, another song, another book, another blog

to my growing list of "falling in love".

 

Lafourche Gazette and new blood

Although I now reside in Plaquemine, Iberville Parish,

for the first 40 years of my life I lived in Lafourche Parish, below Intracoastal

otherwise known as "Down the bayou".

This term consisted of a few small towns that run in to each other

and you are not really sure where one begins and the other ends.

Plaquemine is quite similar to this, with one exception,

there is no bayou running between the two highways of 1 and 308.

It was a great place to grow up and to raise my children.

Like all small towns, almost everyone knows each other and 

gossip can run rapid. Yet let someone in the community get sick or 

pass away and prayers and help come from the whole bayou.

Growing up in Golden Meadow was a great place to be a kid.

Everything a kid wanted was in walking distance of my home.

The things I could not walk to came to me in the way of 

our hometown newspaper, The Lafourche Gazette.

A free newspaper that was thrown in your driveway once a week back in the 1970's.

How I waited for this newspaper! Always being a big reader,

I knew this paper would give me all the information I would need

to fill me in on the happenings of our bayou.

Yes, it also included some local gossip, making it popular as

when someone had a loose tongue it was said that they could

"work for the Lafourche Gazette"

It told of new businesses opening, where the best sales were,

who had died and what was for sale. Classified section was usually 

less than a page but there you could find a job, see who was achieving 

awards at their schools. There were tributes to family members who had passed

and "letters to the editor".

I loved letters to the editor and have been known to put my thoughts in 

a few publications of the "throw away paper" as my family called the small

bundle of information. Even when I left the bayou at 40 to move 

to the big town of Thibodaux I received the Gazette as you could have it mailed

to you if you ever "crossed the Intracoastal" and moved up North.

Then, the World Wide Web happened. Electronics became the way

of life for most of the world and our bayou followed the trend, 

albeit a tad slower than the rest of the world.

Enter Casey Gisclair. A young man at this time, he grew up when

the WWW was becoming a thing. He became an editor for

our little newspaper and incorporated it to the digital world. 

Once most of us had found Facebook, we realized that we could

now continue our walk with our beloved Gazette thanks to Casey.

On any given day you can, from Facebook, go to 

Bayou memories, Lafourche Gazette, Casey Gisclair and find there

some of his work. Whether it be his Weekend Warriors, Player of the Week,

or my favorite online thread, Back in the Day, you will find

his work to be that of wonderful work ethics and pride in 

the community so many of us call home.

Being the child of Freddie Collins who was a professional photographer

back before taking a photo was as easy as picking up your phone,

When I see a photo my Dad took my heart skips a beat.

When Casey showcases a certain date, I go back to see what was

happening down the bayou on that said day.

I am honored to be a part of not only our DTB family

but to speak highly of Casey and our little "Throw away paper"

that has survived through the decades.

It's a way of living that I like to call "cheers years"

"Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name,

and they always glad you came..."

Thank you Casey for making this possible.

Thank you Lafourche Gazette for continuing the legacy so many of us

depend upon. 

THE STUDIO

 YESTERDAY I PLAYED IN THE STUDIO ALL DAY.

I HAD JUST FINISHED A HOME PORTRAIT AND WAS

WAITING FOR PHOTOS OF MY NEXT ORDER, SO

I HAD SOME FREE TIME TO FINISH UP OTHER 

CREATIONS THAT I HAVE BEEN WORKING ON.

I SAT ON THE FLOOR TO COMPLETE A PAINTING

FOR MY GODCHILD'S FIRST CHILD.

AS I SAT ON THE WOODEN FLOOR OF THE STUDIO,

I NOTICED JUST HOW MUCH PAINT, MARKER AND GLUE

WAS ON THE FLOOR. I WENT TO GET MY "MAGIC ERASER"

TO CLEAN UP SOME OF THESE STAINS ON MY HARD WOOD FLOOR.

YET, AS I BENT DOWN TO WIPE AWAY THESE IMPERFECTIONS,

I BEGAN TO REMINISCE... 

HERE IS THE PURPLE MARKER JEMMA USED TO COLOR A PICTURE

FOR ME TO HANG IN THE STUDIO.

THERE WAS THE GLUE THAT JILLIAN USED WHEN LEARNING HOW

TO APPLY MODGE PODGE TO HER ART.

THEN THERE WAS THE PRIMARY COLOR PAINTS THAT JOLEE

ADDED WHEN SHE ACCIDENTLY WENT OVER HER CANVAS.

I WAS NOT ABLE TO WIPE ANY AWAY.

THERE WERE SOME FROM THE TEENAGERS I USED TO TEACH ART TO

AND SOME FROM MY NEW LITTLE NEIGHBOR WHO HELPED 

MYSELF AND THE GRANDGIRLS MAKE TAGS FOR THE 

LEMONADE STAND. 

SO MANY WONDERFUL MEMORIES ARE STORED ON EACH MARK.

I STOOD UP FEELING VERY NOSTALGIC AND REALIZED

THAT IT IS A STUDIO AND STUDIO FLOORS SHOULD HAVE 

STAINS ON THEM, THEY SHOULD BE IMPERFECTLY PERFECT.

AS I WENT BACK TO THE PAINTING, I ADDED ANOTHER

PAINT STAIN TO THE FLOOR AND SAID TO MYSELF,

"THIS IS WHERE I SAT WHEN PAINTING BABY ELLIS'

DR. SUESS PAINTING."

...And all seemed right in the world.

On handwriting...

Recently, i found out that many schools are doing away with script writing

which goes along with handwriting. 

this makes me sad for a lot of reasons.

a teacher recently said they thought handwriting was not something

children of today need to learn, it was obsolete except for their signature.

Recently I went to a baby shower and the little momma asked if

someone could read her a card that was written in script.

it was my card and I take a lot of pride in my cards and the love letters

i write in them, always in my own handwriting.

handwriting is so personal to each person and says so much about who 

we are, how we learned the craft of writing.

I can remember vividly when, in the 4th grade, we not only got 

to start writing with an ink pen but also began learning script.

after the basic structure taught by one of my favorite aunts,

i put in my own personality into my handwriting.

as i grew older, it went from little hearts and circles over my I's

to a more formal but personal script.

I worked so faithfully to make it pretty and even today

I take pride in my handwriting, which has become part print part script.

to think that my grandgirls will not be able to learn this traditions old

"write" of passage, makes me want this for them.

if their private school does not teach it, I plan on doing that

during the many hours we play school here at the cottage.

i not only want them to learn the fine art of script letter writing,

but i want them to forever be able to read the numerous love letters

that I write to each of them even long after I am gone.

I most certainly never want them to find themselves at an important event

in their lives and not be able to read something someone wants them to know

in their own unique style of writing.

handwriting is a form of art for me, each font of one is so unlike the other.

I want to experience the art my grandgirls make when deciding

the correct form for themselves. it truly says something about

the person who takes the time to formulate their own style instead of

searching for a font on the  word wide web is not something we see much

of today. I want my grands to know that feeling, the one you get,

with tongue between teeth as you learn the stokes of handwriting.

send a love note to someone you love today!

Facing the changes of getting older

Growing older, it's a strange thing.

For instance, when did I become 57 and why did I not know this?

Why does my body understand this and yet the mind feels much younger?

Ages have never really bothered me...

until recently.

It's small things that get me in the gut when I am not looking.

Like how can I have two children in their 30's?

How can my oldest grand girl be 10?

(or like I tell her, at the Cottage, no double digits she just had her 

first anniversary of her 9th birthday)

Why is my hair volume growing smaller but my nose gets bigger?

Why do I awake energized but when I try and get out of bed the body resists?

Why do I love my own company more as each day passes but

I long to see old friends, sit and visit with those said friends over coffee?

Why, do I awaken before the sun rises and want my Pj's and bed before 

that said sun goes down?

Why does the image in my head of my facial features not match

the view I see in the mirror?

Wrinkles are a strange thing as well.

Although I don't fret over that much, why when I put on makeup

to cover imperfections do more wrinkles exist?

But the one thing that seems to be the biggest challenge with getting older

is not the number the birth certificate says but the way

my mind tries to figure how much longer I have on this God given Earth.

"Will I still be here when the grandgirls are adults?"

"Will my children visit me as I get old and frail?"

"What is after this life and why do I fear the unknown of that afterlife?"

I can add questions probably daily but overall,

If i had to be honest, it's a pretty sweet life I lead.

Yes, the body is not what it used to be but the mind remains.

I am as content with how my life is turning out as I am with the

changes that come with age.

It's a good life and a peaceful life no matter what face stares back 

at me in the mirror.

A blogger I am....

 A blogger I am, and yet I have not been blogging as much as I should

nor getting my words out there for more to see.

So today, I press on trying to once again blog at least weekly

and to get as many subscribers as I can.

So this morning, let me REINTRODUCE my blog.

lilbitofmumsiesworld.blogspot.com

Is the name of this blog, my old one,

lilbitofmyworld.blogspot.com

is still out there in cyber- world and is jam packed

with writings that I began in 2008.

I am a divorced mother of two adult children,

Roddie and Jesi Riera.

I have two daughter in-laws, Katie and Delainy

and three wonderful grandgirls who call themselves the triple J's.

I live in a cute cottage in the Garden District of Plaquemine

that most know by Mumsie's Cottage...

How did it get its name you ask? (I am sure you asked that)

When my oldest grandgirl was 3 and I had just decided to buy the Cottage,

I took her to ride and view my find.

She was very much into nursery rhymes back then and as we 

drove up she exclaimed,

"Mumsie, it is just like the cottage on Goldilocks and the three Bears!"

and the name stuck. It is now the name of my art business as well

Mumsie's Cottage specializes on home portraits painted on slate and

old music sheets. The story of that I will write again here soon.

I am very blessed to have painted over 160 homes and have over 70 

clients waiting patiently for their own homes to be painted.

I was a nurse for 30 years and retired in 2014 due to medical complications

cause by radiation I received in 1968 for cancer.

Yep, I am also a childhood cancer survivor from back in the day

before MRI's, Ct scans and  protecting normal body areas from radiation.

No bitterness about being a survivor however, I know that every day I awaken

and am able to do the things I love is another day I am grateful for.

Also working on a book about the life I have lived and stories from

my battle of cancer as a child.

In a nutshell this is me, Lilly, Momma, Mumsie.

Stay tuned for more interesting topics....

Follow with me on this journey called life by 

subscribing to this blog.

Thanks so much to you all!