This time in our lives...

I was not going to blog about Corona Virus.

I feel like everyone is worried about it, it 

has changed our world and continues to bring havoc

to our Nation. Yet, in the midst of this Viral War,

I feel like maybe blogging some thoughts may help me

and in turn help a few others.

Being a retired nurse, we were taught about Pandemics.

However, I don't think any of us long ago believed

we would actually see it happen...

And then. it happened.

Preparation went rampant and now, in week three,

it has become real to so many of us.

We all know at least one family who is suffering from the 

virus and we all know at least a few people on the front lines

trying to not only keep this virus contained but putting

their own lives at risk to care for those who are already ill.

Every day there is news of just one more person I know

and love who fights on one of these fronts.

Our World has changed and like all fears,

the worst one is fear of the unknown.

I think of my three little grand girls that I miss so much

and how very glad I am for FaceTime and texting even

when I try to keep it to a minimum when they are here.

I am grateful that their Dad is home to be with them

and keep them busy. Their Mom, i am proud to say

goes every day into her nursing profession working in 

hospice care to make her difference. To have to 

strip and shower before she can love up on her babies.

Then there is my gypsy baby, Jesi and her wife, Del.

who are working very little with fine dining being 

Jesi's specialty. Not many out there needing fine dining

or catering of private parties.

Boredom is beginning to settle in for many and I am

thankful for my artistry work to keep me busy.

Today I decide to post, because yesterday I actually went
somewhere. I had a test at the hospital that could not be
put off any longer. (It all turned out fine, no worries)
As I drove to Thibodaux, another beautiful day made
me aware of how few cars are on the roads.
Is the air clearer because less pollution or
are the days more beautiful because they are not being
taken for granted right now.
Having worked in a hospital or in the medical profession
my whole career life, it was odd to be able to pick my parking spot.
Tape along the floors showing the distance of 6 feet, reminding
us of where to stand. I was at the Wellness Center, so not
many ill there, but a table was set up to check your temperature,
ask you questions all to make a decision as to whether you could
enter the building or not. No one asked for money, no one
checked me in except for making a copy of my insurance card.
Odd as usually they ask for money before a test.
It is just so different, the world we live in at present.
Last post was about making home made cards to send to
people. I never imagined just a few weeks later, we would
be quarantined to our homes, making home made cards
needed a whole lot more. I am so very thankful that
I can bring joy to people through my art and remodeling a doll house
for a friend. I stay busy but to say this has stopped me from missing
my family would be wrong.
I do have a belief in a Higher Power I choose to call God.
I also do not believe he cause this virus as some are believing.
Yet, I do think he may be behind all the changes in our world.
I don't think He loves us any less but sitting closely and watching
how people are beginning to think more of how we have been living,
taking family's, loved ones for granted, taking our world for granted.
He may have gotten tired of seeing all the hate in the World,
the pollution, etc. When someone dies because of complications
from Covid 19, some may ask
"Where is the God who could take this all away?"
I believe He knows that those who pass, who believe
in everlasting life in Heaven, are now with Him.
Yes, we are sad here but he knows these we love
are going to Him. I believe when this is all over,
when the young children of the world even forget this
time in their lives, we will not forget. I hope that we shall
all have more love for our fellow man, we will visit more,
relax more, work less. Tell those we love that we Love them,
not just assume they know. Our hearts are making big changes
and The Big Man, well he likes this I think.
When a pregnancy has always been exciting, now when
i hear of a new pregnancy I am over the top full of happy
for this miracle. such wonderful news when most we hear of
is death. MY godchild/great niece and her sweet "baby daddy"
Brendon are due to have their sweet Theo any day now...
Yet it will be different from before as only them two will
be allowed in the hospital. For some, this is a negative.
For her Mom, my niece and Brendon's Mom,
to not be with them when they welcome their grandchild into
the world, it has to be hard. Yet, as Tedi posted a writing
about how some of it is good, where for a few days it will
be just them three bonding, no visitors coming all hours
at a time when they may be overwhelmed. I have
no doubt that these two will do fine and little Theo will
be kept safe from harm.
One day, hopefully soon, this will become a distant memory
but let all hope that we never forget how lonely life
could be without those we love being close by.
Stay safe my friends, stay safe...
Oh, and if you do venture out....
Don't forget your mask!

Importance of snail mail.

Some of this blog may be repetitious from posts I have made

on this blog or my old blog, but some things

are worth saying more than once.

I am a lover of snail mail. 

Our mail carrying system, here in the Garden District

has lots to be desired yet

it has not stopped me from sending love via

a stamp and a post office.

I paint a lot, I paint daily, I paint because it is now

what I do for a living, painting home portraits.

That being said, I do little of what I used to do before

the painting gift, scrapbooking.

This weekend, I needed a thank you card

and I realized I was depleted on my homemade stash.

WHAT????

I will not buy a card.

One, they are way too expensive and two, it's not what I do.

I make greeting cards and have often thought before the

portraits that I would like to start my own greeting card line.

So, Saturday, I dedicated two hours to making hand made cards.

Nothing fancy, just set the timer for two hours and went at it.

I realized just how much I have missed making them.

How much a handmade card says to someone.

I always write personal love notes in any card i send

but the receiver has to know just how special they are to me

when they see "Mumsie's Cottage" stamp is on 

the back side. 

I know when I get a card or letter in the mail in the middle 

of bills and trash mail, I smile, i want to open it first.

I keep each letter or card I get because I know the person

spent time thinking of me. If a love letter is with it,

not just a signature, well that can change a life......

So go for it, make someone smile, if you are not a card maker,

they are two for a dollar at the dollar tree as well as

at Dollar General. If you want me to make you a bulk

for a lower price than Hallmark, let me know.

Whatever you decide, use snail mail, USPS

to send some love to a person who least expects it.

It does wonders for a persons day!

A time in my life...

I have always been blessed, for as long as I have lived,

to have nieces and nephews in my life.

Being born the baby of 7 children with 24 years between

the oldest in myself, I was basically raised with the

sibling offsprings more like siblings to me.

This post, however is not about their generation 

but their offspring, the next generation.

As I was looking for a photo to send along with my 

birthday love to Owen on his 16th birthday.

I have 25,000 photos and not much organization 

to it, so I knew that feat could take a while.

I also knew I would enjoy some of it.

This photo that I had forgotten came across and

although I did not remember the photo,

every memory of the day came flooding back.

It was a low point in my life, the end of a 30 year marriage.

 I was going to Thibodaux to meet up with family

 but I was not in the mood for a birthday celebration.

 That changed quickly as my niece, Rebecca not only makes 

the best cakes ever, but they also taste terrific, had made a special 

one for me. I walked into her home and there were her 

four children along with her two sisters, Tiffany and Tie, and their offspring.                                                                                                                                                                                                 I can still remember this small act of kindness                                                                                                                                                                                  toward their Great Aunt Lil and how it

changed the outlook of not just that day but my life.

I was uncertain of what my future would hold.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Each one of these seven children had made a difference to

who I was along with others that called me Aunt Lil.

That day I began to see a future and it was not so scary. 

I hoped each of these children would remember

 who I was to them as they grew up.

I always tried to spend time with the Greats,

a week with Auntie Lil during the summer, trying

to make as many of their extra curricular activities,

spending nights at their homes. I was always just 

a phone call away, and as I love saying so very often

I tried to be a "part of all their villages"

to the best of my ability.  

That day, the day they were still young but 

they made it a point to be there for Auntie Lil's birthday.

All of them now are between young adults and teens.

One a Mother, another soon to be a Mother.

One experiencing her first love, and one more

living in his own apartment attending college.

Still another, away in Alabama for college.

One in high school where his name is known 

and one more, the baby of the bunch, making milestones

as she acts and plays a musical instrument that is very rare.

My sister, Veronica's family.

Yet, I have many others with whom I could say are just

as special as these seven.

This day, I believe I probably should have been celebrating them,

they were full of love for me, with new outlooks that my single 

life would be okay and that I was loved by so many.

Wow, all of this while I looked through many photos

just to wish one a Happy Birthday!

Maybe another entry for the book.

Happy Sunday all!

                    (sorry for the typeset, I can't fix it)                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

Starting small to becoming something big

I am blessed with a big family.

So big that my great nieces and nephews are just as important

to me as my first generation ones are.

Today I want to brag on the great nephew on the

left of this photo.

This is Hugh John Plaisance,

My sister, Veronica's grandson, My niece Rebecca and

her hubby, Mikie's first born,

Older brother to Lucy, Owen, and Ellen.

Today he is my spotlight guest on the blog.

Not just for the awards he recently won at

a competition for his college, Nicholl's State University.

Also because of how he started his life.

My niece, his Mom, Rebecca had a hard pregnancy 

with this child from the minute she found out she

was pregnant. No details are needed here, just

know it was a hard pregnancy.

When she went into labor way too early,

I think at 27 weeks, we all gathered at the hospital.

I can remember it like yesterday.

We gathered for my sister and hubby,

we gathered for her in-laws but mostly 

we gathered to each silently pray for a miracle.

When you know a full term pregnancy is 40 weeks

and here is a little Momma threatening to deliver

at a little more than half that time, you pray... big...

For a few days on bedrest in hospital and meds,

they were able to hold off his delivery for a few days

but then came the day that nothing was going to stop his

birth. Where all our thoughts were at the time, we have

not all shared but I know I was there to support my sister 

and brother in law and my niece and nephew in case 

this child would be lost to them.

The labor began and the doctors and nurses began

to prepare us all. "He will be small" he said.

"He will not cry" she said,

"If he makes the delivery, he will probably be on life support"

they told us. 

we were prepared mentally, yet all our hearts were wearing our sleeves.

It became very real to me as my sister came out her

own daughters delivery room crying and reminding us

"I know we are all worried about this little baby, but that

is my baby in there who is about to become a Mother 

and suffering" Having my own children, I could understand

my sister's pain. We all stood around the

delivery room when we knew that baby boy was

coming, we could hear doctors, nurses, we never heard

my niece make a sound nor her husband who was probably 

whispering in her ear, "We got this"

It got very quiet at one point, quiet for those standing

around the door, quiet in the delivery room and after a few

minutes we all heard it, the small soft cry.....

of an under 2 pound baby boy. 

We all joined that cry. 

What transpired from that time to the age he is now

is one that could be written into a book.

He fought to live in the NICU,

my niece made the hospital hotel her home.

her Hubby joined her most days when not at work.

It was touch and go for days.

My niece would visit, touch him, cuddle him, read to him,

play classic music, whisper and sing to him.

He did not just survive he flourished.

Throughout his life, he has had some tough issues he

had to overcome yet he could not have been born to better 

parents. They, both being very smart, did and learned all

they could about premature babies. 

If you looked up patience in the dictionary, you might

just see their names there. 

this child has always been a super smart one when it came

to common sense and understanding things that

most children his age just would not understand.

I always use the story about when I visited him

at Christmas time when he was under three.

We were playing with his family nativity set

and i wrongly called one of the statues a Wise Man.

"Aunt Lil, he is not a Wise Man, do you see him

carrying any gifts, do you see any Frankincense, gold, or Myrrh?"

Yes, this two year old knew more about wise men than

his aunt Lil. In his early years, we had a close bond and

I would like to think, even if I rarely see him now

that he is a young adult, he still feels that bond as I do.

Yesterday as I sat at 4 am to check out what is going on in my

world via facebook, I come across the photo of my

nephew all grown up, making his way into the journalism part

of his college, having won not only an award with his

peers for the work they have done for their college newspaper,

4th place in Best College News Magazine,

where Hugh is the managing Editor 

but bringing home his own personal award,

third place for his Op-Ed writing!

how proud we all are of him is an understatement.

For those that worked hard for him throughout these years,

his parents, himself, I applaud you all.

In my eyes this child is a miracle. So many warned

us of just how much he may never gain for his early birth,

he has proved them all wrong. Partly, I believe because

everyone who has loved him refused to not only label him

this way but didn't tell him what was expected.

He was always told he could achieve anything he wanted.

He has not always worked to his full potential in the eyes of

others but I know that he has always worked

up to what was important to him. He has made his own timeline.

This young man, who his Aunt Lil has trouble seeing him 

all grown instead of that little baby that fit in the palm of

his Daddy's hand,

is going places. In his own time he will make a difference in 

this world. I hope when he looks back on his life,

he remembers auntie Lil who has been in his "village" 

since the day we knew he was coming.

I love you, Hughbee and am so very proud of not

only these awards but all you possess inside that 

tall, lovely frame of yours.

Keep on writing and show the world the other side of

the norm, continue to pass on your knowledge to the World

just as you did at two when you taught me

the difference between a Shepard and a Wise Man.

Weather persons OR Whether persons.

I know it has to be a challenge to try and

make sense of weather changes, especially in 

South Louisiana. You can go from a thick, lined coat

one hour, to shorts the next.

I get it, its hard.

Yet, Weather people, well they go to college to 

be able to read these computer readings 

that are probably printed for them in the morning.

On Tuesday they announced the terrible weather

coming, Possible tornado's, hard rains, thunder.

All the alerts were posted for the cold front.

We were going to go from 70 something degrees,

to the 40's over a few hours.

So I await the bad weather. 

David came in yesterday so I knew he would be

traveling in this stuff so I reminded

him to be careful, "It's going to be bad"...

.... and it wasn't. The wind blew, there were drizzles,

and this morning, Evidently we missed the hit.

There was little rain, nothing serious and

this morning it is quite cooler.

So much for all the warnings, lol.

Really this is not a complaint post,

it is all a set up to something Dad used

to say when we were younger and watching the news.

"Lil, you know why they call them weather men?"

Nope Dad...

"Because they never know whether it was going to rain,

snow, be sunny...."

OH my Dad, sometimes he cracked the best little sayings

to make him laugh, telling it with a straight face.

I must be lonesome for this Dad of mine!

Enjoy the cooler weather my friends,

we don't know whether it will be here tomorrow!

MY DAD'S WAR

World War II was a hard time for Dad and men and women of those times.

They were "War heroes" when they returned after the battle 

unlike most of the Vietnam Vets who were treated

 as the problem, such as my brother, Peter. However the Vietnam generation

 looked at war differently then in World WarII.

Even if you had lost a brother, cousins and multiple friends

 you were the lucky one if you came home and you rarely spoke about it.

 Celena does not remember any stories my dad ever told of World War II.

While she visited with me last week I shared

  with her the stories Dad told me about being in the war.

 I do not know why he told them to me nor do I know when he told them to me. 

I just know that sometime in my life, he told and

 they were his stories. 

Perhaps he shared some of them with me

 as I lay in a bed at five years old so sick that he actually thought

I may die. Or maybe he saw me as fighting my own war 

 when the doctor said, "bring her home 

and if she still alive in three months bring her back." 

Maybe for him this was harder than what he battled in the war.

Today, I will share one of these memories from Dad.

 Daddy explained that during his time in battle he and his platoon

 had a mission to blowup a small village. He and his comrades believed that the 

mission was a success as the whole village was eerily quiet and smoke filled the area.

 He told this story with little emotion, robotic. I took this to believe that you

 could not think of it as a human thing but a mission as you had just took part in

something you did not personally condone,

 death by your hands. He had taken part in wiping out a small community.

 However, very shortly, for him this particular war tactic would became very personal.

 My Momma was pregnant for one of my siblings, with one of his children.     

 Just as he and his platoon began to leave, one soldier heard a baby crying.

 He and his battalion began searching this fire blazed area filled with smoke

 to find this child. After some time,
 they finally approached, among many dead, a small infant.
He did not share much about the baby's condition except to say
 that this baby was not well but still crying.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

My Dad knew that this child was not going to live
and he also knew that there was no way
he could bring the child with him.

 I can't even imagine the personal war each of these men must have fought

internally between their hearts and heads. Just the thought of this seems like 

one of the worst battles he and his peers faced.

Dad went on with the story, he and his army buddies

 put the baby under a tree where they had no choice but to leave it.

There was silence all the way back to their safety area.

Sometime after what this war considered a successful attack 

my Mother gave birth to his child.

 The one who was safe back in Golden Meadow and far away from the

danger of war. Yet, his torment continued as

as each time their own infant would cry,

 his very own flesh and blood,

the child that he and my Mama had prayed for, 

it was not his baby but the baby under a tree that he remembered.

 He kept this to himself as his child and family grew to be 7 children.

Somehow he felt like he wanted to share such a horrific story with me. 

Maybe, as I have said before,

 it was told during one of those long nights in the hospital where I received

treatment and we often fell asleep hearing babies cry for their parents.

 Back in 1968 in a hospital children's ward, parents were not allowed

 to stay with their sick children. My parents found this unacceptable and

 never left me. After visiting hours, 

one of them would reenter the waiting area to spend the night with me. 

After I was settled, He rocked many crying babies in that ward.

I want to believe this gained him some peace from the horrors of a war 

he was called to fight to keep our Country free. 

This story and others he told me through my growing up years was a rare thing.  

He just did not talk about the War. I do believe it is why I

feel such patriortism to whoever is President. Why each time I stand for The Star Spangled Banner, hand over heart, I sing and get teary-eyed. 

War is never pretty and so many have given so much so we can live free. 

I know many of my siblings have either never heard some of the stories

 or they have forgotten. 

Maybe he shared them with me because

 in that dark hospital ward, hearing so many children cry 

brought this one such story up from a deep place in his soul to the surface. 

Perhaps he subconsciously knew that I would share it one day 

in the way I share so many other stories of my life.

Whatever the reason, this is my thoughts about differences between Vietnam War

 and those Wars that came before it. 

Whether these men and women soldiers were recognized 

as hero's or never received that recognition, the personal war

 inside themselves that they battled throughout their lives, 

 that they all had to live with molded them into who they were

for the rest of their days.

War is never pretty for those who were called or chose to serve,

Nor for those left behind at home who love them.

I praise you always.

THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME...

   Long before I learned of Wizard of Oz, in following the yellow brick road, I learned 

what it meant to follow the yellow line. In the children's ward, following the "yellow line" 

was not a brick road that led you to a wonderful Wizard. Instead it led you to blood 

 tests, needles and smells of alcohol. The red line led you to Xrays and radiation tables

 where you could not move while your skin became seared like wood left from a house

 fire. The "blue line" led you to inpatient, where you didn’t yet understand how an IV 

was going to give you poison chemicals that would not just kill cancer cells but also

  those cells that were made to help you grow into a healthy young child, those that 

were meant to see you into adulthood. I always have loved Wizard of OZ, many do.

 My infatuation came from the courage of Dorothy. Like me, she was thrown into a

 world of the unknown. She did not know she would encounter the land of Munchkin 

land, where she would continue her journey with only her trusted ToTo along.

 She bravely continued on the path to find a Scarecrow without brains, a Tin Man

without a heart and a Cowardly Lion who needed courage. Again, like Dorothy, I had no 

choice on the path that cancer led me to. Yet, because of this road, I learned empathy 

for the other children in this “Munchkin Land” who were fighting for life.

“Chemo brain” is now a known side effect of receiving chemotherapy. In 1968  it was 

not yet understood. Like the Scarecrow, I tried my best to learn all I could, to overcome

the things that were hard for me to learn and in that process I learned more than the

average child. Not about History or Geography, not about Math but about thoughts and

feelings, pain and healing, well beyond my years. Like the Tin man, I found a heart, not 

made bigger because of the medications given to me but because I saw tears and love

for people I barely knew. I understood tears were not always for sad times but also for  

the news that a child was going home, that cancer had been eliminated from the 

family’s world. I overcame a shyness and advanced to understanding a love so deep

 that it sometimes meant parents went home forever without their child so as not to 

watch them suffer from a disease they could not overcome. Last of all, came the 

courage. Courage like the Lion. I did not have a choice to say no to what lay ahead. 

Instead I tried not to cry as much when I went into treatment without my parents.. I 

tried hard to be brave even though I was “afraid of spooks”. When I could not go home 

for twelve weeks, I realized like Dorothy, I needed all these things I endured so that I 

too, could follow the yellow path that would make my road home possible. I like to 

think, because of this unorthodox childhood, Dorothy and I had a lot of things in 

common. All these elements, The Brain, the Heart, the Courage I received over the 

years made me similar to Dorothy. These are the elements that have made me into the

whole woman I am today. It was many years before I made this comparison between

 myself and the Wizard of Oz. Each year I watched this classic movie at my Aunt Lee 

Lee's home. It was a yearly event that included a sleepover at her home, the same 

 home my Mother grew up in. Back in those years a show was watched once a year. 

Each year as I watched, when Technicolor added such a vibrance to the film, I gained 

understanding about myself. I had all these traits Dorothy possessed, those she 

gathered on her journeyed to 0z. Although she had all her faith in the Wizard to get 

her home, neither of us needed the magic of a wizard to realize that not only would we

 eventually go home, that as she clicked her heels three times, I waited twelve weeks 

but we both would understand the meaning of

"THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME!

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