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A ridiculous story

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I forgot something in my post about what I did this summer. It’s just a ridiculous story. My life seems to be dotted with crazy stories involving animals. Here is another one.

My eldest daughter lives out in the country. She had a neighbor she was going to get me some chickens from. I like to raise them from chicks (it’s more fun) but I was open to it. I wouldn’t have to wait until spring this way. I requested hens only, all different colors so I could tell them apart and get to know them, and I asked for only four of them.

I wasn’t ready yet though. My daughter helped us move and at the end of the day offered to go pick up those chickens. I said I hadn’t had the chance to get a coop ready for them or anything. She said they had told her it’s today or never.

I don’t think sometimes so I said OK I would figure it out. I worked on it but there is just no rushing something like that. When she pulled up in her truck I was still excited to meet them though. Maire said, “Well these look like a different kind of chicken. And there are six of them. I was’t sure what to do so I went ahead and took them.”

They sure were loud. I looked in at them. They looked like turkeys and seemed almost as big. They looked at me and started screaming at me. I said, “These aren’t chickens.”

Maire said, “What do you want me to do? I can take them but the coyotes will get them for sure.” “I guess for the moment we can put them in the garage.” So we dragged the large dog crate they were banging around in, those crazy things, into the garage.

After she left I decided to try hanging out with them for a while and see what they were all about. I was trying not to be disappointed. Chickens are funny and endearing. These things were a little scary. I noticed one of them seemed slower and more hapless than the others. She kept getting separated from them and freaking out. The others had to call to her and find her. I started to worry because by my reckoning it was probably about 120 degrees in the garage. I couldn’t leave them in there. I thought of a truckload of chickens that broke down years ago and how all the chickens got too hot and died. Hundreds of them. I couldn’t risk that. I didn’t have a coop for them but my yard was fenced. So I decided to let them out where at least they wouldn’t die of heat.

To let them into the back yard they had to come through a room that probably used to be a back porch. We call it the sun room. The birds shot into the sun room screaming their heads off. I opened the back door and most of them ran out to the yard. That slow one got stuck in the shower somehow and was hitting the walls and screaming like a banshee flapping her wings. My dog was barking and the cats went streaking from the scene. I finally managed to catch her and get her to her friends outside.

I went out with them to see what happened. My dog was going berserk at the back door. They poked around for a minute, checking out the situation and then they all flew away.

I don’t know why I was shocked. Maybe because chickens can fly but not really. I rarely have had a chicken go over the fence. Trying to roost in the trees on a low branch, yes but just… leaving?

So I was shocked. How disloyal of them!

Admittedly we didn’t really know each other.

Well what now? Should I try to catch them? That did not seem possible. And where would I put them? I didn’t have a place for them anyway.

Then I thought, “Did any of the neighbors see this?” I didn’t think so. I hoped not. They would surely not be any too happy to have me as a new neighbor if they did.

I was worried about the not-chickens. One of ,my employers has a background in poultry science. So I asked him if they would be alright. He said they were guinea hens and ill suited for “urban life.” He said they were very loud and obnoxious. I could agree with that. He said even if I caught them they would just leave again unless I caged them which sounded like a sad life. Apparently they would be fine. We even live near a creek.

I found out they will eat squirrels and other rodents or any small animals. My boss said that if I had chickens they would have attacked them and eaten them. They sounded like real charmers.

I actually was impressed with their loyalty to each other, though, and their care for the slower membr of their group. Also they mate for life which is cool.

However none of that mattered because the situation with those things was completely out of my hands.

We saw them from time to time over the next several days walking along the road or in a neighbor’s yard. Something about this cracked us up.

Just when we thought they had moved on we would hear them in the trees next door screeching. Taking the trash out one night it sounded like one of them got separated from the others and was calling out. The others answered back from across the street, like “Is that you Mabel?”

This happened again another time and the whole gang ran single file down the alleyway looking ridiculous and sounding insane, to reunite with their friend.

I had to laugh as they went by like a gaggle of old ladies on the attack. But it is cool how they take care of each other.

My youngest daughter saw them all the way over at St. Joseph’s walking along a busy road seemingly arguing with one another.

In fact I saw them today already walking through our front yard. They’re still hanging around the area. Screaming.

Sometimes people drive by those goonie birds, laughing when they see them. I guess it’s a “what the heck!?” kind of laugh.

I hope they haven’t killed too many squirrels or carried off anybody’s chihuahua.

Yes I confess I have released a terrorist avian gang into my new neighborhood.

Sorry.

If you want to hear what they sound like I found a video on YouTube.

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What I did this Summer

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Brown and yellow leaves flutter to the ground from the trees outside my window; not because of the advent of autumn but from heat stress. This is common in Texas this time of year. However the heat has been relentless this summer. It wasn’t just triple digit heat now and then but every day every day every day every day. I would even say it was brutal. I’m content though. It’s been a great summer all the same.

My daughters traveled a lot but I didn’t. That means lots of extra child care has come my way. I would like the girls to settle down now, as much as I adore to distraction all three of my grandchildren, (ages 7, 6 and 4). However I am soon to have the boys for a few days. It should be both fun and exhausting.

A very consequential event this summer was the rescue of a box of abandoned puppies by my eldest daughter. Sadly one of them died at her house. After that my youngest daughter and I took the other two, both very ill. We did try to get them to the emergency room at the vet school here but they would not take them. They offered to euthanize them but we were unwilling. It was late at night so we took them home with us. For a couple of days I slept with both puppies cuddled up to me. The female was apparently blind, either from injury, illness or maybe she was born that way. Her eyes were a milky blue and she obviously saw nothing through them. The established dogs at my eldest daughter’s house kept attacking her. The remaining puppies clung to one another, often licking each other’s faces. They seemed much too young to have been taken from their mother. Before we could get them to a vet the female died. Her brother was so sad: lingering by the box where she had slept during the day.

At the vet we heard that the male puppy had little chance of survival. He didn’t have Parvo thank God but he was critical. Someone I know (thank you thank you) offered to pay his medical bills if we wanted to do the arduous work of bringing this mange covered, worm infested lethargic little boy back to health. We decided to try. We lived in a small already crowded upstairs apartment. We had four cats already. (Not really on purpose). We thought we would find him a home if he lived. He was a Great Pyrenees cross so we couldn’t imagine how we would manage a dog who had the potential to grow to an 150 pound animal.

He did live. In fact he just ran down the hall chasing one of the cats. We love him. He’s a joy. He is also enormous for a five month old puppy.

That’s no problem; we have room for him now however big he gets because…. I bought a HOUSE!

Now this is something I thought I would never be able to do again. I had tried to let the idea go. About a year before my brother committed suicide I had just sold my paid for house to go live in one he was to build on his land. After his death all of the money from the sale of my house had gone missing. It had been stolen out of my bank account. I’ll never know what happened to it.

Out of the blue my father and my step mom offered to give me enough money for a down payment on a house. They reasoned that since my dad and I are only 17 years apart we were nearly contemporaries. So when they left me money in their wills, when they died, I would be pretty old too. They decided the money would do me more good now. They were right about that.

After all that has happened this gift from my parents to make things right as best they could changed EVERYTHING. I cannot begin to tell you how healing it has been for them to do this for me. It feels wonderful. It’s a great experience of righteousness and mercy and love. Thanks Dad and M. Forever thanks.

This task of house shopping was daunting for me. I’m terrible at dealing with business type stuff. And I had never had to get a mortgage before or shop for houses. After the death of my first husband I was offered a settlement that provides me with a modest monthly income since his seat belt ripped out of the car when he crashed, causing his death. The settlement comprises the majority of my income and my jobs fill out the rest. I don’t know what we would have done without it. After I received that settlement I simply bought the rental house we were living in already. I raised my children there over 22 years.

The first thing I did with the down payment was try to buy my old house back. After feeling displaced for eight years, often living at other people’s houses or in apartments that didn’t feel permanent, and with my stuff still in storage, just going home sounded good. I have often wished myself back over the years. But it wasn’t to be. The current owners were willing to sell but the foundation had such severe damage that fixing it would cost more than the worth of the house. I couldn’t afford that. It nearly broke my heart. But not for long. God must be calling me to build a new life after all the losses. (We lost four family members between 2012 and 2015; all of them tragic traumatic losses and life has been upside down for us ever since).

So we started looking and dreaming. Then one day we walked into the right house. I knew it even the first moment the realtor let us in through the hot dark garage. It was the smell. It smelled like our old house. Turns out it was built almost the same year. and in a similar style. My daughter said it had “the vibe” of our old house. It did.

She said as soon as she saw the adorable kitchen and the shiplap walls she knew I was going to want this one.

If you have ever bought a house you know what a wild and stressful journey it is. But we got the house. And we’re here. And I can’t tell you how grateful I am every day. It’s been over a month and I’m still walking around smiling at everything. My granddaughter has her own room. She can play outside now because for the first time in her life she has a back yard. My grandchildren can play in the sprinkler. My dog can bark outside.

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It won’t be long before I fill my little patch of earth with antique roses just as I did my old yard; tangled in the trees, hanging down in graceful strands from the branches. I plan to get a few chickens again in the spring. I don’t even eat eggs. I just like having chickens around. I can give the eggs to others. (Unfertilized don’t worry)! They will be much better than store eggs. Happy chicken eggs are the best by far. And these will be very happy chickens!

I am always finding new things to appreciate about this place. We named it for my book: Casa Maria. “Mary’s House. “

Thats another thing. I’ve been working on Spanish all summer with my youngest daughter. We have an app for it and friends we can practice with. My granddaughter finds it annoying when we talk in Spanish at home. She is a nosey Parker and wants to know everything we say. She should learn Spanish too then we tell her, if she wants to understand.

Another cool thing that happened was my book won an award from the Catholic Publishers’ Association. YAY! Third place in the category of prayer.

AND Our Sunday Visitor would like me to write another book. Yay! So I am working on a new book proposal. That means I am making a possible outline, and writing a prospective introduction as well as some samples of what it would be like. They haven’t decided yet whether they are into my topic. That takes time, lots of time. Meanwhile I mull it over constantly, always writing in my head.

And here we are. Happy Mother Mary’s Birthday! I am reading at mass for the first time today, and at our new church! My parish has built a new gorgeous gorgeous church. That’s another good thing that happened this summer.

It’s really been a good summer. So good it’s kind of freaking me out.

As I leave you all four cats; Frankie, Annie, Dia and Buttercup, Joey the Great Pyrenees mix and my older daughter’s little brown (pit bull I think) puppy named Doo-dah are all asleep in my room. The blinds are closed now because it’s hot as a pistol outside. Hotter maybe. Still I’m having some coffee and listening to jazz and I go to work in a bit.

Grace and peace to you,

Shawn

P.S. Reading at mass went fine. 🙂 So yay.

P.P.S. It’s 108 outside today.

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Red


Red had an easy laugh; open and free 

He laughed at himself because he was funny, 

And at the world because it was his playground and he loved when it surprised him.

At The Eagle Newspaper pressroom

Red was irreplaceable 

Ingenious 

An out of the box thinker who loved to save the day. 

He liked telling pressman history and showed me how to fold the paper hats they used to wear in the old days to protect their hair from ink. 

He was proud of his work. 

Red had endurance


Working long hours until the job was done. 

I hardly ever saw him not covered with grease and ink. 

He was often seen eating refied beans out of the front pocket of his uniform. 

Red was a hard worker but a rebel 

Full of mischief although he understood honor 

A little crazy though he had his own wisdom. 

He would have made a good pirate. 

Great in an emergency Red had the presence of mind to laugh and take a sweeping bow when his hat caught on fire. 

He was a gentleman who smiled at the ladies, opened doors for us, always ready with a compliment “You smell good!” 

Red was kind, believing in love. 

Red was a wild man.

Red could fix anything 

Blow up anything

Get into anything 

Race anything. 

He had a theatrical sense of humor; coming to work dressed in a sarape and sombrero, maracas in hand.

It was a national immigrant walk out day but those in the mail room were not allowed to participate under threat being fired. Red and Bob harassed the manager all day yelling “No worky Monday” on their behalf. Loudly they sang in fake Spanish their made up Tejano music making said employees screech with laughter and take pictures.

And who could forget Bob and Red’s mock strip tease routine in their tool belts when they popped out of a cardboard cake for that mail room crumudgen on his birthday? 

Red was accident prone.

Once accidentally peeling off the top of an Eagle truck under a bridge. We had a picture of him shrugging dramatically at the scene, smile intact.

Red was the most believable Gun Smoke cowboy and on alternate years, tie dye hippie, at The Eagle Halloween parties, always in character with memorable lines off the cuff

Red always had something inappropriate to say to make us shake our heads and laugh.

Red believed in peace but he didn’t mind stirring up a little trouble now and then.

Red was a dare devil we were sure would go out in a blaze of glory one day.

Red loved his six Yorkies with all his heart maybe especially Chester the rattlesnake fighter. 

He loved his kids and spoke of them often. 

He married in his teens and stayed with his wife until her death, often writing on face book afterward, that he would love her forever.  

Red tattle tailed on my daughter but also defended her to me, reminding me she was a good girl. 

Red made everything he touched and every place he inhabited into art. Things that dangled, things that drove, things you weren’t sure about. He was an unusual yet somehow traditional decorator. Odd keepsakes and knick knacks you couldn’t mistake for anyone else’s’ filled every available space of his house. 

Red had a quick mind and a ready wit.

Once he fixed a dirt bike in the woods with a rock.

At The Eagle Red is legend, someone we’re proud we knew. 

Red repaired my rosaries with love though he made cracks about it the whole time. 

Red loved the press crew as his brothers. 

He was there for my husband when he was dying, racing him around in his wheelchair for “one last ride.” 

He said he and the press crew wanted to heal my broken heart. 

Well they did. 

You helped a lot Red.

Red was a good friend to all of us. 

Red was reckless, adventurous, a lover of danger but he could be a sage at times, cautioning me against resentment. 

If he left us with a message maybe it would be a kindly but funny warning like the one he spray painted on a barrel of toxic waste the guys were stacking on the dock to be taken away; bad shit do not eat.” 

Red would tell us to forgive, to let things go and not to ever let hate settle in our hearts to embitter us. 

He would tell us to live, love and be free.

Don’t eat  bad shit that will damage your well being and the priceless gift of joy. 

I don’t think Red  will just “rest in peace.”

Too much to do.

God will have to start breaking stuff to keep Red occupied. 

We love you Red. 

In the great beyond

You do you. 

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A Quiet Easter 2023

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I have been sick this Triduum so it’s been very different than most for me. I have been in bed with cats all over me, hearing Hannah Montana music non stop because my granddaughter loves it these days.( No fair I already went through that with her mother!)

My youngest daughter and my granddaughter and I did little family liturgies for each day of this Triduum. The seven year old was wiggly but reasonably behaved and interested. She only had to be threatened by her mother a couple of times with no TV if she didn’t settle down and stop interrupting. This year the washing of feet seemed to resonate for her. I think she really listened to Jesus’ words about that and was surprised by them.

I followed the readings and slept and the prayed the Liturgy of the Hours and slept. I followed my personal traditions as well as I could as Christians all over the world walked together with Jesus through the last days of his earthly life.

I missed the mass of all masses last night, the great Easter Vigil. But I think my fever broke.

I missed experiencing that with everybody.

The good thing is I was in touch with the grace of this holy time. I do feel changed. I do feel that I passed from death to life with Jesus hand in hand.

We didn’t come out of the tomb with trumpet blast or brilliant light. We just walked out of there. Then we went to see our friends and console our mom.

I’m still in bed today missing all the stuff. The best I can do is to pray Morning Prayer and burn frankincense incense in the censor I save for holy days. I’m enjoying clouding up the room.

I am hoping to join my parish in an evening mass, and to see my eldest daughter and her boys today. They are excited about egg hunting. My granddaughter has been practicing in our apartment with plastic eggs for several days so she is ready.

Oh Jesus we will never come to the end of your beautiful surprises. The physical resurrection of your body happened in quiet and dark but its repercussions are endless, eternal, a treasure we will never exhaust, never fully understand.

We thank you. We bless you. We adore you. We glorify you.

Praised be Jesus Christ

-both now and forever.

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St. Joseph Novena Day 8

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Precious in the eyes of the Lord
    is the death of his faithful ones. (Psalm 116:15)

St. Joseph, your death was beautiful and tender. Your passing filled the room with love; your love, the love of your family, the love of God.

Joseph the dreamer, the worker, the father, the husband, the prophet, the protector, the meaning of your life settled with intense clarity on those who kept watch at your side and on everyone who ever knew you, flooding the hearts of them all. Help us when our time comes to leave this world, to have fulfilled our purpose, to have loved God and every human being he sent our way, to have lived with Jesus and Mary daily that we may also die in their arms and ultimately reach heaven in the company of the angels and saints, to be forever in the Heart of the Father, inhabiting his House filled with wonder. St. Joseph, Patron of a holy death, pray for us as we honor you. Pray for us always.

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St. Joseph Novena Day 7

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God of my fathers, Lord of mercy,
you who have made all things by your word
and in your wisdom have established man
to rule the creatures produced by you,
to govern the world in holiness and justice,
and to render judgment in integrity of heart:

Give me Wisdom, the attendant at your throne,
and reject me not from among your children:
for I am your servant, the son of your handmaid,
a man weak and short-lived
and lacking in comprehension of judgment and of laws.

Indeed, though one be perfect among the sons of men,
if Wisdom, who comes from you, be not with him,
he shall be held in no esteem.

Now with you is Wisdom who knows your works
and was present when you made the world;
who understands what is pleasing in your eyes
and what is conformable with your commands.

Send her forth from your holy heavens
and from your glorious throne dispatch her
that she may be with me and work with me,
that I may know what is your pleasure.

For she knows and understands all things,
and will guide me discreetly in my affairs
and safeguard me by her glory.”
(Wisdom 9:1-6, 9-11)

St. Joseph I can only imagine how overwhelming the prospect of being a father to Jesus the Son of God would have been for you. And Mary would have said, ”Joey you were made for this! God will give you everything you need!” And you believed. You were a strong good and kind man, humble and wise. Wisdom was with you, beautiful father. All the love and the example you gave Jesus made him able to do what he came to do and be what he came to be. Today we ask you also to be a father to each of us. And we thank you for every hug, every talk, every lesson, every game you played with Jesus when he was growing up, and most of all for just being there and filling his life with your love.

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Glitter

There is a sprinkle of glitter

On the surface of my coffee.

I consider it Pixie Dust,

Smile to myself

And drink a little magic.

My soup on the stove has a bit of a shimmer;

A random fairy touch I can’t explain.

And she’s asleep in her car seat,

Glitter twinkling on her cheek,

Dreaming little girl dreams,

Guilt free,

she doesn’t care.

Nor is she aware

My heart is tangled in her hair.

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All Soul’s Day 2022

Today is All Soul’s Day, the day we remember and pray for our beloved dead on their journey. It is a day to light candles for them, wash their head stones in the cemetery, to bring flowers. There will be masses and rosaries prayed for them in Catholic cemeteries all over the world today and every country has its own additional customs as well. Around here in some churches people bring pictures of their dead to leave there during the month of November. There will be a Book of the Dead placed near the door at church today so we can write their names in it and we will all pray for them during November at every mass.

Everyone is alive in God and we are still in communion with those who have gone before. I remember my husbands, my grandparents, my mother and my step father, my brother, and my friends who have died every day and I know they are with me. Love is stronger than death. And God is the God of both the living and the dead. All things are alive to him and therefor to me as one who loves him, and to you.

“… the world or life or death, or the present or the future: all belong to you, and you to Christ, and Christ to God. 1 Corinthians 3:22b-23

And Christ is all in all.

God bless you today and all of your loved ones who have died. May the tears you have cried for them be blessed. God holds every one of them close to his heart.

“You have stored my tears in your bottle and counted each of them. ” Psalm 56:8b

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*The reason it says God keeps your tears in a bottle is because of the custom at that time to wear a small bottle around your neck when you were in mourning in which you stored your tears.

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The amazing Zane

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I tend to think of Zane in shades of color. The moods and thoughts that cross his face are less flickers of change than slight alterations in tint during most of the day. And then there will come a burst of laughter and squeals of hilarity as well as a series of short jumps from him- maybe from a joyful memory or some private joke. Or maybe he thought of something he looks forward to. Whatever it is he isn’t going to tell me; not because he is a teenager and I am an annoying adult he mostly gives the side eye to, but because Zane does not speak in words. Occasionally he becomes suddenly sad and will even weep and seek the affection he usually spurns but I can’t know why usually. All of these triggers of joy and sadness tend to be internal and inaccessible to me. I do know that if a book we are reading has a particularly heart wrenching passage it makes him wilt in sorrow and then he walks away and doesn’t want to read that book anymore. His feelings can be quite deep and all encompassing though I can lose sight of that in the comparative serenity his facial expression displays most of the time.

Zane can linger a long time looking intently at something that seems uninteresting to those of us who are more “neurotypical.” I imagine he sees patterns or details we don’t see. His favorite place to be is outside in the backyard in his “spot.” Zane feels best in nature. So most of our time together is outdoors. He hardly ever cares what kind of weather it is either. He just wants to be in it. Its not as if he isn’t paying attention to the weather although I think sometimes he isn’t. Nor do I think it is simply low body awareness. Maybe nature is his friend. Maybe he wants to take part in life that way as often as he can. It took me along time to realize that the melodic squeals he makes are an imitation of a backyard bird call we often hear. He amazes me all the time.

He has a little trouble with his gait but he still loves to lope along on long walks and he can really walk fast, especially if I play Cat Stevens on my phone. That is our walking music usually. Sometimes he stops to examine the leaves of a Dwarf Yaupon or a Crepe Myrtle along the way. Nature is his buddy and he’s checking in.

Another way he takes part in life is through love in his family. Zane’s parents and his two older brothers talk to him respectfully and care for him in a matter-of-fact way. Something he loves and is always very happy about is when everybody is home. He loves having his family around him. He loves them all and his occasional outbursts of affection with them are touching. He is loved and supported at home. He goes wherever he wants to go and eats what he wants to when he wants to. His hands don’t work very well so he needs help with this though he is able to feed himself. He likes to gently take my wrist and set my hand on the food he wants me to make for him.

Zane has a sense of humor. His Dad was late to dinner one day and his mom was joking with Zane, “Well it was nice knowing Daddy. We’ll miss him but that’s how it goes. Guess he can move in with Billy.” Zane screeched with laughter. When his dad was finally at the door, Zane put his fingers in his ears in preparation.

He can answer yes no questions. We put our hands out and show which hand is yes and which hand is no. “Do you want Zaxby’s for dinner? Yes or no.” When it comes to Zaxby’s he will always slap the yes hand. Usually he will add “Ah” which for him communicates yes as well, perhaps for emphasis.

Something Zane loves to do is shake the bundle of colorful ribbons he always carries, look at it and put his mouth on it. This activity is called “stimming” and he enjoys it very much. Now and then we go to his ribbon closet and cut new ribbon of the color he is in the mood for.

His other great love is his stuffed friend, “Donkey.” Apparently that guy is hilarious. Sometimes they joke and party late into the night and Zane’s parents can’t sleep.

Zane enjoys music and it seems to be a great comfort to him. He likes opera and classical and country. He does not like Nina Hagen. His greatest love is The Wiggles.

His mother gave me a stack of books to read when I first started working with Zane to help me understand him. Some of them had some great ideas for communication and learning. I used to try these ideas out back then. Yes he can spell words on a letter board. But he wouldn’t for me. He would just throw it. He would choose the right answer when I tried a certain technique with him. His cooperation was grudging and I noticed he seemed to hate it when I said, “good job.” It was as if he were saying, “Lady I’ve been at school all day. This is not the relationship I want to have with you.”

One of the books his mother gave me when I was hired was called The Reason I Jump by Naoki Higashida. Naoki is a nonverbal and autistic teen just as Zane is. He wrote his book using some of the techniques I had read about using a special computer set up for his letter board style of spelling out words. The young man writes about what it is like in his interior world and why he does the things he does, and what he wishes people would understand about him. It was beautiful; mind and heart opening to read. It occurred to me that since we had been reading aloud Zane would possibly identify with it. So we began reading it. The result was electric.

He listened intently and wouldn’t let me stop reading it. He would bring his head closer to me to listen more intently. We read it all day and during my entire shift the next day. At times he would uncharacteristically grab my shoulders or hands and stare at me with full eye contact with extreme excitement. His parents came out to see him and talk about it. We were all almost crying. It was as if Zane were exclaiming, “This is me! Please listen this is me!”

It was quite a moment, and one I know I will always remember.

When Zane is tired he puts his head on my shoulder and becomes unusually affectionate, even hugging me.

“Zane are we good friends?” I ask. He says, “Ah!” and he lets me hug him.

*Author’s note: I obtained permission from Zane’s parents to publish this piece.

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