She's Sherrie

Going home. In a few hours, Memorial Services will be held for my friend, Mary Jan. I can not physically be there, but I honor her in my heart as I will forever. The passing of friends and loved ones is always painful for the living.  In 2018, I lost friends, family, and pets to the point of being deeply depressed at times.  And I have felt the anguish of my friends who have gone or are going through the same thing. Love hurts, and yes, our love makes us selfishly want to keep our object of love even when we know we should let them go.  Sometimes they just leave us, and other times we might have to decide to let them go. Either way, it all sucks. Some of you know Mary Jan. I called her MJ. In my whole life, I have never known someone as pure of heart as she was. She was married to one of my schoolmates, and that's how I came to know her.  Her husband referred to her as his little hippie girl.  She had that free spirit of a love for life, appreciation of nature, and animal

The Navy Hymn The Navy Hymn John McCain speaks to us from Washington National Cathedral. Pictures can be deceiving; what we see is not always real.  This picture shows us a coffin draped with a flag of honor, on a cold marble floor, in repose, alone and unguarded.  Or does it? This picture is of Senator John McCain's coffin at Washington National Cathedral.  If we could pan around the area, we would see that hundreds of invited family, friends, and dignitaries from the past and present look over Senator McCain.  They have come to say goodbye or, in some cases, just because it would make them look bad if they didn't show up.  We know who they are.  This was not a funeral service in the norm.  McCain handpicked his speakers outside of the family and knew what the content of their speeches would entail.  His hand was in every detail of his service.  This would not be a mournful, sad, emotionally draining event.  And it would not be a religious circus.  It was, in ma

John McCain American Hero John McCain POW Last year when the announcement was made that John McCain had brain cancer, I knew his days were numbered.  My favorite person in the entire world died of brain cancer, and the illness devastated his mind and body.  In six months, he was gone. I have marveled at Senator McCain's ability to carry on for the past year.  I couldn't understand how he was able to function.  The only telltale sign to me was that we saw less and less of him publicly.  Last week the announcement was made regarding his decision to not undergo further treatment; I knew he would be leaving soon.  The very next evening, his death was announced on television.  I was stunned and sad.  Tears fell from my eyes.  I never met him, but at that moment, I was transported back to my experience with my uncle and my son.  I knew he must have been suffering and fading away for a while, but his family protected his privacy.  He was not the kind of man who would want p

In February 1976, I was walking my dog for his last potty break of the night.  When I walked out of my apartment, I noticed a police car backed into a parking spot.  The cop in the car was running radar on the passing vehicles on the main street.  I walked behind the car and around the corner with my dog. After Buck (I didn't name him) completed his task, I walked back around the corner on my way back to my apartment.  I noticed the cop car still sitting there.  As I walked past it, the cop started whistling at my dog.  Bucks' hair started standing up, and he was growling.  Then the cop started calling the "puppy," and Buck, my protector, went nuts barking and snarling at the cop.  He said, "Miss, you need to control your dog!"  Without looking at him, I continued walking and told him he needed to leave my dog alone.  "You need to come over to the car, Miss."  Cussing under my breath, I said, why the hell is he messing with me w

Temporary Memorial in Parkland, Florida. Written by Dana, a Teacher, Somewhere USA. I communicated with Dana last night via Messenger and obtained her permission to copy her post.  We both feel that people should know what it is like to be students or teachers in the present state of gun violence on school campuses.  Please share this.  These are her words. Today in school, we practiced our active shooter lockdown. One of my first graders was scared, and I had to hold him. Today is his birthday. He kept whispering, "When will it be over?" into my ear. I kept responding "Soon" as I rocked him and tried to keep his birthday crown from stabbing me. I had a mix of 1-5 graders in my classroom because we have a million tests that need to be taken.  My fifth grader patted the back of the 2nd grader huddled next to him under a table.  A 3rd-grade girl cried silently and clutched the hand of her friend. The rest of the kids sat quietly (casket quiet) and stared a

Stuff During a six week period of time, my brother and a long-time friend had died.  One I was somewhat prepared for; the other was a total shock. The first four weeks were hell.  In the first two weeks, I had so much anger when my brother died that I pretty much just sat on the sofa.  Didn't eat much. didn't sleep much.  I had the TV on for distraction, but anything sad to the slightest degree would make me cry.  I had many phone calls to make and found it very difficult to speak without my voice quivering.  I understand that my feelings were attributed to leftover grief from my son's deaths and my mom a few years ago.  My family members, for some odd reason, are anti-grieving.  There was no discussion of sadness or feelings with them to ease my pain, so I am now dealing with all of my feelings.  I hate it.  Because I don't seem to have control over it.  I know it will fade in time, but for now, it sucks.  I'm referring to a family loss. Two weeks after my

Duck and Cover A very long time ago, school children practiced a drill called Duck and Cover throughout the United States.  These drills became a part of our school lives, a routine,  designed stupidly, to protect school kids from the blast of bombs delivered to us by our enemies, Russia or Cuba. The early 1960s were stressful times for everyone in the United States.  Life could be eradicated at any time by Nikita Krushchev, the leader of our mortal enemy, Russia.  Russia and the United States were enemies.  We distrusted them, with good reason, and they hated us because the U.S. stood in their path of spreading Communism by overtaking weaker countries.  We were like two pit bulls locked in a fighting ring, snarling at each other, one representing freedom, one communism. The tensions between the countries were so intense that private citizens were having bomb shelters built in their homes' basements.   Looking back on it and knowing what we know now about radiation and the