She's Sherrie

 On September 29, 2006, I said goodbye to my son for the last time.  He died shortly after 1:00 am after suffering horribly for 3 months from stage 4 colon cancer.  He was only 34.  From the time of his diagnosis to his death was only 3 and 1/2 months. It has been 13 years today since his death, and I still miss and mourn him every day.  I would like nothing better than to see him and talk to him at least one more time.  Unfortunately, that will never happen again. The only thing I can do now is keeping him alive in my thoughts, and I do that every day; not a single day goes by that I don't think about him. The picture to the left is one of my favorites of him.  He had just made Staf Sergeant, and he was the youngest one in the Marine Corps at that time.  I believe he was 23, almost 24.  This picture was taken at the Marine Corps Ball in Dallas, Texas.  He was healthy and happy and handsome. He had everything going for him. And he was happy.    This picture was taken i

Radar Gun The Grammies were great.  Keep in mind it was back when they were entertaining. There were no crazy Kanye West protest speeches, there were no disrespecting fellow artists, and thankfully, there was no Gangster Rap category.  But there was a lot of talent and a lot of great music.  The Eagles, Elton John, Linda Ronstadt, Barry Manilow, just to name a few of the great ones. And there was Bali Hai. And a guy named Terry.  A cop with a gun, a radar gun, and another gun.  But he only brought one of those three with him.  You figure it out. His radar gun is what got my attention initially, sitting in his cop car running radar on people on the main road. And at the time, I thought, why is this cop sitting in this parking lot being a jerk?  Upon meeting him, I thought the very least I could do for my fellow citizens was to keep him distracted.  That's right, I threw myself on his radar gun to save John Q. Public.  And it w

Dallas's Finest When I looked at the guy standing in the doorway, I almost fainted. Goodgoogamugga, this guy was gorgeous.  Most guys are not gorgeous, some are handsome, some cute, many are attractive, some ordinary, but this one was The Cream of the Crop.  He was dressed in civilian clothes, tight jeans to be exact, he was about 6'4", smelled delightful, a Canoe scent emanating from his gorgeousness, and I was pretty sure that I was in lust.  The entire package was marvelous, but those eyes were hypnotizing me. He asked if he could come in.  "Of course you can." said the spider, me, to the fly, Terry.  "I brought some wine and 7-Up", said The Man. I twirled my villainous mustache and thought very evil thoughts.  I didn't really have a mustache, but I was thinking villainous thoughts.  I freed him of the wine and soda. And then I remembered I had kids. Kids that were still awake. "I have to go put my kids to bed!"  He said, let t

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