For Little Melody Osheroff

It’s probably a good thing I didn’t follow my father’s footsteps into the police department. I thought about it- but I guess I knew I didn’t really have the temperament.

This last week, a little girl and her dad were holding hands, crossing the street near their home, when a drunk motorcycle rider ran a stop sign and went right through them. Nine-year-old Melody died nine hours later and her father Aaron lost his leg and was in jeopardy of losing his other leg along with other internal injuries. Their family will suffer forever.

The driver of the motorcycle was barely injured- but screamed to the EMT’s he was in pain and needed medication.

That would be the point in time- I could not be a part of law enforcement because I would have taken a BIG ASS BOOT and jammed it into his head.

When the motorcycle driver was arraigned in court, after his very short stay in the hospital- he flipped everyone off. Really- I have a picture of it.
http://www.marinij.com/marinnews/ci_12502468?IADID=Search-www.marinij.com-www.marinij.com

I think about that time- I would have found a way to put this creep out of his misery. And ours.

The guy had 6 prior DUI’s. WHAT? Are you kidding me?

I have known a lot drunks in my life- and more than a few motorcycle riders. This creep represents none of them. He is a sociopath- plain and simple. He has no remorse, no guilt. He is a classic case and clearly he has wormed his way out of trouble more than a few times. No “recovery” home or incarceration is going to fix this guy.

I can’t stand harm to a child. It just un-nerves me. I know my dad felt the same way. Being a policeman took a toll on him- especially when he was a homicide detective. I don’t have his restraint though. It’s much better that I choose to write about these atrocities, then deal with people I believe would be better off in another world.

I can only imagine the pain the family and loved ones of little Melody are going through. My thoughts are with them. I’ll hope… that Marin County puts this guy away forever. And if something untoward should happen to him in jail- so be it.


April 10, 2010

Here is an update on the trial

http://www.contracostatimes.com/news/ci_14856556

July 14th
http://www.marinscope.com/articles/2010/07/14/novato_advance/news/doc4c3e24757035a205316536.txt


July 27th.
When I first wrote this blog- I thought it would not be a bad thing if something untoward should happen to the murderer of Melody while he was in jail. I wrote those words. I'm not usually so prophetic- but in this case I have to say I think I'm glad I was. Still NOTHING will ever heal the pain Melody's family lives with daily. My prayers go out to the Osheroff family tonight.
http://www.marinij.com/ci_15610631?source=most_viewed

Visiting Dad

Prior to moving to North Carolina, I would spend my Memorial Day weekend traveling all over the bay area from one cemetery to the other. I would decorate the graves of relatives with flowers and flags, contemplate the significance of the day and appreciate what each of these people meant to me.

Visiting my dad’s grave is always particularly hard. I missed so much time with him when I was young- then he was taken from this world before either of us had a chance to make up time.

I would take my son with me- graveyard hopping… and we always noticed that many of the departed did not receive flowers or have their weeds pulled on a regular basis. We would walk around and read all the headstones –wondering about the lives snuffed out too soon and those who made the centennial and received their shout out from Willard Scott.

My son learned to appreciate the significance of Memorial Day with me- and his first year as a U.S. Marine he was one of several that participated in the “Flags In” ceremony at Arlington-placing a flag and saluting hundreds of soldiers, sailors, Marines and airmen.

I was proud of him and glad he was able to carry on our tradition, on a grander scale.

I have not visited my dad’s grave since my return to California. I think I’m the only one in my family that visits him. I’ll go this weekend. Maybe my son will take a ride with me and place a flag on Papa Charlie’s grave- a nod from one veteran to another- grandson to grandfather. I think it will mean more to both of us this year.

Keeping the Blues at Bay

Every day I tell myself I will write something. Lately though, I have been stressed about no job and no money and writing has become a futile chore. My sister mentioned something about hardship making me a better writer… until I reminded her, I have probably had enough hardship for two lives already- no more needed to humble me or teach me about suffering.

So yesterday- when I was fairly depressed but trying to put one foot in front of the other with my job search, cover letters and tailored resumes, I heard my i-phone beep signaling an email.

I have 4 email accounts tied to my i-phone and the account it came to is the one tied to my website, blog and book sales as well as my job search efforts. I hoped for a job or a book sale.

Instead, it was the boot in the ass I needed. An email from a perfect stranger. She told me she loved my story Please Tie Your Shoes in “our” book and she wanted to encourage my writing- that I had an “awesome way with words.” She especially liked The Dragon Slayer's Mother. Wow… I quickly grabbed my copy of Cup of Comfort for Military Families and looked up her name. I read her story, which was well written and heartwarming. I went to her website which touted her many publications and suddenly I felt hopeful. Liz, the mother of a Marine and writer was encouraging me- and I soaked it up. I actually cried.

I do have good friends and family that encourage my writing- and I appreciate that more than they probably realize. But encouragement from a stranger and published author of numerous stories and articles was what I needed. No bias. She didn’t know my story and the only thing we really had in common was we are both mothers of Marines and we are both writers.

Liz’s website is http://www.lizhoyt-eberle.com/
If you have a copy of Cup of Comfort for Military Families-, her story is A (Nearly) Perfect Christmas

I’m still broke and jobless. But I am hopeful that one day soon things will turn around.

Appreciating Life

It's a safe bet, to assume that most of us don't appreciate what we have until it's gone. It's true with so many things.

Even though I have always loved my son to death- not until he was in the Marine Corps, did I realize how much of me, he was.

One day, when I first moved to Charlotte, and Nick was stationed at Annapolis, I went to the laundry mat. Laundry mats are generally depressing places, so I people watch and try to figure out what everyone's story is. Book fodder. I can come up with some pretty sorry shit too.

So on this particular day- a mom came in with her teenage son and his younger sibling. He helped her carry everything in. I guessed right away, this was not her normal routine, she had a mad face on like one would have if their washing machine broke on a Sunday when they haven't done laundry for a week and the kids need school clothes on Monday.

The boy put his hand on her arm, a loving gesture, and she pushed it away, annoyed. I know there was an audible gasp from me. I would have given anything to have my son touch my arm right then.

I wanted to tell her- how precious that moment was- and she could never get it back. But I didn't. I went home and cried. It made me sad all day. How could this mother not want to be touched by her boy? His simple gesture... touched my heart so much that I remember it four years later.

I miss my parents and never thought I would. I miss the people in my life I can't get back...I have missed my family and some very good friends for 4 years now- and I am thrilled that I don't have to anymore. I sure have learned what's important.

Someone asked me the other day if I miss my house in Charlotte. Not really. It was a great house- but it was empty. Well- full of nice furniture... but empty. While it knew no heartbreak with me in it- it knew no great love either- save that which I hold for my dogs. It was just a house.

I will be forever grateful for the lesson that house taught me though.

GOD and some thoughts

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I’m interested in God and his relationship with the world and my relationship with Him.

I know a bunch of folks who quote OR misquote "good books" regularly… then act horribly to their fellow men and women. These people call themselves Christians, or Jews or Islamic or whatever. They have no tolerance for other faiths or those with no faith at all. A lot of them don’t even know how intolerant they are, so convinced they are living God’s word. Some Christians say they speak in the name of Jesus- and I think- Jesus is doing flip- flops in his grave knowing He is being misunderstood and misquoted.

God is there for people who cannot see or hear. He is there for those that have never read a holy book or who don’t know scripture. God is within us.

My God, loves everyone. He loves believers and non-believers alike. He doesn’t care if you are Black, or Yellow or Brown or White. He doesn’t care if you are gay or not gay. He doesn’t care if your parents are married or not- He just wants them to love you. He doesn’t take sides in a war because both side are all his children. He doesn’t care what you do for a living. He really only wants people to love, know joy, help each other, be kind, be tolerant. We are ALL welcome to the kingdom of Heaven or the life after this life, whatever your belief.

I think sometimes, He must grow so weary of our self-centeredness. We all think He is concerned with our truck that breaks down or an even crazier assumption that He is on the American side in a war. Do we not know how small we are?

Does anyone ever think the homeless guy on the street corner may be a test from God? Maybe He is just checking to see if we love our fellow man- or are taking care of our brother or sister. How many people look at the homeless man on the corner, in the eye? Oh, he’s a drunk you say? So what? He is one of God’s drunks.

My God- is not materialistic. He does not care what you have or don’t have. But He does want you to put one foot in front of the other and do what you can to help people and help yourself. He put us here to learn something. We each have our own lessons. He doesn’t care if you go to church… that is not really his home. His home is in your heart.

Something to ponder: When a miracle happens, or what we prayed for actually materializes, we say our prayers have been answered. But, when a mother fervently prays over her dying child, asking God to let the child live- and the child dies; does that mother say my prayers have been answered? NO. I have never known that to happen.

We use what works for us. We ignore or defy the rest.

I like my relationship with God. It’s comfortable. He knows I love His beauty. I love His animals, His Mountains, His trees, His sky, His stars. I love my family. I try to be a good person. I’m not always successful.

God has never left me, but I have left him a few times. He doesn’t mind- his door is always open. He doesn’t judge me, how could He? I am learning the lessons He put me here to learn.

The Best Dog Ever

Smokie has been my lifeline for a long time now. I love all my dogs, but he is special. He is literally the reason I get out of bed on days I don’t want to. He was Nick’s faithful companion when he was going through that teenage angst thing where they think no one loves them- Smokie loved him and he knew it. And he has pulled me out of a case of the blues more times then I can count.

I had two main reasons for getting Smokie- 1. I wanted Nick to have a dog. That was the most important thing to me. I knew that a dog would teach him about love and I really believe every kid should have a dog. 2. I was losing my hearing and couldn’t hear people at the front door. My room mate would come home and I would never hear her come in- it used to scare the crap out of me. I figured a dog would alert me to strangers at least.

So I started my search and as many of you know- when I am on a mission- it doesn’t end until I accomplish my goal. I must have gone to 5 Bay area shelters and never saw the dog for us. On my way home, I stopped at the Petco to see if there were any dogs for sale on the bulletin boards- and to my surprise they were having an adoption day.

I walked straight to Smokie. He was lean but huge. His head was the size of a basketball. He was all black with a white chest and German Shepard features. His ears were like bat ears, standing up and alert. I could tell he was young, and the adoption people said yes- he was about 9 months old. I asked if I could walk him. “Well – he is not really trained. Are you sure you can handle him?” I said I was. I took him for a quick walk in the shopping center and fell in love. He was our boy.

The adoption proceedings were a pain in the ass. They wanted to come to my house- meet my son, meet my cat. Since they forced the cat to meet Smokie they didn’t get along for the first 2 years. I thought the adoption people were all nuts.

When we came in with Smokie, twelve year old Nick was sitting on the sofa. His eyes got as wide as those Japanese eyes could get- and I could tell he was a little afraid of him but that night- Smokie slept on Nick's bed.

Smokie was friendly to people but completely untrained. If the front door opened he bolted. We chased that dog so many times the next five years it was crazy. But he was loyal and he loved us. Sleeping on my bed on the nights Nick was at his dads, then always with Nick when he was home. He was not so friendly to other animals. It took me months of walking him and spraying his face with water to teach him to not attack other dogs. Once he got it- he was the friendliest dog you ever met. He could and did pick a kitten up and walk around without hurting it all.

So twelve years later- Smokie has diabetes, he is blind- like walks into walls blind, and arthritic. He gets two shots of insulin a day and special food and countless trips to the vet. He hasn’t been able to get on my bed for about 3 years now. Some days he barely makes it upstairs, but he does- every night he lies down next to my bed or just outside my room in the hallway. He has two “brothers” now too. Mac sleeps upstairs with us, and Toshi who is downstairs in a crate.

Last night I was sleeping with the TV on as I do every night of my life for as long as I can remember. I take my hearing aides out at bedtime so the TV is always too loud for normal ears. Whatever show was on had a smoke alarm go off- which I did not hear until Smokie- tried to get on my bed wake me up. He could only get his two front paws up there- but he talked which sounds like an old man trying to clear his throat while saying the alphabet –vowels only; and kept hitting my head with his snout- until I woke up. When I realized what was happening-I gave a quick sniff to see if I could smell smoke- then realized it was the TV. I told him- “It’s okay boy.” And he went and laid down next to my bed. Mac- slept through the whole thing! Smokie would have saved my life if it were a real fire. He is the best dog ever.

Happy 2009

New Years should be a good thing. It’s a chance to renew, start fresh. You can choose to bring all the old garbage with you or you can say to yourself: This is a New Year... and I am going to do things differently.
For at least the last forty years, every New Year I tell myself, this will be a good year. Sometimes I’m right- sometimes not. I remain hopeful though and that is probably the key thing.
My mothers family was in a car accident on New Years Eve in 1939. The four of them, my mother, her brother and her parents were driving south on Mission. St in San Francisco, near the “top of the hill” when out of nowhere came a car to their right, hitting the front right side of their car. It killed my grandmother, broke both of my mother’s legs, left my uncle in a coma for months and injured my grandfather’s back; pain he would feel for the rest of his life. The driver of the other vehicle was drunk and ran a stop sign. I don’t know if he lived or died or was ever punished. But I suspect if he lived- he was not punished as much as he should have been.
For years- all my life I think, my mother would not celebrate the New Year. Instead she would start the year off depressed and inconsolable. Somewhere a long the way- I must have decided to start the year off fresh and no matter what was going on, to look at the New Year as a new beginning: With hope.
This year, I admit, that may be difficult. I’m trying to sell my house in a crappy market so I can go back to California and be near my family. The housing market is bad right now and that is my profession so I have no money coming in. I’m a little overwhelmed by the daunting task of packing up a four bedroom home all by myself and transporting myself, one 13 year old, blind, diabetic dog, an arthritic dog and a crazy, energetic puppy, across the continent. Do you know how many pee/walk stops that is? At least one every 3 hours.
I want to show my son though- I want to show him that no matter how bad things get- that I get up every morning and I put one foot in front of the other. Because the minute I give in, or give up it will get worse. Giving up is not an option. Sometimes it takes more backbone than I think I have- but I do it anyway.
I’m an even keeled person. I’m seldom exuberantly happy or so depressed I can’t get out of bed. I go for daily walks and meditate to find my inner strength or on some days, find my story. I look for beauty in nature and occasionally find it in people. I have friends and family whose hearts are so beautiful I think I am the luckiest of all to know them.
If I add it all up…which I try not to do- I may have had more bad years than good but, I am hopeful. Not naïve or ignorant, just hopeful.
I think 2009 is going to be a good year. I know I may lose someone I love it seems I do every year, maybe a dog, maybe a friend, maybe a family member. I know I may have bad days and some good days. I know I may have days I want to write but can’t find any words, or days I want to play but have no one to play with. I am hopeful.
Happy 2009 to all of you.