Blustery Days

Oh the wind is lashing lusterly

And the trees are thrashing thrusterly

And the leaves are rustling gusterly

So it's rather safe to say

That it seems that it may turn out to be

It feels that it will undoubteadly

Looks like a rather blustery day today

When you enter my house, you walk directly into the Pooh room. I started collecting Classic Pooh stuff a few years ago. I love this room. When I refinished my wood floors in that room, I decided to go with a more contemporary style and polished look. I bought new furniture and put in new lighting and finished the floors and painted and hammered and glued and nailed and made the room really nice. When I talked about changing the "theme" of the room, my kids just about fell apart on me. I was outvoted and the Pooh room it still is. 

Last night I was sitting in the Pooh room and my eyes landed on this picture of Pooh and Piglet walking hand in hand through a blustery day. I closed my eyes and smiled. I thought about what my family is going through. I thought about what my daughters (Shelby, Megan and Daulton) are going through. I thought about what my SuperWonderfulOhMyGoshILoveHerSoMuch friend, Pat, is facing,  I thought about my dad and how he's doing with his cancer treatments, but because I'm only human and sometimes I'm a selfish human, I mostly thought about me and what I'm going through and how I'm doing and what I'm going to do.

I'll begin with my girls. They have a dear, dear DEAR friend who was in a car accident and prognosis is grim. He has been in TICU for 9 days now. His mother posts updates twice a day on facebook. I have to hand it to her, it must be terribly difficult to write and attempt to keep your emotions in check in order to share medical information and the highs of good news and the heart dropping bad news. But facebook has become a lifeline to Christian and the girls are clinging to every morsel of information. I watch them and worry and worry and worry and pray that they will be okay and that Christian will be okay and that his parents and family will be okay and then I wonder if anyone will ever be okay after this. It's awful. 

Years ago I lived in an apartment complex in Provo and I became friends with the Nakai family. (pronounced Nah - KI) They are (politically correct here) native american. Pat is the mom and she is my friend. Our kids grew up together and we have remained friends through many years. Pat came to my house on Monday. She had just left the Doctors Office and has been diagnosed with breast cancer. She's scared. I'm scared. We're scared. I worry about her health. I worry about her mind. I worry. I worry. I worry.

I know this isn't "about me". But, if it's not, why is that my stomach hurts this whole week? Why can't I sleep? Why can't I concentrate?

Friday morning my brother, Scott, shot himself in the head. He's dead. I'm not freaking out. It is what it is. To be honest, I don't know why I'm writing all of it out, but it's one of those things that I need to tell my friends.  I'm not wanting to post it on facebook and I'm not wanting to make a million phone calls. I called an aunt on one side of my family and an aunt on the other side of the family and asked them to share the news. They have and I will be forever grateful that they took that burden from me and carried it on their own shoulders.

Without giving details, my brother and I were not close. I refused to be around him and can count on one hand the times we were in the same space since I was 18 years old. Time didn't heal those wounds and absence didn't make my heart grow fonder. Time has given me the opportunity to keep feelings at bay, and absence helped my heart to heal.

There is too much to say as to the why and how of all of it, but suffice it to say that it happened, my parents are in a turmoil. He hurt many, many, MANY  people and I can't seem to be able to sort through all the garbage right now.

Enough about that. Blustery days are upon me. I'm grateful for friends, family, even strangers that are walking through the forest with me. Pooh and Piglet have each other. I have you.

So it's rather safe to say

That it seems that it may turn out to be

It feels that it will undoubteadly

Looks like a rather blustery day today

On My Way

This last week I flew into Portland, Oregon to spend a couple of days with my biological Dad. He has been diagnosed with bladder cancer and prostrate cancer. I'm not at the "I'm so worried about him" stage. All the medical crap is just beginning and it will be a while before we have some informed feedback on "how to do" and "what to do". He's doing chemo, surgery, followed with more chemo. It will be a bit more time before the medical community can start giving us specifics.

But, Dad had a birthday on September 12 and a WHOLE BUNCH of family and friends (including me) gathered to celebrate him. Three words about the event. FUN, FUN and MORE FUN! More great memories to tuck away. 

Seems like the bookends of this visit were VERY significant to me.

Dad had an infusion scheduled right after I was to arrive in Portland, so my half sister, Sharron, got stuck with the "can you haul Linnette around" duties. Keep in mind that we are all still getting to know each other. I have worried about my siblings through all this "add another family member" process. I want to get to know them.  I'm selfish and I want relationships. I want them to get to know me and my family. I want to know them and their lives. I want them to like me. Heck, I want them to LOVE me. There. I said it. The cat is out of the bag.

I was SUPER nervously excited to see Sharron. I've only been to Washington 4 or 5 times since we made the adoption discovery, so I don't REALLY know many of "my people." I'm learning. But, I become chatty when I'm nervous and I'm finding that my siblings are more quiet. I think at times they look at me and wonder if maybe they should insist on DNA testing!

Sharron brought her daughter Mackenzie along for the event. We left the airport and stopped at Red Robin for lunch. We nearly stayed until dinner! We talked and talked and talked and talked. I can't describe how wonderfully, fabulous it was. I left thinking that we are so much alike. And it felt good.

Guess what? Sharron likes concerts. I LOVE concerts. So Sharron, myself, Mackenzie and Sharrons other daughter Ellie went to a vineyard nearby to see Huey Lewis and the News. OHMYGOSH what a great time we had!

Fast forward to my exit. (A little family history lesson here). I have two half brothers and one half sister. I have 2 step sisters and 1 step brother. Cheryl is my step sister. Cheryl is married to Tim and they live in Portland. Cheryl got the "can you haul Linnette around" duties passed to her and she gave me a ride back to the airport. 

When I first met Cheryl, it didn't go wonderfully. I have since found out the why to that. It had nothing to do with me. It was timing, and circumstance and events set in motion loooooong before I entered into the picture. Nonetheless, it was a rough beginning and I haven't quite known how to handle it. Cheryl had actually volunteered to haul me back to the airport. She had to get up at 3:30 am in order to get me, so I knew that she was okay with chatting with me. 

Cheryl arrived to pick me up, I said my goodbyes and headed to Portland. I wish I could find the words to describe how meaningful our conversation was. We talked and talked and talked. She offered me insight into her life and who she is and why she is and how she is. I felt a connection with her. I know I kinda, sorta freak her out. She doesn't seem to be overly emotional. I wear my emotions on my sleeve. So when we pulled up to the airport the first thought I had was "Man, I love her." And I hugged her and told her so. And I do.

I created a picture about a year ago with this saying:

"She wasn't where she was going. She wasn't where she had been. She was on her way."

Sharron, Cheryl and I aren't ever going to be little girls sharing secrets. I haven't mourned their losses nor been able to celebrate their triumphs. But I'm on my way.

Toy Surprises

I absolutely without a shadow of a doubt adore my grandparents. ALL of them. I was so blessed to have them in my life for many, many, years. Like most kids, I was devastated when they passed away. I lost a grandparent every year for four years. Aren't memories grand, though? Isn't it nice to close your eyes and remember the moments that mean the world to you?

I was driving to Springville yesterday to run some errands. I ended up on a back road that ran along a field that was being irrigated. I love irrigation. I remember irrigation day with Grandpa Pete. I remember him slipping on his waders and going outside with his shovel to toss the water into the flower beds. I remember my boys being very young and running out in their swimsuits to play in the water and Grandpa throwing water at them with that shovel.

Years later, when I came across this house, we irrigated! I loved it. Many, many, MANY memories of the dogs and kids playing in the water. Every time I see irrigation water, Grandpa comes to mind.

Grandma and Grandpa drank coffee. I was raised LDS so this fact MORTIFIED me as a child. I have since become more rational about coffee drinking. Grandpa got up every morning at 6:00 am. Let me tell you, you didn't go to Grandpa's to sleep in. He would come in and wake me up and I would help him set the table for breakfast. My job was to butter the toast. We would banter back and forth and EVERY SINGLE MORNING he would pretend to pour me a cup of coffee. He would tease me about it. I used to love the smell of coffee because I always thought about Grandpa, but when I was pregnant with Shelby, I walked down the fresh coffee aisle and someone had just ground up some coffee beans. The smell was VERY overwhelming and I vomited PROFUSELY all the way out the door. So ended my love for the smell. (Stupid Shelby)

Every single time I left my Grandma and Grandpa's house, they sent each of us off with a box of Cracker Jacks. I would savor every candy coated kernel and set the toy surprise aside for last. I would wonder and ponder that surprise and loved the anticipation of opening the little wrapper to see what I got. Still LOVE Cracker Jacks. Maybe it's something I'll keep around for my grandbabies.

Grandma taught me to crochet. She had her own "mini business" going for years. She could make ANYTHING with a crochet hook, knitting needles and a skein of yarn. I would sit by her side for hours and she would explain to me what she was doing. We would talk the whole time while she crocheted or knitted. I look back now and think that I probably did most of the talking, and she probably was thinking "I wish this girl would STOP TALKING". But she endured me with the patience of a saint.

My Grandpa Lyn was a tall, slender man. He worked at BYU and was PROUD to be a part of that school. I don't remember watching much television at their house, but when BYU football was on we were glued to the screen. It's one of the reason's that I love football. I don't watch college football, but love, love, LOVE pro football.

Grandpa loved ice cream. When you went to visit Grandpa you could count on a bowl of ice cream sometime during that visit. It was usually Maple Nut. I'm not a big fan of maple, but that didn't stop me from having a bowl with him. He was a health fanatic, but he taught me that a person should eat what they crave. He taught me portion control long before it became a fad. Oh yeah, and he drove a beige Volkswagon for years. I don't know why when I was younger that I thought it was odd, but I did. As I grew older, it was cool. Still can't see a VW without thinking of him.

Grandma Adamson taught school here in Provo. In fact, my kids attended the elementary school that she taught in. Franklin Elementary. She didn't just teach. She developed programs that were used in the school system to help teach the kids. She once wrote a children's book and asked me to illustrate it for her. I remember being terribly flattered that she thought I was capable of such a huge job. We didn't ever end up doing it, but when I sent off "My Best Friend, Ray", to be printed, I thought of how proud she would be.

My Great Grandma Coltrin taught me to paint. She taught me the love of color. I remember sitting beside her for "art lessons". Her paintings hung in many of the LDS churches in the Burley area. I was VERY proud to see her work displayed for all to see. I think that she would like that I went into the creative area. I think my "style" would kind of freak her out. That AND the fact that I do it on a computer. But she influenced me tremendously to channel creativity and make something come alive with color and form.

I sometimes wonder what my grandkids are going to say about me. Crazy is a given. Beloved would be a bonus.

About Today

Today was Beck's funeral. I know funerals are supposed to be somber occasions. Don't get me wrong...I am so very sad that Becky died. It was awful to watch her siblings have to say goodbye. It's just all wrong that Chris lost his mother. It is outrageous that Aunt Sue and Uncle John have to bury their daughter. I DO get the meaning and the sadness and the tragedy behind funerals. I really, really do.

I don't know if it is good or bad, but I get so excited to see everyone that I become a bit giddy. I love to laugh and talk and tease and renew relationships that I have missed so very much. So I talk and talk and talk and talk.

My extraordinarily awesome cousin Mike and his oh man I love her so much wife, Sue, my ever so amazingly wonderful Uncle Pete and one of the coolest Aunts a gal could ever wish for, Ellen, met at my house and we all rode to Salem together.

I got to see cousins that I haven't seen in MANY blue moons and they have KIDS of their own. How did that happen? They're just little tykes themselves. There is so much catching up to do and such little time in which to do it. They probably ALL think I'm the cousin that has lost her marbles, but I enjoy it terribly.

It's WONDERFUL to see them all again. I am reminded how much I adore my family. My WHOLE family. To love and be loved back. Wow.

She's Gone

She died last night. I got a phone call from Aunt Sue at about 8:00 pm. Becky wasn't doing well, and she probably wouldn't last the night. I don't usually feel helpless, but that is the only way to describe how I felt. Helpless to change the fates that struck my family. Helpless to offer the correct words to Aunt Sue. I wanted to bawl. I didn't. I wanted to go shake something - REALLY hard. I didn't. I didn't really know what to do...say...feel.

Of course Aunt Sue blessed me with her sweet spirit, she asked if I would like to come be with them. I did. I had wanted to ask, but I was so terribly afraid of imposing on such a sacred family moment. But, the only thing Aunt Sue had to say to that was "You're family. " And I left to her house.

On the 20 minute ride to Salem, I thought about how ironic life can be. When Sue called we were whooping it up with a birthday party for Tyson. He turns 28 today. I celebrated the life of my beloved son while Aunt Sue was mourning the passing of her beloved daughter. Aunt Sue tells the story that Becky had come into this world wrapped in pain (Becky had broken her collar bone in birth) so can someone please explain why she had to leave this world wrapped in pain? 

Sue shared the story that at about 11:30 yesterday morning, Becky asked Sue if it was time to go. Sue told her that "she could go if she was ready." Becky said she was ready. 

Aunt Sue, Uncle John, Christopher (Becky's 15 year old son), Jennifer (Becky's sister), Rachell (Becky's sister) all surrounded her bedside when she died. It was 11:55. She passed amidst laughter and tears. And through it all the only words she could hear were "I love you." 

About Becky

My cousin is dying. I'm not kidding. She has cancer about everywhere you can have cancer. Her liver is failing. Her kidneys are failing. Her body is failing.

Becky and I were never real close growing up. I don't know how old Becky is, but I do know she is quite a bit younger than I. I remember when she was born. I remember holding her as a baby. I remember her playing in her house when we would visit.

After I got married, I heard once or twice about her, but I didn't go to her graduation. I wasn't there 15 years ago when her son was born. I didn't celebrate her marriage nor mourn her divorce. Would it be horrible for me to say that she just never played a significant role in my life? It sounds so crass, doesn't it?

I'm closer in age to Becky's older sister, Jennifer. I remember playing with her when I was younger. Jennifer is 4 years younger than I am, so we had more in common. She probably doesn't know it, but I always thought of her as my pretty cousin. She was more girly than I ever was. I remember being envious because my Aunt Sue made these really cute dolls and Jen had plenty of them. I always thought it was so cool that Sue would do that for Jen.

Of course, time, life, husband and kids got in the way and I haven't kept contact with my family like I should have.

I'm mad that I have done that. I'm disappointed in myself - in my actions and I want DESPERATELY to turn back the clock and have a do-over.

I would tell my Aunt Sue just how wonderful I think she is. I would tell my Uncle John that I always knew he loved me because he would tease and harass me - and that made me feel special. I would tell Jennifer that she is one of the most beautiful human beings that I know. I would be close with the cousins I vaguely remember and they would each know that I love them. And I would spend time getting to know them and letting them know me and my family.

I have been blessed with wonderful family. I have Aunts and Uncles that warm my heart. I have cousins that are more like siblings. I don't share the same blood with them. But, I assure you, I would give my blood to them. And I would do ANYTHING to take the pain away from Becky and her family.

Keith, the UPS guy

I've told this story this weekend to anyone who would listen. Since it's still on my mind - and since you are a captive audience - I'm going to write about it.

I have a set of neighbors that don't seem to like me much. Maybe they think I'm wonderful, I don't know, but based on the two years they have lived next to me, and the fact that I've about given up on them simply waving "hello" to me and the fact that they'll see me coming and hurry and turn their backs to avoid making eye contact with me, I think it is safe to say they aren't fans of the Deason clan.

I guess that's okay. I miss my old neighbor. I used to love stepping outside and being pleasantly surprised to see Brit or Jake out. We would wave, say "hello", sometimes have a conversation, but they never failed to put a smile on my face. I was thrilled when they got engaged, cried when they got pregnant, fell in love with their baby boy and full out bawled when they moved.

I don't know why the current homeowners don't find me fabulous. The dislike is compounded by the fact that their house has a small basement that has been converted into an apartment. Those renters don't like me either. I haven't done anything to make them mad. I keep my yard tidy. We don't have wild parties on the weekend. We mind our business. But our "hello" waves are seldom returned.

Saturday I was weeding my flower bed that is connected on one side by their driveway. I was digging and weeding when I heard their gate click. I turned to say hello when I realized the neighbor-gal had walked right behind me and was heading back into the house. I was so mad but all I could do was laugh.

I shook my head in dismay and continued with my gardening. A few minutes passed when I heard the sound of a stroller nearing. I looked up in time to see a young gal approaching. I recognized her from church that my neighborhood attends. I smiled and said "hello". She looked at me and turned her head the other way and ignored me.

WHAT THE CRAP?

I have raised my family to be friendly and helpful to all they meet regardless of the color of their skin, their financial place in society, any political standings and especially regardless of anyone's religious preferences. I have always felt it was important to really see the human being behind all the facades we inevitably build around us and judge a person on their character. Where I go wrong is expecting the same treatment.

Sigh. I'll get off my soapbox and back to the story I intended to write.

Okay, so the weeding continued. I was angry, hurt, dismayed, astounded. You name it, I was feeling it. I was furiously tossing weeds into the trash can when I heard the UPS truck pull up. Out stepped the delivery guy without a package in his hand. He was walking towards me, so I pulled off my gloves, brushed off the dirt and went to meet him halfway.

A couple of years ago I was taking Hailey to feed the ducks. I swung into the bread store to get some bread and was chatting with the gal at the check-out when the UPS guy came to make a delivery. We all ended up talking for a few minutes, but since then, I see him regularly and we smile and wave.

The UPS guy walking towards me was THAT guy. I know I must have had a VERY confused look on my face. Because, well, I was CONFUSED! He stuck out his hand and said, "I see you all the time, you always smile and wave at me. I saw you out here and it dawned on me that I don't know your name. I'm Keith."

That random act changed my whole day.