Brian had left to take David to daycare. So I turned on the Today show. I was met by a rerun of the second plane hitting the south tower.  I watched in shock and amazement as clouds of smoke billowed out of both towers. My Mom called to see if I was watching the news. Her comment, “The world as we know it, is ending”…how right she was. I watched as both towers crumbled to the ground. I dressed and went to get David from daycare. I needed him with me…something to ground me.

I couldn’t watch TV. I couldn’t be reminded. I couldn’t fall back into the well of desperation I was already trying to climb out of.

I could pray. For peace. For strength. For all the loved ones of all the lost.

10 years have passed. In the blink of an eye. Still the loss persists. The pain too.

Still I pay for peace. For strength. For all the loved ones of all the lost.

I guess funerals are trending away from the somber events of the past and becoming more of a celebration of the life that has passed.

I can see and totally agree with celebrating life…what I find a little strange is the telling the mourners what to wear.

“Hey y’all, you remember how Aunt Hattie Mae’s favorite color was fuchsia and how she always wore those big floppy hats to church on Sundays? Well I think that to honor Auntie all the women should wear bug fuchsia floppy hats to the funeral and all the men should wear fuchsia ties”

Now depending on how close everyone is to Aunt Hattie Mae, there may be a wild rush on the local mall to buy up everything even remotely fuchsia in color!

I’m all for doing something to honor the person who has passed on, but asking the funeral attendees to wear something they normally would not seems a bizarre way to “celebrate life”

So consider this fair warning, in the event of future funeral attendance, I’m going “old school” and will wear something somber and dark but reserve the option to celebrate the deceased person’s life in thought, word, and/or deed. Thank You.

The day started out with a phone call that my best friend had had her baby…a darling little red-headed little guy. This was still in the days when the hospitals still only allowed the immediate family into visit new mothers. While Suzie and I considered ourselves sisters we knew hospital administration may not agree. Being the smart-ass I am I had a plan in place in case anyone questioned me. Since the baby’s father was not in the picture I was going to tell anyone who challenged me that I was the father and that I was a pre-op transsexual when I got Suzie pregnant…and I’d since had gender reassignment surgery. Since the baby had red hair it was plausible enough to work.

All the stress and worry during Suzies pregnancy was for nothing and her son had arrived safe, sound, and healthy. Such joy!

After leaving the hospital Porter and I went to go check on Nanas house. Nana was in a rehab facility recovering from a stroke the previous month.

Porter and I go to Nana’s to find the house had been burglarized and evidence indicated the burglars could still be in the house.

We made the necessary calls from the neighbor’s house and started the reporting and clean up process.

We made it home in time for a pizza dinner and the phone call that Nana had passed. It was utter devastation.

Nana, born Valborg Lynnea Eklund, had been born January 7, 1902 to Swedish Immigrants. She was one of those positive people who became the best of friends with EVERYONE she met! Going for a couple of groceries could take hours if you weren’t careful. She was an incredible oil painter, something she loved! Mostly she loved her family and made each and everyone of us feel like she loved us the best.

I didn’t go to Nana’s funeral…I fought to not have the memory of her in a box missing her essence and all that made her Nana. I still wonder if I should have gone…not that Nana would have cared… She would have said, “Oh Honey, do what makes you happy.” Not going to the funeral was closer to “happy”, but it would be a while before we could happily laugh at the Nana stories.

I think of Nana often, I hear her often in my head, and see her often in my dreams, as well as when I watch my sister Lynnea (Nana’s namesake). I miss you Nana and look to the day when we will see each other again.

He came into our lives thanks to Sonya. He was kind, quick to help anyone, and loved my niece and nephew. In a lot of ways I think Cameron was as close to Doug as his biological father. I know Cameron loved Doug and I know Doug loved Cameron.

It’s so hard when people you love, leave us so soon. Dougie was there when we said good-bye to Pop and I’m sure Pop was there to greet Doug. Doug we are all better for having known you. You left us too soon, but you are no longer bound by your faulty, earthly shell…you are free, and you are going to be missed for a long time to come.

There was a Grandfather at the game. The same Grandfather that had been at every game all season long. He cheered on all the kids. He paced the fence much like Tommy Lasorda used to pace the dugout while he managed the Dodgers…way back when.

All of a sudden I was hit with a vision of my Daddy sitting there in his beloved North Dakota watching his beloved David playing in his first Little League Tournament and I couldn’t stop the tears from falling…much like right now just remembering it.

I so wish my Dad had lived long enough to see yesterday…he would have been so proud regardless of how much time David spent playing, or how he did at bat. These are the times when I miss him most, and still do.

The boys lost that game…but in the bottom of the final inning the boys made up some major ground coming from behind with a 10 run deficit to finish out only 2 runs behind. We were very proud parents.

My Father-in-Law, used to buy and grow an amaryllis bulb every Christmas season. I don’t remember exactly when it started, but it did become something you could count on…just like when he would get his Christmas Bonus in the form of a gift certificate to the local grocery store and would spend it on shrimp for Christmas Eve shrimp cocktail, and prepared horseradish with which he would make cocktail sauce for the shrimp.

This last Christmas, in our new house, we hosted Christmas. My Mother-in-Law, Rochell, came “home” from shopping one day with an amaryllis kit…for me. It made me sad and happy…sad that Pop wasn’t there with us, but happy to grow the amaryllis in his honor.  So here is a belated shot of the blooming amaryllis.

Even though the flowers have shriveled and died, the bulb sits on my window sill and continues to grow. I can’t bring myself to dig it up and try to force it again. With Spring around the corner, I’m going to plant it outside with some other bulbs I plan to plant and will look forward to it blooming again next year.

Dear Pat Robertson, I know that you know that all press is good press, so I appreciate the shout-out. And you make God look like a big mean bully who kicks people when they are down, so I’m all over that action. But when you say that Haiti has made a pact with me, it is totally humiliating. I may be evil incarnate, but I’m no welcher. The way you put it, making a deal with me leaves folks desperate and impoverished. Sure, in the afterlife, but when I strike bargains with people, they first get something here on earth — glamour, beauty, talent, wealth, fame, glory, a golden fiddle. Those Haitians have nothing, and I mean nothing. And that was before the earthquake. Haven’t you seen “Crossroads”? Or “Damn Yankees”? If I had a thing going with Haiti, there’d be lots of banks, skyscrapers, SUVs, exclusive night clubs, Botox — that kind of thing. An 80 percent poverty rate is so not my style. Nothing against it — I’m just saying: Not how I roll. You’re doing great work, Pat, and I don’t want to clip your wings — just, come on, you’re making me look bad. And not the good kind of bad. Keep blaming God. That’s working. But leave me out of it, please. Or we may need to renegotiate your own contract. Best, Satan

*From the Minneapolis Star Tribune

Tuesday, as Brian drove the 13 miles down a rural road to work…a pheasant attacked his truck.  It flew out of the ditch and was flying alongside the truck for a time when suddenly it veered into the passenger side mirror of his truck.  In the battle of truck mirror versus pheasant, the bird was victorious…see attached picture.

This was not Brian’s first battle with a pheasant…also, it was not his first loss!  In his previous battle, the pheasant was victorious over his truck’s radiator grill.

Just a thought for the FAA (Federal Aviation Administration)…I know they use frozen butterball turkeys to test jet engines against bird strikes…I’m thinking they might want to consider using the pheasants of Mott, ND.  In our battle against the pheasants we are 0 for 2!

May 11, 1963 – March 18, 2009

I can’t begin to express my sadness for Ms Richardson’s family.  What a tragic loss!  I pray that her family is able to find peace and comfort over the, very hard, coming weeks and months.

Here is where the PSA comes in.   Ms. Richardson is undergoing an autopsy as I write.  My suspicion is that they find her head injury was violent enough to cause her brain to swell…and with no where to go, parts of her brain started to die, leaving her “brain dead”.

Granted this was an accident.  A spokesperson for the resort where she was skiing said she did not hit anything, she fell, probably hit her head on the ground.  This is called a closed head injury.  The head strikes some thing but the skull remains intact.

I’ve seen, in my personal life, how a closed head and traumatic brain injury can effect a person.  My nephew, over 20 years ago,  hopped onto the back of one of the family horses with his sister.  It was a spur of the moment decision, so he did not have his riding helmet on.  Something spooked the horse, and my nephew got tossed off.  His head hit the ground.  Thankfully my sister had the foresight to get him to the hospital, or they would have lost him.  My nephew, while he survived his injury, has been dealing, daily, with the after effects of the injury ever since.  Regardless of what part of the brain is damaged, the injury is devastating.  Life is never exactly the same again.

How do you prevent these types of injuries?  Helmets!  I get so frustrated seeing young people riding around on bikes, skateboards, scooters, motorcycles, ATVs, etc…without helmets.  As much as they think they are invincible, they aren’t! Once you see the devastation head injuries can cause, you will want everyone in your life to wear a helmet 24/7.  I know that’s not feasible…but it doesn’t keep me from wanting my loved ones safe.

PLEASE, do everything you can to make sure your loved ones wear helmets whenever possible.

]]> http://pamsteinke.com/2009/03/19/public-service-announcement/feed/ 1 pamsteinke http://pamsteinke.com/2008/12/19/authorities-confirm-remains-are-caylee-anthonys-from-cnncom/ http://pamsteinke.com/2008/12/19/authorities-confirm-remains-are-caylee-anthonys-from-cnncom/#comments Sat, 20 Dec 2008 00:24:18 +0000 pamsteinke http://pamsteinke.wordpress.com/?p=780 ]]> So sad!  It boggles my mind that anyone could or would hurt a poor innocent child.  I feel for what this poor little angel went through.  I feel for her grandparents who loved her so much and held out so much hope for her survival and return.  I can’t begin to imagine the pain they are going through right now.  I hope the media, and those that camp outside their home to berate them for standing beside their daughter, will leave them to grieve the loss of their beloved granddaughter.  I pray God gives them strength in the coming months and years…their’s is not an easy road.  Peace be with them.