Patrick Swayze: Sad But Hopful

Having experienced the sudden diagnosis and death from pancreatic cancer of someone very, very close to me... the headlines scare the bjeebers out of me. Pancreatic cancer is deadly. By the time my loved one became aware, it was far too late.

I'm hopeful that Patrick Swayze will be the exception to the rule. From this blog to God's Ears. I pray it so.

I'm not so much an admirer of his work, but I'm a huge fan of Patrick. In the interviews I've seen, he seems totally Texan, totally humble and genuine... and just himself. I'm a big fan of loyalty, and he's been with his wife, Lisa Niemi, since she began taking dance lessons (she... at age 15) with Patrick's mom. And they married in 1975.

I also live in Oak Forest, the neighborhood in Houston, Texas, where he was raised. I pass, regularly, by the schools he attended. Many people who grew up here, now choose to live here. It was a place of humble beginnings, and I think it's reflected in Patrick's character.

He and Lisa are in my prayers. God has a plan and it's not for us to question. We can only pray.

American Idol: My Top 12

I'm mostly ok with the top 12, but last night was a teensy bit sad for me.

First, I hated to see Asia'h go home because I just feel so much for what she's been through these last few months. She lost her father just days before her audition... and I liken that to own experience of getting licensed shortly after my Dad passed away. Song selection or performance aside, I was staunchly in her corner. She's got terrific talent.

And second, I hated to see Danny (Danjaya) Noriega cut. I agree, his performances paled in comparison to the others... but I will miss the head roll and learning new lingo. I will forever remember him for his spirit, and for teaching me the terms... "TMTH" and my personal favorite... "ISH". I'll miss him.

So... here's my personal ranking of the top 12. Play along and let's see if I have my finger on the pulse of America. (That would be a first!).

1. David Archuleta (Imagine... the kid is only 17!)
2. David Cook (he's really tied for first place with me, dawg... this guy is awesome).
3. Jason Castro (rockin' Rockwall, Texas!)
4. David Hernandez (ffn images aside, this guy is a performer!)
5. Syesha Mercado (love the spirit, the personality and how she rolled with the punches)
6. Brooke White (reminds me of someone I know, genuine and true)
7. Michael Johns (great performer, but I think... too much like he's imitating someone else)
8. Amanda Overmyer (I think she's sincere and would make a great friend, but is maybe too stylized)
9. Ramiele Mulabay (She's got a voice bigger than her body, but I'm not crazy about her performance)
10. Chikezie Ezy (I really, really like him. And I like the way he supported Danny last night. I just think his soul is too old for this particular competition. He's got great pipes though... Dawg)
11. Kristy Lee Cook (She should never have sold the horse. One, I'm traumatized by that story, and two... Simon is right. Her performances are forgettable.)
12. Carly Smithson (I'll admit it. I'm shallow. If I was blind and/or blind folded, she might rank higher, but I can't get past the tats and greasy hair. HDTV sucks sometimes).

I had some difficulty with placement in the lower eight. I'm still not sure if I got that right.

Lisa Marie's Unhappy Announcement

Lisa Marie... married and pregnant???

I haven't spent a lot of energy thinking about her, but maybe this news story puts to rest the last thought I had.

Mary Lammy, My Yellow Lamb Pinata

Yes, this is a pink pony. Mine was a yellow lamb.

She was brought home to me, in preparation for a birthday party. I, along with my closest friends had banged the heck out of a red, white and blue star on the 4th of July... and Mama and Daddy thought such an activity would be perfect for my big day.

There was one thing they forgot.

And that's the sentimentality of their daughter, who had consuming empathy for all creatures and a multitude of inanimate objects.

The first thing I did was name her. It was obvious to me that she was a "she", but I vascillated over whether she was "Mary" or "Lammy". (Remind me to tell you about my favorite stuffed animal whose name is 'Deery'. For the time being, I'll let you guess what animal he actually is). I was nothing, if not clever.

Needless to say, Mary Lammy was put away safely on the big day, and I would have gladly been hung from a tree limb and pounded with a stick to protect my precious ewe.

Mary Lammy was moved carefully in Mama's car, along with all of my treasures too delicate to pack, from my pre- to post- fourth grade home.

She lived a comfortable life in my second floor flat (bedroom) for many years, before finding her way into the guest flat (bedroom). As teenagers, you see, we each needed our personal space.

Several years after my father passed from this life, with Mama in a long term care facility, and when we were clearing that home of all its furnishings, its memories, its treasures... I found Mary Lammy in the closet of the guest bedroom. Clearly, after I left home, Mother had felt comfortable in exiling her, and while I might have felt slightly offended, I found comfort in the fact that she hadn't thrown the old gal out.

The day was emotional for me, more emotional than I can begin to describe.

I had limited space... in the truck I had rented, as well as the tiny townhouse and storage unit with which I had been forced to 'make do' (because of other losses, 'nother story, 'nother day).

And I had limited time. I won't go into the reasons, because it is a source of real contention and pain. They are reasons with which I have come to terms and accepted. And I have forgiven the other parties involved. So I shan't say more than... I was in a huge hurry.

And there was Mary Lammy. What to do, what to do... I struggled. Today, I'm sad to say that I left her behind, because today, for whatever crazy reason, she's on my mind... and I miss her.

I cried every one of the 155 miles home that day, and for many days of many years thereafter. I left a lot of myself behind that day. Today I'm grateful that I can recall, with fondness, a tiny portion of that self, my former life.

While 'googling' the internet, hoping to find a yellow lamb pinata... I encountered the pink pony, who shares similar eyes and the same size and build... though, Mary Lammy's legs were straight as boards. I'll admit... if my searches had yielded even a remote facsimile, she would be on her way to me... express shipping. I can only assume that she would then either reside in my toy/memory/exercise room... or occupy a place of honor in the guest bedroom!

Welcomed Childhood Memories

I went through an extended period of overwhelming stress, and frankly, clinical depression, in the 90's. It was a time of great, almost uninmaginable loss. And in the process, I lost a lot of the memories that I had previously treasured.

Sobbing on my therapist's couch, I mourned that there were so many moments of my past that I couldn't force my mind to retrieve. Likening my situation to post traumatic stress disorder, she assured me that these memories would return. I can't tell you how much I wanted them. I needed them to remind myself how truly I had been blessed.

Many have now returned. Many have not. In quiet moments of reflection, I often dig and scratch at the journal of my mind, trying to remember the joys of life, pre-1992. I rarely succeed.

Those I do recall, I consider souvenirs. And I give words to them, so they'll never be lost again.