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.

Welcome Fishies

I made it to Aquarium World today! And here's what I brought home with me:

• A Red-Tailed Black Shark, named Charles... who is very busy, very fast and very camera shy.
• A small Buenos Aires tetra, named Junior... to keep 'Big Daddy' company, since he lost his mate a few months ago. It's cute to see Junior 'tailing' Big Daddy.
• Two Serpae Tetras, who have yet to be named. I'll keep you posted.
• Two Lemon Tetras, unnamed, who turned out to be one Lemon Tetra and one Lamp Eye Tetra. I know, I know... how could I have not noticed? Well, I'm not sure I even looked, until I finally turned the light on in the aquarium. And now I must return to the store for another Lemon and Lamp Eye! Darn!

These newcomers join:

• 'Big Daddy', my decade old Buenos Aires Tetra.
• 'Gertrude' and 'Alice', my two Black Skirt Tetras.
• 'Harpo' and 'Groucho' my two Leopard Catfish.

Thinking of a clever name for my new fish babies (2 reds, 2 yellows and 2 silvers with red eyes)? Add a comment! All names will be considered! The cleverer, the better!

Photos to follow as soon as all are adjusted!

My Daddy's 78th Birthday

That's what today is.

I miss him more than I could possibly express, but he knows.

Time dulls the sadness, and these days, I make a conscious effort to celebrate, rather than mourn so much.

If Daddy were alive today, he would be indulging in his passions: humor, writing, cooking, golf and the occasional hunting trip.

He may be gone from my physical world. But he continues to be my rock, my barometer, my mentor and my precious Daddy.

A friend asked me how I intended to honor him today. And this will sound funny to everyone except the friend who asked, and Daddy... but I planned to go to Aquarium World and buy some new fish.

Unfortunately, it flooded severely here with over 6" of rain in about 2 hours, and then it still kept raining... upon saturated soil and already near full bayous. My friend pointed out that I might have lost the fish on the swim home!

Tomorrow, though... I'll select the perfect fish, and bring them home to live.

Photo of Daddy and me, circa... ain't sayin'.

March 17: The Anniversary of Mom's Death

I'm a quarter Irish descent. And in my younger years, I celebrated St Patrick's Day with fervor. March 17, 1998 was no different. I arrived at work, decked in green. I had my "If you're close enough to read this, you're close enough to buy me a beer." pin in my pocket. I was primed to hit the Irish bars with friends after the workday.

And then, at 9:15 in the morning... I got the call.

Mom was gone.My heart sank. And life would never be the same.

The next few days, weeks, months were and are a blur. My life had been so focused on Mom's illness and needs, and my worries and prayers... that I literally didn't know what to do with myself.

I found myself letting go... of so many emotions, so many rules, so many restrictions. Nothing mattered any more. And everything mattered so much more.

Losing your Mother changes a daughter. I remember when Mom lost hers. Once she awakened from the inevitable daze (that I now realize... I didn't even remotely understand at the time), there was a drastic shift in her priorities. I experienced the same awakening.

The reason for yesterday's post...

Mom was critically ill for so many years, and I really didn't have anyone to lean on for support. My Dad (and hands down, Mom's and my best friend) had already passed away in 1992.

To this day, I have a hard time remembering Mom healthy and happy. Those (nearly) six years, combined with all of the other losses, stripped me of my fond and surely favorite memories.

Yesterday, I tried to step back in time. I tried to remember some of the things that Mom loved. And if given the opportunity today, I would shower her in all of her joys!

The Worst Day of My Life

Today is the 14th anniversary of the worst day of my life... the day my father died.

I've written volumes, expounding on what he meant to me and how much I miss him. But truly, there are no words that come close to explaining.

I would love to tell you who he was, to tell you everything about him. And I would love everyone to know how much a father can mean, particularly in his daughter's life.

For now, and pardon the impersonality... I love what Linda Ellerbee said about her father:

He was generous with his affection, given to great, awkward, engulfing hugs, and I can remember so clearly the smell of his hugs, all starched shirt, tobacco, Old Spice and Cutty Sark. Sometimes I think I’ve never been properly hugged since.

Daddy's hugs meant love and security in their purest senses and were far from awkward, but I remember them distinctly. It's funny, though, the older I got, the more I didn't want him to let go. I know, for a fact, that I've never been loved or treated, by anyone else, the way he loved me, or treated the way he treated me. No one has ever even come close.

As an example, Daddy and I had a telephone conversation one day, the content of which I don't remember, but he said something that made me cry. When the call ended, I can only assume he felt as bad as I did.

The next day I received, in the mail, a typewritten letter from him that read simply:

Sometimes daddies say the wrong things. And sometimes daddies say too much.

Your daddy is sometimes like that.

The letter was signed, "Your daddy always loves you. Daddy." And there was a $20 bill enclosed which, to this day (and I've kept it), makes me smile. That was just SO Daddy.

The bottom line is that no one has ever believed in me like Daddy believed in me. And I know I've never been properly hugged, loved or believed in since.

March 16: My Mom's Birthday

Today is my Mom's birthday.

If I had the honor, the privilege and the good fortune to still have her healthy and here with me on earth, she would be 77 today. And we would be celebrating large:

1. She would wake (at a reasonable hour... please!) with a telephone call from me!
2. The day would have been kicked off with a koffee klatsch, surrounded by her good friends.
3. Mid-day would be celebrated with a light lunch and a fun bridge game.
4. She would have late afternoon to watch Oprah and unwind a little.
5. Dinner would be my treat. We would go anywhere her heart chose, but it would likely be a place that served shrimp, in some fashion. (At her heaviest, Mom weighed 114 pounds. And she once ate a 99 piece shrimp combination dinner, all by herself!). I would probably have to insist that we go someplace "better" than Luby's, however. (Mom LOVED Luby's).
6. I would tease and we would laugh.
7. My gifts to her: books (histories, biographies), crossword puzzles, a warm gown, a designer label four-piece suit, at least 2 pairs of Ferragamo shoes (one pair would never do!), everyday skirts, pants and blouses, and gift certificates for manicure/pedicures (something she deemed luxuries).
8. Her cake: something I baked (vanilla or lemony), looking questionable but quite tasty and probably having a Snoopy figure and seven and seven candles on top.
9. Her wish: There is no doubt in my mind what it would be. We are similar in that regard (our priorities, our wishes).
10. She would be happy to spend the night or maybe even the weekend with me, but she would just as eagerly want to return home.