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Meanderings

Guest Blog - Poetry Forms

Kristina Kelly invited me to write about poetry on her blog. I love different poetry forms so in this post I wrote about 3 different forms and gave an example of poems I'd published. They are Viator, Villanelle, and Acrostic. Instead of copying the post, I'm including the link for your reading pleasure. 

http://kristinaseyes.com/exploring-poetry-poetic-forms/

 

You can also click on the picture above as it will take you to the blog post.

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Was there ever really a Russian Jewish Madewell?

Have you ever shopped in a Madewell clothing store? 

I read this online a few years ago and again today. I decided I needed to contact the author, Dan Nosowitz. Here is a link to his essay. https://www.buzzfeed.com/dannosowitz/how-madewell-bought-and-sold-my-familys-history

Hello Dan

I reached out to you on Twitter but then saw your email listed. I'm still active on Twitter. @Patienc77732097. 

I read your article a few years ago when I first started researching my family tree because the first time I saw a Madewell store I had the same reaction as you - family birthright - why did I not know about this? 

My niece later sent me a photo of her shopping bag and asked the same thing. I read the essay again today and had to reach out.

You see Dan, I AM A MADEWELL. 

My maternal grandmother's maiden name was Madewell. She was born in Fentress County TN in 1896.

So who is this Russian Jewish Madewell that your great grandfather found a headstone for? You said in your article that because of language difficulties, Julius might have spelled the name wrong. I also know that when people entered this country through Ellis Island their names were butchered and shortened. My late husband's name is a case in point. "Mehas" was shortened from the Greek "Mehalos." (Spelling is probably wrong) when his grandfather immigrated. Another friend's grandfather came through the same way and his name was changed from "Nepasilik" to "Silk." 

When they arrived here from their homeland, they said their name, someone wrote it down, and that became their new name.

I wonder if that is what happened with your Julius Madewell. I wonder whose name was on that stone.

I will stop rambling now. But every time I see a Madewell store, I think I should be getting dividends.

Please get back with me, especially if you have any answers.

Mona Mehas 

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Sleep, or lack thereof

Thunder & Esse with birth and death months and years
Yin Yang Kitties 

For the first time, I'm typing directly into this body instead of making a document first. It's 4:19 am on Thursday morning, officially Leap Day. I can't seem to regulate my sleep anymore. If I went to bed when I started to get sleepy I'd be up about this time of day or earlier. Knowing that, I push myself to stay awake and this happens. Now my body is fighting because I am sleepy but it's morning. I don't know if I want to go to bed or not. I have clean laundry on my bed that I'd have to put away first. That would add another half hour. 

 

Meanwhile, my publisher emailed me and my first chapbook will officially be out in the world tomorrow, March 1, 2024. 'Questions I Didn't Know I'd Asked' is poetry inspired by tarot and oracle. My small independent publisher in Australia is sending me 3 free copies. I'm getting 10 more at deep discount. I hope to sell a few.

 

They are $12 to purchase. Make sure you buy at least one!

 

February has gone gone fast but it contained some sadness. My cat, Thunder, crossed over on Valentine'd Day. He would have been 18 years old May 1. He'd had a heart murmer for years and the vet said he developed heart failure. One shot was all it took and he crossed in my arms. I was grateful the event went much smoother than Esse's crossing last April but Thunder won't rest with my other pets in a pet cemetery. My new vet sends the animal's ashes a to place they own and spreads them over a field. There's nothing to go visit.

 

Though I'm glad to be rid of the litter box, I miss Thunder.

 

My dog, Jose, is getting much cuddlier. He's not making any progress on the car phobia. It hasn't been warm enough to spend time at or in my car trying to bribe him to get inside. I hope he gets over this fear soon.

It's going on 5 am and I'm starting to doze off. I think I'll post this and go to bed.

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Jose'

Jose'

I got a dog on December 29. I've been wanting one, searching the Facebook rescue groups, Humane Society, Petfinder. I filled out applications, even brought a dog, Oscar, home for about a day. My cat, Thunder, attacked Oscar in his face with no provocation from the dog. Thunder is 17 ½ and deaf. When I walked Oscar, he was quite aggressive when he saw another dog across the street, lunging and barking, so it worked out for the best.

Jose' is between 3-4 years old, younger than I'd planned. I'd gone to the Humane Society with a list of 4 dogs to see. None of those were friendly with cats. The girl behind the counter recommended 'Bandito.' Due to overcrowding, Bandito was living in an office with a cat. Of course, I wanted to meet him.

Just look at his face. That is his scared face because he is terrified of Thunder. My cat has not attacked Jose'. He has hissed at him and picked at his food, but Jose' is afraid.

My dog, Barkley, died in 2020 so it's been over 3 years since Thunder has been around a dog. In April 2023, my cat Esse died at age 17 1/2.  Shortly after that, Thunder lost his hearing, probably from old age.

Why the name change? Why Jose'? I didn't like 'Bandito.' I'd decided that if I got a female dog her name would be Boots because, 'these Boots are made for walkin.' If I got a male, I'd call him Jose'. On walks I can say, 'No way, Jose',' and 'This way, Jose'.' He's so smart, he understands and is already learning his name.

Jose' was a stray and lived in the office with a cat at the Humane Society for a month. He's not officially mine yet. He's a foster-to-adopt until they get him neutered. While he's 'not my dog,' I can't let him around other dogs or take him to the vet, but I can get him a bath. That's coming up soon; he needs it. I can't bathe him myself because of my back.

You can probably tell from the photo that Jose' is a pit bull mix. I love all dogs and don't believe in breed discrimination. My apartment complex doesn't have breed or size restrictions, but their rules are very strict.

Thunder knew something about the first dog, Oscar, that I found out when I walked him. He had the potential for aggression. That must have been why Thunder attacked him. If I'd kept Oscar and he'd attacked another dog, I would have been given the ultimatum: move or find another home for the dog.

I don't believe Jose' has an aggressive bone in his body. I'll be patient and wait it out. In time, Thunder will get used to him being here and stop hissing at him. They might eventually become friends. Or not. But at least things will settle down and Jose' can relax and not be afraid.

If you are looking for a pet, please don't go to a breeder. The shelters and rescues are bursting at the seams. For every one animal adopted they take in three. I look at the shelters and rescues as one big pool. It didn't matter where I found a dog because if I took one, it would open a half-space for another one. The high-kill shelters are even more overcrowded with wonderful cats and dogs. Most are required by law to put the animals down after a certain time. Don't judge the employees. It's the system.

For now, I'll continue working with Jose' and hope this period of Thunder's anger passes quickly.

 

 

 

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Glen Campbell

'I Love My Truck' is on this Glen Campbell album

Do you name your vehicles? I've been naming mine since I bought a 1986 Chevy Suburban in 1989. My then-husband and I named the big two-tone brown guy Glen, after Glen Campbell.

Glen had a hit song in 1981 called "I Love My Truck." As one would suspect from the title, the song is all about his truck. No matter what happened to him he could always count on his truck.

The '86 Suburban was the first vehicle to be named for Campbell. I'm writing this at least partly, so I don't forget their names. I don't remember the years of the cars, but I remember the models.

1986 Suburban – Glen

1999 Tahoe – Glen Too

Toyota Rav 4 – Glen Jr.

Toyota Camry – Glenda

Toyota Corola – Glenna

2021 Toyota Rav 4 – Glenard

2022 Toyota Highlander – Campbell

2019 Ford Edge – Gladys

Okay, so I ran out of 'Glen' names. 'Campbell' was fitting for the Highlander because it sounded Scottish. I needed to expand so I decided to branch out and include other names that started with 'GL.' Hence, 'Gladys.'

You can see from the list, I prefer Toyotas. Gladys just got a new transmission so she might have a longer life. After this, however, I hope to return to Rav 4!

Wonder what I'll name it?

 

 

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Christmas Morning

Bells for "Carol of the Bells"

I am not shy about telling people where I stand when it comes to religion. When I told a friend I wasn't Christian she said it was her "duty" to convert me. (She was only halfway joking but hasn't tried.)

A couple of assumptions follow my statement of "I'm not Christian." I am usually asked these questions, or someone makes certain statements.

1.     "So, you don't believe in God?"

2.     "Since you don't celebrate Christmas…"

I'd like to address these issues here.

1.     "So, you don't believe in God?"

Just because I profess that I'm not of the same faith as you, doesn't mean I don't believe in God.

2.     "Since you don't celebrate Christmas…"

The guy who said this evidently didn't see the gift bags I have here for my family.

Here's what I believe.

Jesus was a person who lived long ago and was a leader among his people. He was a religious zealot who went against the government of the day and was killed for his actions. His followers continued his stories.

Son of God? Yes, in the same way that you and I are. But Jesus was not the only charismatic leader. Islam and Judaism call Jerusalem the birthplace of their religions, too.

Did he rise from the dead? That depends on what you mean. After my mother died, she came to me in spirit a few times. I heard and saw her.

I am. You are. The trees, oceans, my cat, rocks. Everywhere and everything is God.

If all humans believed Life was precious there would be no war.

The assumptions about me will continue, I'm sure. I think the next time that guy who thinks I don't celebrate Christmas comes to borrow something, I'll have a surprise for him. On my Pinterest page, I have a collection of my favorite Christmas song performed by various artists. The song is "Carol of the Bells." I'll have it up and playing.

Yes, it's a beautiful, Christian song.

 

 

 

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Gladys

2019 Black Ford Edge 

My car has been in the shop since the Monday before Thanksgiving. When I finally get her back, she should be like new, and the repairs will be free to me. Mostly.

 

Gladys (that's my car's name) almost died in the parking lot of the Marriott East hotel the Sunday before Thanksgiving when I attended the volunteer meeting for Starbase Indy. I barely made it home that day. She shimmied and shook all the way with two of her lights on and blinking. The next day, I used my Zurich roadside assistance and had it towed to a shop about twenty minutes away. Tuesday the shop owner called me. The transmission was shot, and they don't work on transmissions.

 

I'd suspected something was wrong because Gladys had been shaking for a while, but I'd only had the car for two months! Did I get a used lemon? I'd traded my 2023 Toyota Highlander because I couldn't afford the payments and got the 2019 Ford Edge in September.

 

Keeping my anger in check, (yes, I can do that) I spoke to the service manager at the Toyota place. He said that Zurich covered more than just road service. It would also pay for a transmission if I took it to their Ford service garage.

 

Hallelujah! Zurich sent a truck to the first garage and towed it to the Ford garage, but it was an hour away, so I had to pay part of the cost of that tow, a drop in the bucket compared to the cost of a transmission. That was Wednesday before Thanksgiving.

 

Zurich paid for me to have a rental car for ten days, believing my car would be repaired by then. I'd already paid for a rental car myself, hoping they would reimburse me, and they did. I returned the car on December 6 and got a ride to the Ford garage to pick up my car because it was supposedly ready. I got ten minutes away and Gladys died at a 4-way stop.

 

This time the Ford place is paying for me rental car. They are reimbursing me for the wrecker. They sent a driver to take me home. I spoke to them yesterday and was told I'm getting a new transmission, paid for by Zurich. Gladys should be ready by Tuesday, December 12.

 

I paid my neighbor to take me to get my car the first time, I'll have to do that again. If I truly have a new transmission, that should be like having a new car.

 

We shall see.

 

 

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Kenny

Soulful eye resembling an elephant from Portals of Presence Deck by Deborah Koff-Chapin. Maybe this is Kenny's spirit guide.

 

This is a depressing post about my nephew who died, so that's my warning.

My nephew passed away on October 10, 2023. He was 57 years old. In all truthfulness, he did it to himself, though it took a year.

My sister and brother-in-law died in 2019, leaving Kenny alone after losing his brother in 2005. (There are two half-brothers living in other states.) He wasn't mentally prepared to take care of himself. People took advantage of him. When my other sister and niece moved to North Carolina later that year, he went with them, but Kenny never got over the loss of his parents. When Covid hit, and he lost his part-time job, he sunk deeper into depression. Kenny stopped helping around the house. He stopped making his car payments, so it got repossessed. He spent most of his money on lottery tickets and stayed in his room. He also stopped seeing his psychiatrist and taking his bipolar meds.

In October 2022, Kenny tripped over clothes on the floor of his room and broke his femur. My sister and niece heard him yell from the pain, and my niece dashed in. The paramedics carried him out on a stretcher. Kenny was a big man, around 300 pounds. The surgeon repaired his leg in the hospital, but he faced physical therapy to walk again. Thus began the year of decline.

Kenny never walked again. He was transferred to a nursing home for physical therapy. Whenever the therapists or nurses tried to help him, he said it hurt and refused to cooperate. Weeks went by, then months. When family visited, Kenny said he would start therapy the next day, but he didn't. He complained about the food and refused to eat what the nursing home served. If he could get cookies, chips, or soda, that's what he had. Eventually, most food made him throw up.

Kenny lost about 100 pounds over the year. He never walked to the bathroom, always content to wear diapers. He went through phones like candy. He lost his glasses and dentures, or maybe he threw them away.

Repeatedly, Kenny told us he wanted to be with his mom, dad, and brother. We knew he was getting his wish.

The trips to the hospital became more frequent. When someone spends their life in bed or a chair, never moving, never exercising, and not eating, things quit working properly. That is what happened to Kenny. He was moved to a different nursing home, a better one, according to my sister, but he wasn't there long. The next hospital stay was the last one.

When one of Kenny's lungs collapsed, and the other one was too full of phlegm to breathe, he got scared. He allowed the doctors to insert a breathing tube. They said he also gave them permission for a feeding tube. I don't know; I wasn't there, and Kenny had been against the feeding tube before then. Later that night, after a procedure to insert a PICC line, he took a turn for the worse.

One of my nieces was with Kenny when he passed and had his other brothers on the phone. I'm glad he wasn't alone.

Some in my family choose not to believe that Kenny wanted this. They base their argument on his decisions when he couldn't breathe. I don't see it this way. Kenny stated his desire many times. His method was unconventional; maybe it was the only way he knew, but he accomplished his goal.

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Settling In

Coleus

I am settling in nicely to my new place. I am trying to keep it neat and clean, but it's not in my nature to clean all the time, plus it hurts my back to do much cleaning. I usually do a little at a time. I have more tile here and less carpet. That means more sweeping and mopping, especially around the litter box. Thunder still hasn't learned to clean up after himself! I have a different car now, too. A Ford instead of a Toyota, but I got it at the Toyota place. Trying to cut my expenses. I thought I'd see more of my neighbor, a single woman with a garden out back, but she keeps to herself most of the time, and honestly, so do I. I love my new view out my patio. I don't have to sit out there to enjoy it. As long as my door is open, I feel like I'm outside. I have huge coleus in pots and windchimes hung with patio lights and a hummingbird feeder. The place feels bigger than it really is, though the cabinets are a bit smaller. I'm happy here and glad I made the move.

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The Move

Folding card table for sale

The Move

I moved from a 2-bedroom apartment to a 1-bedroom in the same complex. It's only about a block or so away. That was Friday. My mail was supposed to be transferred that day; however, on Friday and Saturday, I got mail at my old address.

Friday evening and Saturday were spent messing around with trying to set up the internet and starting to unpack. Sunday, I got a little more done, but it showed me how much more there is to do.

Monday:

I'm partially unpacked and thoroughly exhausted. The first day, I went to bed at 8 pm, which is totally unheard of for me. I'm trying to get more done every day, but my body is slowing down, and I can do nothing about it. And this heat is so oppressive! When I go out to the dumpster or even my car, it feels like a million degrees out there!

The internet is working, but it took them two tries to get it hooked up correctly. Initially, I agreed to pay for a tech to come out on Friday, but when it died and a second tech had to return on Saturday - well, now I want that refunded. Waiting for a call-back from them, and now to the boxes…

Saturday:

It's been eight days since my move. My body is exhausted. Most boxes are unpacked, but I can't find certain things, and frankly, I'm too tired to care. I'll find them eventually.

Still missing:

Some of my windchimes

The lights I bought for my patio

Hummingbird feeder

My make-up

The $100 fee for internet. (They won't refund it)

I wrote a poem today. That's the first thing I've written in over two weeks, maybe 3.

I'm still not getting mail here except for things I ordered with this address.

I've listed five folding card tables for sale on NextDoor, but no bites yet.

I could ramble on about my move all day, but that's just a way to put off the inevitable, so back to work!

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