Texas

(Orleans, You're Still The One)
I have to admit that sometimes even I have to think long and hard about where we were and when, while with Turner Enterprises. We moved around so much, and after all, it has been almost forty years. I can hardly remember what happened yesterday.

I think Texas was one of the states we worked the hardest in. It was also where we lived the craziest. We were constantly on the go, working day and night, made big money there and we spent it.

Remember this?

On our first trip down to Corpus we stopped at a service station to gas up and for me to make a mad dash to the little girl's room. When I jumped out of the car I slammed the door on my thumb. What a mess that was. By the time I got back to the car, my thumb was twice its normal size. You stopped at a Dairy Queen and got me a cup of ice to stick my thumb in and we drove all the way to the coast with me moaning and groaning.

When we made it to Corpus you were late for a meeting. We checked in at a hotel down the beach, kind of away from everything. Sidebar here: We were on the ground floor and the terrace went right out over the water. I stayed out on that terrace day and night wrapped in a blanket, I made you crazy and mad because I wouldn't come in. I loved the wind, the smell of the salt water and watching the waves hitting the rocks below.

Back to my thumb. You asked someone at the hotel about a clinic where I could have my thumb looked at, then you put me in a cab and off to the meeting you went. The doctor at the clinic said my thumb was broke. He used a special splint and bandaged it, gave me something for the pain, and I was going to call a cab to take me back to the hotel. The doctor thought I needed someone to come get me and he had his nurse call the conference center where you were. We finally found you. I had to wait in the doctor's office a long time before you could leave the meeting. They were beginning to think you weren't coming for me when you finally showed up.

When we got back to the hotel the thumb was still killing me. You kept saying "I can fix that thumb if you will just let me!" and I repeatedly refused, until I couldn't take it any longer. Crying, I finally agreed. You took your pocket knife and heated it with your lighter, removed the bandage completely, and then drilled a little hole in my thumbnail right at the cuticle. In less than five minutes, no pain. My hero.

A few days later we moved back up the coast to the Holiday Inn on the oceanfront in Corpus and that's where we stayed for several weeks. The view was unbelievable from a room on the top floor. We lived on room service, worked day and night and then would crash for 24 hours and get up and do it all over again. We were working with a good group of TE people back then. Some of the crew from Washington were there.

You took me across the border to Mexico for New Year's Eve. I loved Mexico, especially all of the art and pottery, but it was also my first experience at seeing another country's poverty. That was an eyeopener. The children begging for money just about killed me.

We finally settled in Irving, outside of Dallas, and leased a new condo. I thought we were going to stay put for awhile (silly me). I loved that condo. It was beautiful. Furnished with royal blue velvet sofas, deep shag carpeting, and the bedroom upstairs overlooked the living room. It was awesome. It also came furnished with ants. Do you remember the ants? Texas ants. Also known by you as "those damn ants."

We stayed for about six weeks, before the company moved us to Minnesota. You talked the powers-to-be there, into letting us out of the lease and they even gave us our deposit back (I think they just wanted you out of their faces and office).

If I had to describe our Texas time I'd say it was an experience from start to finish. I do remember one other thing. Texas was the first time you ever let me drive while you were in the car. After you felt safe with me driving, I did a lot of the driving, thereafter.

I'll remind you of some of those times, later.

Love you. You're still the one.


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Remembering Portland

(Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, Southern Cross. This came in later years but one of my CSNY favorites.)
I've been thinking about our time in Portland lately. Especially my flights back and forth from SeaTac to the Portland Airport. Even after we had later flown all over the country, there was never a more beautiful trip than from Seattle to Portland, flying above unbelievable white clouds, you could see the snow covered tops of the three mountains. I remember listening to CSNY and Steve Miller on those flights through the stereo headset provided (my first real listen with a headset), looking down at the mountain tops, so out of sync with my old life, scared to death of not knowing where I was headed, in my new life.

On one trip I came off the plane into the Portland Airport (I remember I had on zebra print high heel knee boots, and a mini-skirt with a matching sweater, OMG what was I thinking?) to find you cooly leaning up against the escalator rail twirling something around on a shiny silver chain. A necklace for me. Most people who knew you then would never believe what a corny romantic you were and I ate it up.

We spent a lot of time in Portland and traveling back and forth from Portland to Seattle. Those trips by car brought some of our most serious discussions about our situation and some of our most trying times.

I remember one trip in almost complete silence because you got mad at me for something and wouldn't talk to me (a regular occurrence in the early years). I broke the silence by asking you if you wanted a Wintergreen Life Saver and you wouldn't answer. Thirty minutes later you said "Give me a Life Saver." I had to answer with "Oh crap, I ate all of them." You said "You ate a whole damn roll of Wintergreen Life Savers?" And then we both just burst out laughing.

Of course there was the famous short cut during that period, where I talked you into going over one of the passes to get to Seattle and the one and a half lane road was snow and ice packed with a 9000 foot drop off on one side. I finally said "You better stop where you can and put your chains on." Chains? You didn't have any chains in your trunk, you were from Alabama.

What I remember most about Portland is the night before I left to go to Salt Lake City for the company. We went to a very nice restaurant for dinner, had a table next to the fireplace and I cried all through dinner and couldn't eat anything, because of course I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again.

In those early times it seems our relationship had nine lives. The times we thought we would have to call it quits were too many. I know we were meant to be, because God brought us together and kept us together.

Portland was good.



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Here we are

(Listen to Billy Paul, Me and Mrs. Jones, while you read)
I created this blog in October of 2008, only days after you passed away. I had big ideas for the blog, but every time I started to post something it made me so sad I just couldn't write anything. I called it writer's block and blamed you (love still blaming you for things). I'd let it set a few months and try again, but each time I couldn't seem to stay focused. I think I was also afraid someone would send the white coats after me if I talked to you in a blog. It worried me then. Now, I'd welcome the company, regardless of the color of coat they wear.

I hope you like the template I am using. The birds of course instantly remind me of you. I never fail to feel your presence when I see a flock of wild turkeys in a field or a flock of wild geese flying over, it's like a sign from you each and every time. I get that same feeling when I am wearing heels that are too high without you there to hold me up, or when I stumble over a crack in the sidewalk and you aren't there to catch me. I know you are watching and shaking your head.

Through this blog I want to remind you of some good times (and not so good times) we had in our 36 plus years together. In the last year you were here it was hard for you to remember things. I think that was one of the hardest parts of dealing with your illness, because over the years we laughed and cried a lot over the memories we made. I missed that long before you left.

I also am going to share with you some of the things I have done and been through. Here's the kicker. I really do feel your presence every single day. I believe you see and continue to watch over me, even hear your voice sometimes telling me something. If I have this every day experience, why do I need to talk to you in a blog? I like to write? Maybe it will help someone else who has lost a spouse? I don't know why. I just know it feels comfortable.

About the music. I have to include music in all of this, since it was such a huge part of our relationship. You have my word I'll go easy on the Beatles, but I can't make any promises on the rest of it. :)

Until next time, I hope you know that I still love you as much now as I ever did, and I miss you each and every day.



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