It is a large puffy-white clouds perfect temp's type of day.
Probably a monsoon coming in by late afternoon. I really don't mind them.
I saw that big-18 wheeler of immigrants some dead all in terrible shape from Iowa to Texas. That's just horrible! I could hardly believe it!!
Human trafficking. That darn Trump better do something. -Lois, 26-July-2017
@geekorner
asked for excerpts from my mom's cousin Louis, aka "A Recluse in the Desert," after I posted
A Little Valentine's Day Miracle: Letters from a Recluse in the Desert, Part One
Where to begin? Two or three letters a week, for how many years?
The Cowboy Poet's Reading was one of my favorites:
Translation:
Sunday
13-August-2017
Hi Carol!
I did go to the "Cowboy Poets Gathering" last night in the rain!! But it was in the Yavapai College auditorium.
It was packed!
It was fun, it was good,
full of old cowboy trail songs, lots of guitars, and
my way of life.
I loved every bit of it.
Tim sits in his seat motionless at these things.
He has schizophrenia.
I thought he was going to start screaming because
he can't handle big crowds, happy people enjoying the show.
But he was fine.
That's probably the last time I go to anything like that again anyway.
My arthritis is bad.
I hurt too much etc etc etc
But I went, and I'm so glad.
I really don't think I'm going to live very long!
No weeping for me.
Got to get groceries. I'm about of everything.
Politics are awful
just to watch the news is disturbing
I dislike Trump!
He will probably get shot!!!
Have a beautiful day.
Lots of love,
Lois
Gotta love Lois!
Her letters alternate from sunny highs to dark, cloudy lows.
Her voice is full of poetry and passion, energy and outrage, indignation and stoicism.
Between the lines, I hear loneliness, weary frustration, forbearance, and sheer determination to make the best of each moment, thank God for every day we wake up to another dawn, to carry on, like a good stoic. A dog gets arthritic, slowed down by pain and stiffness, unable to enjoy all the old fun and games and simple things --and we put it down, put it out of its misery.
The closer Lois got to age 80, the more she spoke of not being able to hike the Grand Canyon anymore, or hike Lynx Lake, and then, just walking to the mailbox was getting to be a chore. Some of her many dogs would die of old age, and she'd be ready to go, too.
This is a woman I've seen three times, face to face; mostly, we've been penpals, mailing each other illegible ink-scribbles on paper in last-century envelopes with postage stamps.
Her son Tim, my husband Tim
Averse to poets, happy crowds of people clapping along to "bad music."
To be honest, I myself would be loath to buy tickets to--much less sit through!--a Cowboy Poet's Reading.
60 plus cowboy poets and old-time singers celebrate the oral traditions of the working cowboy with a blend of contemporary poetry and music, traditional and contemporary cowboy poetry, music and yodeling, and ranch history.
All right, I lied. I would probably get a kick outta this. It'd be a real hoot!
Her son Tim doesn't picture poets when he hears cowboys. A former rodeo champ, he would rather drive his mother to this sort of thing:
source
Like Lois,
My sister is becoming a recluse, in keeping with family tradition. Cousin Lois is one of many hermits, home-bodies, or introverts among the family, but they light up a room on the rare occasion they venture out.
Lois married young and stayed married "until death us do part," and I just decided to delete all my previous commentary on that, considering that the blockchain is forever, and not even death shall part us from the words we post here. Kinda scary. I can see why Lois never touched a computer or cell phone and never will.
Today my sister was released from the hospital, and my parents took her home (home = The Farm to all the progeny of my parents).
Five weeks after her near death, on Easter weekend, she suffered another Emergency Room run, another hospital stay-- but this time, so help me God, she's going to stay longer. Her l'awfully wedded husband will have to spare her for a while. We're overdue for afternoons of tea and laughter, evenings of Chinese checkers, Scrabble, and Dominoes.
A Little Valentine's Day Miracle: Add to that an Easter miracle, Part Two
If I dare hope for another miracle,
it'll be more time with my sister. A lot more time.
And maybe a trip to the desert. Come August, the 31st annual Cowboy Poets Gathering, ladies?
art and flair courtesy of @PegasusPhysics
