Written For Jeremy

In Loving Memory

Jeremy Gene Sharpe

8/17/1975-10/19/2011

 

Beloved To Everyone Whose Heart He Touched...

He Was My Nephew.

A Day

 

I took a day to cry for you

I took a day to grieve for you

I took a day to lay in bed, and just remember you

 

It took a day, but I could just make out your smile

It took a day, but I could almost see the twinkle in your eye

It took a day, but I could almost hear your laugh

 

Then, I could feel again

Then, I could breath again

Then, I could feel my heart beat again

 

Then, I cried some more.

 

I know that every day without you will hurt

I know that every day without you will feel empty

I know that every day without you we will feel your loss

 

But I know that soon we will see you all around us

 

We will capture your smile on the face of a toddler doing something he's not supposed to be doing

 

We will hear your laugh escape from the belly of a tiny baby, pure and true

 

We will feel you in the touch of our loved ones

 

And we will smell your hair in the morning breeze after the rain

 

 

You were more than a gift, you were a blessing.  Sent to us to show love, inspiration, and strength in it's purest form. 

 

It's time to rest now, our Sweet Angel... What a beautiful life you will have now next to God.

 

We will miss you, today and every day.

The Purple Hand

When Ellen came out of the closet I was 18 years old and extremely annoyed with all of the headlines.  So she was a lesbian, why was that anybody's business?  What annoyed me more than the media making such a big deal out of it was the fact that SHE had made such a big deal out of it.  You didn't see Demi Moore going on Oprah saying "I'm straight!" 

When I was much younger, my Auntie Nina had a boyfriend.  He was really nice and I had a little girly crush on him.  We moved to California and then came back to Vegas, but when we got back the boyfriend was no longer in the picture.  I asked Nina why they broke up, and she simply said "Times change, people change."  I accepted that, time went on, and while I never made the conscious connection, I knew that the reason the boyfriend never came back into the picture was because Auntie Nina had moved the boyfriend out of her life, and moved a girlfriend in.  This never bothered me, it simply made since.  I think that's why the whole Ellen thing bothered me.

In the 1980's I never saw Nina make a big production about her sexual preference (though granted I was young and there may have been one) so why the Hell did Ellen's matter?  Why would it be a big deal in the late 1990's?  Quite honestly, much in part to having Nina as a part of my life, the issue of sexual preference has never really been an issue to me.  (I hate the term "homosexual")  To grasp the idea that it can be, or ever has been to others, is something completely intangible to me.  I would like to say that others are closed minded or ignorant, but I can't even say that much about them.  I think it is more that they are unfortunate.  Unfortunate to not have had a Nina, a Heather, a Rob, or a Mike in their lives to show them that sexual preference does not define a person... a PERSON defines a person.  How on EARTH does one piece of a VERY personal part of a persons life become the basis of such discrimination?

And that, my friends, is what leads me to my "violently purple hand".  (Thanks for the terminology Laura!).  On Halloween of 1969, sixty members of the Gay Liberation Front and the Society for Individual Rights gathered outside of the San Francisco Examiner building and staged a peaceful protest.  The newspaper had been printing ant-gay articles against the local gay clubs and they were speaking out against it.  During the protest, the people inside thought that it would be a good idea to dump purple printers ink from atop the building on them.  Not cool!

Covered in ink, the protesters took the opertunity to scrawl "GAY PRIDE" on the building and stamp their handprints on the walls.  (Good for them!).  It became probably one of the most visible shows of pride and protest of the time.  Unfortunately, when the authorities showed up and arrests were made, it was not the people that assaulted the protesters but the protestors themselves that were hauled in.  There was, of course, quite a bit of police brutality toward all protesters... including women.  Sickening really when you think about it.

Now, playing Devil's Advocate for just a moment... they DID mark up private property... but AFTER they were assaulted!!

I guess, for a time there was an attempt to use the "purple hand" as a symbol of gay pride but it didn't stick.  I chose to use the symbol simply because it felt fitting for several reasons.  One, it's almost Halloween now.  Two, San Francisco is a hub for LGBTQ pride now. Three my degree is in journalism and Four... it's damn interesting!!  So.. what are your thoughts?

No good, rotten, horrible, very bad day!

So, cats are nocturnal animals and they like to play at night. Especially my little bitch kitty. She apparently found a ball last night and when she was done playing with it, felt the need to leave it on my side of the bed. So, when my bladder woke me up this morning at about 5:45am, I stepped right on it and I am pretty sure I hyper extended my knee. Ok.. maybe I'm being dramatic but it hurts really bad!! Luckily I didn't piss on myself, managed to make it to the toilet, and laid back down until 6:30 when my alarm went off.

I went into the hallway, woke up my daughter, and headed downstairs to wake up my son... where I was greeted with a pile of dog shit and puddles of dog piss. Personally, I prefer the smell of coffee in the morning but, hey, my dogs thought otherwise. I woke up my son and prepared to clean the filth. Well, I had just mopped the basement a couple days before and I had left the mop bucket down there full of dirty water. So as I came up the stairs I asked my son to take it up, dump it, and fill it with hot water.... only I had forgotten my knew was hurt, put too much weight on it, tripped, and spilled the dirty mop water all over the floor... and watched as dog poop slid across the tile in a mini flash flood of dirty water.

Well, then my son started bitching about how we should just lock the 15 year old dog up outside all night long because HE is sick of dog pee/shit in the morning. Um... you're upstairs eating breakfast... I am the one down here cleaning it so WTF do you care???? I told him and his sister to make their own lunch so that I could clean it up. I also told the boy that we may as well take the dog to the vet and have him put down because that's a whole lot more humane than leaving him outside all night! That pissed him off even more. I left to take him to school and I was so glad to have him out of my hair.

So, I get back 10 minutes later and look at my daughter. I ask her if she's made her lunch and she says yes. She went upstairs to brush her teeth before she left to catch the bus and I noticed that the usual mess she makes all over the counter when making a sandwich isn't there. This concerned me because she didn't eat lunch at school yesterday either. Mind you, she's 13, beautiful, and I doubt she's hit 100 pounds yet... so the idea of her not eating concerns me. I really don't want her falling into the "I'm fat" stage of life. Anyway, I looked through her backpack for a lunch and didn't find anything so I went upstairs and asked her what she made herself for lunch. She said a PBJ, chips, blueberries and a Life Water. I asked where it was, and she said in her backpack. I called her out on the lie... and now I'm REALLY concerned about her eating habits. Like, seriously considering weighing her weekly. Ornery teenager fight #2 ensued until she left.

Then, I decided to check and see if the $105 in checks had cleared yet. Well, I discovered that I had $95 in checking and they had NOT cleared yet. Fabulous. Luckily, they're checks to the schools and I doubt they'll clear until the middle of September... I hope anyway.

I had to run to the store to get some cleaning supplies.. clean clean clean when the day sucks to keep your mind off the suck. I pull out of my driveway, hang a left, make it up a block and hear thump thump thump. AYFKM?!!?!? A flat tire. I opted to go very slowly back to my house instead of stopping in the middle of the street, and figured I would just throw the spare on, get the tire fixed at Discount Tire for free, and if not then just get a cheap used tire until I can afford new ones. Yeah, not only did John take the jack so I had to be "that girl" and call roadside assistance TO MY HOUSE to change a tire, but Discount didn't have any used tires and it will be $80 for a new one, installed. Seriously? Eff it, I will drive the other husbands Hummer until payday, the primary husband can drive around on a donut.

Did I mention all of this happened before 9am? I need a shot of tequila and a penis.... and of course neither are available at the moment.

Adult Toy Story

This particular blog may be TMI  (too much information) for some family members and friends... proceed if you dare, but it is pretty damn funny!

Our first duty station was Fort Bragg, NC. As a PV2 my husband had big aspirations and like most 18 year olds had an unrealistic view of how much a dollar was worth, or how far it would stretch. He went out a few months ahead of me so that he, our son, and myself would have a home to live in.. instead of a cramped hotel room. Despite my adamant requests for a 2 bedroom apartment.. he took it upon himself to purchase a 3 bedroom house off base. I wasn't happy about it, but we made the most of what we could for as long as we could.

After about 4 years we were in over our heads and drowning in debt. We had a car payment, a house payment, utilities, and all of the other bills that come along with being a grown up. Our monthly bills equaled about $200 more than he was earning and we had to do something to get our heads above water. When he came back from his 1 year tour in Korea he went to housing and requested that we get on post housing. Because he was back from Korea, it was considered a PCS and we were bumped to the top of the list.. The house that we got on post was 500 sqft bigger, no rent, no utilities, and 5 minutes from his work... I was so excited! AND the military would move us for free!!!

We made our transportation appointment and the movers showed up to pack our things. I tied our dog up in the backyard, bought donuts for the morning and several sub sandwiches for lunch, and kept them well hydrated with soda and beer. I also made it a point to move certain... items... to one specific area and told them not to worry about that particular pile of stuff, that I would move it myself. All went well, they packed, moved, and unloaded all in one day.

That night, as we were settling into our first night in our new home I was looking for my hairbrush and blow dryer, both of which were stored in the hall closet between the bathroom and my bedroom. As I looked around the new house at the boxes that were piled from floor to ceiling I felt a little discouraged. I SO did not want to rummage through all of them at 11:30 at night!! BUT... to my great joy, I spotted a box labeled "MASTER BED: Towels, hairbrush, toys"

YAY!! It was the box I was looking for and I didn't even have to dig!! But.. toys? Did one of my children hide some little treasures in the hall closet? No matter, I ripped open the box in hairbrush victory! There it was... no, not my hairbrush, my vibrator. Nothing fancy, one of the simple long, slender ones... not even shaped like a man.. but it wouldn't be mistaken for wall art anytime soon.

I stood there staring at it for a few minutes, wondering how that one slipped out of my tedious preparations for the movers. Then I remembered that night before (it was a good night lol) Then I was overcome with humiliation when I remembered that it was the one good looking mover that was packing up my bedroom, and he kept grinning at me like he knew something I didn't know! Well he did... he knew where to find my little pink friend!

Memorial Day

I hopped on Facebook yesterday morning and I came across a post from the "Official Army Wives TV Show"  This is what it said...

"In honor of Memorial Day weekend, we wanted to share photos from Season 5's fallen soldier, Jeremy Sherwood. Remember Jeremy with pictures from the emotional episode here: http://bit.ly/ixDZJq"

In less than 24 hours, that post sparked about 175 responses.  Most of which were from outraged individuals chastising the administrator of the fan page for being insensitive to TRUE fallen soldiers.  I was one of them.  There were others that stood by the show and said that the actor "represented all fallen soldiers".  I don't agree.

I wonder if those people who said that honoring a fictitious character  was not in bad form have ever sat through a final roll call, heard the glass on the chapel rattle when the cannons were fired, or felt every shot fired from the 21 gun salute vibrate through their souls?  Do you suppose they know what it's like to look out their window and feel the terror that comes when an unknown car stops in front of their house?  Have they ever looked on helplessly as the mother of a 19 year old was presented with the flag that draped her sons coffin or looked into the eyes of the newborn baby girl that will never know her Daddy that was so excited to finally meet her?  No, I don't suppose they do, because if they had experienced any of that heartache I don't believe they would defend such a callous and insensitive remark.

We live in a non stop culture, and rarely do we get time to rest.  Advertising turns Memorial Day into a day of big sales... everything from hamburger patties to flat screen TV's... so I understand that it is easy to forget the underlining meaning... but seriously, when most of the viewers of that show are military related, the post was in bad taste.  I would go so far as to say that it was disrespectful to the true Heroes that have fallen.

What does Memorial Day mean to most people?  I don't know.  I only know what it means to me, my family, and my community.  I have spent my entire adult life immersed in the Army life. Yes, I sleep in with my husband.  Yes, I take advantage of the day off and throw burgers on the grill.  Yes, I have been known to sit outside while soaking up the sunshine, surrounded by the company of friends, with a cold beverage in my hand.  ABSOLUTELY!!  But I never, I repeat NEVER, forget why I can.... because I know far too well the sacrifices made that make this four day weekend possible.

Unfortunately, I couldn't find a link that lists every fallen soldier in the history of our nation so a list of those fallen since 9-11 will have to do.  But, I keep those from the Revolution to today close to my heart and I am thankful for them every day.

http://militarytimes.com/valor/

Graduation

I did it.  Against all odds, against the statistics, against some peoples expectations.. I have finally finished my AA degree.  I can now slap a couple of bullets on my resume; AA in Journalism and I graduated Cum Laude -- with honors... I just like saying Cum Laude, it makes me sound fancy!  The Facebook walls of all my friends have been flooded with images of me in a cap and gown, and my notifications have been exploding since Saturday with congratulatory words of praise.  Now that the big event is over, friends and family have returned home, and the crazy is returning to normal, I finally have a moment to sit back and reflect.

First of all, what am I supposed to do with an AA in journalism?  In a perfect world I would want a column in a men's magazine... like Maxim or Playboy... and I would read scores of letters from confused men.  My goal in life would be to advise them on subjects involving the female brain.  The world would be a better place because of me!  I would settle for being a reporter.  I can see myself getting a call at 3am from my editor instructing me to be on a plane to DC in an hour for a personal one on one candid interview with the President.  My easy going personality and ability to make anyone comfortable would have made him/her request me by name.  Maybe I could even be a confidant to the beautiful people in Hollywood, they would trust me with all their secrets!

Pipe dreams, and nothing more.  The truth is, journalism is a dying industry and an AA alone truly means nothing.  Maybe, just maybe, I could get a job working in the mail room at the Gazette and hopefully work my way up to a paid internship.  I knew all of this going into the degree program.  At the time, I just wanted a degree to know that I could do it.  My entire adult life has been in the shadow of my husband.  I chose that life, and I pride myself in that choice for I am married to an extraordinary man, but I wanted something to call my own. 

Now that I have it, I have come to realize that I want more.  I don't just want a piece of paper to hang on the wall, I want to have my own career, my own identity, my own sense of self.  I want to be marketable.  I want to make a difference.  I want to be the person that the big shots turn to.   I have been accepted to the University of Colorado Colorado Springs into the Communications program.  With a BA in Mass Communications I can be all of those things.  There are so many different paths that can bring me to where I want to be.  I can be a public relations rep, I can be a speech writer, I can still write... ultimately, I can still be all powerful with my pen.

It's funny to look back on myself and see how I have changed.  In the beginning, school was simply something to do because I could.  I had goals, but no real direction.  Perhaps because it took me 7 years to achieve a 2 ear degree, but now those goals have driven me toward a direction.  I'm not quite ready for the real world yet, but I know that I will be soon... and when I step out into the sunlight without my training wheels for the first time I know that I can fly.  Why reach for the sky when there are footprints on the moon... right?

The Royal Wedding.. Why do we care?

Last November Prince William of Wales proposed to his girlfriend of almost 10 years.  In the official announcement interview it didn't take long to notice that the blue sapphire ring surrounded by sparkling diamonds was the same that had once rested on Princess Dianna's finger back in the 1980's.  Since then every media outlet has been plastered with images of "Wills and Kate"... well, more so than before anyway.  In the weeks leading up to their wedding it was to the point of annoyance.  Their rehearsal, the food, the guest list, the venue, the dress designer, the wedding party.... everything was under speculation.  So, as American's long removed from the rule of the monarchy, why on earth do we care?

I've heard mixed opinions about the subject.  Some consider it a big joke in itself, others consider it to be a Cinderella story come true.  The truth is, I think that it is painfully sad if you don't care even a little bit.  The union of William of Wales and Kathryn Middleton is more than a fairy tale romance.  It's more than a marked day in history.  It's more than two people falling in love.  It is all that, and more.

Their whole relationship is different than any of the other royals.  Their relationship blossomed from a friendship to a relationship outside of the public eye.  Because of those years that they were together, undisturbed, at Saint Andrews I truly believe that their relationship was able to develop untainted, unlike that of his parents.  The time that they were afforded gave them the chance to truly get to know each other, and to truly fall in love.  When they were out of the safety of University and the media storm began they were able to weather through it, for the most part.  Granted, there was a brief moment in time where they broke up, but they couldn't stay apart long.

During their engagement interview, William finally got serious about why it took him so long to propose.  He said he wanted to wait until he knew for sure that she was ready, and willing, to take on all that would come with marrying him.  Obviously, she was and today every news media outlet is flashing images of them together... him looking regal in his military dress uniform and her exquisite in her gown.  They are the image of happiness and love, and even the hardest hearted person has enough heart to notice that.... even if they are resentful about it.

You see, we care because this whole thing has humanized a family that has long seemed untouchable.  Kathryn Middleton is an average girl that fell in love with a guy, and he fell in love with her... but it is far from a Cinderella story.  Because when they were at Saint Andrews together, he wasn't a prince... he was merely another student, another guy... another friend that vented his frustrations and worries about everyday life.  They are both well educated, young, and openly in love with one another.  They've settled into this life, this routine, where they are the center of one another's world, yet balance the weight of the world on their shoulders.  

No doubt, this happens every day.  I met the love of my life in school.  We were friends first, then we got married.  I wore a gown the looked sort of similar to hers actually.  Nobody televised my wedding.  Less than 50 people were at my ceremony as opposed to the billions that watched when those took their vows.  A small number of people will ever see my wedding photos, theirs will go into history books.  But, the story is the same.  Boy meets girl.  Boy falls for girl.  Boy and girl get married... and dreams for happily ever after ensue.  

So, why do we care?  We care because they are us, and we are them, how can we not care?

Forgiveness?

I spent my entire childhood waiting to be loved and accepted by the children of my father's first marriage.  I couldn't understand what I did that was so wrong that they would resent me as much as they did.  I tried to ignore it, because my dad always told me that they DID love me and I wanted to believe him.  When I had children of my own, the resentment carried over to my children.  That's not hearsay or rumour, that was straight from one of them after my dad's death.  That was when I tried to wash my hands of them for all of eternity. 

The one who seethed the jealousy of my children has tried to contact me over the years and I've rejected her every time  In recent years.. VERY recent years... I came to terms with the idea that there were half siblings out there that I would never know, would never care to know, and would never want my children to know existed. More than that, I realized that I did nothing wrong to deserve such treatment.  They hated me merely because I was born, and if  that ruined their lives... well, it wasn't my fault.  I sympathized with their situation, even if they had a warped version of my reality, and I sent the aforementioned one an email.  I apologized for not responding to her olive branches, and explained to her why I didn't.  It felt good, it felt freeing.

But then, the youngest of the sisters rocked my world and sent me an email.  She said she was thinking about me, she said she wanted to know me.  She extended herself in a way that none of the rest of them had... and I had no idea how to respond.  I sat and read the email about 100 times before I made about that many phone calls to figure out what to do.  When I finally decided to reply, I had to have written, deleted, and written again before I sent an email back to her.  The entire situation ignited electrical impulses through my brain that awoke an insecure little girl that lived in the recesses of my subconscious and ignited the anger of a mother bear.

It wasn't until she used the word "sister" in reference to our relationship that I realized none of them can hurt me anymore.  The little girl inside of me didn't jump for joy at acceptance, in fact, it made me a little angry.  I'm not a long lost sister that they just discovered, I'm a 33 year old woman that they rejected... But this particular person has owned that, she's admitted it, and she apologized for it.  Two very powerful feelings, resentment and forgiveness, now weigh heavily on my heart and mind with every moment.  I'm left wondering if people do change.  I'm left wondering "why now?".  I'm left wondering if I'm woman enough to forgive.  I guess I'm just left in a state of wonder.

There's a WHAT in your yard?

OK, so I got this email today from my schools alert message system..

Centennial Campus only: Ft. Carson Army Post personnel advised our Department of Public Safety that they found a piece of ordnance (some kind of explosive device) near the fence that divides Centennial Campus’ land from theirs. As a precautionary measure only, we were advised to evacuate the Grounds Shop and Fleet Management area of Centennial Campus. There is no danger to Centennial Campus and no need to evacuate any other area. They are in the process of removing the ordnance.

It reminded me of when I lived on Fort Bragg. My house was right next to an elementary school and all the kids would cut across my yard to get to and from school. Well, one day I was standing outside waiting for my kids to come home when I saw a group of boys standing in a cluster in my front yard. I heard this...

"Pick it up."
"No, YOU pick it up."
"No way! I DARE you to pick it up!!"

Thinking it was a dead animal, and with the whole bird flu panic all over the news, I went over to investigate. No.. it wasn't a dead bird, it was a grenade. The pin was still in it, but it was a real one. One of my neighbors stood watch over the grenade and kept the kids away from it while I ran over to the MP that was sitting in front of the school to watch for speeders in the school zone. Poor guy... he just wanted to give out some tickets LOL

So, I knocked on his window and he kind of had this annoyed look about him. He rolled it down and stared at me. This is the conversation, which I will never forget as long as I live....

"Um, hi. There's a grenade in my yard."
"There's a what in your yard?"
"A grenade."
"A real one?"
"It looks real, but I have no intention of testing it out."
"Fuck."

lmao

I had the fire department, EMT's, the bomb squad, CID... EVERYBODY there within 3 minutes. My whole courtyard was evacuated, but I wasn't allowed to go too far in case they needed to question me. So, after they got the stupid thing out of my yard the MP that was watching for school fights and speeders came over to me. He says..

"You can go home now, we don't have any questions for you... oh, and I wanted to say thanks for the excitement. I was supposed to be off as soon as all those little brats got home."

It freaked me out at the time, but looking back... it kinda makes me giggle!!!

Statistic gone right

I was your everyday average juvenile deliqiuent.  I was headed down a dangerous road paved with sex, drugs, and Nirvana.  I stood exactly 100 feet away from my high school so that I could smirk defiantly at the teachers while I smoked my cigarettes.  I skipped more classes than I attended my junior year, and when I did go I had no idea where some of my classes were.  Then I got pregnant at 17 years old.  Yup, I was a statistic destined for poverty and drug abuse.

Seven months after looking in disbelief at the EPT (short for emergency pregnancy test) I held Jay in my arms.  His black hair stuck to his head, his little nose was wrinkled, his foot poked out of the blanket that he was swaddled in, and his eyes looked right into my heart.  It was like I had known him my entire life and a flood of emotions washed over me like I cannot describe.  Even though I was stoned out of my mind.. AFTER delivery... so they whisked him away so that I could rest.  I found myself rubbing my belly and feeling empty inside, I wanted my baby with me.  Even at that point, however, I still don't think that the idea that life was changing had fully hit me.

I was a headstrong and bitchy teenager (shocker right?) and I wanted to see my baby once I got to my room.  Those nurses wouldn't give him to me for one reason or another, and by the time he was ready to come see me... I was hemoraging and terrified.  I can pinpoint the exact moment my life changed.  The charge bitch.. err, nurse... was in my room to monitor my bleeding.  She was refusing to call my doctor and she was chewing me out for sneaking downstairs to have a cigarette before the bleeding started.  A CNA came in, wheeling my baby in his little bassinette and said "Look who came to see Mommy!"  The charge nurse turned around, looked at the girl, and said "No.  She doesn't need to see that baby right now.  She's bleeding too heavy and I need to figure out what to do."

I thought to myself, "Oh my God, this is bad and she won't call my doctor.  I'm going to die right now and I will never know him and he'll never know me!"  I wondered what would happen to him.  Would he go into child care?  Would John take him or abandon him?  Would my mom take care of him?  Would John's mom fight for him?  Would he know how much I loved him?  I watched helplessly as the young CNA wheeled him out of my room.  Tears streamed down my face as I thought that the tiny glimpse of his black hair would be the last time I ever saw him.  That was when my life changed.  I needed to live because I knew that nobody could take care of him the way that I would.  I needed to survive because nobody would love him like I could.  I had to grow up because he needed a mom, and nobody would ever be that except for me. 

The next day, when the bleeding had slowed down, the same CNA came back into my room with my son.  She handed him over to me and smiled down... then she was gone because it was only me and him in the whole world.  The moment was merely a moment... John, my mom, his mom, my friends all started streaming in after that.  But, I had that one moment alone in the world with him when I knew that he had not only changed my life, but he had saved it as well.  Happy 15th Birthday, Jaydan.  Mommy loves you.