What I Learned Standing In Line At a Trump Rally

The President was in town; being a historian I've long had a desire to at least see every president I possibly can.  Thus far, Gerald Ford and George W. Bush are the only two I've seen...and that was my impetus for getting tickets to see President Donald Trump.

My handsome Buckeye, a staunch Republican and avid Trump supporter.

Politics. Ohhhhhhh how I love politics.  I'm an unabashed Rush baby who admittedly leans very Libertarian.  Fiscally I'm conservative, when it comes to judges I favor strict constitutionalist like Antonin Scalia (who is one of the men I've admired most during my life.) I've always voted for the candidate I believed represented my views best; that said, my very first vote was cast for Democrat Jim Berryman for mayor of Adrian when I was 18.

Those who know me know I believe the best of people and bestow love easily; I care not what you believe in (politically or personally) or whether it conflicts with my beliefs.  I love learning about people in general; I enjoy listening to all sides with the intent of educating myself.  As an American we have the privilege of dissent; our Founding Fathers themselves were often only united in their desire to be free from England, and rarely in how this new nation was to be formed.  Yes, the two party system and having opposite beliefs is (if you will) an American tradition.

Until the last 17 or so years.

W's election divided the country with hanging chads and the birth of the Internet...suddenly political opponents had a soapbox and a captive audience (whether they were worthy of one or not.) The rise of social media fueled this growing divide between the right and the left; with the election of Obama and more fervent mainstream media bias it became clear things had changed like never before.  As a news junkie I saw the shift from carefully unbiased reporting to reporting with an agenda; journalists used to take pains to keep their opinion out of the facts.  Personally, I came to read my US news only from UK sources; while still biased, it was easier to see and clear a British perspective than a right or left leaning one.

So as I matured and my political beliefs molded into something uniquely mine, I found myself adrift from both major political parties the last three presidential elections.  I am staunchly pro-life as well as fiscally conservative, so more often than not due to those two points alone, I vote Republican.  However, I truly do not believe the government should dictate our personal lives and habits, which is strongly Libertarian (although many may confuse that with being a Democrat.) I hate bureaucracy, find regulations often unnecessarily restrictive, and think the arts and humanities should receive  public funding as well as scientific research....within reason, of course.  Whose reasoning?  Well, that's the million dollar question, isn't it?  Who decides?  Ultimately the final decision on such matters comes down to our Supreme Court.  Having heard Justices Antonin Scalia and Anthony Kennedy speak once I was extremely impressed by both men, but moreso by Scalia.  My love for our constitution is unabashed; in my youth I often fiddled with the idea of becoming a constitutional lawyer.  

And ultimately, that's why I vote.  I love our American system, and have to do my part.

This last presidential election I was in a quandary.  My man, Ben Carson, was out in an early round.  I could not vote for a party establishment candidate like Rubio or Cruz, having watched them put constituents feelings aside and voting strictly on good ol' boy political lines. Hillary was out of the question; when the Monica Lewinsky scandal broke I remember clearly hearing Rush state she was offered a deal:  stay and support Bill and the senatorship of New York would be hers, and then the presidency in 2008.  I never forgot that, and watched in horror as that's exactly what took place (with the minor hiccup of an Obama presidency and a stint as Secretary of State while she waited her turn.)

Still waiting in line an hour later in 108° heat.  My smile says I think we'll get in.  His face clearly says let's ditch the line and go eat wings:)

So Trump?  Absolutely not.

My association with the man goes back to 1981, when Prince Charles married Diana.  Every People magazine she appeared on the cover since had been in my hands...and often also in those pages?  Donald Trump.

Quite honestly, I thought he did Ivana dirty, having an affair with Marla Mapes.  Marla's wedding with a tiara was a bit too preposterous; I wasn't sad to see that marriage end (although I did feel bad for Tiffany.) I only occasionally watched The Apprentice, and found my distaste for him solidified with his multiple bankruptcy's and third marriage to a woman 20-some years his junior.  Naming his youngest Barron?  Pretentious.

And suddenly he was the Republican candidate for president.

I didn't like what I heard he said, and how easily it was misconstrued.  I certainly didn't like him as a man; I had a thirty year history of not caring for him and knew way too much about him.  I also truly believed him to be a Democrat in sheeps clothing; he not only had financially supported Hillary in her senatorial runs, he was a close enough friend to invite Bill and Hillary to his wedding to Melania.  He also flip-flopped on abortion.

Stripping away all the hype in the media, and my own reservations about his past I knew too well, I delved into the candidate on paper.  I looked at the Supreme Court.  I looked at Don, Jr., Ivanka, Eric and now-grown Tiffany.  I studied Melania, who I knew little about.  

What I found was three highly successful children, with good marriages who were raising young families. Tiffany seemed pretty well adjusted (I admit I liked her choice of a B1G school.) Yes, they were like their dad, Democrat-hybrid-Republicans, but "good people" if you will.  Melania highly impressed me once I got past her former career; her marriage and motherhood seemed to have brought huge stability to a powerful man used to getting his own way.  Being a good dad and having a seemingly successful third marriage was not enough for me to vote for him, but at least he no longer was the lost cause as the media reported.  

Politically I found him to be very libertarian in ways I did identify with; his business deregulations I liked a lot.  Americans needed jobs, and his plan provided for them.  It still wasn't enough for me to vote for him, and I ended up deep in prayer as to how my vote should be cast.  In the end, I voted for him for one reason:  the Supreme Court.

The death of my beloved Antonin Scalia left a huge hole in the court; I longed for his replacement to be a constitutional justice, as he had been.  Throughout our decades as a country, the one guide that keeps us as a nation is our Constitution.  Trump promised just that: a constitutional justice like Scalia.  The court is where everything I hold dear is upheld or defended; with the knowledge up to five justices could be appointed in the next eight years, I voted for Trump.

Not because I'm a racist, bigoted ideologue.  Not because I like him, or things he says. But because I believed he'd replace Scalia with a man like him.

And he did.

I might have a schoolgirl crush Neil Gorsuch; his nomination and approval confirmed in my heart that I had voted for the right person for president.  As a political junkie it's been almost impossible to wash the putrid bias against the president off the actual news; I've taken to reading transcripts to find out what he actually says.

And I'm finding I agree with it.

"Those who spread violence in the name of bigotry strike at the very core of America. Two days ago, a young American woman, Heather Heyer, was tragically killed. Her death fills us with grief and we send her family our thoughts, our prayers and our love.

We also mourn the two Virginia state troopers who died in service to their community, their commonwealth and their country. Troopers Jay Cullen and Berke Bates exemplify the very best of America and our hearts go out to their families, their friends and every member of American law enforcement.

These three fallen Americans embody the goodness and decency of our nation. In times such as these, America has always shown its true character. Responding to hate with love, division with unity and violence with an unwavering resolve for justice.

As a candidate I promised to restore law and order to our country and our federal law enforcement agencies are following through on that pledge. We will spare no resource in fighting so that every American child can grow up free from violence and fear.

We will defend and protect the sacred rights of all Americans, and we will work together so that every citizen in this blessed land is free to follow their dreams, in their hearts, and to express the love and joy in their souls.

Thank you. God bless you, and God bless America. Thank you very much."

If Obama had spoken these words, would they not have been called unifying?  Or had Hillary issued this statement?  Yet these came from President Trump, of whom I had voted for while plugging my nose.  I agree with them, and find them to be eloquent and nonprovocative.  More and more, as I read official transcripts and not the opinions of journalists, I see myself agreeing with the president...which is quite the surprise for me.

Not so for the Buckeye, who listened to his actual words all along; or for the millions of Americans who put him into office.

We waited a total of two hours in a line over 6 blocks long in triple digit heat with over 20,000 people.  No one complained, no one tried to cut the line.  Everyone was pleasant, despite the temperature.

We got in line yesterday at 5pm, and quickly struck up instant friendships with those around us.  A millennial took note of the Buckeye's Desert Storm hat, and thanked him for his service.  Their resulting half-hour discussion about that war was animated; with a few around us chiming in on the political side.  Our group of about a dozen or so included every age (the youngest was 12, a boy and his dad) and at least four different races.  All around us we saw people from every walk of life; the common talk was how we wanted to be Americans, united again.  Those around us in line didn't care about your race or lifestyle.  All they cared about was the ability to work, provide a living for themselves and their families, and have the right to belief what they wished without impunity.  How do I know this?  Because for two hours, we all talked.  Shared.  And had our souls restored.  What we saw on television was true; hate had showed up in Charlottesville.  Were we, those who supported our president, racist and bigoted?

This group certainly thought we were.

There were three spots in which the line snaked directly in front of protestors.  When we stood at this corner, the Buckeye was hit several times by a protestor holding a large pink sign.  A man in our group asked them to stop.  The protestor continued, and two more joined in, accusing the defending man of being a sell out.  Another woman and I linked arms, and placed ourselves between the protestors and the men, our backs to the protestors.  It was effective, and the shouts silenced for that moment as we waited for the light to change. Arm-in-arm, we chuckled as we crossed the street; how times had changed that two women could defend two men!

Do I need to describe the races of the man and the woman in my story above?  How about the identities of the protestors and what they looked like?  Shall I recount the racial slurs being slung by the protestors, and the accusations they hurled?  Or the fact we, as a group, decided to sing "God Bless America" the next time we had to walk by protestors as our own form of protest?

He didn't make it in; after two hours in line.

Our two hour wait was actually fun for the most part; both the Buckeye and I enjoyed getting to know people.  It was refreshing to meet so many different people from all walks of life who thought as we did:  that we did want America to be great again.  

Let me put that in plain-speak, not spun by protestor speak:  we want ALL Americans to have jobs, and to live life to the best of their ability. 

That's what we all had in common.

Not racism.

Not bigotry.

That old American dream:  to live as we want to live.  To have the opportunity to succeed, no matter what our race, religion, sexuality or beliefs.

Many say the president is opposed to all that.  The media and the protestors want you to believe that.  

If you read what he's actually said as president?

We didn't get in.

400 feet from the door, we had to turn one last corner.  The protestors were thickest there, and we saw many ditch signs and join our line.  The mood turned dark quickly, as I heard things uttered as threats, not protests.  For the first time, my concern became one of safety.  I noted an increased alertness in the Buckeye, and we pointed out to each other behavior we felt threatening.  As it became clear we'd have to directly skirt the protest line, and a true bottleneck was forming, we decided to leave.  Five seconds later we heard from a police officer that the doors had been shut; we kept our mouths closed as we weaved quickly back through the crowd.  I've never felt such a feeling...the hate from the protestors earlier was nothing compared to this.

Evil.

This was no longer a protest.  This was darkness intent on destruction.

Politics weren't the motive.  Destruction was.

Within a block we were free from the worst of it; the Buckeye steered me to a light rail station two blocks further away.  As we waited for the "crush-loaded" cars to arrive, I heard a pop that made me jump.  It was the first tear gas canisters being released.

We had escaped the melee by but five minutes.

Members of our informal group arrived at the train platform; our hasty departure had caught their notice and they had followed.  We all smiled and waved in recognition, not yet knowing what we had narrowly avoided.  As the packed train headed north, the Buckeye and I agreed the night had been worth our time, even though we had missed seeing the president.

We had instead seen that many Americans simply love America.  That they'll support a president they might not entirely agree with, but support because he's president (much as the left supported Obama and ignored things they wished he did differently.) Mostly we had seen what the media is NOT showing you--that "Trump supporters" are of all walks of life, and comprised of all races and backgrounds .  The ones we met were like us-they wanted a good life for themselves, but not at the expense of others. How we all get there?  I don't know.  I do know that what I saw in protest was NOT the answer.  There was no inclusivity or reasoning with that crowd.  As we drove home from the train station we learned of the scuffle and tear gas usage; realizing our timing was humbling.  We had been within minutes of its deployment at the very location it had been set off...and I support the fact it was used.  What we felt there was not protest, not hatred.  It was the intent to commit violence, to punish those who dared disagree.  The fact no one was seriously injured or killed was because this measure was taken.  The mood on that corner was not one to be taken lightly; I'm thankful swift action to stop it was brought about.

This morning I've had some honest discussions with liberal and conservative friends about politics; it prompted me to break my rule of "no politics" on Facebook by writing this blog.  My friends, we must start to act, and not in protest! We can no longer look to the news or social media for what to believe-we need to look to each other.  Start talking.  Start sharing our beliefs, and why we believe them.  Our Founding Fathers had many, many polar opposite beliefs and still found consensus to write our constitution.  They fought over individual words and what they meant.  Their first attempt at governance actually failed (the Articles of Confederation came BEFORE the Constitution) but PUTTING ASIDE DIFFERENCES they focused on what they all believed in: a government of the people, by the people and for the people.

We all believe in this:  Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness, basically the desire to live freely as we chose.  What those choices are we differ in widely, but the commonality is the same.  We need to get back to the basics of talking to each other and listening to understanding opposing beliefs.  For it is then we see how much we have in common, and can find ways to work together.

May God bless America, and we find peace once again.

Memory Making

I say, "I love you."

"I love you more," he responds.

"I've loved you longer," I retort.

Ice skating in the desert on a summer afternoon...

We are ridiculously in love.

Proof.

Last week in my doubt, I struggled.  Recognizing my doubt was a game changer; I went into the weekend recharged...but that night questions arose, and heated discussions were had.  The next morning, those issues laid to rest, we grabbed the Buckeye's foster mentee The Adventurer for some ice skating.  

And the laughter ensued, and more trust was established.

He's a fantastic skater.  Me? My family banned me from it ten years ago after a bad concussion I received on the ice....😳

Not only did The Adventurer love ice skating, he asked to have his "see you later party" at the rink.  He and his sister are being adopted by their older brother, and moving to Wisconsin.  While this is the best case scenario for them, we will miss them terribly.

And worry a bit, too.

Will they be ok?  Is this the best? He's 12; will his brother be a dad figure he will respect?  She's 9; will she have enough love not to throw herself at the first boy who comes along?  Will they have enough; will they grow up to be good citizens?  We can't know their future, and our impact on them we may never know.

Last night the Adventurer texted me, tattling that his sister had ripped the book I had given him.  I fell asleep feeling my heart pulled; knowing he saw me as a mother figure in his life.  "You're the only one who can keep up with me," he'd said, and it wasn't in reference to how fast I was on the ice.  I give him boundaries and rules; he tests and I push back.  He told me he loved me, too, when we said goodbye; it's my hope we will have more time with him in the future.

My birthday with the Buckeye.

Last week was my birthday, and my only request was a picnic with him.  He obliged and so many wonderful memories were made; despite the fact the day started with a hefty speeding ticket for me (it was a trap!) and a long, long detour around a blocked interstate for him.    We had our first round of golf together; delighting in knowing it was the first of many to come.  Our Michigan/Ohio State rivalry was on full display; with his gift of a Michigan golf visor for me.

We even were photobombed by Brutus...!

More memories; the greatest gift he can give me.

I'm a sentimental girl; yet gifts rarely hold sentimental value.  Mementos from the past, however? They do.  Our score card was carefully tucked away; as was his now worn-out golfing glove.  As I pack my home in Prescott, it's the discovery of receipts and business cards that instantly evoke memories; rarely does a gift capture my heart as much as a memory does.  To find a man who thinks very much as I do, and who has sought experiences rather than things?  Another reason to think I have found my match, and it has me pondering scripture (of all things!) of being "unequally yoked."  While I've only heard it preached as "make sure your business partner or spouse is also a Christian" I'm seeing in it now a much more powerful message: of being like-minded or matched. 

My favorite author (to this day) is Laura Ingalls Wilder. Throughout her books, whether it be a team of horse or oxen, she often refers to "a perfectly matched team" - Bright & Star were being trained to be such an oxen team by the young Almanzo, Pet & Patty were the hard-working Indian ponies who brought the Ingalls family west, Sam & David worked the Minnesota soil with Pa and Prince & Lady had a hand in Laura falling in love with their owner.  In my own life, I think of our pet partnerships:  Bowie & Guip, Cuda & Harbaugh, and the Buckeye's Mack & Lucy.  These "perfect pairs" compliment each other; the working horse/oxen combinations do more than that.  Not only are they a strong team, but they help others by being that. They are the engine for producing more; even in biblical times that was true.  As I ponder this deepening relationship, and see how equally we are matched, I cannot help but think that the message from the pulpit has been too simplistic all these years.  Unequally yoked is more than just sharing faith; its sharing beliefs, interests and attitudes.  It's complimenting and competing in the best possible ways.  

You can have a good relationship and be unequally yoked, and you can have a terrible relationship while being equally yoked.  What about an equally yoked relationship where you work together to produce a satisfying result?  Is it fair to say you can have a Christian partner and be far from equally yoked when there isn't that desire to work together?

In my musings, the Buckeye bestowed another gift:  an inexpensive ring, to remind me when I'm in Prescott that I'm loved.

I was speechless-he nailed my style on the first try.

As the Adventurer and his little sister leave this week to start a new life; we hope and pray the memories we made with them stay with them.  We have no guarantee we will ever have contact with them again; that's up to their big brother, who at a young age is taking on a challenge.  Perhaps that's why we tried a little harder, and did a little more so that they'd know they were loved.  As the Buckeye and I grow closer, it's a lesson we can apply to us.  

To never stop acting as we do right now.

To keep making memories to last a lifetime.

To keep showing each other how much they are loved.

Learning to Trust

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart; lean not unto your own understanding.  In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct and guide your path."
Paraphrased from memory...and I'm in no mood to even think of the chapter and verse.  Right now those words keep running through my weary brain.

My eyes ache from staring at the computer screen for three days straight; today is day four.  The latest job I had such hope for I did not get, after making it through three rounds of interviews...at least this time it wasn't the final round as the prior few had been.  While I have Ride, it's not enough to cover my living expenses and the mortgage of a house we (the King & I) still own together, 18 months after the divorce.  So I look for a job, and get interviews for jobs, and in the end its always the sinking knowledge that an untraditional job history of direct sales and self-employment that brings my candidacy to an end.

Of course, these aren't $15/hr jobs either...

So for the moment, I am in Prescott.  At my house, with my entire family, sans the Commander. 

Cuda!!!!!!  My baby is a year old!!!

Urban Harbaugh!!!  Depending on his mood, so goes his name.


Happy Giuppy.  This dog is always happy.


My Bo-Bo.  This dog we rescued who started the menagerie; loyal to the core.

Also in Prescott?


This.


And This.


And the fact I can share it with the Princess.


And a Manchild who is finally happy.

I woke up crying this morning; much how I had fallen asleep last night.  While so many good things have happened this week in business, and in doing what I know to do, I admit fully its so hard to be here.

Like nothing happened.

Like the divorce never occurred.

Like I'm in a weird time warp.

"Trust in the Lord!" my spirit cries, as I acknowledge the blessing of having this place to come to.  That the King and I are cordial, and we have no animosity towards one another.  Proof that our love for each other died so long ago - for passion is replaced with hate when things go awry. When love is truly dead?  It's easy to be friendly.  Neither of us try to hurt the other; we're just indifferent.  Our common goal is healthy, happy children.  Our behavior towards each other is watched carefully by them; right now, being single, my primary focus is them.

And right now, in August, I have the opportunity to be here.  With them, as I build Ride up here.  As I get amazing amounts of work done in the day, as I'm here and can meet people in person.  As I sit in my own living room and write; pounding out 8,000 words as I'm home and its easy to write when you're home, and your no-longer-a-kitten beloved Cuda who replaced Indie comes up and asks for a belly rub.

The problem?  My heart is in Phoenix...and the King is here.  He asked to stay while I was here...for many reasons.  Primarily as its his home, too.  His office is here.  He hasn't found a place for rent that will take the dogs, but really, its the kids.  The Princess is starting online school, and her daddy is her biggest champion of her knocking out three years of high school in just two.  Manchild has started football practice, and for the very first time, we are seeing focus (we've waited 17 years for this...!). As much as he and his dad butt heads, his father's approval is huge.  Right now, in this moment, the kids need their father.  And their mother.  And, miracle of all miracles, somehow we are all here, together.

This is not how its supposed to be after a divorce.

And yet, the benefits to my children are huge.

This is temporary.  I keep telling myself that, that this is temporary and the benefits outweigh my ill-ease of being in my old home as if nothing had happened.  As if the divorce wasn't final.  I'm fighting the crushing devastation of how I felt two years ago right now, the last time we were all here together.  I'm facing the grim reality that having an astounding memory may make it easy to write 8000 words in a day, but it also means you're remembering every hurt, every broken dream, every lost hope...all while facing a financial future in which this home you once loved is still very much unsold and there's nothing left to keep it afloat.

And once again, I'm facing that fight alone.

Why did the King and I divorce?  For many reason, but this was a main one: the expectation that I would work a miracle and make sure we were ok financially.  And once again, the weight of it is crushing me.

"Trust in the Lord!" my soul cries, as I cannot help the tears that are falling again.  For weeks I have walked on water, keeping my eyes focused on Jesus.  Just as Peter did, I have taken my eyes off of Him and see only the waves and the angry sea.  People tell me to walk away; to do so would mean chaos for my children, losing a substantial amount of equity and an extremely hard-earned 805 credit score.  My name is on the mortgage - I am responsible for paying it even if my ex husband does not.  Financially, I am obliged to do what I have always done - pay my bills on time.  In August, there was not enough income for me to live in Phoenix and pay the mortgage in Prescott.  So I came back to Prescott...and good things are happening because of it.  Very good things.

But my heart is in Phoenix...and I am desperately afraid of losing it.

During my sabbatical at the cottage, I learned rushing has brought me heartache; the fear of loss being the primary instigator.  Knowing this month would be tough financially I began planning it in early July...and while I've held up my end, not everyone else has.  Now, despite the many advantages of being here for the month I feel trapped instead of productive, fearful instead of trusting.  I know not to rush a decision now based on fear of loss...

So Peter called out to the Lord as he sank, so I am too,"Lord, save me!"

I am deeply humbled as I look up His reply:

"Immediately Jesus reached out His hand and took hold of Peter. 

“You of little faith,” He said, “why did you doubt?”

James, Chapter 1

Trials and Temptations
2 Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,[a] whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. 5 If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. 6 But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. 7 That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. 8 Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do.

I am taken back to my skydive...when the tandem instructor loosened my harness under canopy.  He had told me in advance what he was going to do, and assured me there was no way he could unhook me in the process.  I will admit it terrified me even though I had his assurance it would not harm me - I was not in control, and it was something I did not understand.  It was all new to me, and I wasn't prepared for it...and in that moment I slipped the few inches that made my ride down more comfortable, and ensured a safer landing for us both, pure horror shot through me.  Even though it was seconds, and I knew I had nothing to fear, the sensation provoked the fear that had long denied me this experience - I felt in that split second how I had presumed I would feel going out the door of the plane, the feeling I so dreaded I never wanted to skydive.

That's exactly the moment I'm in right now.

Thank you, Father God for that skydive.

This entire journey of walking by faith and not by sight started in late April, when I chose to trust God and jump out of a plane at the same time I decided to move to the cottage.  Since that decision, I have seen the mighty hand of God guide my steps; despite the unknowns I have never experienced such joy...because in this journey I found love with the Buckeye.  I have no hatred or malice towards the King because he is who he is...he's really no different since our divorce, and I don't expect him to act any different.  Him wanting to stay here is not a surprise to me; I knew coming up here this was something that might happen (although I didn't expect it to! I expressly made plans for it not to!) What I didn't expect?  That his request to stay would trigger strangling fear of losing this newfound love.  That just being here now, when my anchor is in Phoenix, would find me doubting - being tossed by the waves of financial uncertainty that are no different today than they were when I was in Phoenix.

Trust.  Faith.

"You of little faith, why did you doubt?"

Just as I felt terror the moment my instructor loosened my harness, I am choosing to look at this moment as just that.  A moment.  I've never done this before - this thrilling ride under canopy as I fall deeply in love while building a business I want to franchise nationally.  It's ok to feel a moment of terror when I forgot to trust and have faith.  I know exactly how Peter felt...

As Jesus pulled him to safety.

It's going to be ok.  Having done all, stand.  Do what you know to do.  Build your faith with scripture...the one area that in the move north I've forgotten.

For truly, it's going to be ok.

The Fight

I'm the curator for the Prescott Fire Department.  Not because they have a museum; I'm curator because four years ago they lost 19 firefighters...and the world expressed their mourning by sending over 10,000 letters, gifts and mementos.

Four years ago, two kindhearted and concerned ladies saw a need and organized taking down over 5000 items that had been tied to the fences around the fire station where the men worked.  They put out a call for volunteers, I came willing to do anything and found my skills as a museum registrar were valuable.  Why I came?  I wrote this note five days after I started helping:

It's different when you are widowed with a baby...

In 1996, I was widowed with a 3 month old baby.

My husband died of cancer, and several hundred attended his funeral.  Perhaps a thousand.  I don't know, I wasn't counting.

My love was gone.

In those days and months that followed, I rebuilt a new life.  Widowhood is different:  your future is erased.  All you planned is gone.  With a breastfed three-month old, I had to get on.  I had to focus on the baby.  Eventually, my heart was opened to new love.  I remarried two years after my husband died.  He adopted my daughter; we had two more children.

Seventeen, now nearly eighteen, years have passed.

My daughter always knew she "had a daddy in heaven."  She saw his photo, and had a foot locker full of his things.  At seven, she literally went through a period of mourning for him.  Lately, she's more interested in the "dating memorabilia" box I kept.

I have worked in a museum in the past as a registrar - one who catalogs items.  Since moving to Prescott, I have volunteered at Sharlot Hall Museum with the collection of artifacts, still cataloging.  I am honored to be the volunteer curator for the Tribute Fence Preservation Project.

First, it's about the children.

My baby still doesn't *know* her daddy-he died when she was 3 months old.  Her foot locker holds clues to that missing chapter in her life...and preserving the Tribute Fence is first and foremost for the children the Hotshots left behind.  This was THEIR daddy.  People hurt for them.  People cared for them.  Preserving the Tribute Fence is the least we can do for these little ones who are not yet old enough to understand.  They, and ALL the family members of the 19 are why we are working so hard.

Second, its about the Fire Department.  These guys work their butts off, every day of the year.  If we can help in this one area - we are more than happy to.  These guys have been terrific - and we are privileged to help them out.

Third, it's about the community of Prescott, Arizona.  I cannot imagine this wall springing up anywhere else in America.  Truly, this represents the heart of the people who live here.

Preserving the items left at the wall is more than just saving them in a box somewhere.  It's about taking time to make certain they are reverently preserved, cataloged and set aside for whatever the future may hold.  What it brings, we don't know at the Project.  We just know that we want to be ready for it.

My baby never knew her dad.  It is my hope that the babies and children left behind will know how much their dad was loved and appreciated through the Tribute Fence Preservation Project.

Originally written September 16, 2013

From organized chaos....

...to temporary storage.

The city is preparing to sell the building the items have been temporarily stored in, and with a feature film coming out, followed a few months later by the five year anniversary, my role as curator has churned up to the surface of my life once again.  It is strange, working again with items I know so well, and have so many emotions concerning.  Over the past four years, I have dealt with situations so fantastical due to my involvement one could not write better fiction; right now is another such time.  There are so many things I ponder, knowing I couldn't do it any other way, and wishing it didn't hurt me so much.  Being kind is tough-perhaps that's why so few do it.  It's too easy to be misconstrued as self-serving, when there's nothing farther from the truth.  I do things with kindness as it's the right thing to do...and for no other reason than that.

It's been hard, very hard, to keep that standard as of late.

Yesterday I had one of the worse eye ulcers I've ever had; it come on fast and furious.  Rarely has the pain been so bad, nor for so long.  As I searched for distractions I thought to blog about my stressors, knowing my eye ulcers are an autoimmune response to stress.  

Or as a result of the adrenaline dump from this brush with death...only the Buckeye's offensive driving saved us from a branch penetrating the windshield.  We were both fine save for a showering of fine glass, the jeep is fixable and he has great insurance.  You can clearly see how shook I was due to my crazed choice of apparel immediately thereafter.

So I make the list....and it's long.  Very long.  I make the list of what's right and it's short.

What's right:

1. God is good.
2. Everyone is healthy (eye ulcers are temporary, asthma is just a hiccup.  OK fine, everyone else is healthy except me.)
3. I have an amazing boyfriend in the Buckeye, and my children are wonderful.
4. Ride is operating in the black.

And, that's it.  One week from today is my last at my beloved cottage, and the house still has not sold and we've no money to pay the mortgage.  I've had over a dozen amazing interviews with promises to start and then nothing.  I'm doing everything I know to do, and have a peace that I'm going to be ok...when the list of things that aren't ok is long and staggering.

Overwhelming when I looked at it.

And as I started to sink when I saw the waves, I cried out to my Savior; the peace immediately returned as I focused on Him.

And doing what is right.

Even if it means others can't see it.

Even if it means only I know.

Eagle's Hall, Prescott.

Four years ago, over 700 flags were pulled off the fence around Station 7 sopping wet.  The local Eagles donated space to dry them.  I did not let a single flag touch the ground.

A few people knew, and a few people questioned it.  Wouldn't it be easier to just lay them on the floor?

Respect for those who fought for that flag prohibited that option in my mind, and we made it work.

Right now, I just want to do what it right.  As tears fall, and I ponder just what that is...I reread the note I wrote four years ago.

"Preserving the items left at the wall is more than just saving them in a box somewhere.  It's about taking time to make certain they are reverently preserved, cataloged and set aside for whatever the future may hold.  What it brings, we don't know at the Project.  We just know that we want to be ready for it."

One year later, the items made up part of the "A Fire Department Remembers" exhibit.

I don't know what my future brings.  I'm learning to adapt quickly to these rapid changes, and keep my eyes focused on the peace God has poured over me.  I know I need to keep "doing what I know to do" -even though many of those things no one will see but me.  It doesn't matter if no one knows but me-when it's the right thing to do.

I told the Buckeye I wanted to go on a picnic with him for my birthday...and days later won a picnic basket for two.

In the midst of the pain I was in yesterday, and the thousand tears that have recently fallen, I won this picnic basket.  Some would call it coincidence, I call it God.  It was a sweet, sweet reminder that He does hear me, and knows the desires of my heart.  As I purpose to do what I know is right....I cling to the peace that passes all understanding.  It's going to be ok, and despite the storms I can enjoy right now.

Ice cream with raspberries, hot fudge, whipped topping and M&M's certainly made it sweeter:)

Now I just have to do what I know is right.  May God give me the strength to do it.

The Gift of Patience

Yesterday we did the local arcade with the kids.

The Buckeye and Manchild, about to go head to head.

The Buckeye mentors a 12 year old boy who is in foster care, who I've come to adore.  He's got spikey hair and the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen, and someday those eyes will break hearts.

They already break mine.

It's hard to give him a nickname; he's young enough that he doesn't have any defining adjectives other than those associated with his status as a foster child.  "Lost Boy" comes to mind, and yet that's not fitting:  he (and we) have hope for his future.  He loves being outdoors which is why he was matched with the Buckeye, the majority of their time together has been outside.  It's too hot in Phoenix right now to indulge in that, hence our afternoon in the arcade.  Given the sheer number of adventures he's shared with the Buckeye since they met, I'm going to call him The Adventurer; it fits him to a T.

Back when I first met the Buckeye in January, he made it clear that his devotion to Special Olympics took high priority in his life.  He invited me to attend the basketball games he coached, and I delighted in attending them; I even blogged about it.  That team went on to win the bronze medal in the statewide Special Olympics basketball tournament; the prior two years they had won gold.

Love, love, love this photo of my man and his team:)

The Buckeye's volunteer coaching for Special Olympics extends beyond basketball to football, track and golf.  He and his golf partner have been partners for five years, and I'm very excited that I may get to start volunteering as a golf partner.

My golfing experience:)  Apparently the only requirements are patience and showing up?!?

Patience.

And showing up.

The Buckeye doesn't have children of his own; yet I was surprised by the patience he exhibited with the Princess the first time they met.  We were (unsurprisingly) at Topgolf, and she was tired of not connecting with the ball.  When it was her turn, she began swatting at the balls like a cat batting at a mouse, it was hysterically funny in my book.  As she broke down, I worried for a second about how the Buckeye would react; many men I knew who where childless might have thought it to be disrespectful.  He did not; his laughter matched mine and he good-naturedly engaged her.  The volume of patience he displayed with my tired, done-with-it-teen I marveled at; it would not be the first time this gift emerged.  As I came to know him better, I learned he honed this in his twenty years of working with Special Olympics. Many times things are simply done at a slower pace, he explained, and you could either be "frustrated or patient."  As I've looked over his many memories captured on film, and see the smiles on so many faces, I marvel at the gift of patience.  What joy a simple gift could bring!

Here in Arizona, the foster care system is a mess; frequently horror stories are in the news.  When I met the Buckeye he was enjoying life as a dedicated bachelor, and part of that bachelorhood was expanding his time volunteering.  Initially he hoped to be a foster parent, but a real-life examination of his schedule made him realize that wasn't in a child's best interest. He was directed to the AASK program, Aid to Adoption for Special Kids.

AASK Website Link :)

Before I met him, the Buckeye had mentored a young man who had been in a ghastly, horrible home life before his placement in foster care.  The mentorship seemed to be going well; they had got along and had shared several good times when the young man abruptly called it off.  While we can only speculate the reasons the young man ended it, it would be awhile before the Buckeye felt comfortable being matched again.  When you mentor, your heart cannot help but becoming entangled.

Why are we both grinning like crazy?  Because our photographer was The Adventurer, and it's impossible not to love that kid.

They were matched in March, the Buckeye and the Adventurer, and quickly our conversations turned to tales of their daring-do.  The Adventurer is 12, and the Buckeye, while 49, loves acting like he's 12.  Hiking, jeeping, Final Four Fan Fest, arcades, you name it-they've done it.  I knew he was serious about our relationship when he asked my children and I to join him and the Adventurer at Castles N Coasters; that day while I was at the beginning stages of falling for the Buckeye I unreservedly gave my heart to the Adventurer.  His mother died three years ago; he was removed from his father's care last year and lives with a step-relative.  It's impossible not to feel motherly towards a motherless child, but to love one?  That depends on the child, and the Adventurer made it easy.  He's a good kid, pretty normal in every way; with me he talked about his mom quite a bit.  I encouraged it; given his manners and good nature it was obvious she had been an attentive mother.  He told me about meals she made; I'd ask specifically what he remembered about how she made them.  When he asked why I wanted to know I suggested we might make them together, so he could learn and then always have something his mom did as something he could share.  He liked that, and we became bosom pals.  Often I find myself rubbing my hand over his spikey hair; he laughs when I tell him it's just what mom's do. As my children and I joined the Buckeye and the Adventurer on further adventures, he grew more comfortable with all of us.  More than once I corrected his behavior, more than once he ignored it.  I insisted he obey, and he'd comply.  The Buckeye was learning parenting 101, and I assured him the misbehaving was a good thing-that the Adventurer was testing his limits with us.  Kids with boundaries feel safe, and we were giving him that.

Manchild and his sister the Princess, actually enjoying time together.

Yesterday our boy was tired; it's summer and his relative has been letting him stay up as late as he wants.  Being 12, staying up 'til dawn and sleeping all day is pretty cool; except when your mentor picks you up at 11am.  Usually he's super talkative, yesterday he was like a zombie.  It was frustrating for the Buckeye and I, being at the arcade was a special treat and he wasn't enjoying it because he'd been up all night...because no one cared if he went to bed.  As we took turns following him around (he wasn't even in the mood to compete in racing or shooting games!) rarely could we coax a smile, he was simply exhausted.  Again I saw the gift of patience emerge; I admired the Buckeye's ability that it came so naturally.  As a parent I don't often afford my own children that gift; it was humbling to see it in a nonparent (although one could argue that he's had the advantage of huge breaks of time inbetween times that call for patience!!) and towards a child that was old enough to have known better.

"Old enough to have known better."  Really?  His mom died when he was 9.  The past three years he's had no stability, and very little love...and yet my expectation was automatically that of a normal almost-13 year old. In a way, that's oddly good--I see in him the same potential and have the same expectations of him as I do my own children.  But he's not mine, nor is he the Buckeye's.  He's a ward of the State of Arizona, and we are hopeful that soon his older sibling will be successful in their bid to adopt the Adventurer and his younger sister.  In the meantime, we're making the most of the time we have with him; days like yesterday make it hard when you only wish to give him the best, to be thwarted by the inattention of others.  The gift of patience was not just to the Adventurer, but to himself; the Buckeye was being patient that next time will be better.

The Buckeye and his new found passion:  the banjo.

A few weeks ago, the Buckeye had his first banjo lesson.  He's attacked the instrument with glee; so excited to be learning how to make music.  Yesterday wetried deciphering his first song in his music book, "This Little Light of Mine."  We were slightly confounded with its 4/4 time and odd melody; as I read the notes I wondered if they were in alto and sang a few.  We giggled at our combined "joyful noise" and stuck with it a bit longer.  He jokes he'll give it up when the instructor tells him he's a lost cause, and I laugh as he's practicing an hour a day and his teacher assures him he's two weeks ahead of most students.  It all boils down to the hour of practice he puts in nightly; most would hate the practice but he loves it.  Why?

He has patience with himself.

Over and over I see in him how great this gift is, this gift of patience.  Patience to see through mistakes and practice until he got the results he hoped for.  Patience with a tired boy who stayed up too late because no one cared if he got enough sleep.  Patience with athletes to give it their best, and still make sure they all had fun regardless of the outcome.  Patience, too, with his faithful companion Mack, his now-senior dog who is needing extra care.  Patience with his mother, who he calls weekly.  Patience with my Princess, who's not too certain what to think of the new man in her mom's life.

One of my favorite scripture has always been James 1:4, which reads "But let endurance and steadfastness and patience have full play and do a thorough work, so that you may be [people] perfectly and fully developed [with no defects], lacking in nothing."  I always took this to mean "to be patient," never interpreting it as patience being a gift.  Looking at the Buckeye's example, I see for the first time that perhaps this scripture isn't just about tempering ourselves.  

Perhaps it's more about giving that as a gift to others.

Dictionaries have the wonderful ability of clarifying meaning...

Right now I have a decision I need to make, and I'm being very mindful to not rush into it.  My rushing habit was indicative of an extreme lack of patience, in addition to a fear of loss.  Now as I weigh options, I look differently at things.  Can I, too, give the gift of patience to others in this?

It's certainly in me to make the effort.  

Thankfully, I have a great teacher.

Another Dang Buckeye

The message seemed sincere.

"I noted you liked football in your profile; my dad just gave me Fiesta Bowl tickets.  Would you like to go with me?"

I was new to online dating, and admit "Al" wasn't necessarily my type.  Not that I knew my type back then, but I was pretty certain he wasn't it....for one thing, I adored college football.  He did not.

"I'm not a sports fan, but it seems wasteful not to use them.  I could meet you there?"

After careful consideration and a round of vetting that included an online background check, I agreed to meet him in the parking lot of Cardinal's Stadium.  He paid for my separate parking, and took me to brunch at the Renaissance hotel before the early noon game.  Albert (as he preferred to be called) was a little awkward, but nice enough; he had no interest in football at all and thus had worn a short-sleeves button down shirt.  Me? I was in Maize & Blue.

Like hell I was rooting for either team, both sworn enemies of my beloved Wolverines....

So on January 1st 2016, I was at the Fiesta Bowl. My team wasn't there.

Also in attendance?

This guy, aka the Buckeye.  His team was there. I'm in his picture--see that blue speck next to a white speck under the big screen?  That's me!!

My date with Albert?  He was a nice guy.  He took several selfies of us to send to his dad "proving he used the tickets."

My selfie:) Can't tell half my head is shaved, can you?

In retrospect, I should have worn a louder and prouder Michigan shirt.  This one isn't team official, and I think many Buckeyes in attendance thought it repped for the Irish.  I did meet two other girls in Maize & Blue; we squeaked and hugged like long lost sisters.  I had cotton candy, and overall, a great first BCS bowl attendance.

Except the Buckeyes won.  And Albert lost.

While we both said how nice it was and we'd love to see each other again, neither one of us texted each other again.  I had been mere company in him making his dad happy, and since I had enjoyed a pretty expensive date, I wasn't complaining.  It was a great start to 2016....and a week later while online I swiped right on this picture:

I chuckle now, realizing how long ago this was taken...

When I dropped him a message, to what did I refer?  His Fiesta Bowl picture in his profile, and my attendance at the same.  We chatted, and I recall a phone conversation.

He does not.

The result of said conversation?  I lived too far away to interest him.  As we each faded from each other's thoughts, there was no hurt, only disinterest.  So why then, did he make it through countless rounds of me deleting guys I'd met online but never met in person?

Because he was "another dang Buckeye."

Being born in Michigan, I have a natural inclination towards hating the entire state of Ohio, irrational though it may seem.  It started righteously enough, as trips to the Buckeye State meant long car rides for grocery shopping.  Worse yet, trips to Florida to see grandparents always began and ended with five hours of fields of dead tan broken cornstalks...and we girls hated that drive.  So naturally, it was the entire state we hated.  I knew it was a common feeling, as I'd see occasional shirts and bumper stickers with the same sentiment.

I was 12 the first time I noticed a bumper sticker with this saying, and recalled thinking how progressive that family was.

I wasn't a football fan as a child.  Nope, that wouldn't come until I met the Knight, and he introduced me to college football in the most magnificent way:  The Big House.  It was easy to become a Michigan fan under his tutelage; after his death I decided to maintain the tradition so that the Commander could have that in common with her biological father.

It quickly became a family tradition, with the exception of the King.  He didn't care for football.

So "another dang buckeye?"

He was second, to Flyboy.  Flyboy who quickly had become a dear friend after we met, knowing that was all there was ever to be between us, just friendship.  Part of that friendship was our rivalry, one neither of us had truly indulged in after moving away from our home states.

He'd send this.

I'd send back this.

Which is nothing compared to football season....

So crass...

So classy:)

Don't even get me started about nose picking...

My coach would never...😂😎

So Flyboy is the original Buckeye, and very much my BFF.

He wouldn't pose as I had on a Wolverine tee, but he did get me to jump out of a plane.

It's great to be a Michigan Wolverine!

Flyboy and I agree that our friendship is sweeter due to the rivalry, and last fall football was more fun than it had been in years due to the smack we'd talk.  So the reason my Buckeye made it through numerous deletions on my phone?

I wanted to be able to poke the bear😎

You see, Buckeyes in general sooooo hate the Wolverines they're just plain nasty about it.  They are mean, crass and just tasteless fans who are just awful people in general.

Yes, I know I'm in love with one, and another is my BFF.  Hush.

I kept "another dang buckeye" around just in case we won in November...that fabled last Saturday of the month when the two teams meet.  If we won, I would have to jab it in his side.

'Cause we wolverines are good at doing that:). Why else would I attend a Fiesta Bowl Ohio State was playing in in Michigan gear if not to simply upset a few (or a dozen or more) Buckeyes??

Like I said, it's great to be a Michigan Wolverine:)

Soooooo....this November?

Yeah.

Well.

Cheating was involved, there's an asterisk and refs were fired. Anywise...!!!

So I had this bet with Flyboy.  We knew the winner of said contest would likely end up in Phoenix at the Fiesta Bowl.  We decided to go together, and the loser had to wear the winning teams' shirt.

December 31st 2016, at another Fiesta Bowl.  See?! It's a shirt about nuts....under my Michigan jacket!!!  That's Flyboy looking sooooo seriously away from the camera.  Something about my jacket. 

Since I lost the bet and had to attend a game I had no real interest in for the second time in the same year, I decided to spice it up.

I wonder if another dang buckeye was still single?

So I sent him a text.  "Hey Buckeye...."

That same Buckeye just spoiled me with his mother's coffee cake this morning...

He jokes that someday we'll need the "House Divided" paraphernalia; in the meantime I'm surrounded by way too much National Championship stuff.

As I write this...this is literally across from me.  Sigh!

People ask how we met...and we both forget we technically met online.  We met because of the great rivalry between Michigan and Ohio State, and because this Wolverine wanted to tease a Buckeye.  We fell in love because of our shared faith, Midwestern roots and strong love of America.

Few people know that the Knight, the Wolverine who brought me into the fold, graduated from the Ohio State University, and was born and raised in Ohio.  I find it funny I would end up with a true Buckeye, when I can honestly say the first love of my life was technically one as well.

2016 began and ended with Fiesta Bowls and the Ohio State Buckeyes.  Hoping my love life begins and ends with Buckeyes as well.

*to those who have just read my guide to online dating, I included The Buckeye to my late December "Crop" I had harvested off Bumble:) I started the New Year with five in the crop, and vowed I'd not Bumble until that crop was done with....well, the Buckeye is still standing!