Charlie Died Today

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Charlie died today. He was the family pet of my daughters. My heart aches for my 2 grandchildren this evening, because they are engulfed in grief of having to say goodbye to their sweet Charlie. I hate that they have to go through this. They are too young to feel such pain of death. And there is nothing I can do, or their Mom can do, except hug them and let their tears flow.

Life can be so cruel some times. 😦

 

 

Who Is At Fault?

Not a day goes by where I don’t wonder about what this world is coming to and what it will be like for my children, grandchildren, all children. Did my parents scratch their heads when I come out of my room dressed the way I was? Was I really dressed so outrageous compared to some of today’s teens? I don’t recall any one in my teen years having so many piercings as they are today. I don’t recall living a mall life. I don’t recall having tons of money given to me by my parents, like kids receive today. I don’t recall being given lunch money daily.
I do recall a small allowance, brown bagging a lunch, babysitting to have pocket money, having chores to do on the weekend before I even thought of leaving the house.
And what about the boldness of so many teens, the lack of respect for their elders. And that, want want want attitude. Oh my lawd! I don’t think I be alive today if I talked or treated my parents, family elders the way kids do today
So lets pick apart the child/teen of today. 1st impression is with the eyes. Yes we know we can inherit our parents features, whether it be height, weights, eye colors, hair colors, nose shape and even those knobby knees or big ears. They even say now a lot of our illness are inherited. That I believe, because I see my Mother unfolding in front of me..lol.. in many ways.
But what about, personality. Can we be the cause of our children’s attitudes today? Is it our fault they have lost touch with the realities of life. Unlike our own parents did we leave the flood gates open by not setting boundaries??? Have we let them loose into a crazy world for a greater percent of 24 hours in the day instead of having more family and all the personality that comes with a family who is close, who respects each other, home and property. But most of all, respect for themselves!
Welllllll…lol…According to university studies, personality is 70% inherited and 30% environmentally influenced.
Lets think about that one.. not too long though!..lol
Whatcha think eh?

Stripping

Stripping is a lot of work for any one.  I have been stripping for years, layer by layer and it is tough work, no matter how much area you have to uncover.

And no, I am not talking about stripping your clothes off, but glad I got your attention eh?..lol..

In short, I was raised a Roman Catholic, my Mother French, my father Ojibway. Two people who grew up in the same home town, the only difference was, my father was put in a residential school as a child and stripped of his being as he knew it, his language, his self confidence, his heritage, like it was all dirty laundry. I could and should write a book about life with Dad and maybe I will some day. Right now I am still learning so much about who he was, and who I am. One thing I know I am NOT, is catholic. I struggled with the confusion of what happened to my father, with praising a God, a religion that took the souls of innocent children. How can anyone praise such an act, done in the name of their God?

There was this elderly couple that use to come and get me to go to church when I was about 7 or 8 years old. And they always told me the night before, do not eat breakfast before church! You are suppose to attend church on an empty stomach. Of course I wondered why but never asked for an answer. I got up early, got bathed and dressed always in a dress for church and waited to be picked up by the elderly friends of the family. Upon entering the church there was this odour, today I believe it was probably incense and there would be an alter boy lighting candles about the alter area before service. I sat about mid way in the room on a cold wooden straight back pew. There was no falling asleep here, that’s for sure but yet I wondered how some people did fall asleep about half way through a service, usually older gents. Between my 2 elders I was huddled, he would sent his hat on his lap, she her purse on her lap.

Then I looked up at the alter, every Sunday, to the man, the statue on the cross, with painted blood dripping from the nail holes in his palms and atop his feet, blood running down his face from the thorn crown, these things done by man, who were apparently made in this God’s likeness. Why would they kill one of their own, crucify a son of a God? And each Sunday we who sat in the pews were told to ask for forgiveness for this act and that the God did forgive us for doing this to his son. Yet I felt guilty, for what we humans did. Then we are asked to drink his blood and eat his body during communion. Yes I knew it was watered down wine and pressed bread rings, but the fact still implanted in my brain, the guilt and the eating of his body and drinking of his blood. How horrific it was!!! for my little child brain. Argh. All this on an empty stomach!!

9 years ago, I started reading, more and more about religions and faith. I attended 3 different churches and boy that little confused girl was alive and well once again. So many questions, but this time, having to seek the true answers myself.

In the past 7 years, I have been stripping all these childhood religious beliefs from my thought process and began to follow a pagan path, along with Wicca teachings and the culture of my heritage, my native heritage.

There is still a long way to go and after talking to some, it is pretty much never ending. I am seeing just how magickal the world really is and beautiful with out the guilt and trauma imposed on children and adults through the catholic church.

I don’t expect anyone to walk with me in my current beliefs and hope no one is expecting me to walk with them and their beliefs or that one is wrong and one is right.

It is what it is. Its about finding inner peace with our beliefs and questioning everything. It is about pecking all the fruits and nuts off the top of a muffin, getting back to the basic then adding what ever flavour of icing you choose.

After all, it is my own soul I am feeding and my souls palette is sensitive to all tastes at this point in my life.

So mote it be!

Things That Went Bump In The Night

I think from the time I picked up a pencil I knew what my passion felt like but could not put into words what I was feeling at such a young age. So life went on. However, there was 3 words that followed me…

Romeo and Juliette.

I recall at a very young age, writing those 3 words on my bedsheets at night as I went into a fantasy world, in the dark, on the top bunk, in a little room off the kitchen in a house that grandma lived.  By the way where was grandma living when we lived in her big old house? And where was Dad working that kept him away for weeks at a time? And why did cousin Lynn live with us and why was it her putting us to bed at night instead of Mom? Having 10 children can’t make a Mom that tired..can it? Those thoughts brought tears to my eyes. I needed to see my Mom!..Mom! Mom! I whispered out loud. The bedroom door slowly opened, I could see her silouette with the dim kitchen light behind her. What is the matter? Without coming closer, I knew it was Lynn’s voice..not Mom. I told her I wanted my Mom. No, she said, go to sleep, your Mom is tired!..as she slowly brought the room back into darkness by shutting out the dim kitchen light with shutting the door.

Quietly sobbing I went back to tracing out each letter written in lead on my bedsheet..Romeo and Juliette. Then I started to think with anger, I hated my Mom! Why couldn’t she come kiss and hug me good night!? It wouldn’t of taken long. I needed to talk to my Mom! I needed to ask her about Romeo and Juliette!

I knew how to get her to listen to me. I am going to write 3 other words on my bed sheet and she will see it when she does the laundry. I wrote the 3 words, tracing them over and over with hurt and angry feelings, till the lead tip broke on my pencil! I began to doze off with my head on my tear stained pillow..reading those 3 words in my head then with a quiet whisper and a sigh…I read them one last time… I hate Mom….before my thoughts were overcome by the darkness of the room and the heaviness of my eye lids from crying…I hate Mom

FAMILY DAY 2018

Isn’t family a beautiful entity?! I mean, when you think of it, each of our families are, distinct and live an independent existence, yet all the while, we are as a human nation, fused as one, a single entity! A family consists of elders, which is the wisdom and the children, the continuance, which is the remaining existing force, left to carry on with that wisdom. Then, I ask myself, what is happening to our children, our young adults, that find some kind of comfort in eating soap pods, overdosing on drugs, committing suicide at an alarming rate? 😦
Have we as, parents, elders, dropped the ball, now raising followers, instead of leaders?? With the onslaught of social media, have the horrific events around the world, scared our young to the point, none of them want to take the lead?
I blame no one, yet think we as communites need to start pulling together for our young and raise more, LEADERS! .. and reward the followers, as they strive to become leaders or assist and give strength to lead…it takes a community! A few drops in a bucket can send a tidal wave!”
“Leaders don’t force people to follow they invite them on a journey.” – CL

Single Parent: Who Plays Good Cop? Who Plays Bad Cop?

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Life is not always fair for some. And one of those who get dealt a not so good hand at times is the, single parent.

There may be a reason or an excuse why one parent can not, will not take on their roll as a parent seriously or maybe because of a death. But either or, someone ends up being a single parent.

As a child I recall which parent played the good cop and which played the bad cop. Well what does a single parent do in that case? What an emotional struggle for that one parent who never rests from any title that is given usually to a set of parents, now takes on ALL titles with hopes that they are tough enough or leaniant enough at the right time for the child(ren).

There is no slushing off or getting free time as much as a set of parents can.

I was not a single parent but know of a few and my hats go off to you, and prayers as well as great vibes are sent out to each of you.

You will be rewarded.

Summer Vacay!!

Sitting here sipping my 1st coffee, trying to think of a trip as a family we may have taken when I was a wee gal.. and my mind goes blank..because our parents didn’t spend that kind of money..they had 11 children! We were our own Disney Land, or circus freak show..lol..I think I will blame, things got tough when “they” came along, the 4 Little ones.. haha.. we couldnt afford to do anything then..lol..But I do recall being sent to bible camp 😦 when we lived in Elliot Lake. Joey, my brother a year older than I, was suppose to come with me, at the last minute he cried saying he didn’t want to go. Ohh I was mad. And Mom bought me 2 sets of pjs from Kresgees, flannel ones, to find they were too small when I went to wear a set my 1st night there. omg!!. And there was no such thing as cell phones. There was Emergency phone numbers on your application for the camp leaders only. So I was bored! but survived by tossing a big wad of bubble gum across the dark bedroom to land in the hair of the snotty blond girl in the bunk next to mine..I be bad.. she cried and the leader yelled out, who shot thid gum??!! I turned over and cried, because that was one of those moments I hated Mom for sending me away.. so I took my pencil I wrote on my bedsheet.. I hate you Mom!.. Didn’t matter, she wasn’t washing these sheets and wouldn’t see that..lol. I am not sure if my older brothers, Darcy, Geno or Joey went on any summer vacays or not. But at the end of the summer, we had memories, whether away from home or not. And now my children take their babes, my nuggets on summer vacays, making memories, as for toting along cell phones.. I wish everyone took one weekend away with their spouse and children..NO CELLS.. or electronics.. start listening to eachothers voices again, hear what they are really saying.. express like we use to do, with out loud belly laughs, screaming with laughter as you play tag, sing a song in the car as you motor along, introduce yourselves to the family in the camper parked next to yours at the campground.. go swimming! Just do stuff without the mechanics. Do you recall a vacay good or bad that you can share? Family or alone… as a child??

I Don’t Recall

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“It’s like riding a bike, you never forget.”

I don’t believe that quote anymore, as I age.

There is many things I don’t recall how to do or what I did to achieve a positive outcome. Timing is every thing, it helps us forget and helps us remember. I ask a lot of questions of friends and family (Mom use to call me a, Question Box) and a lot of the time, the answer is, “I don’t remember.”

And what about the  younger generation?  Who think they know everything. I think I have forgotten more than they know, I just don’t recall half of what I know.

Memories are an important part of my life, I don’t live in the past, but I don’t want to forget it either. Because Mom had dementia and I do recall her frustration when she could not recall something.  So, I will keep talking, asking questions and probing for answers. I love google!!..lol…

Keep sharp, be that 2 year old who constantly ask questions. You never know what you could learn, if you listen. But that is another subject, eh?. 😉

Where was I going with this

Where’s Your Toque!?

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One thing I hated as a child, was when Mom would make me wear a toque to school on cold winter mornings. And the only time she could make when was when she couldn’t find the hair brush that morning.

“Just put a toque on!” she would yell from the other room.
Argh! I would pout and say no, lets just find the brush. But she would interrupt me by saying I was going to be late for the bus, put on the dam toque and get out there with your brothers.

I had these 3 older brothers that would tease me all the time. Knowing, I hated wearing a toque, surely one of them would point and snicker at me, usually my brother Joey, rest in peace Bro, wishing you were still here to tease me.
And the toques back then were NOT like the cute toques now. Nope, you had a, itchy wool, blah colored toque, that was worn to keep your noggin warm. And heaven help me if I tried to remove it from my head at school, the static, would stand my messed up hair on end.

OMG!!

My Father’s Daughter


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As a human race we have evolved in many great ways and not so many great ways. Technology has come a long way, to the point, everything gets video taped. There is no more second guessing what may have happened when someone breaks the law, it will be filmed, even when it is the law who is breaking it. No one is safe from getting caught red handed. But there is just as many who do invade the privacy of others with that technology, from young people posting pictures on social sites of a girl who in the heat of the moment may have trusted a guy, was using her heart instead of her head and that heart felt moment for her turns into heartache. .she commits suicide because the world sees what 99% of people did at some point in their life, trust someone, and she was taped and shamed. Then you have people who abuse women and children. Twenty years ago or more, women and children were abused behind closed doors, nothing was said by the abused when they left that home, afraid of retaliation if they did. Suppressed and belittled, that woman and or child endured years of abuse. And the sad part of that one is.. IT IS STILL HAPPENING!!!.. In this day and age, that abuse is still happening, even with all the technology, warnings and help out there, the abuser is still abusing. And that woman and child are still suppressed and made to feel shame. This has to change. We need to evolve to where that abuser will think twice before raising that hand or voice, we need the abuser to fear what will happen if he does, we need the abuser to be suppressed and feel shame. Then I think about how much abuse and suppression has happened to the indigenous people in this great country. If only we had today’s technology back in those days, to record the abuse of this country’s indigenous nation. But it is no secret, it is written, somewhere, for all to read. It is just we have become mind lazy. If we don’t see instantaneously, what did or is happening, we tend not to believe or take the time to understand. I am a daughter of one of those native children put in a residential school. No I was not there at the time, no I never seen film footage of what my father went through as a child. But I know for a fact how he felt, not only as a child, suppressed and abused, but as an adult who’s dignity and self right was stripped from him. I know for a fact the shame he felt at the hands of the white man, the priests, because I was at the receiving end of my father’s hand for many years and as a child had no idea what I was doing wrong to warrant such abuse and I am not going to speak for anyone else in our household, because every one has their story. Every child has a story to tell when they grow into adults, IF and that is a big IF, they live long enough to realize they did nothing wrong and begin to heal and forgive. Don’t get me wrong, I love my father with all my heart. I understand my father, even today, after he has passed over, the wrong that was done him as a child, as a native child and I have forgiven him because of what he shared with me. However, that little boy and little native girl from back in the day, is and are still being abused and taken for granted, the offspring, the great grandchildren of those children, are still being suppressed and made to feel like they are not worthy of protection from abusers and killers. Their mother’s and fathers are being told that their child’s death is not a priority to this country’s government. And once the house burns down, killing 2 native babies, once the smoke settles, ashes to ashes, the silence is deafening… no one is hearing the cries of the women and children of indigenous heritage..
But! I hope and pray that as this world evolves, in time, so does the understanding, no matter your race, religion or color of your skin, your life does matter to your neighbour, to your government. And that the need for healing is so great. But to heal, the non-native needs to take the time to read, to talk, to listen to what has happened to their indigenous brothers and sisters and stand beside them, not in front of them and no child is left behind in shame or alone in the darkness of being misunderstood, because a little light was always shining, but made brighter with the empathy of ALL the peoples of this great country, we call Canada!
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“I learned from what The elders say along the path of my healing journey. Wounded people often learn to become the wounded healers because they develop empathy for the suffering of others. ‘The longest road you’re going to have to walk is from your head to your heart.’ But they also say you can’t speak to the people as a leader unless you’ve made the return journey. From the heart back to the head.” ~ E.Morgan