Remembering 9/11

Do you remember the day, where you were when you heard, how you felt? This question has been asked many times in many forms since that September day in 2001.

I was on my way to work when I heard the news report. I was stunned and wondered how a pilot could make such an error. When I heard the reports of the second plane hitting the other tower I was in disbelief. That day was somewhat surreal. My employees were looking for comfort and understanding. One woman’s mom brought in their TV and set it up in our break room. I found myself wandering back there throughout the day as did everyone else in the office.

The country pulled together at the time. I believe it was instinctual. I have seen it at times when someone loses a loved one. The need to be around others is human nature. The need to have someone to lean on is fierce.

I remember the weeks after the attacks. For those of us at a distance from the tragedies life began to return to normal. Almost normal. I live in the flight path of the local airport. It was eerie to not hear those planes overhead as they left the airport. The skies were silent. I have grown up in a time when plane travel is somewhat routine and so not having planes in the sky was definitely strange. We went back to our lives, but are more hesitant. We are not as trusting as we once were.

Despite the fact that much has changed since those days I have to wonder if we are really different. The sentiments of righteous indignation that was prevalent in the days after the attacks have been replaced by dissension over the war. We get frustrated with the security measures put in place after 9/11/01. I think some of us forget how much we lost on that day. Life has gone on for some of us and we don’t think of it, until the day rolls around each year. Some, though, can’t forget; they were there and experienced it firsthand, they lost loved ones, they have been to Iraq or Afghanistan or have sent a loved one. They are haunted every day.

Tomorrow is 9/11/08. Tomorrow we remember and we hope. Tomorrow we grieve for all that was lost. Tomorrow let’s remember how much we need each other. Tomorrow let’s pray something like this never happens again.

8 Random Things

So, it's been a while since I blogged, but when I saw this post
http://thesurrenderedscribe.blogspot.com/2008/09/8-random-things-you-need-to-know.html by my buddy Julie over at The Surrendered Scribe it sounded like fun so here I am posting 8 Random Things About Me.

1. I was bribed by a nun in first grade and kicked out of choir by a nun in seventh grade.

2. I used to open my Christmas presents before Christmas and rewrap them. My siblings say I opened theirs also. I have no memory of opening theirs!

3. I scooped ice cream at Baskin-Robbins to put myself through college.

4. I jokingly tell people I am multilingual, but the truth is I know a few words in Turkish, German, Spanish, Latin and French. I don’t yet speak any of them fluently.

5. I have a weird, illogical fear of certain plants.

6. I have five crazy aunts (love ya Kathy, Karen, Mary, Cheryl and Janice!) and believe that every child needs at least one crazy aunt while growing up. I, alone, fill that role for my six nieces and nephews!

7. As one of my Facebook flair buttons says, “People who don’t know me think I am quiet; those who do know me wish I was.”

8. I just finished my Apprentice Course through the Christian Writer’s Guild.

What about you? Will you join me and post 8 Random Things about yourself!?!

If I Had A Hammer - Adventure #7

“If I had a hammer….I’d hammer out love between my brother and sisters, all over this land.” These words from a song by Lee Hayes and Pete Seeger have been running through my head on and off for the last few weeks. Years ago I worked down the hall from a Habitat for Humanity office. I walked by that office each day and finally decided to volunteer. I filled out the application, but was never called as a volunteer.

In June Pikes Peak Habitat for Humanity ran an ad in the local paper. I decided to try again so I filled out the application and submitted it online. By the next day I was registered to attend an orientation session the following Saturday. So began my July adventure!

A lot of people think that former President Jimmy Carter founded Habitat because he has been a visible face of Habitat for so many years. However, the organization was actually founded by Millard and Linda Fuller in 1976. (www.habitat.org) Since then Habitat has built over 250,000 homes! According to the web site “it is the mission of Pikes Peak Habitat for Humanity to follow the example of Jesus Christ by providing simple, decent places to live for families who cannot afford a home by conventional means, through building and rehabilitating houses in partnership with the community and prospective homeowners.”

Future Habitat home owners have a tough road ahead of them. They have to qualify by meeting financial and need based guidelines. They work with volunteers who walk them through the process which includes financial and credit counseling. Then they have to fulfill sweat equity hours before moving into their house. That means they actually have to go out to the build site and help construct their house! Habitat holds the mortgage on all Habitat houses. The loans are thirty no interest loans with fixed payments. These families who move into Habitat houses are active participants in every step of the way.

When I first talked about becoming a Habitat volunteer I am sure my friends and family wondered if I had lost my mind. I have worked only office jobs in my adult life. In my free time I sit at a computer and write. I was probably the last person some would think of as a home builder. In fact, my nephew Jeff when I asked him if he could see me building houses responded, “Yeah, but not safe, sturdy ones.” Then when I told him I got to use power tools his comment was, “How did no one lose a limb?” Good thing I love ya, Jeff!

I participated in my first build in July and yes, they did let me use power tools. It was a warm, sunny Saturday morning when about 15 people gathered to work on a house. The foundation had been poured and our job that morning was to remove the forms the cement foundation was poured in. I may not have all the lingo right, after all I am a writer, not a home builder. So, I unscrewed and pried off two by fours. Then we helped to carry the two by fours up the hill to load in a truck for carting to the next location.

As the sun beat down that day I was able to work alongside the young man whose family would move into the house we worked on. I also met the young couple who were moving into the completed house next door when their sweat equity was done. And, I got to participate in a blessing ceremony with the single mom and her two sons who would move into another house that was just getting started. It was truly a great thing to meet the people who would benefit from my sweat and labor.

I was asked that morning why I was there. I became a home owner a few years ago after years of renting apartments. My house is nothing special. It’s just a small townhouse in a nice neighborhood, but it’s mine. I have been blessed in my life and by volunteering a few hours each month I can help others be blessed by home ownership.

Volunteering was an adventure that will continue since I plan to volunteer each month with Habitat. As I do, I will learn more about home construction and help others in the community. I have a hammer and I am sharing the love Christ has given me with my brothers and sisters all over the land, well, at least all over the city!

Bringing Home Kitty - Adventure #6

Here it is July already and I haven’t posted about my June Adventure! Decided it was high time I did that.

This is my new fur child! His name is Wilson and he is three years old. I adopted him from the PetProject pet rescue on June 7. You can check them out at http://www.petfinder.com/shelters/CO106.html

Wilson caught my attention because in his adoption photo he was stretching one arm up toward the camera as if saying, “Oh, oh, oh, pick me, pick me!” I couldn’t resist!

We had a dog, Pepper, while growing up….got him a few weeks before my youngest sister came along and he stayed with us until he developed cancer at the age of 18. As an adult I have never had a pet of my own. I tell people that my Snowflake Teddy is the best pet a girl could have. He’s sweet and soft and doesn’t eat much…when I offer food, he tells me he’s stuffed!

I have pet sat many times over the years for friends and family. Once I was going to pet sit for a coworker’s new puppy. Turns out it was the puppy, the turtle, the fish and the ferret. When she described the ferret as furry snake with legs she sealed its fate of remaining in the cage the whole week they were gone. I fed and watered it, but didn’t want to play with the snake with legs.

Feeling adventurous after sitting with my niece’s kitty over Memorial Day weekend I began to look for a kitty of my own. My sister sent me to the PetProject site and that is when I found Wilson. His name was Barker and when I first saw him he was being looked at by another family so I thought it wasn’t meant to be. Two weeks later his picture was still on the web site so I sent an email and found he was still available. All it took was one look and one time holding him in my arms to know that he needed to come home with me.

The PetProject folks were wonderful with the whole process. They helped me pick out some food for him since he seemed to have some food allergies. They seemed to really like Wilson and both had to pet him and say their goodbyes when we left.

When I brought him home I had to change his name to Wilson. For those of you readers who may not know, I am a Tom Hanks fan(atic!) Wilson was the name of his best friend on the island he was stranded on in the movie “Castaway.” That is where I got Wilson’s name. Since I liked Barker also, I named him Wilson Barker.

Wilson is a sweet and loving kitty. He loves to play with his toys and I find myself spoiling him with new toys frequently! Right now he is sound asleep on the dining room chair. He knows he’s not allowed on the table but he seems very content to sleep on the chairs.

I now have a very fuzzy little alarm clock. If my alarm goes off more than a couple times (so not a morning person and it is a frequent occurrence for my alarm to ring multiple times in the morning) he will make sure I get up. He begins to walk across my chest. Then he will rub against my face and walk around my head making sure to step on my hair. He will continue this until I get up and get him some breakfast.

Wilson fits in well at my house. We share some of the same interests. He is quite the literary kitty. He loves books and newspapers. He would rather sleep on a book than in the kitty bed I bought for him. I have to remember to pick up the newspaper off the floor and coffee table because he will burrow down in it and go to sleep. The problem is he gets newsprint all over his white paws and belly!

He is a kitty who shares my shoe fetish. If he isn’t sleeping on a book, you can find him snuggling up with any shoes I happen to leave lying around. The bedroom closet intrigues him because the floor of it is currently covered with shoes…yes, it is time for a closet clean out and a trip to Goodwill!

Getting used to being responsible for someone other than me has been an adventure this month. It has meant thinking twice about my schedule since I need to make sure he gets fed and isn’t alone all day long for days at a time. It has meant double checking any food I give him to make sure it doesn’t have wheat or beef in it since he doesn’t react well to those items. And it has meant finding places for my Peace Lily and Pothos plants that he can’t get to since both are poisonous to kitties. Thankfully he has learned that the piano, bookcases, dining table and kitchen counters are no kitty zones.

Still, despite the changes required in my life to accommodate Wilson, I am very glad I took the plunge. He is now a part of my family and he is loved!

I Can Fly!!!

In the words of Peter Pan, “I can fly!” For a very long time now I have had the desire to fly. It began with a yearning to learn to fly planes. Then skydiving piqued my interest. For years now I have been planning to skydive; it is after all cheaper than taking flying lessons.



Skydiving is on the calendar for sometime in August this year. In my quest for adventure and new experiences this year I have decided it was time. Still, at the end of May I was able to get a little taste of not only skydiving, but the freedom of floating on air.



Most people have never heard of indoor skydiving. I hadn’t either when I received an email from a friend. Maggie had been invited to a birthday party but wasn’t able to make it. She suggested to the birthday girl that I take her place. Ironically enough birthday girl and I work for the same company as Maggie does and had never met. The company isn’t that large, I just work in a remote office and so our paths haven’t crossed. Christina was very gracious and let me crash her birthday party. “The more the merrier,” she said! Thanks, Christina, it was one of the most fun birthday parties I have ever been to!



Skyventure is located in Lone Tree, Colorado. According to the web site (http://www.skyventurecolorado.com/) this is “a 12 foot, recirculating 1200 HP wind tunnel.” According to me it is just a big barrel of fun!



Our adventure began with a lesson in flying. This short video showed us the proper body position. We also learned hand signals since hearing the instructor inside the tunnel was virtually impossible. Our main form of communication involved signals to bend or straighten our legs, chin up, and relax. However, once I was in the tunnel it took me a while to be able to relax and remember what the signals meant.



During our instructions we were told to take everything out of our pockets and to take off our jewelry. Derrick, our instructor, told us he had a flyer who didn’t believe him when he said if it was in your pockets it would be sucked out once in the tunnel. Apparently this man had about $500 in twenty dollar bills that he didn’t want to part with. He kept them zippered in a pocket inside his jumpsuit; that is until he got into the chamber. The bills were sucked out and sent flying around the wind tunnel. I decided not to test it for myself and took my earrings and necklace off.



We were then suited up in jumpsuits that covered us from neck to ankle. We were given helmets, ear plugs and goggles. Then it was time to make our way into the wind tunnel. The tunnel is an octagonal shaped room with a small room along one side for the flyers to wait their turn. The floor is a metal mesh net and beneath it we could see the equipment that helped power the tunnel. There are two doors, one for entering and one for exiting the tunnel. The chamber is about 12 feet in diameter and I would guess about 15 feet high (at least in the space we were flying in.)



When it was my turn for my first flight I approached the door, brought my arms to my chest and raised my chin. The raised chin was important for helping control flight, but it also was a great reminder to look around and enjoy the experience. I leaned into the chamber and began to move into the proper flying position. Thankfully Derrick was in the chamber with each of us to help because I promptly forgot everything I had learned in our training session.



With his help I was able to experience some flight. That first time though I had a lot of trouble controlling myself. I have to laugh because Derrick was very expressive with his hand signals as he emphatically gave me the sign to relax over and over. I have always had trouble relaxing my muscles like normal people! Toward the end I did get a little better and began to enjoy myself.



The second minute in the chamber I did much better, but still have a way to go before I can really control my own flight. I got to experience some true flight and was really beginning to like it. Then in the last few seconds Derrick grabbed hold of the handles on my jump suit and the instructor in the control booth turned up the air. With Derrick’s help we rose and then descended spinning round over and over. This was sheer ecstasy! I could have stayed there forever soaring and spinning! All too soon the flight was over and it was time to get out.



Indoor skydiving was an awesome time and has totally fueled my desire to do the real thing soon! I also came away with an important lesson for life. No matter what happens, keep your chin up and relax!

I'm going to share a little secret with you all. I am a daddy's girl. Yes, it's true, have been as long as I can remember.

My earliest memories are from the time when we lived in Izmir, Turkey. I was about 3 years old, let's just say it was sometime in the 60s and leave it at that. I remember the games my brother and I used to play. I remember when my sister came along I was reluctant to let her have the crib. I remember playing on our fourth floor balcony and watching the Turkish world go by below.

I also remember a Saturday or Sunday morning helping Mom in the kitchen. She gave me the orange juice can to throw away. It bugged me that the lid was still partially attached to the can so I decided to twist it off before throwing it away. In the process I sliced my finger. This would be the first of many finger slicings in the kitchen for me.

Mom took me to the emergency room that morning while Dad stayed home with Tom and Tina. I remember the ER doctor telling me that I now had a spider on my finger where he put the stitches and that I should tell my daddy about my spider. I even remember going home and sitting in my Daddy?s lap and showing him my spider.


Growing up the thing I remember most about Dad is how hard he worked and yet still found time for his family. He was the first man in my life and he has set the bar high.

Dad always taught me (and my siblings) to work hard at whatever we decided to do. Truth is this was a lesson both Mom and Dad instilled in us. This has served me well over the years. Of course, I often tell Dad it?s his fault that I have to work so hard. He instilled that darn work ethic in me!

My Dad is one of the smartest people I have ever met. He doesn?t have many degrees or initials to put behind his name, but he still knows a lot! He worked many years taking classes one at a time to finish his bachelor's degree. Dad knows more than any degree could have taught him.

When I bought my first car he went along. I had picked out the car I wanted and I had fallen in love already. We sat with the finance person at the dealership and they quoted a monthly payment amount. All I heard was the amount and knew it was double what I could afford. Dad on the other hand said, "That's 23% interest. She is not paying that!" I was stunned; he knew the sticker amount and was able to do the math so quickly to come up with the percentage rate. I drove away that night in the car I wanted and had a manageable monthly payment with a reasonable interest rate.

Over the years as I have had to make decisions about financial matters, home ownership and other important happenings I tend to consult my Daddy first. He is my financial planner and my sounding board for these decisions. He can fix just about anything. Over the years I have called on him many times. I remember calling him one morning and telling him, "My car is deader than Elvis!" He came from work. It was bitterly cold out. Dressed in a suit with a nice trench coat over the top to try to keep warm he jump started my car so I could go to work also.

He has been called to help with floods in the laundry room and broken laundry room doors. When my front window leaked he came and fixed that before I realized it should have been fixed by the homeowners association.

I think Dad is a teacher at heart. While he is always quick to help, he is also quick to teach so that I can be self sufficient.

When I was sixteen and eager to have the freedom that driving allows, I wasn't able to take the car on my own until I knew how to change a tire. That came in handy with that first car I had; it was forever having flat tires and I changed my own tires in a variety of weather circumstances. I also had to learn how to change the oil. I didn't have to change my own oil, but Dad wanted me to understand the process.

Dad is a largely self taught computer geek. When I was first learning computers he helped me learn. Still, he was quick to ask, "Did you read the book?" when I call with a question.

My Dad tells great stories from his growing up years. He once drove home with bubble gum in his tire because the tire had developed a leak and the bubblegum was all he had to fix it. Recently he told me of working for my maternal grandfather during the summers. He says his mom wasn't happy with the fact that Grandpa gave him beer, but Grandpa's thought was if Daddy was going to work like a man, he should drink like a man also.

My maternal grandmother told me a story about how Dad was showing her how indestructible the coffee mugs he was selling from the dairy truck were. He threw the mug against the summer kitchen and it broke into many pieces. He said, "Hmmm, it's not supposed to do that."

Last summer he told me the story of his and Mom's first date. That became a blog entry. You can find it back in the archives for July 2007.

I think of all the things that amaze me about my Dad is his unconditional love for his family. This has been so very evident in the last ten years while Mom was struggling with Lewy Body Dementia. As she began to have problems he stepped in, quietly, without a big fuss. He did what needed to be done.

As Mom could do less and less for herself Dad put everything in his world on hold and did for Mom. He searched for ways to keep her comfortable, happy and secure. I remember him giving her a doll because she never really had one as a child. He brought her flowers, stuffed animals; anything he thought would make her smile.

He bought movies and videos he thought she would like. He read to her, comforted her, and walked the floor with her at night when she couldn't sleep. Even when Lewy caused Mom to be angry at Dad he kept his cool and kept going. He knew it wasn't Mom, but Lewy at those times. I know that it must have torn his heart out to see this happening to his sweetheart, but he never gave up. He kept her safe and happy until the end. Now that Mom has passed away Daddy still keeps giving to her. He chose a beautiful grave stone and he makes regular visits to her grave. He chooses silk flowers that she would like and that reflect the season or holiday.

My Dad is an amazing man. I could go on for a long time about all that I have learned from him.

I am a Daddy's girl! I am not ashamed to admit it. I can't imagine life with any other Daddy 'cause mine is truly the best.

New Blog Site

Hello RockyMountainWriter fans,

Welcome to my new site! I am trying out some new sites to see which one best suits what I want to do with my blog.

I am still working on the details of Blogger, like how to import my blog from my old site. Bear with me as I learn some new stuff

Let me know what you think!

Tamara
The Rocky Mountain Writer

2008 - The Year of Living Adventurously

So, here it is a new year and I see I have been remiss in my blogging. If any of my readers are still out there, hang with me, it's gonna get better!!!


Several years ago an email conversation with a friend led me to think about my life and what I wanted to remember at the end of this life. As I thought about opportunities I had been given and had passed up for one reason or another I realized I didn't want to have too many more of those. There is so much to see, do, and learn about this planet we call home.

That year I made a goal for the New Year to try at least one new thing each month. I wanted to experience and learn new things. I didn't quite make my goal that year, but I did have a few memorable experiences. That was the year I began the Christian Writer's Guild program. Also that year I learned to throw pots. No, I didn't pull up anybody's toilet and chuck it across the room, I made clay pots. Those two activities alone have given me great memories, a web site, a book to write and a several lopsided clay pots!

This year I have decided it is time to dust off that goal and make it anew. I have dubbed 2008 "The Year of Living Adventurously." My friend, Renee, has joined me in this goal. Each month we are going to try something new. I may find it's not something I ever want to do again. Then again, it may be something that I love and will continue with. Each month I plan on chronicling my adventures right here on the Rocky Mountain Writer web site.

My first adventure of 2008 involved an ice rink, tape covering the tread of my left shoe, a broom, a 42 pound granite stone and plenty of aching muscles the next day. Welcome to the world of curling!

Renee was enthralled with curling at the last winter Olympics. I had never seen it played and didn�t really understand the whole concept. Yet when I opened the newspaper one day and saw that the Broadmoor Curling Club (www.Coloradocurling.org) was going to hold a "Learn to Curl" night that week I knew we had our January Adventure.

Curling is believed to have begun in Scotland around the 14th century. It is played on a sheet of ice 146 feet long. I thought it was named curling because we would be curled in bed with sore muscles the next day, but it actually was named curling because of the motion of the stone as it slides down the ice.

We began by having the shoe on our non-dominant foot taped with clear plastic tape. This was our slider foot. After a brief overview of the sport we stepped out on the ice taking care to step with our non-taped foot first to prevent slipping and falling on our back sides!

Situated against the wall of the ice rink we learned to slide by squatting and placing our dominant foot against the wall. Using the broom in our non-dominant hand to balance we slid with our slider leg bent and the dominant leg stretched out behind us. Easy enough. Not!! Thankfully, I managed to not do a face plant on the ice while practicing, although I did take multiple spills.

Once we had mastered, well sort of, sliding we added the stone. This 42 pound piece of granite is smooth and round with a handle on the top. Grasping the handle in our dominant hand we then learned to slide with the stone. After several minutes of this we were allowed to let our stones go at the end of the slide.

When our instructors felt we were ready, we moved away from the wall and used supports called hacks that are planted in the ice. We placed our pushing foot against the hack to start our slide.

Once the stone has been released two sweepers run down the ice in front of it and sweep the ice in front to keep the stone moving or behind to slow it down. The object is to hit the bulls eye shaped "house" and to be the closest to the center.

Each team has four players and each player throws two stones. At the end of the throwing whoever's stone is closest to the center wins the point for their team. Actually, scoring is a little more complicated. However, by the time we got to scoring we had been on the ice for two hours and my feet were frozen and cramping. I didn't get much of the scoring discussion!

Overall, it was a fun and enjoyable evening. Renee and I had some good laughs. The next day I was hobbling around like a little old lady. I think I might need to find activities that use the muscles in my legs more! I so wanted to document our first adventure with pictures, but I waited until the end to try to take pictures and the cold in the rink rendered the batteries in my camera useless. Oh well :-)

Our adventures will continue. Who knows what it will be next; climbing a rock wall, learning a new language, trying yoga, or skydiving. Actually, skydiving is on the list for May or June! My cousin, Jay, has tried it and said it was a blast. I have always wanted to try it despite a fear of heights and have since found out that Renee and my friend Maggie want to join me.

You, dear reader, are welcome to join me also for any of my adventures. Whether you come and join in physically or in spirit by reading my blog let's celebrate a year of living adventurously!

Catching Snowflakes

As I leaned back my head and stuck out my tongue my youngest sister who was five at the time watched me.


“Mommy, why is Tammie trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue in church?”

I collapsed in a faint right in the middle of a weekday church service. It must have been winter break since we were all there in the middle of the day. I had just become overheated and passed out. No harm done, Mom took me outside for some fresh air and our day went on as normal.

A couple of Sundays ago I came home from church. My sister had been there while I was gone; she had made lunch for Mom and Dad and then cleaned up the kitchen. Wondering why she would clean up and not put the empty Cheerios box out for recycle I began to break it down when Dad asked me if I had looked at the back. Turning it over I saw this image:

Teri has never let me forget that day in church. This is not the first time an image of someone catching snow has made its way to me. I laugh every time it happens :-) Ya gotta love your siblings!

Actually, as I have grown up, I found that’s not exactly true. I have heard many stories about sibling relationships. Some would be fodder for a great horror story. Not everyone loves their brothers and sisters. I, on the other hand, do.

Growing up we moved a lot and so that meant we had to learn to rely on each other. We had our share of squabbles. “Mom, she’s looking at me!” “Daddy, tell him to stop!” “Get out of my room!” As adults we don’t experience the typical squabbles that you find in many families. Our times together are filled with laughing about things that have happened and sharing what is happening in our lives now.

Recent events brought us four together again. It was an unfortunate reason to get together, but thankfully the outcome was good. I found it very cool to watch the three of them as adults and remember them as children.

They all have married and are in the process of raising families. They are all three amazing in their own ways.

Tom is a rock. He is not afraid to roll up his sleeves and get down to business. He keeps us laughing with his crazy jokes and stories. His two kids are grown and are now stretching their wings. So now, Tom and his wife are beginning to stretch their wings also.

Tina is the quiet, gentle one. She and her husband have two boys. Always the girly girl she has jumped in and participated in the camping and fishing, baseball and soccer. She’s not afraid to do the things her boys love to do.

Teri is our firecracker. Strong willed and independent she takes the world by the horns. Her and her husband’s two kids are like night and day, yet she is totally involved in both their activities.

My siblings mean the world to me. For all the times I said as a child “I wish I was an only child,” I have been blessed with amazing memories, childhood and adult, of these three who have been a part of my life for so long. Honestly, I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

So, if you happen to see me catching snow on my tongue, I may just be immersed in a happy childhood thought!

Writing About Lewy Body Dementia

As a young girl I wrote stories, poems, and even a screenplay that my sisters and a friend put on one summer in our back yard. Middi Money Goes to Hollywood was a smashing success with the audience of birds, squirrels, and bugs. Stories just seem to be a big part of my life.


I see stories in the people, places and activities that populate my daily life. I love to take something that happened and make a great story out of it. Thankfully, I seem to have a plethora of instances that make amusing stories. Sometimes, okay, most of the time, I embellish and expound to really give the story punch. The basic story is true; it just has been given a touch of my own brand of spice. It has always been a given in my mind that someday I would take a story and write a fiction book. Hopefully, a best seller.

As I write this blog entry I am contemplating how to move forward on the book proposal I am working on. The story that is the basis of this book is a true story; it is not fiction, I cannot add spice to it and I truly wish I were not in a position to write it. It is a horrendous story of how a disease has stolen my mother from me, while she continues to live.

Mom has Lewy Body Dementia (LBD.) In the last year it has become part of my purpose to expose more people to this disease. In that vein, I have added a page to my website about it and I write my book. Please visit the Lewy Body Dementia page to learn more about the disease.

When the diagnosis first came I and my family began to look for information and resources. There were few. Many have never heard of LBD; I have worked in the medical field for 20 years and had never heard of it. In my search for information I did find the Lewy Body Dementia Association web site.

Every week I speak with people all over the country as a volunteer with the Lewy Body Dementia Association. This is emotionally hard, but I do it because I am in their shoes. I know the feeling of us being all alone in our journey through this time.

A few weeks ago I had calls that represented the full spectrum of LBD. I talked to one lady whose husband had just been diagnosed the previous week. The neurologist had very little practical information to pass along. The caller's husband is in his early 60s, still young and yet facing an uncertain future. The only certain thing about LBD is that it is currently incurable and it will get much worse before death.

I then fielded a call from a sweet lady in her 80s. Her husband had been living with LBD for a decade and he was "on death's door." She was making arrangements and wanted to find out how to donate to the association and to find out about donating his brain for LBD research.

I offered what I could to these people. Often, just talking with someone who understands is comfort enough.

I know that my writing about this situation isn't easy for my family members. I don't do this to cause discomfort. I do this because I believe strongly in doing what I can to make a difference in the battle against this enemy. The weapon I have been given is the ability to write. And so I write in hopes that someday we will experience victory. In hopes that in the future we will know enough about this disease to offer more than just compassion.