Several Long Days in the Hot Pollen Filled Haze...

Had Jimmy Buffett on the brain today.  Well do I remember the "brown L.A. haze",  as I grew up breathing it.  It never wiped me out the way the air here does in the Summer.  Heavy, dusty, and pollen filled, the air here fills my head with cotton.  It makes it hard to sleep, hard to read, hard to exercise, hard to BE.  Only a few days every year are really this bad, but when they come, they hit hard.

Yesterday was perhaps a bit better because I was forced to be active because I had to work, and then friends came to visit. Today, we would have gone to church, but neither of us slept well last night.  I just could NOT settle down, couldn't get comfortable, and I guess I kept Matt awake.
Because of this lack of sleep, I feel even more muzzy-headed today.  Sleep deprivation on top of several doses of antihistamine is a real incentive killer.  Makes one feel like the proverbial bump on a log:  not capable of or inclined to movement.

Now that the surly, sultry sun has gone down, the air is cooler, and I feel more awake.  Ironic, isn't it? In an hour or two, I'll have to try to sleep, just when I've started to feel awake and ready to do things.  Sigh.  Story of my life.  Always feel the wrong way at the wrong time.  Lethargic and sleepy when I should be alert and paying attention; alert and attentive when I should be sleeping. I'm just contrary, I guess.  Especially in the late summer, when it's been too hot, and when Texas has been so generously sharing it's cedar pollen, and when our ragweed has come into full, profuse, and irritating bloom.

My high school pals, Senior year.

I don't often miss L.A., but when I do are the days like today, when it would have been great to be able to pack up and go to the beach, even if EVERYBODY else in the Universe seemed to be there, at least there would be the ocean to listen to.  I miss hearing the ocean.  I miss the pulse of it, the rhythm of the waves, the constancy of it.  Even though we lived a good way inland, we could always drive to the beach pretty easily, even when we lived in the San Gabriel Valley.  I liked going best in the cold weather, though, when there weren't anywhere near as many people.  The Northern California and Oregon beaches are more beautiful than the beaches down south where I grew up, except for the beaches on the windward side of Catalina, where the cliffs rise above the sea.  I have found beautiful driftwood and sea glass on the Oregon coast, and have seen such beautiful views from there, and from Catalina's far side.  Only got to those places once, but they made a lifetime's worth of an impression on me.  Cool breezes, beautiful blue and turquoise waters, lighter sand than I remember Huntington Beach having, and no refineries or huge crowds present.
There are no photos from our high school and college age trips to the beach.  No cell phones and their cameras then.  We never thought to bring a camera to make pictures, that was something our folks did.  Most of us were far too extensively photographed as children, we disliked cameras intensely most of the time.  I wish now we had been able to make some photos of our lazy beach days at Huntington State Beach, (where the parking was free), when we had all pooled our money for gas and for lunch at a fast food place on the way down and/or the way back.  The long drive out of the valley, using the surface roads, because they were SO much more fun than the freeway.  Out over Hacienda Blvd and all it's winding ways, eventually to Beach Blvd, a straight shot to PCH, and then, THE BEACH!  Took us an hour or more, but it was hilarious!  There were always other kids on their way to the beach, and we had a bit of a carnival atmosphere as we drove down.  My senior year in high school, I actually had the nerve to wear a 2 piece bathing suit.  No pictures exist of me wearing that suit.  I was too shy, really, to preserve that particular sight.  Besides, I would either constantly find fault with my image, or it would depress me now, because such a figure and such looks were wasted on such a shy and retiring girl as I was then.
Another rite of my high school years that I really miss is Hollywood Blvd Safari.  We used to make sure my girlfriend's Delta 88 had a full tank of gas, we all piled in, and headed out to Hollywood.  We'd cruise the boulevard and observe the nightlife, which in the late 70s, was indeed colorful, entertaining, and dangerous.  We had rules:  Keep all windows up and doors locked at ALL TIMES, and DO NOT INTERACT WITH THE NIGHTLIFE!!  We used to argue over whether some of those strutting the boulevard were girls or drag queens, but we never tried to find out!  If our parents had known we were doing that, we would STILL be grounded!  We had no mishaps, and were not traumatized by what we saw.  There was a beauty, an art to what we saw, it fit where it was, strange and wonderful, beautiful and forbidden. 
Though really, I wonder how we managed to never be pulled over by the cops on those trips...

Summer Reverie
By C.K.Armistead
August 31, 2014

Wrapped up in the cotton
That fills my head
Old memories thought forgotten,
Feared fled
Have come out to taunt me
With whispers of coolness
And a sweet ocean breeze
That I miss
The heat that bakes my brain
Draws out the things usually stored
Plays again the sad refrain
Of melodies lost and adored.

A  photo of me at the beach when I was 2 or maybe 3.

Of Trending Behavior, Peer Pressure, And NOT Giving My Usual Response To It

You have undoubtedly seen the Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram posts of people dousing themselves with ice water to draw attention to ALS.  This disease deserves some attention.  It is a horrible, scary disease that gradually takes away your ability to control your body.  I cannot even imagine the horror of facing such a diagnosis.  The ALS Association has benefited immensely from this campaign.  Awareness of the disease is higher that ever, and people ARE actually donating money.

I think the use of ice water is very appropriate.  I have often thought of fear as the feeling of a bucket of ice cold water being poured on my head.  The dreadful  feeling seeps into your whole being from the top down.  It is shocking, it is paralyzing, and you have to force yourself to get moving again.  Long time ALS survivors, that is those that live the longest after the dread diagnosis, face that fear every single second of every day, and they live in spite of it.  They are heroic people to go on in the face of such a difficult series of losses.  I hope and pray that the money raised by this challenge does indeed provide the funding that finds a cure.  It would probably benefit many other neurological conditions, also.  The more we know about our nervous system and our brains, and the connections between them, the better we can fight such diseases. 

Now,  a LOT of people I know have done the challenge.  I was sort of ignoring it until I got called out by my fellow #Perlgirl Jana Waller.  She challenged ALL of us to do it, and well, I went against my usual response to peer pressure, which is to strenuously resist, and did it. 
So did Kelly, Paulette, Mary, Fiona, Molly, and Patti, that I can remember.  Perlman has yet to do it, but several people who have worked with him have nominated him, so we shall see. 

Clergy at my church have done it, including the Dean.  I challenged the Children's Department at our library to do it, but I have yet to hear from any of them. 

Here's a link to Dean Justin's #IceBucketChallenge
Here's a link to Father Tim's #IceBucketChallenge

Here's a link to My #IceBucketChallenge

If you do the challenge, please also donate to the cause, and keep those who suffer with this disease in your thoughts and prayers.  There are many, many things out there in this world that need our attention and our concern.  For this week or so, the InterWebz are paying attention to ALS.  I hope we continue to remember all who suffer, and to do what we can, when and where we can to help. 
Here's a video with an important perspective on the challenge.  Please watch.
Last Ice Bucket Challenge You Need To See

And here's a link to The ALS Association's Ice Bucket Challenge Page  Please go make a donation.  Even a little one will help.  When many people make little donations, they turn into a pretty big donation, so go, do what you can to help. 
ALS can strike anyone, anytime.  It can run in families, but not necessarily.  Nobody's immune. 
As I am fond of reminding myself, we're all on this little ball of rock and mud in space together.  We got nowhere else to go (at least not yet) and even so, all we've got is each other.  Let's take care of each other more, and hate each other less.  Dousing yourself in ice water is kind of a round about way of doing that, but it gets the point across. 
Peace.

Reflections On Depression

First off, let me say that I have been very fortunate never to have really faced profound depression the way so many have.  I have been depressed, I have felt hopeless and overwhelmed, I have been close to that state of feeling that it will never, ever get better.  Something has always helped me hang on.  I have no answers for those who are consumed by that darkness, only that they should know there are lots of us out here who love them, who need them in our lives, and will help them, if we can only figure out how. 
I have lost friends and family members to depression.  It is an illness, just like cancer.  There are some treatments, but they don't work for everybody.  Just like with cancer, sometimes the disease wins.  Doesn't mean they gave up, doesn't mean that on many levels they didn't want to live.  It just means that the pain became too much, the darkness too dark, the battle too hard to fight anymore.  Their resources were all used up.

I have felt helpless when seeing others in dark despair.  I don't even know how I have gotten out of the dark places I have wandered in.  Not really.  I know that on some level, it never got so dark that I couldn't see and feel the light of Love reaching for me.  It got close to that dark a few times, but somehow, I always found the light to see the path out.  There are still times when I feel like I am not worth the space I take up in this world, that all I am is a pest and and a drain on others.  I feel overwhelmed by the things that I *SHOULD* be doing and feel I have no emotional strength to do.  It seems sometimes like it isn't WORTH trying to keep going.  The feeling that the big dark ugliness is right behind you, and just waiting for you to stop running is truly scary. 

The only explanation I can give for the fact that I have not fallen too deep into that darkness is that there is light in me.  (There is light in ALL of us, but sometimes, it gets really hard to see.)  There is a purpose worth living for.  There are people who love me, who need me in their lives.  And for me, there is my faith.  There is a God who loves me, who understands how hard it is sometimes to go on, but whose love reaches me in that dark place, dries my tears, takes my hand, and leads me back to the light.  I have no other explanation.  I hear the words to old hymns playing in my head, I see the faces of those who I KNOW love me, and hear their voices, and realize it would be horrible to be apart from them.  Even worse than the pain of trying to deal with my personal darkness.  I believe that is God's Spirit at work.  Reminding me that I have value even when I feel worthless, that there IS light in me, even when I cannot find it in myself. 

There is an old and rather sappy hymn that I hear at times like this. 
O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go
(words by George Matheson, 1842-1906)
O love that wilt not let me go
I rest my weary eyes on Thee
I give Thee back the life I owe
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

Those ocean depths bear me up, carry me safely to the shore, and help me stand again. 

Another verse is also one that I have heard when I seemed to need it:

O Joy, that seekest me through pain
I cannot close my heart to Thee,
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain
That morn shall tearless be.

I am pestered with this hymn, and others, and with scripture, and with the evidence of past experience, until I have the strength to try to keep going.  I am better at it some days than others, and it has been a LONG time since I have been in the dark enough to feel that I should not go on. 
My husband's love has a lot to do with that.  So do my friends. 
Depression, like any illness, can run in families.  My mother has suffered from bouts of it, and she always told me I was like my aunt, who died before I was born, who also had dark moods.  She always said I was moody and broody like Aunt Lorene, and I wrote poetry like my aunt.  As far as I know, my Aunt died as a result of a heart defect she was born with, and did not end her own life.  I think the poetry helps.  More than likely, the illness isn't as strongly present in me.  I know it took my cousin.  He tried to drug it away, drink it away, but he finally drank himself to death.  There have been others, and I don't know what demons inhabited their darkness, but I find myself wishing there had been a way I could have shared my light with them more effectively.  Could have pushed that door open and let the light in, just a little.

For those who suffer with this illness, I pray you are always able to find the light again.  I pray that you will be granted strength and light for the fight, that you will hear and see the love that truly is all around you.  And that you let the light in, let it banish the darkness, reach for it, and KEEP REACHING.  You ARE loved, you ARE needed.  You MATTER.  You are not in this fight alone, no matter what  you think.  Don't listen to the darkness of depression, it lies.  It tells you there is no hope, no light, no love, but there IS.  There IS light inside you.  Please, please ask for help when you need it. 
Those that have lost the fight are not lost forever.  I believe this.  The light that was in them, that they managed to share but not see in themselves, lives on.  Love lives on.  Always.  Love can never die. 
And I firmly believe that God, who IS Love, will not desert those souls so lost and in pain.  He will find them and grant them peace and comfort.  I know this.  I do. 
Doesn't make it any easier for those of us left behind, who can only remember the light our lost ones brought us, and try to keep reflecting it in our hearts forever in their honor. 
We must never forget them, or their struggles.  We must also try to find a way to share the light we have with others, a way to really hear and listen to what others say.  We're in this boat on this stormy sea together, folks.  In the end, all we have is each other.  

A Bit More About Our Tour in Germany

After the Gulf War, we still had a couple of years of our tour left, and Matt changed jobs to a non-flying job.  It was during this time that we met the Rosenfelds.  Rich Rosenfeld was the chaplain who officiated at the 08:30 Protestant Liturgical service.  He met Matt at a squadron meeting, and found out we were Episcopalian.  He talked Matt into coming to the service, and the rest, is history.
We became regular attendees at the 08:30 service, and became friends with the Rosenfeld family.
They introduced us to ""Allo, 'Allo"  a British sitcom that is a typical farcical sendup of WWII resistance fighters in France.  (We are still trying to find a way to send them the Christmas Puddings, but shipping them could be treacherous...)
I love to hear Stephanie read Patrick McManus stories aloud.  She has to stop often due to uncontrollable fits of giggles!  They shared so much with us, and helped us with so many things.  Truly people who live their faith.
Matt often worked on computer issues for the chapel, and he worked as a funds counselor.  I baked goodies for the fellowship time after the service.  It was the first time in our married life that we really had a "home church" where we felt like we belonged.  That experience is what made us seek a church home here in the OKC metro area. (Once we set foot in St. Paul's, we knew we'd found it! We've been in the choir for 19 years now.)

I don't have any pictures from that time, as we were too busy to think about it for the most part.  Matt was the NCOIC of Current Operations at Rhein-Main, and he was often working long shifts.  I believe I do have a graphic of the certificate Rich gave us when we left Rhein-Main.  It's a classic!

I think the friendships we found while we were over there were the best part of our tour.  We have lost touch with the Knoebel family, but the Ronsenfelds still email us and show up on Facebook.
We treasure their friendship, and cherish our memories of the time we spent together.

Here's a closeup of the certificate Rich gave us, and a picture of it and the Airlift Memorial Window plate that the chapel staff gave us on the wall in our living room.