There are those who see deeply what others only ever catch a glimpse of...
View from Adelaide's porch
Thursday, April 30, 2020
Gaelic wisdom...
May those who love us, love us,
And those who do not love us,
May God turn their hearts,
And if He does not turn their hearts,
May He please turn one of their ankles,
So we may know who they are by their limping.
~an old Gaelic Blessing
And those who do not love us,
May God turn their hearts,
And if He does not turn their hearts,
May He please turn one of their ankles,
So we may know who they are by their limping.
~an old Gaelic Blessing
Grand finale of The Ride...
Hopefully by now many of you have read my blog story about The Ride my horse Patches and I made. If you haven't yet, please read the amazing story in the blogs, "Plunging Forth And Not Backward."
When Patches and I successfully arrived at the Danner Farm, with all the media people in tow, completing the ten mile journey, I relaxed as soon as we turned into the gate along the tree lined lane.
Mr. Danner raised and showed miniature horses. As soon as one entered the lane was a pasture with many of them. Remember, for the first time in Patches life during The Ride, he encountered the police who escorted us, media, loud trucks, two bridges, and many along our journey who came out to applaud us...and he did beautifully.
Even so, I hadn't realized how tense I had been until I relaxed, assuming there was nothing else which could have the potential of frightening Patches. However, one must never ever make assumptions with horses, for they are very good at suddenly surprising one. And Patches did just that while the cameras were still rolling.🥴
The group of miniature horses were so excited to see
this new horse, they came charging up to the fence neighing. Loudly neighing. It had never occurred to me that Patches becoming frightened by his own species
was cause for concern. So at the very moment I relaxed, Patches suddenly leaped into the air...while I went flying through the air!😱
Remember my blog on aplomb? This is when one who rides horses and falls off at times, can sometimes perform the fall in one smooth event complete with ground contact first, then in a fluid movement, keep
going until one is back on ones feet as if one had meant to do this.😂
So, with considerable aplomb finesse, I managed
to do just that somehow, and eventually landed back
on my feet. And with a smile too!😃
However, this was not quite the grand finale we all expected. Thankfully, I was allowed to remount Patches, who by then, got acquainted with the miniature horses, and we did the coming through the gate arrival again in a much quieter, more dignified way.😊
Later though, much to the delight of our adoring public by then, the original grand finale fall off Patches was shown in a bloopers segment of the bloopers we accumulated, with that one very amazing smooth event showcasing my "talent" for eventually landing back on my feet. And yes, with that smile upon my face too.😃
So keep to the bright side, my dear ones, for you always land back upon your feet...eventually, that is...🤣
When Patches and I successfully arrived at the Danner Farm, with all the media people in tow, completing the ten mile journey, I relaxed as soon as we turned into the gate along the tree lined lane.
Mr. Danner raised and showed miniature horses. As soon as one entered the lane was a pasture with many of them. Remember, for the first time in Patches life during The Ride, he encountered the police who escorted us, media, loud trucks, two bridges, and many along our journey who came out to applaud us...and he did beautifully.
Even so, I hadn't realized how tense I had been until I relaxed, assuming there was nothing else which could have the potential of frightening Patches. However, one must never ever make assumptions with horses, for they are very good at suddenly surprising one. And Patches did just that while the cameras were still rolling.🥴
The group of miniature horses were so excited to see
this new horse, they came charging up to the fence neighing. Loudly neighing. It had never occurred to me that Patches becoming frightened by his own species
was cause for concern. So at the very moment I relaxed, Patches suddenly leaped into the air...while I went flying through the air!😱
Remember my blog on aplomb? This is when one who rides horses and falls off at times, can sometimes perform the fall in one smooth event complete with ground contact first, then in a fluid movement, keep
going until one is back on ones feet as if one had meant to do this.😂
So, with considerable aplomb finesse, I managed
to do just that somehow, and eventually landed back
on my feet. And with a smile too!😃
However, this was not quite the grand finale we all expected. Thankfully, I was allowed to remount Patches, who by then, got acquainted with the miniature horses, and we did the coming through the gate arrival again in a much quieter, more dignified way.😊
Later though, much to the delight of our adoring public by then, the original grand finale fall off Patches was shown in a bloopers segment of the bloopers we accumulated, with that one very amazing smooth event showcasing my "talent" for eventually landing back on my feet. And yes, with that smile upon my face too.😃
So keep to the bright side, my dear ones, for you always land back upon your feet...eventually, that is...🤣
Wednesday, April 29, 2020
Without enthusiasm...
Nothing great is ever achieved
without enthusiasm.
Emerson
One brave dandelion...
I would rather see one brave dandelion flaunting its little bright yellow banners in the chill of an early spring wind, than a hothouse of perfect red roses.
Once when I was being interviewed for a magazine about my life and art, I shared the above quote with the reporter, who was so taken with not only the quote, but what he described as all this enthusiasm and optimism he said I had which he felt was a very refreshing thing to encounter.
Alec had only been told I was a unique artist, when assigned the interview. Well, to Alec most artists are unique anyway, so he didn't think much of it. That is until he met me, discovering I was an artist AND a Little Person. So immediately he became very intrigued.
First, enthusiasm and optimism go hand in hand.
Yet what exactly ARE they?
From the book, "A Touch Of Wonder," Arthur Gordon, says, "The enthusiastic person has the capacity for generating excitement about ideas, people, events, anything. They respond to the stimuli of life not only with their five senses and brain, but with their emotions as well. They feel things...care. And as
they care, they are ALIVE."
"This is why the display of enthusiasm is such an endearing and contagious thing...because it has optimism in it."
Alec knew as a Little Person I surely had so MANY challenges to deal with in every capacity of life, and was very keen to know how I came to have the enthusiasm and optimism he encountered. You see, until Alec shined a spotlight on this, I hadn't realized my exuberant way of living was unique. I had assumed most everyone were also living their lives this way, or striving to. I told Alec I had learned from my challenges one should have a gratitude attitude, by focusing on the many things in our lives to be thankful for, rather than focusing on what was wrong. For in so doing, we become a happier, more appreciative person.
Then Alec wanted to know all about my journey. Like what carved me into who I was. By this time I had just had my first spine surgery, where I had to learn to walk again. And soon had to be hospitalized on
a Pediatric Oncology ward for a bone marrow treatment. Then I touched on my childhood, which was very difficult. Since he was there to focus on
my art, I shared how I was the youngest artist to
be represented by an art gallery, showed him the
work he wanted to see, which of course is...ahem,
all horses.🤣
And obviously that led us to my own horses.
"OH MY GOSH! You have horses?!! And you RIDE them?!! How...HOW do you get ON them?"
Sigh.🤣
For two hours we talked, discussing my Art, Theatre Set Design work and what they meant. Then my piano playing, horses, hopes and dreams.
Yet Alec again sought more insights into how such a young physically challenged person managed to have so much optimism and was so full of life.
I gave this some thought for a moment, then shared with him how also in "A Touch Of Wonder," Mr. Gordon described an encounter he had on the beach with an old Rabbi friend early one morning. The Rabbi picked up a shell, held it up, and exclaimed with excitement, "Oh look! The sun is shining from within it!" Mr. Gordon saw shells all the time, yet never saw the wonder in them before the precious way the Rabbi did, and realized how this applied to everything. For one who has an awareness for the gifts and wonders of life with appreciation and enthusiasm, somehow always manages to rise above their tough challenges without inwardly becoming dragged down by them. And this describes myself and the way I live.
"Wow, Adelaide. You have shown ME so much today!"
Alec went on to write a lovely article which received many letters conveying how the piece about this particular artist had such an impact upon them. I was quite touched.🙂
The gifts of enthusiasm and optimism are indeed contagious...and the best gifts in the world, dear ones...BUT...it is said that to keep these gifts, you need to share them. For when you do they touch others like a ripple effect which keeps spreading outwards.
Once when I was being interviewed for a magazine about my life and art, I shared the above quote with the reporter, who was so taken with not only the quote, but what he described as all this enthusiasm and optimism he said I had which he felt was a very refreshing thing to encounter.
Alec had only been told I was a unique artist, when assigned the interview. Well, to Alec most artists are unique anyway, so he didn't think much of it. That is until he met me, discovering I was an artist AND a Little Person. So immediately he became very intrigued.
First, enthusiasm and optimism go hand in hand.
Yet what exactly ARE they?
From the book, "A Touch Of Wonder," Arthur Gordon, says, "The enthusiastic person has the capacity for generating excitement about ideas, people, events, anything. They respond to the stimuli of life not only with their five senses and brain, but with their emotions as well. They feel things...care. And as
they care, they are ALIVE."
"This is why the display of enthusiasm is such an endearing and contagious thing...because it has optimism in it."
Alec knew as a Little Person I surely had so MANY challenges to deal with in every capacity of life, and was very keen to know how I came to have the enthusiasm and optimism he encountered. You see, until Alec shined a spotlight on this, I hadn't realized my exuberant way of living was unique. I had assumed most everyone were also living their lives this way, or striving to. I told Alec I had learned from my challenges one should have a gratitude attitude, by focusing on the many things in our lives to be thankful for, rather than focusing on what was wrong. For in so doing, we become a happier, more appreciative person.
Then Alec wanted to know all about my journey. Like what carved me into who I was. By this time I had just had my first spine surgery, where I had to learn to walk again. And soon had to be hospitalized on
a Pediatric Oncology ward for a bone marrow treatment. Then I touched on my childhood, which was very difficult. Since he was there to focus on
my art, I shared how I was the youngest artist to
be represented by an art gallery, showed him the
work he wanted to see, which of course is...ahem,
all horses.🤣
And obviously that led us to my own horses.
"OH MY GOSH! You have horses?!! And you RIDE them?!! How...HOW do you get ON them?"
Sigh.🤣
For two hours we talked, discussing my Art, Theatre Set Design work and what they meant. Then my piano playing, horses, hopes and dreams.
Yet Alec again sought more insights into how such a young physically challenged person managed to have so much optimism and was so full of life.
I gave this some thought for a moment, then shared with him how also in "A Touch Of Wonder," Mr. Gordon described an encounter he had on the beach with an old Rabbi friend early one morning. The Rabbi picked up a shell, held it up, and exclaimed with excitement, "Oh look! The sun is shining from within it!" Mr. Gordon saw shells all the time, yet never saw the wonder in them before the precious way the Rabbi did, and realized how this applied to everything. For one who has an awareness for the gifts and wonders of life with appreciation and enthusiasm, somehow always manages to rise above their tough challenges without inwardly becoming dragged down by them. And this describes myself and the way I live.
"Wow, Adelaide. You have shown ME so much today!"
Alec went on to write a lovely article which received many letters conveying how the piece about this particular artist had such an impact upon them. I was quite touched.🙂
The gifts of enthusiasm and optimism are indeed contagious...and the best gifts in the world, dear ones...BUT...it is said that to keep these gifts, you need to share them. For when you do they touch others like a ripple effect which keeps spreading outwards.
Tuesday, April 28, 2020
Embrace yourself...
It is never who you ARE that may hold you back in life...it is who you THINK you are NOT that does.
Drop by drop by drop...
We cannot tell the precise moment when friendship is formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over...so in a series of kindnesses, there is at last a drop which makes the heart run over.
~James Boswell
~James Boswell
The direction...
The great thing in this world is not so much
where we stand, as in what direction we are moving.
~Oliver Wendall Holmes
where we stand, as in what direction we are moving.
~Oliver Wendall Holmes
Dwarf card learning...
The greatest gift one can give to another person, is a deeper understanding of life, and the ability to love and believe in self.
~Chantal
The key words in my cherished quote above, are "the ability to love and believe in self."
Growing up in the rather horrendous childhood I had, didn't exactly instill a good self image, which further was not helped by also being the constant "object" of ridicule and rude comments out in public too.
I was very blessed though, with the right people when I needed help the most while I was still a young teenager and living on my own.
My friend Joseph was like a big brother to me. He made me see how my upbringing and the public had caused me to carry "a dwarf card." I was doing extraordinary things, and galloping across fields upon my horses, yet felt helpless against the negative feelings the mean rudeness I encountered kept evoking.
Joseph had me use my artistic abilities to make a "dwarf card" on large poster board, made to look just like a real credit card. Only this "credit card" entitled
one to feel...and I listed all the negative, sometimes paralyzing feelings which arose each time I was so rudely ridiculed.
Then we went through them all one by one, discussing them. One for instance, was a feeling of shame. Joseph made me see I had absolutely no reason to feel shame, especially with all the amazing things I could do and the amazing person I am...that I was letting strangers have power with their terrible words.
After we talked about all the things on my "dwarf card," we had a burning ceremony, which in its own way, became a "freeing" ceremony for me. All I needed was the right person to guide me when I needed it the most back then.
We are all unique, my dear ones. Love and believe in yourself. Walk tall and embrace your uniqueness...
~Chantal
The key words in my cherished quote above, are "the ability to love and believe in self."
Growing up in the rather horrendous childhood I had, didn't exactly instill a good self image, which further was not helped by also being the constant "object" of ridicule and rude comments out in public too.
I was very blessed though, with the right people when I needed help the most while I was still a young teenager and living on my own.
My friend Joseph was like a big brother to me. He made me see how my upbringing and the public had caused me to carry "a dwarf card." I was doing extraordinary things, and galloping across fields upon my horses, yet felt helpless against the negative feelings the mean rudeness I encountered kept evoking.
Joseph had me use my artistic abilities to make a "dwarf card" on large poster board, made to look just like a real credit card. Only this "credit card" entitled
one to feel...and I listed all the negative, sometimes paralyzing feelings which arose each time I was so rudely ridiculed.
Then we went through them all one by one, discussing them. One for instance, was a feeling of shame. Joseph made me see I had absolutely no reason to feel shame, especially with all the amazing things I could do and the amazing person I am...that I was letting strangers have power with their terrible words.
After we talked about all the things on my "dwarf card," we had a burning ceremony, which in its own way, became a "freeing" ceremony for me. All I needed was the right person to guide me when I needed it the most back then.
We are all unique, my dear ones. Love and believe in yourself. Walk tall and embrace your uniqueness...
Monday, April 27, 2020
Integrity...
I was very blessed to share a friendship of eleven years with Miz Maddalee, who lived to the young age of 110 years. At 100 years, she was still living in her own home, and mowing her yard with a push mower. Miz Maddalee had been a school teacher for over 50 years, yet she never actually ceased teaching.
How we met is she came to hear Nora and I speak. When she came up to meet us afterwards, we were as enchanted with her, as she said she was by us. She was no longer driving by then and missed her bus, so I drove her home. From that point, I visited her as often as I could. What a fascinating lady she was! Because she was born in 1876, she had so many stories to tell. Yet it was her inspiring wisdom that especially touched me from her many years of living and teaching.
She told me besides the learning from books, the one thing she most tried to instill in her students, were the things not found in books. Like integrity. Each year Miz Mattalee gave her older students what she felt was the most important thing they could have, her "Integrity Speech." Curious, I had her share it with me too, and now I will share it here because she gave me a copy of it...
First, integrity means honor. If you have a horse for sale, you are honest about its soundness. You don't go selling a horse who you know has had lameness and not tell this to the person buying your horse.
Integrity is being true to yourself, so you are true to others. That you are the same person with the downtrodden as you are with the rich. When you are true to yourself, others take notice knowing you're true to all.
Integrity means not just having a conscience but one you listen to. If you abide by your conscience, and you strive to do what is caring and good by it, others will know this and respect you for this.
Integrity means having the courage of your convictions, to hold onto what is right. If you find a pocketbook or a wallet containing money, and you know who it belongs to, even if others press for keeping the money, you make sure all is returned to the one it belongs. And if you don't know who it belongs to, you try to find who lost it. What goes around comes around...you will be rewarded for having the integrity to do the right thing.
Integrity is having a sense of compassion to help, even if it involves risking your life to save another one. Like if you see a child in the road about to get hit by a car, you rush in and save that child. You will have the integrity of having a true caring heart.
Holding onto integrity makes you have confidence because you believe in yourself.
Holding onto integrity makes you have the determination of not giving up...a sense of purpose.
Holding onto integrity means you will have friendships, trust, admiration, and respect, because you have lived to be the best you can be.
Not long before Miz Maddalee passed away at the age of 110, I talked to her on the phone. She immediately recognized my voice, and was just as alert as she ever was.
She asked, "My child (everyone was 'my child' to her), do you still have the copy of my integrity piece I gave you years ago?"
"Yes, Miz Maddalee, I do."
"Good. I want you to share it with others in the world, because I think the world needs it. Would you?"
"Yes, Miz Maddalee, I will."
And I am.😃
How we met is she came to hear Nora and I speak. When she came up to meet us afterwards, we were as enchanted with her, as she said she was by us. She was no longer driving by then and missed her bus, so I drove her home. From that point, I visited her as often as I could. What a fascinating lady she was! Because she was born in 1876, she had so many stories to tell. Yet it was her inspiring wisdom that especially touched me from her many years of living and teaching.
She told me besides the learning from books, the one thing she most tried to instill in her students, were the things not found in books. Like integrity. Each year Miz Mattalee gave her older students what she felt was the most important thing they could have, her "Integrity Speech." Curious, I had her share it with me too, and now I will share it here because she gave me a copy of it...
First, integrity means honor. If you have a horse for sale, you are honest about its soundness. You don't go selling a horse who you know has had lameness and not tell this to the person buying your horse.
Integrity is being true to yourself, so you are true to others. That you are the same person with the downtrodden as you are with the rich. When you are true to yourself, others take notice knowing you're true to all.
Integrity means not just having a conscience but one you listen to. If you abide by your conscience, and you strive to do what is caring and good by it, others will know this and respect you for this.
Integrity means having the courage of your convictions, to hold onto what is right. If you find a pocketbook or a wallet containing money, and you know who it belongs to, even if others press for keeping the money, you make sure all is returned to the one it belongs. And if you don't know who it belongs to, you try to find who lost it. What goes around comes around...you will be rewarded for having the integrity to do the right thing.
Integrity is having a sense of compassion to help, even if it involves risking your life to save another one. Like if you see a child in the road about to get hit by a car, you rush in and save that child. You will have the integrity of having a true caring heart.
Holding onto integrity makes you have confidence because you believe in yourself.
Holding onto integrity makes you have the determination of not giving up...a sense of purpose.
Holding onto integrity means you will have friendships, trust, admiration, and respect, because you have lived to be the best you can be.
Not long before Miz Maddalee passed away at the age of 110, I talked to her on the phone. She immediately recognized my voice, and was just as alert as she ever was.
She asked, "My child (everyone was 'my child' to her), do you still have the copy of my integrity piece I gave you years ago?"
"Yes, Miz Maddalee, I do."
"Good. I want you to share it with others in the world, because I think the world needs it. Would you?"
"Yes, Miz Maddalee, I will."
And I am.😃
Sunday, April 26, 2020
Hold on...
When the day is long and the night is yours alone,
When you've had enough, hang on.
Everybody cries and everybody hurts.
Sometimes everything is wrong.
If you feel like letting go, hold on, hold on.
Take comfort in your friends.
Hold on, hold on.
~From the REM song "Everybody Hurts"
All of us at times, especially these days, have those places in our journeys where we feel deeply the tragedy of life. Those moments when we feel utterly overwhelmed by it.🥺
Several years ago, due to some issues I was having, a biopsy was done. As soon as my doctor received the results, he called me.
"Adelaide, I'm terribly sorry to have to tell you this...you have advanced uterine cancer and we must perform an emergency hysterectomy."
"How soon?" I asked.
"Tomorrow morning."😱
After surgery, my oncologist wanted me to have radiation. Only much to his horror and frustration he discovered it would be impossible for me. Due to the severe curvature of my spine pushing my bladder in a higher position than normal, it was right in the "line of fire." After consulting with other oncologists it was decided the radiation would cause such severe destruction, it had to be ruled out.
Nor could chemo be done either, due to my severe anemia and hemophilia problems and previous bone marrow treatments. In other words, we could not do ANYTHING.
"So we're screwed?"
"Not if I can help it. I want to make some phone calls first."
My dear oncologist called everywhere without success, trying so hard to find SOME way to blast any potentially remaining cancer cells into oblivion. He was NOT happy. I was coming to the realization the only option would be to literally throw everything into believing we somehow got all the cancer cells out. To embrace this belief.
After all, this is the person who willed her toes, feet, legs into walking again, twice, was still living an amazing life, and flying without wings on her horse.
Yet this still wasn't quite like walking again. For one
thing, I was a whole lot older, had endured many more debilitating surgeries and five more spine surgeries too, since learning to walk again both times. Besides, seeing my legs was one thing. Cells cannot be seen. For the first time since my horrendous childhood, I suddenly felt very weary and overwhelmed.🥺
By then, the severe spinal cord inflammation disease, arachnoiditis, was taking its toll, terribly affecting both my bladder and colon/digestive tract function. I had already begun having the awful bouts of nausea with it. Besides this, arach is extremely painful too. And as I have touched on not a thing can be done about the arach. It can and is only worsening. As if that wasn't enough, we were still fighting the blood condition I have making my counts drop. The bone marrow treatments had helped, but I still must have transfusions.
Hemingway said, "The world breaks everyone, only some become strong at the broken places."
And that which doesn't break us, makes us stronger.
As you may have gathered by now, I have never been one to be broken though.🙂
We never know how strong we are until we recognize and embrace our inner divine strength, because it is there however we believe. Sometimes it takes an inner spark of courage to ignite it to surmount tough, daunting circumstances, but it is there.💖
Do you know what else is there? Friends. For you see, I was in a new city where I was working at a small theatre. And yes, Patches was with me too. I had already made new friends, as I always do. At such a time though, I was missing my three dear mentor friends I had known for decades, Nora, Ella, and Joseph. The three were much older than me and each taught me so much about life. And taught me what love was. Through me, they had also become close friends with each other too.
While my dear oncologist was searching what he could do to help me, I had to remain in the hospital.
One afternoon, as I was staring out the window, I thought I was losing it, because it sounded like Nora, Ella, and Joseph were in the hallway. Suddenly, at that very moment in walked Nora, Ella, and Joseph! I was never so surprised to see these friends in all our journey! And thrilled. They had been on the road for hours just to be there with me. I had them stay at my apartment.
The three remained for a few days and their presence touched me deeply. And was exactly what I needed. Because of our long shared history, we talked and laughed a lot, reminiscing, as one can with longtime friends. Also, they spoke with all my doctors, which helped them understand everything that could be done was being done.
Within five years following this visit, all three passed away. Yet they live on in my heart. For the love we live in life remains after we have gone.💕
So far no cancerous cells have been found, but my oncologists remain very guarded. They feel they need to be. But they also strongly praise my courage and fighting spirit, which they feel has much to do with surviving not only cancer, but everything I live with.
It is said the more we love and are loved in life, the more alive in spirit we are. And even more we become strong at the broken places too. Trust me, I know.🙂
Hold on, dear ones, love is there. So am I.💕
When you've had enough, hang on.
Everybody cries and everybody hurts.
Sometimes everything is wrong.
If you feel like letting go, hold on, hold on.
Take comfort in your friends.
Hold on, hold on.
~From the REM song "Everybody Hurts"
All of us at times, especially these days, have those places in our journeys where we feel deeply the tragedy of life. Those moments when we feel utterly overwhelmed by it.🥺
Several years ago, due to some issues I was having, a biopsy was done. As soon as my doctor received the results, he called me.
"Adelaide, I'm terribly sorry to have to tell you this...you have advanced uterine cancer and we must perform an emergency hysterectomy."
"How soon?" I asked.
"Tomorrow morning."😱
After surgery, my oncologist wanted me to have radiation. Only much to his horror and frustration he discovered it would be impossible for me. Due to the severe curvature of my spine pushing my bladder in a higher position than normal, it was right in the "line of fire." After consulting with other oncologists it was decided the radiation would cause such severe destruction, it had to be ruled out.
Nor could chemo be done either, due to my severe anemia and hemophilia problems and previous bone marrow treatments. In other words, we could not do ANYTHING.
"So we're screwed?"
"Not if I can help it. I want to make some phone calls first."
My dear oncologist called everywhere without success, trying so hard to find SOME way to blast any potentially remaining cancer cells into oblivion. He was NOT happy. I was coming to the realization the only option would be to literally throw everything into believing we somehow got all the cancer cells out. To embrace this belief.
After all, this is the person who willed her toes, feet, legs into walking again, twice, was still living an amazing life, and flying without wings on her horse.
Yet this still wasn't quite like walking again. For one
thing, I was a whole lot older, had endured many more debilitating surgeries and five more spine surgeries too, since learning to walk again both times. Besides, seeing my legs was one thing. Cells cannot be seen. For the first time since my horrendous childhood, I suddenly felt very weary and overwhelmed.🥺
By then, the severe spinal cord inflammation disease, arachnoiditis, was taking its toll, terribly affecting both my bladder and colon/digestive tract function. I had already begun having the awful bouts of nausea with it. Besides this, arach is extremely painful too. And as I have touched on not a thing can be done about the arach. It can and is only worsening. As if that wasn't enough, we were still fighting the blood condition I have making my counts drop. The bone marrow treatments had helped, but I still must have transfusions.
Hemingway said, "The world breaks everyone, only some become strong at the broken places."
And that which doesn't break us, makes us stronger.
As you may have gathered by now, I have never been one to be broken though.🙂
We never know how strong we are until we recognize and embrace our inner divine strength, because it is there however we believe. Sometimes it takes an inner spark of courage to ignite it to surmount tough, daunting circumstances, but it is there.💖
Do you know what else is there? Friends. For you see, I was in a new city where I was working at a small theatre. And yes, Patches was with me too. I had already made new friends, as I always do. At such a time though, I was missing my three dear mentor friends I had known for decades, Nora, Ella, and Joseph. The three were much older than me and each taught me so much about life. And taught me what love was. Through me, they had also become close friends with each other too.
While my dear oncologist was searching what he could do to help me, I had to remain in the hospital.
One afternoon, as I was staring out the window, I thought I was losing it, because it sounded like Nora, Ella, and Joseph were in the hallway. Suddenly, at that very moment in walked Nora, Ella, and Joseph! I was never so surprised to see these friends in all our journey! And thrilled. They had been on the road for hours just to be there with me. I had them stay at my apartment.
The three remained for a few days and their presence touched me deeply. And was exactly what I needed. Because of our long shared history, we talked and laughed a lot, reminiscing, as one can with longtime friends. Also, they spoke with all my doctors, which helped them understand everything that could be done was being done.
Within five years following this visit, all three passed away. Yet they live on in my heart. For the love we live in life remains after we have gone.💕
So far no cancerous cells have been found, but my oncologists remain very guarded. They feel they need to be. But they also strongly praise my courage and fighting spirit, which they feel has much to do with surviving not only cancer, but everything I live with.
It is said the more we love and are loved in life, the more alive in spirit we are. And even more we become strong at the broken places too. Trust me, I know.🙂
Hold on, dear ones, love is there. So am I.💕
Saturday, April 25, 2020
Horse hilarity...
As I have shared, as soon as anyone hears I own and ride horses, the first question I am asked is not what kind or colour but, "How do you get ON your horse?!!"
So when television stations were featuring Patches and I during the time of our famous Ride, they wanted to film my getting on Patches, because our fanbase was keen to know this. When I addressed this very subject in my funny blog, "How a Little Person gets on her horse," I touched on the fact horses cannot be depended upon to remain still for more than a few seconds so hilarious things can happen when making the getting on process.
First, what I used most, was my car hood. All of my horses knew the process, which involved them standing next to my car, as I quickly climbed onto the hood, then got on their backs. Twenty-four out of twenty-five times the process would go quite well. And usually when that one time happened when it didn't go so well, there would never fail but be an audience on hand laughing hysterically.
Which happened when two television stations were filming their segments on how I got on Patches, got off Patches, and cared for Patches. They had already done a segment filming how Patches came galloping to me when I called his name. And that segment went quite well, because once and awhile, Patches in his excitement to come to me, could misjudge the stopping distance necessary at a full gallop, and slide into me.🙃
Anyway, I lined Patches up next to my car, then rushed
to get onto the hood of the car before he moved. Only
he did just a bit. No problem. I knew I could still make
the distance. But the thing is, you see, I needed to really propel myself to do this, and had done it successfully many times. However, if one propels oneself TOO hard, one goes sailing high in the air right OVER the horse to
the ground with amazing aplomb. Which is exactly
what I did. As the cameras were rolling. And the crews were laughing. Uncontrollably.🤣
Next, the crews wanted to get a clip of Patches and I galloping towards them from the fields. We were doing quite wonderfully, Patches and I...until he decided to suddenly stop way before we arrived at the place where we were SUPPOSED to stop. I promptly went flying over his head, but very heroically managed to somehow land on my feet.
THIS...was turning out to be one of THOSE days.🥴
Next the television crews wanted to film me caring for Patches, like grooming him, and cleaning out his hooves.
To clean the hooves of a horse, one must balance their hoof in one's lap while squatting, then deftly clean and check each hoof. Usually there very seldom is an instance where anything can go wrong during this process. Perhaps it was because Patches' normal
day was being interrupted to accommodate our being filmed, you see. For as I was squatting with his right REAR hoof in my lap, I suddenly noticed his tail raising
up, which can mean only ONE thing. He was shitting.
I managed to dive out of the way just in time. PLOP.🤣
Then it was time to film me grooming Patches. What could POSSIBLY happen doing THIS, right?!! WRONG.
Patches absolutely loved whenever I groomed his back or scratched his back. When I did, it felt so good he would completely relax with closed eyes loving it. However, on very rare occasions, he would REALLY relax. And I mean RELAX. As in a certain organ of his anatomy dropping down. THAT kind of relax.😱
Well, Patches happened to get THAT kind of relax with television crews filming. Oh, they really began laughing then. I mean they just totally lost it.🤣
Finally, they wanted me to get back on Patches again, and film us galloping away across the huge expanse of fields. Now with THIS segment everything went right. Beautifully right, as we galloped off without wings soaring away into the distance.😃
I made the television crews promise me to PLEASE not ever use those OTHER parts of the filming in anything. They assured me they wouldn't THINK of ever doing such a thing.🙄
Several months later, for our fanbase, a thirty minute piece was done all about our very touching story again. And within the piece just happened to be this bloopers segment...🤣
So when television stations were featuring Patches and I during the time of our famous Ride, they wanted to film my getting on Patches, because our fanbase was keen to know this. When I addressed this very subject in my funny blog, "How a Little Person gets on her horse," I touched on the fact horses cannot be depended upon to remain still for more than a few seconds so hilarious things can happen when making the getting on process.
First, what I used most, was my car hood. All of my horses knew the process, which involved them standing next to my car, as I quickly climbed onto the hood, then got on their backs. Twenty-four out of twenty-five times the process would go quite well. And usually when that one time happened when it didn't go so well, there would never fail but be an audience on hand laughing hysterically.
Which happened when two television stations were filming their segments on how I got on Patches, got off Patches, and cared for Patches. They had already done a segment filming how Patches came galloping to me when I called his name. And that segment went quite well, because once and awhile, Patches in his excitement to come to me, could misjudge the stopping distance necessary at a full gallop, and slide into me.🙃
Anyway, I lined Patches up next to my car, then rushed
to get onto the hood of the car before he moved. Only
he did just a bit. No problem. I knew I could still make
the distance. But the thing is, you see, I needed to really propel myself to do this, and had done it successfully many times. However, if one propels oneself TOO hard, one goes sailing high in the air right OVER the horse to
the ground with amazing aplomb. Which is exactly
what I did. As the cameras were rolling. And the crews were laughing. Uncontrollably.🤣
Next, the crews wanted to get a clip of Patches and I galloping towards them from the fields. We were doing quite wonderfully, Patches and I...until he decided to suddenly stop way before we arrived at the place where we were SUPPOSED to stop. I promptly went flying over his head, but very heroically managed to somehow land on my feet.
THIS...was turning out to be one of THOSE days.🥴
Next the television crews wanted to film me caring for Patches, like grooming him, and cleaning out his hooves.
To clean the hooves of a horse, one must balance their hoof in one's lap while squatting, then deftly clean and check each hoof. Usually there very seldom is an instance where anything can go wrong during this process. Perhaps it was because Patches' normal
day was being interrupted to accommodate our being filmed, you see. For as I was squatting with his right REAR hoof in my lap, I suddenly noticed his tail raising
up, which can mean only ONE thing. He was shitting.
I managed to dive out of the way just in time. PLOP.🤣
Then it was time to film me grooming Patches. What could POSSIBLY happen doing THIS, right?!! WRONG.
Patches absolutely loved whenever I groomed his back or scratched his back. When I did, it felt so good he would completely relax with closed eyes loving it. However, on very rare occasions, he would REALLY relax. And I mean RELAX. As in a certain organ of his anatomy dropping down. THAT kind of relax.😱
Well, Patches happened to get THAT kind of relax with television crews filming. Oh, they really began laughing then. I mean they just totally lost it.🤣
Finally, they wanted me to get back on Patches again, and film us galloping away across the huge expanse of fields. Now with THIS segment everything went right. Beautifully right, as we galloped off without wings soaring away into the distance.😃
I made the television crews promise me to PLEASE not ever use those OTHER parts of the filming in anything. They assured me they wouldn't THINK of ever doing such a thing.🙄
Several months later, for our fanbase, a thirty minute piece was done all about our very touching story again. And within the piece just happened to be this bloopers segment...🤣
Friday, April 24, 2020
Selah, as in peace, pause...
It is said horses fly without wings. This is true, for they do. With each stride a horse makes when galloping, three quarters of it are spent in the air soaring forward. So whenever I would gallop my horses and soar, there is that thrilling, exhilarating moment where as one, my horses and I would leave the earth sailing on the wind. That I was blessed to fly without wings as one with my horses is a treasure I am one of the privileged to hold forever.
Yesterday I wrote about the rare gift of listening. While many of us are having to pause, I am touching on this today, for in a world these days pausing as never before, let us look deeply at pausing together. The word Selah means peace, pause. I gave my horse Selah this name because she was my separate peace. Actually, so were my six other horses too.😃
Many live such busy, nonstop lives, when they reach the end the realization hits them of how much they have missed. When there is not time to get quiet...to pause, our psyche does not have the nurturing, replenishing it needs. We are not able to grasp those little things, which actually are the huge things we need to take notice of and grasp the most. Think of it. If we rapidly plunge through a garden rather than experience a garden by walking, we deeply see so much more because we are taking the time to immerse ourselves in it. And when we immerse ourselves in it, we appreciate. We become aware.
When Thoreau paused by going into the woods, Walden got written. Monet painted his famous water lilly series. Neil Diamond composed his monumental Jonathan Livingston Seagull soundtrack. T.S. Eliot wrote his poem which became the smash Broadway musical, "Cats."
And Adelaide left the earth a thousand times while flying without wings on her galloping horses.
Selah...
Yesterday I wrote about the rare gift of listening. While many of us are having to pause, I am touching on this today, for in a world these days pausing as never before, let us look deeply at pausing together. The word Selah means peace, pause. I gave my horse Selah this name because she was my separate peace. Actually, so were my six other horses too.😃
Many live such busy, nonstop lives, when they reach the end the realization hits them of how much they have missed. When there is not time to get quiet...to pause, our psyche does not have the nurturing, replenishing it needs. We are not able to grasp those little things, which actually are the huge things we need to take notice of and grasp the most. Think of it. If we rapidly plunge through a garden rather than experience a garden by walking, we deeply see so much more because we are taking the time to immerse ourselves in it. And when we immerse ourselves in it, we appreciate. We become aware.
When Thoreau paused by going into the woods, Walden got written. Monet painted his famous water lilly series. Neil Diamond composed his monumental Jonathan Livingston Seagull soundtrack. T.S. Eliot wrote his poem which became the smash Broadway musical, "Cats."
And Adelaide left the earth a thousand times while flying without wings on her galloping horses.
Selah...
Thursday, April 23, 2020
Listen...
Webster's Dictionary definition for the word listen is, to pay attention to sound such as music, nature, or talk; to hear with thoughtful attention; to give consideration by listening; to be alert to hear.
I learned a powerful quote many years ago I strive hard to abide by, both in my spoken words, and the written ones online. As I have shared, I know deeply the painful effects of words meant to ridicule and be mean all too well, for I encounter them each time I leave my home. Words whether spoken or written have the power to either hurt, anger, inspire, convey love, or wonder. The quote? To listen more than one speaks is a rare gift.
To listen becomes a rare gift when we become aware and strive TO listen more than we speak. Or as we "speak" through social media online.
In his amazing, beautiful book, "The Prophet," Kahlil Gibran touches on this subject in the context of talking. He says when we do not listen we cease to be at peace with our thoughts and we no longer dwell in the needed solitude of our heart. Then the words from our lips (or fingers) becomes a diversion and a pastime, and in so doing our ability to listen and think are diminished like a caged bird. We often tend to do this through fear, such as insecurity, and of aloneness because the silence of being alone with our thoughts is so revealing, we speak without listening.
I love the quote about artists...that we dip our brushes deep within ourselves painting our very soul in our paintings. Most of us cannot create unless we spend a great deal of time in solitude. So what I call stinking thinking has no place in the needed peace of thoughts within as I paint my soul in my work. The same with my piano playing. And writing this blog.
We need to listen deeply. There is magic when we do. On a windy day place your head deep into the grass of a field and listen. You will hear sounds upon sounds. Or listen to the waves of an ocean. Nature is full of rhythm. And if you listen deeply, everything pauses for a moment. I gave my horse Selah that name because it means peace or pause. Remember the word Selah. Speaking of horses, one of the most wonderful sounds I love the best of all are hearing the clippity cloppity of hooves upon the ground. And the neigh in response to my calling their name.
Now to return to the rare gift of listening. Everywhere in the world these days are many ceaselessly talking and writing without listening, with no regard to the hate, anger, truth, fear, sadness and hurt they unleash. We cannot avoid it. Yet we CAN strive to nurture the rare gift of listening without speaking or writing. We have the power within to do this. All it takes is a tiny seed to make a huge tree grow, dear ones.
There is peace in silence. And remember, to listen more than one speaks (or writes) is a rare gift.
Selah.💫
I learned a powerful quote many years ago I strive hard to abide by, both in my spoken words, and the written ones online. As I have shared, I know deeply the painful effects of words meant to ridicule and be mean all too well, for I encounter them each time I leave my home. Words whether spoken or written have the power to either hurt, anger, inspire, convey love, or wonder. The quote? To listen more than one speaks is a rare gift.
To listen becomes a rare gift when we become aware and strive TO listen more than we speak. Or as we "speak" through social media online.
In his amazing, beautiful book, "The Prophet," Kahlil Gibran touches on this subject in the context of talking. He says when we do not listen we cease to be at peace with our thoughts and we no longer dwell in the needed solitude of our heart. Then the words from our lips (or fingers) becomes a diversion and a pastime, and in so doing our ability to listen and think are diminished like a caged bird. We often tend to do this through fear, such as insecurity, and of aloneness because the silence of being alone with our thoughts is so revealing, we speak without listening.
I love the quote about artists...that we dip our brushes deep within ourselves painting our very soul in our paintings. Most of us cannot create unless we spend a great deal of time in solitude. So what I call stinking thinking has no place in the needed peace of thoughts within as I paint my soul in my work. The same with my piano playing. And writing this blog.
We need to listen deeply. There is magic when we do. On a windy day place your head deep into the grass of a field and listen. You will hear sounds upon sounds. Or listen to the waves of an ocean. Nature is full of rhythm. And if you listen deeply, everything pauses for a moment. I gave my horse Selah that name because it means peace or pause. Remember the word Selah. Speaking of horses, one of the most wonderful sounds I love the best of all are hearing the clippity cloppity of hooves upon the ground. And the neigh in response to my calling their name.
Now to return to the rare gift of listening. Everywhere in the world these days are many ceaselessly talking and writing without listening, with no regard to the hate, anger, truth, fear, sadness and hurt they unleash. We cannot avoid it. Yet we CAN strive to nurture the rare gift of listening without speaking or writing. We have the power within to do this. All it takes is a tiny seed to make a huge tree grow, dear ones.
There is peace in silence. And remember, to listen more than one speaks (or writes) is a rare gift.
Selah.💫
Wednesday, April 22, 2020
Where my journey ends...
When Patches and I did our famous Ride I have shared here, one of the many video clips television stations used most, is one of the two of us prancing down the highway with the bright blue lights of the police car in front of us, and the one following us. The sound of Patches hoofs
on the pavement can be heard. A crowd of people had gathered on the side of the road to watch this unusual entourage, and waved. I turned to smile and wave back. Then down the rode we pranced until we faded out into the bright light ending of the piece. I hope to obtain copies of these to share here one day.🙏
My body may be shutting down, but not my indomitable spirit. I am so very blessed to have a thousand "and yets" to hold in my grasp, of a life lived deeply, fully, and with laughter and love. I have always embraced faith, courage, and gratitude, and have done my best to share these along the way. How I hope my experiences, strengths, what I have learned, and humor are a gift for all of you. Though I do not know you, I am deeply grateful for all of you and treasure your being with me on this part of my journey. For you see, each of you help keep me going, as I strive each day to hopefully help each of you keep going too. I know life is very challenging these days. So many of you are reading me now from nearly every country, and this touches me deeply.
So I am still riding down the road on my prancing Patches smiling and waving to all, because as wonderful as the light appeared we faded into on thousands of television screens back then, I'm not quite ready to fade into the real Bright Light yet where my physical journey ends.😃
Please know my hands are in yours as we all walk this amazing journey of life together, dear ones.💕
Tuesday, April 21, 2020
Prepare to laugh...
In my previous blog, "My Time Spent In Prison," I wrote about my dear friend Nora of many years. We both were powerful speakers, and had been asked by the Warden of a women's prison to come speak, and were such a hit with not only the women, but the staff as well, we were asked to come back many times.
Apparently the Warden had been raving to his wife about us, because one week Nora got a call from a lady inviting us to come talk. Days later Nora called me. "Adelaide! I nearly forgot! We have a speaking engagement at some women's group!"
"When?"
"Today, at 4pm."
"Today?!! How long have you known this?!!"
"Uh, about two weeks."
"Nora!!!"🤪
Kentucky was in the midst of one of its' worse droughts in state history during that time. Everything was dusty. Especially my car, since I was raising Patches from a foal and had to feed him twice a day. I had no choice but to keep two bales of hay in my car, besides sacks of feed, and all his other stuff. With a dress, fancy shoes, and makeup in tow, I rushed out to the farm to care for Patches, and got ready while he ate.
As Nora and I were driving to the address given, I heard rumblings coming from her body. There is a beloved, well known hamburger chain throughout the eastern and midwest States, called White Castle. The hamburgers are small, loaded with onions, cheap, and good. Also open twenty-four hours a day.
"Nora, please tell me you haven't eaten at White Castle in the last twelve hours?"
"Adelaide, I ate at White Castle just before the sun came up this morning."
"NORA! You know those cause you intense gas! How many did you eat?"
"Uh, nine? Ten?"🙃
"Nora, I have a bad feeling about this."🥴
We both did by the time we arrived at the address given. This wasn't going to be just any little women's group. We first arrived at the gate of a rich gated community with mansions. HUGE mansions. And we damn near didn't get in until Security verified with the Hostess, we were who we said we were. It was the fact a Little Person with an African American woman in a VERY dusty Runabout filled with hay and horse feed that likely threw the guard off we decided. Do ya think?!!🤣
"Oh shit, Nora! Look at these mansions!"😱
So we arrive at the mansion belonging to a very wealthy CEO. Valets were there to park cars. You can imagine their faces when WE drove up in a VERY old dusty car filled with hay and horse feed. NOT the kind of cars they were used to!
A nice butler dressed fancy, then escorted us through many large rooms to the one where the wealthy ladies were. Each room we passed through, the carpet became deeper, and were more ornate than the previous room. Obviously the Hostess knew immediately who we were, because we stood out you see.🙄
"Oh dahlings, you must be Adelaide and Nora!" DUH.
There were about fifty or sixty women dressed to the nines in furs, dresses, gloves, heels, with expensive jewelry. A fancy table with tea, coffee, finger sandwiches, and cakes had been laid out. Since I was not the one who ate a huge amount of White Castles, and hadn't eaten all day, I helped myself to a few things, besides coffee.
The time came for us to speak. I was first. The butler had to bring me a chair so I could reach the podium and microphone. As I spoke, I noticed Nora who was seated to my left, had begun to squirm uncomfortably.😱
When I was done the women gave me a rousing applause.
Now it was Nora's turn. Midway through her powerful story either the effects of riding in a car filled with hay or all the gallons of perfume these ladies used hit her, for suddenly she sneezed unleashing a chain reaction, because when she sneezed the loudest, longest, smelliest fart in history escaped the poor woman.😳 Oh, it didn't end there either, because she sneezed again and again and again with the same results each time.😱
By this time I was in my seat drowning in uncontrollable laughter with tears running down my face.🤣
Many ladies unable to endure the White Castle gas bombs, exited to another room, while maids opened windows and sprayed whole canisters of air freshener. The kind butler said he never laughed so hard in his life showed us to a bathroom, which by then I was about to pee all over myself. Thankfully Nora's "problem" had cleared up thanks to all the escaping gas bombs, you see.🥴
So if you're clamoring to know what happened next, because Nora was such a powerful speaker, and many ladies themselves had also experienced the White Castle gas bomb phenomenon, they insisted she finish. In fact, we were invited to several other mansions for more tea time talks later!😃
Only I made darn sure from then on Nora didn't have White Castles on the same day we were asked to speak anywhere!🤣
Apparently the Warden had been raving to his wife about us, because one week Nora got a call from a lady inviting us to come talk. Days later Nora called me. "Adelaide! I nearly forgot! We have a speaking engagement at some women's group!"
"When?"
"Today, at 4pm."
"Today?!! How long have you known this?!!"
"Uh, about two weeks."
"Nora!!!"🤪
Kentucky was in the midst of one of its' worse droughts in state history during that time. Everything was dusty. Especially my car, since I was raising Patches from a foal and had to feed him twice a day. I had no choice but to keep two bales of hay in my car, besides sacks of feed, and all his other stuff. With a dress, fancy shoes, and makeup in tow, I rushed out to the farm to care for Patches, and got ready while he ate.
As Nora and I were driving to the address given, I heard rumblings coming from her body. There is a beloved, well known hamburger chain throughout the eastern and midwest States, called White Castle. The hamburgers are small, loaded with onions, cheap, and good. Also open twenty-four hours a day.
"Nora, please tell me you haven't eaten at White Castle in the last twelve hours?"
"Adelaide, I ate at White Castle just before the sun came up this morning."
"NORA! You know those cause you intense gas! How many did you eat?"
"Uh, nine? Ten?"🙃
"Nora, I have a bad feeling about this."🥴
We both did by the time we arrived at the address given. This wasn't going to be just any little women's group. We first arrived at the gate of a rich gated community with mansions. HUGE mansions. And we damn near didn't get in until Security verified with the Hostess, we were who we said we were. It was the fact a Little Person with an African American woman in a VERY dusty Runabout filled with hay and horse feed that likely threw the guard off we decided. Do ya think?!!🤣
"Oh shit, Nora! Look at these mansions!"😱
So we arrive at the mansion belonging to a very wealthy CEO. Valets were there to park cars. You can imagine their faces when WE drove up in a VERY old dusty car filled with hay and horse feed. NOT the kind of cars they were used to!
A nice butler dressed fancy, then escorted us through many large rooms to the one where the wealthy ladies were. Each room we passed through, the carpet became deeper, and were more ornate than the previous room. Obviously the Hostess knew immediately who we were, because we stood out you see.🙄
"Oh dahlings, you must be Adelaide and Nora!" DUH.
There were about fifty or sixty women dressed to the nines in furs, dresses, gloves, heels, with expensive jewelry. A fancy table with tea, coffee, finger sandwiches, and cakes had been laid out. Since I was not the one who ate a huge amount of White Castles, and hadn't eaten all day, I helped myself to a few things, besides coffee.
The time came for us to speak. I was first. The butler had to bring me a chair so I could reach the podium and microphone. As I spoke, I noticed Nora who was seated to my left, had begun to squirm uncomfortably.😱
When I was done the women gave me a rousing applause.
Now it was Nora's turn. Midway through her powerful story either the effects of riding in a car filled with hay or all the gallons of perfume these ladies used hit her, for suddenly she sneezed unleashing a chain reaction, because when she sneezed the loudest, longest, smelliest fart in history escaped the poor woman.😳 Oh, it didn't end there either, because she sneezed again and again and again with the same results each time.😱
By this time I was in my seat drowning in uncontrollable laughter with tears running down my face.🤣
Many ladies unable to endure the White Castle gas bombs, exited to another room, while maids opened windows and sprayed whole canisters of air freshener. The kind butler said he never laughed so hard in his life showed us to a bathroom, which by then I was about to pee all over myself. Thankfully Nora's "problem" had cleared up thanks to all the escaping gas bombs, you see.🥴
So if you're clamoring to know what happened next, because Nora was such a powerful speaker, and many ladies themselves had also experienced the White Castle gas bomb phenomenon, they insisted she finish. In fact, we were invited to several other mansions for more tea time talks later!😃
Only I made darn sure from then on Nora didn't have White Castles on the same day we were asked to speak anywhere!🤣
Monday, April 20, 2020
Hope...
The definition of hope in Websters Dictionary is: to cherish a desire with anticipation of wanting something to happen or be true; to desire with an expectation or belief of fulfillment; someone or something on which hope is centered.
As I have touched on in earlier blogs like the famous "Goldfish Caper," I have had to be hospitalized on Pediatric Oncology wards to receive bone marrow treatments for my dangerously plummeting blood counts during my twenties and thirties. Similar to those receiving bone marrow transplants now, I too, had to be kept in sterile conditions while a new powerful drug went into my bone marrow making me both vulnerable and desperately ill for a time.
Some of the dearest, most treasured friendships I have ever had have been made on Pediatric Oncology wards. Regardless of ages, the deep bonds of all being in the fight of our lives together and sick as hell, allowed us to embrace each other in precious ways unlike life outside the ward. For one thing we were isolated. Yet one would think life in the ward abounded in despair. But no...quite the opposite you see. Because life on the ward abounded in hope. Faith and love too, but I am focusing on hope here today. And we need it now more than ever.
Due to my age, yet being little like the kids, I could reach them in unique ways. Since I was also someone who owned and rode horses, who could draw, play the piano and make laughter happen too, I really rated. But they all loved hearing my horse stories most. Especially the one when my horse Selah accidentally stepped on my right foot, and they could see the scar imprint of her hoof forever engraved on my foot. Again and again they would ask for me to tell them this story and show my foot. And they also loved to hear me tell what it was like to gallop across the fields on my horses, often expressing hope to do the same someday, or when they reached heaven.
Though all most certainly embraced the hope of getting well again, not all did. There was no way to hide the reality of death on the ward. Yet the kids embraced their belief of heaven as encouraged to by their parents. Often their belief in heaven was a very deep and profound one far beyond their years. The kids talked about heaven a lot. When I was able to, I was asked to draw a lot of winged horses the children wanted to have for their rooms. I had shared with them how horses seem to fly when they gallop, and how galloping on my horses felt just like we were flying. I also told them my hope that when my own time came to go to heaven someday, I would arrive on a flying horse.
Some say children who have a disease or condition, are angels sent to teach adults a thing or two about having faith and hope. I believe this.
Nine year old horse lover Jonny had been fighting leukemia since he was a toddler. Though many lives are saved now, back then drugs still had a long way to come yet. While doctors said nothing more could be done for Jonny, his parents kept his hope of getting better burning bright, because he kept telling everyone he was going to get better. Months earlier his parents promised him a pony if he got well, and Jonny was not about to let go of the hope for his long held dream to come true.
Hope burning bright can sometimes shine forth with a miracle. I know this, because I wasn't supposed to be able to walk again twice following spine surgeries, but refused to let go of hope. And both times, I learned to walk again. Also the new bone marrow drug had been
so new they were unsure if it would help me. I embraced the hope it would...and eventually it did.
Another huge miracle of hope that brightly blazed forth? Against all the odds, Jonny went into remission. It was an amazing miracle. And the pony was waiting for him when he got out of the hospital. Jonny told me he named her Selah, after my horse.🙂💕🐎
Hold onto hope and never let it go, my dear ones.
As I have touched on in earlier blogs like the famous "Goldfish Caper," I have had to be hospitalized on Pediatric Oncology wards to receive bone marrow treatments for my dangerously plummeting blood counts during my twenties and thirties. Similar to those receiving bone marrow transplants now, I too, had to be kept in sterile conditions while a new powerful drug went into my bone marrow making me both vulnerable and desperately ill for a time.
Some of the dearest, most treasured friendships I have ever had have been made on Pediatric Oncology wards. Regardless of ages, the deep bonds of all being in the fight of our lives together and sick as hell, allowed us to embrace each other in precious ways unlike life outside the ward. For one thing we were isolated. Yet one would think life in the ward abounded in despair. But no...quite the opposite you see. Because life on the ward abounded in hope. Faith and love too, but I am focusing on hope here today. And we need it now more than ever.
Due to my age, yet being little like the kids, I could reach them in unique ways. Since I was also someone who owned and rode horses, who could draw, play the piano and make laughter happen too, I really rated. But they all loved hearing my horse stories most. Especially the one when my horse Selah accidentally stepped on my right foot, and they could see the scar imprint of her hoof forever engraved on my foot. Again and again they would ask for me to tell them this story and show my foot. And they also loved to hear me tell what it was like to gallop across the fields on my horses, often expressing hope to do the same someday, or when they reached heaven.
Though all most certainly embraced the hope of getting well again, not all did. There was no way to hide the reality of death on the ward. Yet the kids embraced their belief of heaven as encouraged to by their parents. Often their belief in heaven was a very deep and profound one far beyond their years. The kids talked about heaven a lot. When I was able to, I was asked to draw a lot of winged horses the children wanted to have for their rooms. I had shared with them how horses seem to fly when they gallop, and how galloping on my horses felt just like we were flying. I also told them my hope that when my own time came to go to heaven someday, I would arrive on a flying horse.
Some say children who have a disease or condition, are angels sent to teach adults a thing or two about having faith and hope. I believe this.
Nine year old horse lover Jonny had been fighting leukemia since he was a toddler. Though many lives are saved now, back then drugs still had a long way to come yet. While doctors said nothing more could be done for Jonny, his parents kept his hope of getting better burning bright, because he kept telling everyone he was going to get better. Months earlier his parents promised him a pony if he got well, and Jonny was not about to let go of the hope for his long held dream to come true.
Hope burning bright can sometimes shine forth with a miracle. I know this, because I wasn't supposed to be able to walk again twice following spine surgeries, but refused to let go of hope. And both times, I learned to walk again. Also the new bone marrow drug had been
so new they were unsure if it would help me. I embraced the hope it would...and eventually it did.
Another huge miracle of hope that brightly blazed forth? Against all the odds, Jonny went into remission. It was an amazing miracle. And the pony was waiting for him when he got out of the hospital. Jonny told me he named her Selah, after my horse.🙂💕🐎
Hold onto hope and never let it go, my dear ones.
Saturday, April 18, 2020
Little bits...
These are some interesting things (I hope) too little for a blog entire...
In recent blogs I have touched on southern charm, and life in my beloved home state of Kentucky. However, if anyone expects to hear ME talk with a southern accent, I daresay you may be disappointed. Why? Because my parents are from Chicago, and an area near Chicago. I was born there...but have lived in Kentucky since I was six, so to ME, Kentucky IS my home state.💕 Like many native Kentuckians, I have good grammar. So, the best way to describe my "accent," is I have a very soft sort of Chicagoan one. Still, when I am in northern states, it is pointed out to me I sound "southern." Or get teased for being a "hillbilly." This is when I point out to them, "If you think THIS is 'southern,' you have a treat in store for when you do hear a native Kentuckian." And I make sure to get across the fact just because people have a unique way of speaking doesn't make them less a human or mean they are ignorant. THEN what I get from native Kentuckians, and northerners living in Kentucky, with never any disrespect intended is, "I can't place your accent. Why you're not from around here! Where ARE you from?"🤣
Once a lady approached me after a talk I gave to a Women's Group. She was a Social Worker and had a client who happened to be a Little Person. Her client was much older than me, still lived with her parents, never learned to drive, and never went anywhere unless she was with her parents. Her loving parents were so overprotective she became homebound. The Social Worker thought if she and her parents could meet and talk with me this would be a catalyst of change because the Little Person had expressed to the Social Worker a longing for more out of life saying, "I wish I could live on my own but my parents say a Little Person is incapable of living a normal life." When the Social Worker told her about me, she became very excited to meet me. Sadly though, we never got to meet. Fear. The parents were horrified their daughter would even THINK to entertain thoughts of leaving. They refused to let her ever see the Social Worker again too, convincing the Little Person she HAD to be protected by them. Though I never met her, I often think about her, and how paralyzed she was by the fear of her parents, and her own fear, that robbed her of having a life. Then I am damn grateful for my innate courage and determination always enabling me to rise above the terrible circumstances I grew up with, and the many physical ones, because you see, the sorrow of these let me attain far greater joy in the gift of LIVING and having a life. And oh, what a life it has been too!😃
In recent blogs I have touched on southern charm, and life in my beloved home state of Kentucky. However, if anyone expects to hear ME talk with a southern accent, I daresay you may be disappointed. Why? Because my parents are from Chicago, and an area near Chicago. I was born there...but have lived in Kentucky since I was six, so to ME, Kentucky IS my home state.💕 Like many native Kentuckians, I have good grammar. So, the best way to describe my "accent," is I have a very soft sort of Chicagoan one. Still, when I am in northern states, it is pointed out to me I sound "southern." Or get teased for being a "hillbilly." This is when I point out to them, "If you think THIS is 'southern,' you have a treat in store for when you do hear a native Kentuckian." And I make sure to get across the fact just because people have a unique way of speaking doesn't make them less a human or mean they are ignorant. THEN what I get from native Kentuckians, and northerners living in Kentucky, with never any disrespect intended is, "I can't place your accent. Why you're not from around here! Where ARE you from?"🤣
Once a lady approached me after a talk I gave to a Women's Group. She was a Social Worker and had a client who happened to be a Little Person. Her client was much older than me, still lived with her parents, never learned to drive, and never went anywhere unless she was with her parents. Her loving parents were so overprotective she became homebound. The Social Worker thought if she and her parents could meet and talk with me this would be a catalyst of change because the Little Person had expressed to the Social Worker a longing for more out of life saying, "I wish I could live on my own but my parents say a Little Person is incapable of living a normal life." When the Social Worker told her about me, she became very excited to meet me. Sadly though, we never got to meet. Fear. The parents were horrified their daughter would even THINK to entertain thoughts of leaving. They refused to let her ever see the Social Worker again too, convincing the Little Person she HAD to be protected by them. Though I never met her, I often think about her, and how paralyzed she was by the fear of her parents, and her own fear, that robbed her of having a life. Then I am damn grateful for my innate courage and determination always enabling me to rise above the terrible circumstances I grew up with, and the many physical ones, because you see, the sorrow of these let me attain far greater joy in the gift of LIVING and having a life. And oh, what a life it has been too!😃
I know I was born with the soul of a horse, because I never remember seeing my first one, yet from as early as I can remember, I have had a passion for horses far too deep for words. And my deepest passion has always been for wild horses, running free, living free, born free. From the time I could hold a crayon, I began drawing them. Never halters, bridles, or fences are ever in my equine art. I am quite sure there must be some deep symbolism here, for though my soaring spirit has never been diminished by being a Little Person, I still am trapped in this painful broken body which constantly gets ridiculed by the mean and ignorant out there, as happens to all Little People. My most successful, longest selling print is entitled, "Breaking Free." The drawing says it all, because this is what I have always done...lived a very soaring, daring, loving, and at times, damn fun journey regardless. I was blessed to break
free.🐎😃🐎
In earlier blogs I shared how when age seventeen, along with another artist the same age, we became at that time the two youngest artists ever represented by an art gallery. We were both written up in the newspaper, which displayed our work. Richard was an extraordinary wildlife artist, while I of course...the equine artist. The gallery also sponsored our first series of prints too. I had written this was my first time in the media for my art, briefly forgetting about the first time. My first claim to fame as an artist was at age ten. Each year in the fall was The Fire Prevention Poster Contest sponsored by the local fire department. The prize was a Stingray Bicycle for a boy and girl, and a feature in the local newspaper with the winners and their posters. By the way, I had been riding bikes since age six, so to have a brand new cool one would be something. However, my parents took one look at my poster and said I would never win. I almost didn't even submit it, after working so hard on it. Apparently the judges really liked it, because I won! My poster was very colorful of a matchstick with arms, legs, and face which was in flames. I had it seated on a pile of trash. He was holding up one hand, as in a warning, with the words, "I'm burning up because YOU didn't put me out!" The newspaper had a photo of me sitting on the bike, holding up the winning poster I almost didn't submit.🙂
free.🐎😃🐎
In earlier blogs I shared how when age seventeen, along with another artist the same age, we became at that time the two youngest artists ever represented by an art gallery. We were both written up in the newspaper, which displayed our work. Richard was an extraordinary wildlife artist, while I of course...the equine artist. The gallery also sponsored our first series of prints too. I had written this was my first time in the media for my art, briefly forgetting about the first time. My first claim to fame as an artist was at age ten. Each year in the fall was The Fire Prevention Poster Contest sponsored by the local fire department. The prize was a Stingray Bicycle for a boy and girl, and a feature in the local newspaper with the winners and their posters. By the way, I had been riding bikes since age six, so to have a brand new cool one would be something. However, my parents took one look at my poster and said I would never win. I almost didn't even submit it, after working so hard on it. Apparently the judges really liked it, because I won! My poster was very colorful of a matchstick with arms, legs, and face which was in flames. I had it seated on a pile of trash. He was holding up one hand, as in a warning, with the words, "I'm burning up because YOU didn't put me out!" The newspaper had a photo of me sitting on the bike, holding up the winning poster I almost didn't submit.🙂
Friday, April 17, 2020
Mustang Show Ring...
"An' now we have Miz Adelaide on Sadie enterin' tha ring, folks, fer tha Pony Flat Race! Ya an' Sadie ready, Miz Adelaide? Okay! On tha mark, git set, an' GOOOO!!! Lookit them agallopin', folks! In a cloud of dust! Why, they is aflyin', those two! Aroun' tha barrel they goin'! Tearin' fer home now! WOW!!! Miz Adelaide an' Sadie 'ave dun broke tha record by aclockin' in at an astoundin' 19.2 seconds! Let's us all give Miz Adelaide an' Sadie a roun' of applause 'ere, folks! Come on back in tha ring an' git yer trophy muh dear!"
Mr. Lockey and his wife owned and ran The Mustang Show Ring for years. It was nothing fancy. Just a kind of broken down place with strands of light bulbs around the dusty ring. Yet for some of us kids, and adults, it was the best place ever to be each Saturday night from May through August. There were about fifty of us regulars, and often others came now and then. Some came just to watch. Hamburgers, hotdogs, chips, and cokes were for sale, and the restroom facilities were behind someone's horse van.
My best friends Lacy, her brother Rob, and their horses, Vandalla, and Havoc always came too. The three of us lived with the sadness and violence of alcoholism in our families. And we knew how lucky we three were to have our horses who were everything to us. Since we didn't have horse vans we three rode our horses a few miles to the show ring each week as the summer sun went down. We also would bring bags to carry the trophies we hoped to win, and often had one or more to carry home too, along with many ribbons.
Out of concern for us though, after the show when it was very dark, either the Lockey's or other participants would follow behind us till we safely got to our homes. We were always so touched they cared that much to do this for us! They had to wonder where our parents were, but I suspect they had a feeling our home lives were not easy. And why our horses meant so much to each of us. To pay the fifty cent entry fee for each class we showed in, we each babysat and did odd jobs, besides paying the upkeep for our horses.
Since I never used a saddle, I was somewhat limited on the amount of classes I could participate in, but there were several I could. Usually, it was the Halter Class, Bareback Class, Pony Flat Race, Egg Race. The Egg Race was keeping an egg on a spoon as one galloped around the ring. The last rider with an egg on the spoon was the winner. A few times I was actually the last one who still managed to keep the egg on my spoon!
The rest of the classes were Western Classes, and Barrel Races.
Never once in the three years we showed there, was I ever called midget or ridiculed in any way, so The Mustang Show Ring is a bright chapter of my childhood I hold dearly. I still have some of the trophies and ribbons too.
After the third year we showed there, the Lockeys had to retire due to health issues, and everyone kind of scattered away in the dusty wind.
But never the sweet memories of those summer nights at The Mustang Show Ring "agallopin'..."
Mr. Lockey and his wife owned and ran The Mustang Show Ring for years. It was nothing fancy. Just a kind of broken down place with strands of light bulbs around the dusty ring. Yet for some of us kids, and adults, it was the best place ever to be each Saturday night from May through August. There were about fifty of us regulars, and often others came now and then. Some came just to watch. Hamburgers, hotdogs, chips, and cokes were for sale, and the restroom facilities were behind someone's horse van.
My best friends Lacy, her brother Rob, and their horses, Vandalla, and Havoc always came too. The three of us lived with the sadness and violence of alcoholism in our families. And we knew how lucky we three were to have our horses who were everything to us. Since we didn't have horse vans we three rode our horses a few miles to the show ring each week as the summer sun went down. We also would bring bags to carry the trophies we hoped to win, and often had one or more to carry home too, along with many ribbons.
Out of concern for us though, after the show when it was very dark, either the Lockey's or other participants would follow behind us till we safely got to our homes. We were always so touched they cared that much to do this for us! They had to wonder where our parents were, but I suspect they had a feeling our home lives were not easy. And why our horses meant so much to each of us. To pay the fifty cent entry fee for each class we showed in, we each babysat and did odd jobs, besides paying the upkeep for our horses.
Since I never used a saddle, I was somewhat limited on the amount of classes I could participate in, but there were several I could. Usually, it was the Halter Class, Bareback Class, Pony Flat Race, Egg Race. The Egg Race was keeping an egg on a spoon as one galloped around the ring. The last rider with an egg on the spoon was the winner. A few times I was actually the last one who still managed to keep the egg on my spoon!
The rest of the classes were Western Classes, and Barrel Races.
Never once in the three years we showed there, was I ever called midget or ridiculed in any way, so The Mustang Show Ring is a bright chapter of my childhood I hold dearly. I still have some of the trophies and ribbons too.
After the third year we showed there, the Lockeys had to retire due to health issues, and everyone kind of scattered away in the dusty wind.
But never the sweet memories of those summer nights at The Mustang Show Ring "agallopin'..."
My pony Sadie...
All I seek is Heaven above me, and a horse beneath me.
"Hey Adelaide! Let's swim across on our horses!"
This was a HUGE pond, about the equivalent of two acres. On my Shetland pony, Sadie. With my best friends Lacy and her brother Rob and their horses.
Sadie was a dear, sweet black and white pinto, and she absolutely LOVED water! We couldn't just cross a creek, you see. Sadie had to splash in it until she got us both drenched...which is why I never went anywhere NEAR a creek during winters.
What a trio the three of us made too! Lacy's horse was a beautiful black Quarter Horse mare named Vandalla, and Rob's horse Havoc was a large black and white pinto pony. They, like me, rode bareback and often barefoot too, during the summer months.
There was not a trail or field in the area we hadn't galloped on with our beloved horses.
One day we discovered this amazing long trail that went through a forest, and then opened up into vast fields with this HUGE pond. It was when we took our horse and ponies to let them drink, and Sadie began splashing, Rob thought it would be great fun for all to swim across. Something none of us had ever done before with a horse. Oh, the exuberance of youth, huh?!!
Since Sadie was a Shetland pony, we two were swimming in no time! Rather, she swam and I swam beside her holding onto her mane and the reins. Vandalla with Lacy, and Havoc with Rob, were next to us doing the same.
We hadn't exactly planned just how best we should exit the pond though...like could we manage to be on their backs when we came out?
As Sadie and I neared the shore, I floated over her back, so when she came out, I would be on her. Only horses can become very slippery when soaking wet. And I am talking SLIPPERY. VERY SLIPPERY.
We made a lovely grand exit as we came out of the pond, and then I promptly went flying off onto the grass. Laughing. The same thing happened to both Lacy and Rob.
Our horses seemed to really enjoy it. When we decided to swim back, they all three eagerly plunged back in and yes, we all three went flying off again...laughing.
The three of us somehow knew what we shared that day would forever remain as treasure in our hearts. And has it ever. A moment of shared bliss I will forever hold onto.
"Hey Adelaide! Let's swim across on our horses!"
This was a HUGE pond, about the equivalent of two acres. On my Shetland pony, Sadie. With my best friends Lacy and her brother Rob and their horses.
Sadie was a dear, sweet black and white pinto, and she absolutely LOVED water! We couldn't just cross a creek, you see. Sadie had to splash in it until she got us both drenched...which is why I never went anywhere NEAR a creek during winters.
What a trio the three of us made too! Lacy's horse was a beautiful black Quarter Horse mare named Vandalla, and Rob's horse Havoc was a large black and white pinto pony. They, like me, rode bareback and often barefoot too, during the summer months.
There was not a trail or field in the area we hadn't galloped on with our beloved horses.
One day we discovered this amazing long trail that went through a forest, and then opened up into vast fields with this HUGE pond. It was when we took our horse and ponies to let them drink, and Sadie began splashing, Rob thought it would be great fun for all to swim across. Something none of us had ever done before with a horse. Oh, the exuberance of youth, huh?!!
Since Sadie was a Shetland pony, we two were swimming in no time! Rather, she swam and I swam beside her holding onto her mane and the reins. Vandalla with Lacy, and Havoc with Rob, were next to us doing the same.
We hadn't exactly planned just how best we should exit the pond though...like could we manage to be on their backs when we came out?
As Sadie and I neared the shore, I floated over her back, so when she came out, I would be on her. Only horses can become very slippery when soaking wet. And I am talking SLIPPERY. VERY SLIPPERY.
We made a lovely grand exit as we came out of the pond, and then I promptly went flying off onto the grass. Laughing. The same thing happened to both Lacy and Rob.
Our horses seemed to really enjoy it. When we decided to swim back, they all three eagerly plunged back in and yes, we all three went flying off again...laughing.
The three of us somehow knew what we shared that day would forever remain as treasure in our hearts. And has it ever. A moment of shared bliss I will forever hold onto.
Thursday, April 16, 2020
Mister Rogers...
Fred Rogers 1928-2003
When I was still a child, living in the sadness, unpredictability, and violence of my unstable parents, besides trying to make sense of the terrible ridicule I had to endure with being a Little Person, there was someone whose presence helped make a huge difference in my life each day. Someone who became a comforting presence. Someone who had an impact from the other side of the television screen...and this was Mister Rogers.
Many years later, as an adult, I wrote a letter to him, sharing my life, and telling what his presence meant to me. Most of all, thanking him. I also included gifts of my prints out at that time. Though I didn't expect a reply, I hoped he would be blessed to know the impact he had upon my life.
Well, I did receive a reply. A very heartfelt letter of gratitude for what my letter, my life, and art meant to him. Thus began a very touching friendship through the years I deeply treasured.
Everything Mister Rogers is on television, Fred Rogers is in person. A dear and very gifted man. A minister, and amazing musician. A dear husband, father, grandfather, friend.
Briefly, Fred was born and raised in Latrobe, Pennsylvania, near Pittsburgh. He earned a bachelor's degree in music composition from Rollins College where he graduated magna cum laude. After graduating from Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, he became a Presbyterian minister in 1963. In 1968 Fred created Mister Rogers' Neighborhood which ran for 33 years and was highly praised for focusing on children's emotional and physical concerns.
Fred Rogers was born on 20 March 1928. His Dad was a successful businessman and his Mom knitted, and did volunteer work. All the sweaters Fred wears during the long run of his program were knitted by his mother. Originally the sweaters were button up ones, yet because Fred often got the buttons out of sync and retakes would need to be done, his Mom knitted him zipper sweaters from then on, so he wouldn't have anymore sync problems. Sometimes I would affectionately tease him about this "out of sync" issue he had.
Many did not know that Fred's childhood was a very lonely, difficult one, because he was so shy, introverted, was overweight, had terrible bouts with asthma which made him homebound. Even worse, he was bullied and ridiculed as a child for his weight which we often talked about a great deal since he understood what being ridiculed was. Thankfully though, his parents were very loving and always encouraging him.
Because of his lonely childhood, and being an only child, Fred created fantasy worlds within his bedroom with his puppets, stuffed animals, and ventriloquist dummy. In addition to playing the piano.
By the time Fred got to High School, he had lost his weight, and found ways to overcome his shyness so successfully, he became President Of Student Council and was very active in school.
Because television was new back then, Fred wanted to find a way to use it to minister to children and their families, rather than pastor a church. Thus, Mister Rogers' Neighborhood began airing nationally in 1968 and ran for 895 episodes. The shows were taped at WQED in Pittsburgh, and then broadcast by the Public Broadcasting Service (PBS).
The well known sets and props like the trolley, his sneakers, and the castle were created by designers and producers. However, the beloved puppets used, were Fred's own from his childhood. Yet it's Fred's quiet way, that so endeared him to children, and adults. Nothing changed for the entire run of Mister Rogers, other than the story lines.
The stories and lessons told during each week take place through the episodes of that week, involving all human and puppet characters. Fred did all the puppets, and even voiced them all too.
At age 73 in 2001, Fred retired. The final episode aired 31 August 2001. Just days before 911 happened. Because of the horror of the tragedy, Fred immediately came out of retirement and did episodes to comfort the children...but which also became a tremendous comfort for adults too. Those of us who knew him felt like the magnitude of the events of 911 took a toll on Fred, as they did us all.
At age 73 in 2001, Fred retired. The final episode aired 31 August 2001. Just days before 911 happened. Because of the horror of the tragedy, Fred immediately came out of retirement and did episodes to comfort the children...but which also became a tremendous comfort for adults too. Those of us who knew him felt like the magnitude of the events of 911 took a toll on Fred, as they did us all.
In the late Fall of 2002, Fred was diagnosed with stomach cancer, and passed away on the 27th of February 2003, not long before what would have been his 75th birthday.
Fred and his dear wife Joanne, met while both studied music at Rollins, and were married for fifty years at the time of his death. They had two sons, John and James, and three grandchildren.
Fred Roger's legacy will forever live on though. And in my heart, he remains.🐎😃🐎💕💫
Fred Roger's legacy will forever live on though. And in my heart, he remains.🐎😃🐎💕💫
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