Summer Night A-Gallopin...

"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' 9.2 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 along with many ribbons too.

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, calf roping, 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 just scattered away in the dusty wind.

But never the sweet memories of those summer nights at The Mustang Show Ring "agallopin'" as fast as the wind.

May You PLEASE Not Be Limping...

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

Alive In A Hearse...

In my "Two words of mine" blog piece I touched on one of the many things I have been blessed to do along my galloping journey was to ride in the back of a hearse ALIVE...

When one is a somewhat crazy dwarf-horse-artist-hippie-theatre-wandering-fun loving hooman, one can gather quite an amusing assortment of friends and keep very busy in all kinds of activities.😂

Two of my dearest best friends from theatre were John and partner Martin.  We had a large circle of both gay and straight friends who all did a lot together.

I did not have a problem when I turned thirty as some do because I'd already had two spine surgeries which I had to learn how to walk again from...twice, besides hospitalized on a Pediatric Oncology ward to receive a new bone marrow treatment for terrible problems with my blood counts. So I was just thrilled to have even MADE it to thirty.😃

However, by the time I was about to turn thirty-five was another story.  I had just been diagnosed a month before my birthday with the severe, extremely painful inflammation disease within my spinal cord and given a terrifying prognosis.  No one knew exactly what to expect when, other than awful things would begin horribly shutting down as the inflammation makes its way upward.  And the pain would worsen aside from all my other orthopaedic pain.

Since I was still so young and full of life this diagnosis  was very hard to take.  I knew I had to keep fighting because that's what I know...what I do.  Yet it was quite hard to think of celebrating a birthday in the midst of all this.

But John and Martin knew just what to do.  They knew what I was dealing with and they also knew what a wicked sense of humor I have and to work they went.

You see they wanted to help me meet my future head on and felt what better way to help a friend who was just handed a dire prognosis than to rent a HEARSE for a birthday surprise?!!🤪  To just meet this thing head on with laughter and love!😂💕

Somehow John, Martin, and all managed to keep the birthday surprise a secret from me.  Like a theatre performance everything was perfectly planned and orchestrated.  That year my birthday just happened to be on a Saturday. 

That morning John called me.  

"Sweet Adelaide, dahlin,' Martin and I are picking you 

up at 5pm to take you out to eat and we absolutely will NOT accept "no" for an answer!"

"But what if I have other..."  

"WE know you don't yet dear, so you just be ready at five and DRESS UP!  And honey, be sure you wear black!"

It didn't occur to me as to HOW those two knew I hadn't made any plans yet or why I HAD to wear black!🤣

At 5pm precisely I heard a very strange sounding horn tooting for me.  

I stepped out the door to find a long black old style hearse waiting at the road festooned with black balloons, and both John and Martin dressed up in very fancy black suits at it's side laughing.  Hysterically.🤣

So was I.😂

Of course when everyone else on the street heard the strange horn they too came out shocked to see such a strange scene unfolding!🤔

The hearse had been remodeled thankfully.  The area which once held the coffin now had seats of which I was flamboyantly escorted to.

Martin could not contain his excitement, "Oh are WE going to have SO much fun tonight, dear!"

Then both together, "Happy Birthday dahlin'!  We love you!"💕

There was room for six more and the first stop was to pick up five friends waiting for us.  Soon we were all in and heading out to eat.  One might have thought the plan was to eat somewhere snazzy, right?!!  Not with these guys!😂

They wanted to have as much fun with the hearse as possible so we went to...wait for it...a...car hop!🤣

Oh my gosh, you should have seen the looks on the faces of staff and other customers when we pulled up in this hearse festooned with black balloons!  At a car hop!😂

Sasha and the guys had gathered a bunch of hearse, funeral, and yes, even death jokes, then began pouring them out with gales of laughter as all of us were in hysterics while trying to eat.

We then made a stop at a small theatre to see...wait for it...a funny play about someone DYING...who was trying to cram some fun in before going!  The whole cast was in on the festivities too.  So after the theatre was finally empty we all gathered on the stage as the house lights were dimmed.

Suddenly from stage right came the lead cast member carrying a lighted birthday cake as everyone sang loudly "Happy Birthday" to me!  Such fun, camaraderie, and laughter!

Then it got serious for a bit.  I was asked what things I would yet like to do before things got worse, by Jason who played the dying one in the play.  I could think of two things at that moment.  One is something that has eluded me in being able to do which has been a burning desire to gallop a horse on a beach.  Yet I have galloped everywhere else.🐎😃🐎💕

The other?  

"To always...ALWAYS...continue to have these magical serendipitous moments like this with friends, laughter, creativity, fun, and horses filling my journey to the very end if possible."💕

The next stop was to our favorite bar, City Lights, which had an amazing rock band whose lead singer Priscilla, was a lady we all knew and loved.  Priscilla was in on the birthday festivities too and was the sixth one to join us after we closed City Lights down.

Our next stop was to all pile into a Waffle House for breakfast.  Imagine the shock when everyone saw a hearse pull up!😂

Finally, as the sun began coming up I was brought back home with fanfare to where the birthday of a lifetime all began.  It certainly WAS the birthday of a lifetime!😃

So this, my dear ones, is how Adelaide had the once in 

a lifetime experience of riding in a HEARSE...  

...ALIVE.🐎😂🐎💕💫

Plunging Forth And Not Backwards...

W. C. Fields once said, "This old world is a very tough place and you're darn lucky if you can get out of it alive."  And this world IS a very tough place indeed.  We ALL have tough challenges.  Tough challenges need tough optimism.  Often it is easier said than done.  Yet I always tend to take a deep breath and just PLUNGE forth.  Sometimes I've PLUNGED BACKWARDS though, but sometimes, the plunge forth is sweet, oh so very amazingly sweet.

My last horse Patches was a foal in dire need of being rescued when he came into my life.  How he came into my life is quite a story too, for a later blog.  In the late 1980's following spine surgery I had to learn to walk again for the second time, but was darn grateful I could.  Still there were severe complications, so I traveled to Johns-Hopkins to see the world renown Dr. Kopits, who devoted his career to Little People.  That I got to see him at all was the result of a plunge I made.  Due to the severity of my condition he asked if I could move to Baltimore.  "Why yes, of course!  I will go to my money tree!  No problem!"  I reminded him I came with a horse and cat package.😏  Financially there was just no way.  Impossible.

After I returned to Kentucky I had this idea but shoved it away.  Everything could go wrong.  Yet the idea persisted.  I would ride Patches 10 miles, involve the media, and seek pledges for each mile.  If I plunged BACK trying all this the media would be right there to show it, so I HAD to shove the crazy idea aside.

Then I was given a nudge.  More like a huge SHOVE.  I was moving Patches from one farm to one closer to my home.  One day, leaving the farm I still had him at, it suddenly came to me out of nowhere to clock the miles from one farm to the other.  I did.  

The distance...was...EXACTLY...10...MILES!

I took a deep breath and PLUNGED forth.

And what a plunging forth of faith it was!  It HAD to be.  

I contacted both the printed and television media.  "You're doing WHAT?!!"😓  

Since the first mile of The Ride involved riding down a 4 lane highway, I had to ask if police could assist.  "You're doing WHAT?!!"😓

I only asked for and received promise of a few pledges prior to The Ride because everything depended upon actually DOING The Ride with the help of media.

Then the day came.  Everybody showed up.  Patches was only 2 years old when I did this, the deep bond we shared enabling us to embark on this amazing little journey at all escorted by police and a media entourage as we began.  Aside from the traffic noise and two bridges...the one I thought Patches wouldn't have a problem with he did at first, and the one I thought would be a problem, wasn't.  Other than that we completed it in 3 hours!  

The newspaper and television pieces hit the next day.  And then...AND THEN our journey REALLY took off!  People were SO touched and inspired they couldn't get enough of us.  No one could remember my name but they sure remembered "Patches!"  I quickly became known as "the Patches lady!"  With a business prior to The Ride, in the event donations did actually come in 

we set up a trust fund, and the donations began pouring in.   

Not all was monetary.  Since I needed transportation to get Patches to Baltimore, one of the largest national horse transportation firms donated their services.  Mechanics overhauled my car so I could get there too.  A vet donated his fee to vet Patches with the paperwork needed to cross state lines.  It went on and on.

Because of the keen interest in our amazing story the media kept coming to the farm to get more coverage of Patches and I, like the way he would come running to me when he heard me call him.  The news pieces were lovely.

Yet it didn't stop in Kentucky.  The govenor of Maryland at that time learned about us and welcomed Patches and I to Maryland!   In all, The Ride received just over $11,000.00 in money and donations.  We were on our way.

All because I took a HUGE crazy leap of faith and plunged forth.  And it all went FORTH...not BACK!😊

        Newspaper photo a few days after The Ride

READERS...

My Dear Twitter And Blogger Readers, tomorrow the 30th marks the day this blog began one year ago.  I first posted an Introduction, then began with the piece you will see following this.  By the second day I had over 100 readers and the journey we share together grew from there.  

When I began this endeavour I had no idea how putting myself out there in this format would unfold.  However as you are aware I have a tendency to just give it all I've got by plunging forth...anyway.

To date, the 30th, an astounding 15,450 of you from 37 countries have now been reading this blog.  Except for 

6 days along the way I have managed to put out a piece 7 days a week the past year totalling 561 pieces.  Of course a portion of these have been repostings along the way when too ill to write.

Though the numbers dropped some during March and April due to the virus, unlike many blogs this one not only survived but continued to grow.  

One thing I have chosen not to do is agree to any advertising.  Many blogs are very difficult to read because of all the adverts, which is exactly why I am keeping this advert free.  Hopefully this is how you are all finding it.

In my previous Reader Letter I shared with you I was reaching the end of all the journals I kept through the decades making this blog even possible.  These were stuffed with many loose pages of all the written pieces of my journey in detail, including pages from my talks when in demand as a speaker.  All of these enabled me to write about many events that otherwise could have been difficult to recall since my journey has been such a very full one.

The good news is I discovered a bunch of loose journal 

pages of life events...stories...stuffed inside a journal of my poetry I had not seen for a LONG time.  Already I have several new remaining pieces in process to share with you.

As touched on, other than opening a few windows I have refrained from writing about where I am currently here because it's not pretty due to my deteriorating health and I think it would be sad and boring.  So I made the decision to write only about my life when it was far more full and interesting.

Again my dear ones, thank ALL of you for being on this blogging journey, enabling me to fulfill many promises made over the decades by finally putting my hilarity and inspirations into writing.  Having all 15,450 of you along has been such a gift...such a very dear gift.  And I thank you with all my heart.

Hugs,

Adelaide 

Stepping Into The Unknown...

When you find yourself with a circle of light surrounding you and you're faced with stepping into the darkness of the unknown beyond the circle, faith is knowing one of two things are bound to happen...either you will stand upon something solid or you will suddenly be given the ability to fly.

It's All About BOLDness...

Webster Dictionary's definition for the word  "BOLD" is as follows:  showing or requiring a fearless daring spirit; being assured, confident; adventurous, free; or standing out prominently. 

I definitely managed to always have the "standing out prominently" bit nailed.  Some who know me say I personify bold.  Certainly a daring spirit anyway.   

One thing for certain though, when I was a very young age I realized in order to make it in this world at all in MY body I had to embrace boldness to survive.  Yet what exactly IS bold?

Well, the opposite of bold and what brings boldness
to a crashing halt is fear.  Like the fear of failing.  Insecurity.  Having courage and being bold go hand
in hand.  For there are times one HAS to be bold if
one has no choice but to plunge forth with nothing
to lose and a hell of a lot to gain.

MANY years ago when I was seventeen and had applied to get into the Theatre Scene Design program the Chairman of the Theatre Department, Dr. Ravenall, wanted to see me.  Though he said I certainly had the artistic talent by viewing my portfolio having painted on large flats for high school theatre productions, he had obvious concerns my height challenges would hinder me.

I have a quote I discovered many years ago which says when we have the courage to be bold a very amazing thing happens.  We can become a force to be reckoned with.  So as I plunged forth with the courage to be bold the very amazing thing suddenly happened.  Oh, did it ever.  Because in a FLASH little Adelaide became a HUGE force to be reckoned with.

Even though I am about the same size standing as I am sitting, I suddenly stood up in front of Dr. Ravenall to my full height of my very VERY TALL 4'3" and boldly let him know just a few things about myself.  That it was BECAUSE of my height I would be an asset as I had more to prove and I WOULD.  

"Not only THAT," I boldly continued, "I have far more courage than the average person.  "In fact Dr. Ravenall,

I am BURSTING with courage."

Oh was I ever on a roll of a lifetime for my future was at stake.  And so too, was my heart in becoming a Theatre Scene Designer.

"Furthermore, I am very talented too," which he agreed.  

"Oh, and one more thing," I also very boldly blurted out to Dr. Ravenall, "I own and gallop on my horse bareback flying across fields!  How many people do you know who can?!!"

At this his jaw dropped.  He was so astounded by this, for a moment he was speechless.  Dr. Ravenall was amazed.  He told me he never had ANYONE talk to him before in such a way.  Especially a young person facing him eye to eye while standing at her full height!  Then he became silent.  

It was one of those moments of silence which seemed to last ten years.  For a moment I thought, "Oh shit.  I've blown it."

Finally Dr. Ravenall spoke.  

"Adelaide, I am not only going to admit you to the program, but our renown Prof. Emeritus of Scene Painting, Dr. Sonderling, takes only eleven students every other year who have extraordinary talent and character and because you have just shown me both in spades I am putting you in his final class this semester."

Wow.  Being one of The Few chosen for THAT class
was BIG.  Really big.  So was being admitted to the Theatre Scene Design program too.  Boldness threw 

the door wide open for me.

The courage which became the catalyst for causing
an amazing thing to happen when I was bold is latent within us all far more than we realize.  We all have what it takes within ourselves to embrace this at the place where we have nothing to lose, yet everything to gain.

Strive to be bold my dear ones, by being a daring spirit to be reckoned with.  

And stand TALL doing it too...💫🐎😃🐎💫

Mother Missing...

In all these blogs I have seldom mentioned my mother other than the drinking, fighting, and violence.  Sadly there are reasons.  I have few photos of my parents anyway.  Recently when I found a stash of photos I 

have shared here I came across a photo not in the folder, but the bottom of a box.  It is difficult for me to see because it clearly shows the "disconnect" I always felt from very young age of having a "missing mother."  She was not missing in the context she had gone someplace, no, but the love for and acceptance of her child was missing.  For you see my mother could never deal with the fact her child had a deformity.

When people rudely stared at and made remarks about the midget toddler, she would get angry at ME, not them and blamed me for being the reason why they were being ugly to me.  She continued doing this into my adulthood.

My mother lived in hate and blamed everyone for her problems.  She was never ever at fault, nor did she 

ever apologize for anything...to anyone.

Interestingly my Grandfather who was seeking custody of me before he suddenly died, told me there was a Little Person in my mother's high school class.  She and a group of others tormented this poor guy unmercefully.

They would kick his stools he needed out from under him.  They chanted ugly words at him.  Laughed at him.  Made his life hell.  Even after they graduated.  [This proves what goes around comes around folks!]

So you see, my missing mother already had a huge disdain for we "midgets" before I even got here.  I was her nightmare come true.  The disconnect was sealed.  You can see it in photos.  And see it in this.  In the photos I am actually being held by her, I am being held away from her.  Not held close.  Not cuddled. 

I could feel The Disconnect.  And always felt it.

My Grandfather is the one who took this photo.  He said in the next moment I was reaching out for him crying.  He said I constantly reached out not only crying for him but everyone...except...my...mother.

I have written about my dear babysitter I had from age three to four who I especially clung to then.  Most kids do not want to leave their parents.  I on the other hand, did not want to leave WITH mine.  Or LIVE with them.

They drank and fought constantly often screaming as they lunged at each other with knives as I screamed for them to stop.  A few years later when guns were in their hands as they screamed, I screamed for them to kill each other.  The violence never ended.  Nor did my fear.

Often I had nothing to eat...except old uneaten crusts 

of pizza and the remaining beer I would find at the bottom of bottles.  One day at the babysitters I threw up pieces of cigarette butts I had eaten because I was so hungry and they were all I could find.  In this day and time she would have had places to call to report what she knew I was living with.  As weekends were even worse, she did however convince my father to please allow me to spend weekends with her family.  Those weekends at Mrs. Cassity's probably saved my life then.

Many years later in my late twenties as I was passing through town she was absolutely thrilled when I called to see if I could stop for a visit.  Mrs. Cassity still lived 

in the very same home and little had changed.  As I told her how the rest of my childhood went, horses, art, Theatre Scene Design, and my mentor friends she cried.  She was so proud of me and so grateful I was living such a full, happy loved life.

After I told Mrs. Cassity how at age four my father had abandoned me in a woods to die not long before he was kicked out of law school due to his drinking, she cried.  Said she knew something awful had happened to me in the days following that shattering nightmare, because I very uncharacteristically was quiet...waaay too quiet and though she gently tried to grasp what horror I just experienced, she realized it was not because I didn't WANT to talk...it was because I COULDN'T for I was so traumatized by the abandonment.

Before I left Mrs. Cassity had something very special to share with me she had kept and treasured all those years.  She brought out a little clay horse.  I recognized

it, because I made the little horse as everything I created was a horse.  She was going to give it to me and though I was very touched and grateful, I wanted her to keep it.

Back to my mother a moment.  She lived a very bitter miserable life blaming everyone for being why her life was this way.  Where my father had recognized the terrible things he had done to me, expressing remorse and seeking my forgiveness, my missing mother never did.  

Yet through this blog and by being with me on this amazing journey of my Life Of WOW here, you happily know I surviva-soared despite having a missing mother.  My dear adult friends all during my childhood who nurtured, hugged, and loved me through are also why.

When we embrace nature...

Think about it.  Many are reaching a place either 

at the end of their lives, or even much younger, realizing they haven't LIVED life.  They haven't stopped their frantic pace long enough to appreciate, to explore, to know themselves, to know those around them, to know nature, to create, to laugh, to be inspired, to be at peace, or to love.

When we do not quiet ourselves our soul or psyche cannot be at peace or grow.  Many do not even know how to nurture or understand their inner 

self or even how to stop long enough to try.  

In a sense, all of my vast time spent in hospitals taught me well.  Confined to a bed ones' options of what matters gets narrowed down drastically.  So I kept a box packed specifically for hospital stays.  In it were treasured books like those by Thoreau, Emerson...those who inspired me, photos of my horses, my boombox and a bunch of tapes I made of what I refer to as "my soaring music."  The box also contained a sketchbook, drawing pencils, and oil pastels, so I could create if I felt able to, and often did.  Staff and other patients would often gather outside my door just to listen to my music because it touched them too, and lifted them.  I never went to a hospital without my survival box.  We all need a survival box for our inner selves whether we spend half our lives in hospitals or 

not.😃

As I have touched on here, during the intervals when I was not in hospitals, I would plunge back into my life and work like there was no tomorrow because I never knew when I would be back in a hospital.  Yet during those intervals of plunging, I was also with whichever horse I owned at the time everyday, keeping centered with the gifts of nature which have always sustained me deeply.  My life would still be very full and busy but centered.💫

Isn't it interesting, how the very devices that make our lives easier, and connect us to the world, are making people busier than ever, throwing people into the rapid pace I touched upon earlier?  These very devices people escape into so one does not HAVE to know oneself?

Part of the reason why I became in demand as a speaker is I caught the attention of people long enough to enable them to look within and be inspired to live more deeply.  If you're reading this blog you likely have discovered by now the sharing of my life, humor, horses, with you hopefully has the same effect.  At least this is my hope.

Amazing things happen when we become quiet and listen.  Thoreau's time spent at Walden Pond pausing, has inspired thousands and still does.  Spending anytime with nature does because nature is such a great teacher.

Thoreau went to the woods because he wanted to seek and be taught...to live deeply...to suck out the marrow of life.  And not discover when he came to the end of his life, he had not lived.

Nurture yourselves...seek nature and listening, my dear ones.  Oh, and it may not hurt to have your own "Survival Box" too.😃👍💫

  

Rocks matter...

A professor of philosophy once stood before his class with an empty glass jar.  As his students watched, he filled the jar with rocks.

He asked, "Is this jar full?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, but you're wrong!"

The professor proved this by adding small pebbles to the contents of the jar.

"Is this jar full yet?"

"It HAS to be!"

"But no, it's not."

The professor then added sand to the jar.

"Is this jar full?"

There was a pause, "Uh, yes."

"Okay, the point I am trying to make to you here, this jar is actually a metaphor for our lives."

"How?"

"Now listen carefully.  These rocks, pebbles, and sand are also a metaphor of all the things which fill our lives.

The rocks are symbolic of the most important things in our lives we treasure like the ones we love and hold so dear.  These rocks should always matter most to us."

"What about the pebbles and sand then?"

"The pebbles and sand also represent things filling up your life.  Though they may mean a great deal to you, they really carry little weight.  When compared to your rocks they really can be replaced."

The students were silent because the professor's message was beginning to sink in.

"Now think of this...you can pour water in this jar too which is symbolic of even more things that can fill up your life if you choose to let them.  Yet exactly like the pebbles and sand they are all replaceable.  Class, my assignment for each of you is to get a glass jar, gather or buy rocks you like then fill your own jar.  Think about what your rocks represent to you and their importance.

Then bring it to our next class."

No one of us who lived the day of 11 September 2001 will ever forget that terrible day or the images.  Heroism abounded.  Then those who could say goodbye to the ones they loved did so who were able to access a working phone.  Love was poured out.  When these stories reached us all, ]everyone embraced what mattered most.  We were all forever touched.  Forever changed.

Most may not be aware or remember, but a Little Person was on Flight 93.  Her name was Marion Britton.  She was an Assistant Regional Director for the New York Census Bureau, having risen to the top after twenty-one years working for the Bureau.

Ms. Britton and her co-worker Waleska Martinez were traveling together that morning to San Francisco for a conference.

For several years I was a Moderator of what was known as The Dwarfism Group online where Little People could visit.  In the days before Facebook this was THE online place to visit or find information.  At the time the group had approximately 6,000 members.  The Main Group was open to all.  But satellite groups were created by members just for Little People.  I really had my hands full though keeping the rudeness and ridicule with the same ugliness we encountered in the world outside from intruding upon us online by removing these mean individuals from the group.  This was one time I could retaliate just by making a few clicks using my mouse, but infuriating I had to keep doing this at all.

During this time period I created a satellite group that became quite successful...a chronic pain support group open to not only Little People adults but Little People children and their parents, including the average height parents of LP children.  This had never been done before giving so many a safe platform for the pain we live with.  So not only LP adults but LP children and their parents participated. 

One of my members and also of The Dwarfism Group was Ms. Britton.  And guess what?  I was not the only LP who told funny stories!  Marion did too!  Not all LP's have a wicked sense of humor you see.  So it wasn't long before we were friends, keeping members inspired and laughing.  Marion also had the honour of being our Pain Group's oldest member she "wore" with pride.  

We always said we would meet someday but both of us had jobs where we were as busy as two cats with long tails in a room full of rocking chairs so it never got to happen.

Within days the names of the passenger manifest who were on Flight 93 had come out.  As one could imagine we were all devastated to learn Marion was on that flight.  Suddenly the horrors of 911 dug even deeper.

However, for the sake of not only my children but my adults too in the group I steered us into focusing on the bright happy memories of Marion in the weeks ahead and not the horror or imagined horrors of the final moments.  We focused instead on the love and the humour she lived.

So you see dear ones, the rocks we would fill our jars with should be treasured now, always letting who the rocks represent know how much you love and appreciate them.  Even the ones we may never meet 

yet hold so dearly.  So very dearly.

Ohhh, What A Show...

Many people outside of life in theatre aside from being an audience member now and then, have very little awareness for those backstage who devote their lives relentlessly working very hard to make theatre magic happen.  

And happen without anything ever going wrong on Opening Night.  Or on any other night.  

Hopefully...😂🎭

Throughout North America during the summer months many theatres and Shakespeare organizations do three or more plays by Shakespeare in outdoor parks each year.  This is a way to introduce theatre to many who may not get to have a theatre experience otherwise. 

One summer a small theatre I designed for scheduled three Shakespeare plays in a lovely park.  However due to a construction job, the third and last play, "Romeo And Juliet" had to be changed to another park.  A park just a bit LESS lovely than the first, as the area we had to construct a set upon was surrounded very closely by a field with cows, and another with horses.

It so happened not long after I met Aiden's parents 

who adored me as much as I did them, were quite keen on not only getting to see a professional production of "Romeo And Juliet," but to see the work their future daughter in-law did which they were proudly bragging about to all their friends.  They also invited them all to come see the performance too.

Aiden and I did our utmost to try to dissuade them from choosing THAT particular production but they wouldn't hear of it!  They had their hearts set on seeing the one Shakespearian play they knew.  And to bring all their friends, so we had to hope for the best.

Yet as you may have gathered by now in reading these hopefully entertaining Theatre Hilarity blogs of mine I have been sharing here, often events unfold in very unexpected ways beyond our control.

Since this park happened to also be in close proximity to the Chesapeake Bay too, on this particular evening we could see wind was becoming a concern.  Not good, not good.

For these outdoor productions my sets were built on the grass.  EXPOSED, you might say.  So my intern and

I constructed a sturdier set than usual which actually turned out to be a very good thing.  Mostly.

Please keep in mind we did not have stage left or 

stage right wings in the traditional sense because 

we were outdoors in the middle of nowhere, you see.

Laura, our costumer of course was there, as was our Lighting Designer, James, and myself.

During Act I Laura's job was to assist "Juliet" in a quick dress change.

Only it became The Ripping event heard around the world.😱  Followed by a very loud expletive (which was NOT by the way, Adelaide who said it!😂).

For as our dear Laura began helping "Juliet" with her dress change, RRRRR-IPPPPPPE.  All of us "backstage" froze with horror as our eyes fell upon poor Laura and "Juliet."

So too, were the eyes of The Audience, including Aiden, his parents, and everyone they ever knew who came with them.😳

You see it was Laura who delivered the loud F-Bomb!  And it wasn't "Juliet's" dress coming off that failed.  Oh no, not that at all.  For after the loud expletive, Laura cried out, "My pants split!"😱

And she had very good reason to be horrified, for on 

all days for the Costume Designer to have her pants split as wide as the Amazon River out in the middle of nowhere, she happened to be wearing underpants with large bright red lettering on the rear which said, "I'M NAUGHTY," which could very clearly be seen like a 

neon light.

Ohhh, this was not a good day for our dear Laura to have chosen THOSE very underpants to wear.😂

Being the loyal staff members they tried very hard to be at that moment, the male staff members totally lost it.

They were rolling in the grass laughing in hysterics.  

At this point the audience began laughing out of 

control too, but had no clue other than The Huge  RRRRR-IPPPPPPE heard around the world as to 

exactly what they were laughing about.🙃

Now remember we were out in the middle of nowhere here, with very little means at our disposal to repair pants split wide open revealing the words, "I'm Naughty."  However, I just happened to bring along an item in case the stage needed a temporary fix.  Never ever underestimate the miracle this item is capable of for it literally saved Laura's butt.  You will be absolutely amazed by what Duct Tape can fix...😂👍

Following the RRRRR-IPPPPPPE heard around the 

world and our dear Laura's Naughtiness we assumed there couldn't possibly be any more excitement for one night, but alas, this was not to be.

For one of the mares in the horse pasture decided to pee near the fence.  Now I have seen horses pee and shit a thousand times.  Aside from those moments I would suddenly find myself accidentally being the one getting peed or shit upon by one of my horses because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, a horse peeing is really a non-event to me.  So I especially was not prepared for this event to take the attention of the audience or our staff away from Shakespeare that it did. 

But it did.

Because when horses pee they can REALLY PEE!  We are talking Niagara Falls here folks!  I'm not kidding!😂

And for the hoomans transfixed by watching this event, 

not even Shakespeare himself coming back to life could have held their attention like the horse peeing did!🤩

Remember the cows?  During late spring into summer 

a farmer keeps his prize bull with the cows for the sake of making calves.  Well apparently no one happened to mention this very important fact to our Artistic Director when he was shown the park where we would be staging Romeo And Juliet.

Unfortunately the bull did not give us the consideration of holding off his love making until AFTER the play, or at least confining his activities during Intermission.  Oh no, not THIS bull!😱

For you see just after Act II began when things are SUPPOSED to be getting really serious in "Romeo And Juliet," RIGHT BY THE FENCE CLOSEST TO THE AUDIENCE, the bull mounted his love interest!🤣  

Then the friggin bull began MOOING.  LOUDLY MOOOOOING!  EVERYONE including the actors, were now focusing their attention on the BOVINE romance scene happening before them!💥

BOVINE BONKING had totally derailed our Shakespeare production!🤣

For most of the audience and our staff were not used to seeing these kinds of things unless you're Adelaide of course.😂

After the bonking the bull and his love interest for the moment, finally ambled off together.

We thought surely nothing else could happen.  

But it did.

And then...AND THEN...right at the climatic moment near the end of "Romeo And Juliet," the winds REALLY began picking up.  A chauffeur of an elderly couple he worked for waiting in the car suddenly came running over.  Said the weather forecaster indicated a funnel cloud had been sighted nearby and we should take cover!😱

However this situation was having no effect on the 

bull though I must say, as he was now bonking another cow.  I hadn't realized their "recovery" turnaround time in-between bonking was that fast.😂 

Anyway, we got the audience members and ourselves under the only place we could take cover under in the middle of nowhere, which happened to be the set.  Thankfully the set I designed included a stage about 4' above the ground, so we all crammed beneath it for an eternity.  Aiden's parents for some reason thought this was an ideal time to introduce me to all their friends.

Luckily nothing but high winds happened and the set my intern and I constructed held up quite well.  Aiden's parents and their friends were very pleased.  But they were all a bit confused though, as to just why the bonking bull was included in OUR version of "Romeo And Juliet."🙄

Aiden explained to all it was because OUR version was 

a modern one they were VERY privileged to get to see first...😂

And we all left it at that.👏🎭😂🤣😂🎭👏💫

Akio...

Not long before I left Maryland with Patches in tow for a small theatre as Set Designer for what I knew would be my last season and final move as my health rapidly deteriorated, a magical encounter happened.  One clearly meant to happen.

An Japanese actor in a production I did the set for and I became friends.  Miko had been in the U.S. with his family for several years after they moved to Maryland as his parents were educators.

It was not long before I became close with them all.  Especially Miko's grandfather, Akio.  Now Akio knew as much English as I knew Japanese which was zilch.  But sometimes when a special friendship is meant to be, not even a language barrier gets in the way.

For you see Akio was an artist who rendered beautiful pieces in Japanese ink, having learned from his father and grandfather.  Sadly though neither his son or grandson had any interest in being taught the ancient techniques.

Then along comes Adelaide who had a passion for Japanese ink drawings of all time periods.  I loved working with Japanese ink.  But because of my work then caring for a horse what I learned came only from books.  To encounter Akio, an artist taught in ancient techniques was thrilling.

I hit it off with Akio the moment we met.

When Miko introduced us, Akio told Miko I was short, which Miko translated to me.  

I responded with laughter in my usual very dignified good behavior by suddenly blurting out, "No shit!"😳

Well "shit" just happened to be a word in English Akio 

knew, and burst into laughter shocking his family.  He told Miko he thought I had bright sun in me.  So we really hit it off.  Who knew "shit" would be the beginning of a dear friendship?!!😂

The next time I saw Akio I brought an album I threw together to open my life up for him.  I had photos of me in various phases of theatre set construction and scene painting.  Though Akio's family explained what I did, he expressed to them how impressed he was by my work.

Then I showed him my Patches photos.  And guess what?  He asked his family to ask me...drumroll...the question I am asked more than any other, "How does she get ON her horses?!!"  Only in Japanese.

He was impressed.

Akio and his family were about to become more impressed much to my delight, because I showed him my equine art.  And then...AND THEN...my Japanese ink drawings.  Akio's eyes filled with tears. 

When I asked if he would teach me the ancient techniques Akio had tears pouring down his cheeks.

Now it was my turn to be touched.  He agreed.  Even said it would be an honour!  Soon we all had tears.

So began the odyssey of teacher and student.  All because the only word of English Akio knew was "shit."

The wise teacher and eager student were on our own for the ancient technique sharing.  But you see the sharing of art transcends language.  Especially when there is passion involved.  For nearly four months we

painted together.  Then apparently my dear teacher who was in his eighties sensed his time to cross over was near as he was busy with the help of his son preparing a large wooden box for the "no shit" friend and student he treasured having as much as I did Akio.

After Akio crossed peacefully in his sleep, Miko and his parents had me over.  Said they had something very special to present me with.  But first Akio's son wanted me to know how much I had brightened his father's life...how grateful Akio was for my eagerness to learn.

Until then, I did not know, but Akio referred to me as "the little Samurai," because he felt my indomitable spirit.  And he believed anyone as little as me galloping on the barebacks of horses had to have the courage of the Samurai.

In the wooden box were Akio's brushes of all sizes handed down for generations, as well as pens made out of various woods to be dipped in ink too.  There were bottles and bottles of the finest ink made in Japan.  Also included were the finest papers made by hand 

for ink.

And finally, something to me, more special than all...a heavy Samurai Horse two centuries old made out of sterling silver and pewter.  The arch of the neck of this horse has been worn smooth as you will soon see.  

Why?

Because it has been believed by rubbing the neck one will be smiled upon, able to win the battles to be fought.

Akio believed I needed all the help I could get in fighting mine.

I have three drawing/art tables.  On one is where I keep this special and very treasured Samurai Horse.  He proudly stands with his arched neck worn smooth with the hands of those who came before me.  Since he is where I take my forty-seven pills each day, we spend a lot of time together. 

And always, my fingers reach out to rub the neck as I remember a Samurai who came before me who passed along his art to his eager student and so much more.

When Our Hearts Spill Over...

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

The Very Life Of Life...

Look well to this day,

For it is life, the very life of life.

In its brief course lies all the realities
and verities of existence...

The bliss of growth,
The splendor of action,
The glory of power.

For yesterday is but a memory,
And tomorrow, a vision.
But today, well lived,
Makes every yesterday a dream of happiness,
And every tomorrow, a vision of hope.

Look well, therefore, to this day.

                             ‐‐‐‐The Sanskrit Proverb

Legacies Of Love...

Around a century ago a wealthy gentleman sat down to his breakfast with the morning newspaper in those days long ago when newspapers were still the only way to get news, and he was horrified to read he had died!

Curious though, he continued to read to see what was said about him, as any of us would be.  What the obituary said that shook him to his core was, "The Merchant of Death, the Dynamite King has died!"

"The Merchant of Death," he thought?!!  "How terrible!  This is how I am to be remembered?!!"

The man made the decision this was absolutely NOT going to be the way he would be remembered.  So after he contacted the newspaper to first let them know he was still very much alive, he made changes that have affected peace ever since.

For you see, Alfred Nobel has been remembered for creating The Nobel Peace Prizes awarded to a very deserving person or persons each year in Physics, Chemistry, Medicine, Literature, and Peace. 

This...became his legacy.  This...is what Mr. Nobel is remembered for.

We do not have to be wealthy or prematurely mistaken to have kicked the bucket to affect how we are remembered.  But we can affect how we live each day.

If you have read this blog very long you will know one of the many "Adelaide-isms," is how the love we live in life becomes what we are remembered for.  It's how family, friends, those we interact with remember us most.

When my beloved Grandfather died suddenly, he was cutting the grass for his neighbor.  At the Funeral Home person after person came for hours with stories of his kindness and generosity.  He lived in a very small town his whole life, raised a family, and had a granddaughter who loved him dearly who he was seeking custody of at the time of his death.  It's his love I still hold dearly.

Dr. Kopits, beloved Orthopaedic Surgeon of Little People I have written about here, died of a brain tumor.

Though techniques he developed in surgically helping

Little People to have fuller lives still is making impacts in the medical field, it is his kindness and devotion to all who were blessed to know him that Dr. Kopits is still remembered for most.   

In the same way Alfred Nobel redefined the way he wanted to be remembered, we too can ask ourselves how we want to be remembered.  Will it be with the ripple effects of the kindness and love we are living?

The Moment Of Discovery...

There are often periods in our lives when we may find ourselves trying to understand our inner self, wondering who we are, and where we're going.  Quite often the 

"ah-ha's" of gaining a deeper understanding of ourself will come on the wings of the toughest challenges we face when the reality of our journey may seem darkest.

By the time I reached my forties, years had passed since Patches and I had done The Ride.  I had been dealing with the reality of the very painful and severe spinal cord disease nothing could be done for.  No one knew how much worse it was going to become other than it was going to become MUCH worse.  And though two rounds of bone marrow treatments helped my plummeting blood counts, transfusions were still needed.  Then my first bout of cancer I had involved three surgeries on my left foot due to a malignant tumor found within.  So I was still having one surgery after another with many more yet to follow.  My inner resolve though is to not dwell on these things but to always keep surviva-soaring the fight of my present by pouring as much enthusiasm into my living as possible with a gratitude attitude. 

However I hit a place where I was not depressed, but because I continually had to surmount so many tough challenges since I was a very young child, I suddenly realized I was tired.  And I really did not know myself.  I hadn't had a chance to.  I knew I was a surviva-soarer full of love, a sense of humor, optimism, a Scene Designer, artist, horse owner, and had a lot of boldness.  Yet who was I beyond those?

Full self understanding often tends to elude us all no matter who we are.  Yet to be able to grasp it we need to reach that place within where we WANT TO attain self understanding before we can.

I found my self understanding in my beloved book, "A Touch Of Wonder," by Arthur Gordon I have often referred to here.  You see, Mr. Gordon had also found himself at the same kind of place only he was REALLY struggling with it because he felt depressed.  One does not have to be severely challenged to feel this way.  Or be a Little Person.

So to keep this from getting too long I will be paraphrasing here...

Mr Gordon went to his old small town doctor and poured out his struggle.  The doctor, a wise perceptive man asked where he had been happiest in his life.  For him it was the beach near them.  At that the doctor took out his prescription book, wrote out four prescriptions, folded them, and told Mr. Gordon to pack a lunch and go to the beach the next day by 9am.  Then he was to look at one of the scripts every three hours.  

[So I went to the beautiful farm where I had Patches with my "A Touch Of Wonder," book in hand.]

The first prescription had the words, "Listen Carefully."  Mr. Gordon climbed a sand dune.  He realized there were tiny sounds below the larger ones if he listened carefully by sticking his head into the sea grasses.  

[So I stuck my head into the field grasses as Patches chomped on grass nearby.]

Mr. Gordon realized if you truly listen to something outside of yourself and silence the clamorous voices and noise within the mind rests.  Then, as he gazed upon the ocean he began thinking of the immensity of it.  

[I lay on my back and gazed up at the vast sky.]  

Mr. Gordon realized that by thinking of all the natural things like oceans [and sky] bigger than us, there is a sense of peacefulness to hold onto.  [Like a separate peace.]

At noon Mr. Gordon took out the next prescription and it said, "Try Reaching Back."  

"Back to what?" he wondered, then realized it was his past obviously.  Yet because the doctor had Mr. Gordon go to his most "happy place" (the beach), in his life, he realized the doctor meant for him to focus on happy memories.  Positive memories.  So he lay down in the warm sand.  

[I laid down near Patches again in the warm field grass.]  

By deliberately reaching back holding his happiness places Mr. Gordon realized little flashes of power like tiny sources of inner strength came forth.  

[When I did this, for the first time in my life I suddenly grabbed hold of all the many special "happiness places and people" interspersed throughout my very unhappy childhood I had kept buried with the unhappiness.  Several of which have been shared here.  This was big for me.]  

As he remembered, he felt a sudden glow of warmth within.

The next three words were more like a command:  "Examine Your Motives."  At first he felt a bit defensive saying to himself, "What's wrong with wanting to be a success or having a certain amount of recognition?"  Then his inner voice he had reawakened spoke, "Maybe those motives alone are not enough."

Suddenly Mr. Gordon realized his writing and much of his life had lost it's sweet spontaneity.  He realized his sense of giving something, of inspiring people had been lost at a almost frantic clutch for security.  If one's motives are wrong we can lose our way.  

[I realized how much my life had been spent fighting 

the challenges of dwarfism with a very sad and violent childhood, and then all the years of the never ending physical battles.  My fierce determination to plunge back into life so hard when free from hospitals became my motives to keep rising above the challenges.  I never knew my inner self because I was fighting so hard to keep surviving.]

"Examine Your Motives," Mr. Gordon thought was the hard part of the "treatment."  For the challenge to
reappraise was meant to bring one's motives into alignment with one's inner self and being.  But the mind must first be clear and receptive to do this, thus the quiet self discovery with the first two prescriptions.

Mr. Gordon recognized the powerful therapeutic progression in these words the doctor prescribed and their value to anyone facing difficulty or seeking self discovery.  

As he walked across the beach he read the words on the final prescription:  "Write Your Worries In The Sand."  So kneeling in the sand he wrote the worries one after another.  

[I obviously was not at a beach yet being an artist, had brought a sketchbook and pencils with me.  So I wrote my worries down.]  

Then Mr. Gordon turned and walked away from the troubles he wrote in the sand, knowing the tide would soon come in and wash them away.  

[I tore the page I had written mine on into tiny pieces then let the wind blow them away.  For I had found myself.]