If We Were ALL As One...

One day on a train was a twenty-four year old man traveling with his father.  As the young man looked out the window becoming more and more excited, he happily exclaimed to his father, "Dad!  Look!  Look how all the trees are like disappearing behind the train as we go!"

"I know son!  Isn't it amazing?!!"

A couple sitting across the aisle who appeared to be in their mid-thirties watched the young man's behavior as they whispered to each other with "THAT look" many of us know all too well.

"Dad!  Can you see the clouds?!!  The clouds are racing with us!"

At this the couple couldn’t stand it any longer so they spoke to the father about his son regardless of the fact he was sitting right there too.  [How many times this has happened to ME when friends or my Interns were rudely grilled about me while I was sitting or standing right smack next to them as if I were deaf, dumb, and this "object" without humanity?]  

"Hey look old man, why don't you just take your son to one of those places and have him admitted?"  

As "the old man" proudly smiled wrapping his sons' hand within his own he said, "I'll tell you exactly why that will never happen...a reason I hope you both have enough human decency left to take with you."  

"Now wait a..."  

"My beloved son and I are just returning home from the hospital.  He became blind as a child and due to the miracle of laser surgery the gift of his sight has been fully restored.  Today is his very first day outside being able to see the amazing wonders those with sight take for granted."  

"But..."  

"And you know what else?  Every person in this amazing world we live has a story.  Not the kind of story those with unseeing hearts choose to write FOR them before even trying to know them, but a story revealing the love, the beauty, the wonder, and inner strength within.  The profound ways their story becomes our treasure if only we would not assume they are less than us.  If only we would quit defining others by their appearance before you know them, otherwise it's your loss.  Not theirs."

The Theatre Scene Design curriculum involved far more than just classes painting on massive canvas flats or painting plywood to look exactly like marble, bricks, or wood paneling.  It also involved classes learning how to use table saws, circular saws, all other tools.  And the ability to design then construct from various types of wood an entire theatre set from stage up creating the magic of theatre. 

However I must confess theatre always has a wealth 

of wonderful, excited to learn Interns including some very dear Scene Design Interns I was privileged to teach and mentor along the way throughout my career.  They were a huge help to me over the years in handling the large sections of lumber needed, then the construction 

of the set.  Inaddition, I was always highly proud to help launch them each on their careers, besides being like a stage/life/fun/mentor/mother to each one.😊

Now and then my Interns would witness the ignorance 

I encountered, never hesitating to take a stand for me which unfortunately was often needed.  For you see,  invariably people who came looking for The Scene Designer would see me...hear me, yet proceed straight past me to my Interns as if I were not there at all.  This of course would highly infuriate my Interns to no end.  And though I was as "used" to being treated like this as one can be, it really infuriated the hell out of me too at times.

"Hello there sir, I would like to do an interview with you on how you create the amazing designs your sets are known for?"

"Uh sir, you know what?"  

"What?"

"I'm an Intern and I strongly suggest you interview my talented boss, the Scene Designer herself you just very rudely ignored who spoke to you.  She also just happens to have a fully loaded nail gun in her hand at the moment she is not afraid to use."😂

How many times throughout my journey in this amazing world have I had people talk to me as if:

A.  I must have a mental deficiency that goes with the height deficiency 

"Miss, here are the papers you need to sign and since you probably can't write you may put an X..."

"WHAT PART OF I AM A VERY INTELLIGENT COLLEGE GRADUATE ARE YOU NOT GETTING?"

B.  I must be deaf or incapable of understanding ANY hooman language on the planet Earth so they LOUDLY ENUNCIATE  their words...

"You mean THAT CAR  IZZZ YOURS and you CAN REEELLY DRRRIVE THAAAT CARRR?"

"DID YOUUUUU NOT JUST VERRRY RUDELY STARE THEN WHIP OWLT YOUR CELLPHONE TO RECORRRD  MEEE AFTERRR I GOT OWLT OF IT?!!"

"YEAH, SO WHAT MIDDDGITTT?!!"

"Why are you talking so loud to me?"

"Because you midgets are short."

"WHAT HAS THAT GOT TO DO WITH TALKING SO LOUD TO ME?!!"

"Words take longer to reach you."

[I am NOT kidding, conversations like THIS happen to me!]

C.  We are EXPECTED to reveal all secrets hidden deep in a cave somewhere near Mt. Everest pertaining to the mythical kingdom of Midgetdom with treasure we are all supposed to know about because Jerry Springer says we know this.

"Where is that kingdom you midgets all come from?"

"WHAT kingdom?!!"

"The one we heard Jerry Springer tell about and anything HE says is THE Truth only he doesn't know where midgetdom is located!"

"Oh THAT one!  It's in the Land Of Oz just off Route 66 in Nevada exactly 101 miles, four feet and three inches north of..." 

And FINALLY...

D.  At ALL times we are EXPECTED to make for great entertainment the moment cellphones invasively record our every movement for the express purpose of ridicule on a massive scale that pours money into the bank account of said cellphone owner who will stop at nothing to obtain images of us because we of course are objects and have no humanity when actually it is the other way around.

Four times where I currently reside strangers who somehow learned a midget lives here have VERY rudely and dangerously intruded which is exactly why I must ferociously guard where I dwell [unfortunately all one needs to do is ask the "right" non-human where "The Midget" lives and BAM].  So imagine what it is like to suddenly see a non-human with their cellphone trying to capture my image IN MY OWN HOME!  It is terrifying and thrusts me into a very dangerous position against 

a potentially very dangerous non-human!  If blinds are drawn they knock on my door.  I am a object to them and they will go to great lengths to obtain what THEY ASSUME is THEIR right.  Even assuming I must be on opiates THEY should be able to get from me!

But I am not only a fighter I am very creative and talented in these things.  Especially since my career was devoted to creating magic for theatre.

For you see I have made a very realistic looking security camera which I am replacing with a real one.  So when the non-humans show up at my windows with their cellphones and demands, I yell/asking if they are aware of the camera recording their image trespassing on MY property which is linked directly to our county police...

And WHOOSH!!!

Bye bye mean rude dangerous non-humans!

KA-CHING!

This is Surviva-soaring Adelaide!🐎😃🐎👍💫

What Makes Us Stronger...

That which doesn't break us makes us stronger.

I have often been asked what I think my life could have been like had I not been height challenged.  At times I have wondered this too.  As my parents were both unstable alcoholics long before I came along there is a chance without being born height challenged and the good things I came packaged with to surviva-soar through this life, I could have easily followed THEIR path, which is chilling.  

As it is, I came packaged with an indomitable spirit, a huge sense of humour, positivity, a gratitude attitude, talent in spades, and boldness...all the things needed for my very challenging life.  If nothing else but to bring laughter or inspire others by the ways I always keep surmounting the many daunting, sometimes tragic, sometimes shattering neverending challenges my whole way.  Well at least this is what I hope.

I have touched on briefly the horrors of my childhood, focusing more on the friends and bright aspects of my young journey instead.  Today I am opening that door wider.  Yet what this especially shows is not so much the sorrow of abuse, but the sheer determination I had to not let it define me, and the miracles of my four mentor friends being there when needed most, to love me on my way.  And did they ever.

As a child the way my mother handled my being gawked at, was to constantly "hiss" to me, "It's all your fault!  You're the reason they're staring at us!"  Then she would rush off in anger.

What is a child in my body supposed to do with that?

I had to hear it constantly, and have it pointed out to 

me how it was all my fault, for something I had no way of changing.  I cannot begin to put into words the helplessness and humiliation I felt.  Later when Joseph came up with The Dwarf Card, this is why I was able to free myself and rise above what was instilled so deeply in me.

As I touched on here previously, my father took me deep into a woods in winter when I was five with the intent to abandon me.  When he drove away, he realized what he was doing and returned.  Yet I never forgot that terror and feeling of abandonment because I KNEW he was abandoning me.

The violence through the years was never ending.  Drunken beatings for no reason, and I always felt the dwarfism was why.  Since I never knew the direction my father's rages would take, what may work one time to keep him from as much violence would not work the next, and I lived in constant fear.

When I was young and began crying, his rage became worse, so I made myself stifle my tears.  I was a young adult before my four mentor friends helped me learn how to cry and feel safe crying.  Eventually, I could finally get all the painful sorrow of the years out.

They also had to show me what it was like to be touched GENTLY too, for at first I would literally cringe when touched and pull back.  Yet at the same time, I was starved for hugs and loving words.  Nora, the devil she could be at times, really went out of her way to keep hugging me, determined to free me from cringing when touched, and believe me, she did.  Soon it was hard to believe I ever cringed when touched, because I began making up for lost time hugging them!

I was seventeen when my father went into his last drunken rage badly injuring me.  The more I tried to fight back the worse he became.  As soon as I could I called Ella, who immediately came to get me late at night, and I left.  Since Ella lived out of my school district and I had yet to finish high school, Jackie's elderly mother had a room available so I stayed there.

I believe in miracles, because my art is what threw open the door to the dearest friends I could possibly have who were there when I needed help the most.  Just very special people who cared.  And loved.  They would say I am the reason miracles unfolded in my journey, but I believe they are.

Gibran wrote, "The deeper sorrow carves into our soul the more joy we attain."

Though the often horrific sorrows of my childhood deeply carved into my soul, my courage and resolve with the miracles of four very special mentor friends 

are why I soared and attained joy.  

Oh, so much joy!

Just think, had I not been born height challenged with the kind of childhood I had so many wonderful, funny, amazing, inspiring things would not have happened you are reading about here!  

My unique set of circumstances are why my journey has been a gift of joyful attainment for myself and the many who have encountered me.  

And now for you.

Hey, Only Two Accidents...Ever...

Did you know that every three fourths of each stride a galloping horse makes is spent in the air?  Three fourths!  I have always cherished the quote, "When God created the horse He said, 'And thou shalt fly without wings.'"  This is why galloping across the fields for me was flying.

In all the decades I owned horses I only ever had two injury accidents, which were not their fault.  Or mine.

The first involved soaring across a field on my horse Bashum.  We apparently disturbed these huge grasshoppers and one suddenly flew into Bashum's eye.  He stumbled west and I flew east...with my tailbone connecting with the ground first.  We were a LONG way from the barn phone and my car.  

Thankfully we were near a fallen tree I managed to climb on.  We made it to the barn.  Bashum's eye was torn in the corner so I called the vet to come.  Then I had to leave driving myself to the ER.  I feared two things:  that I injured my spine, and/or my dear orthopaedic surgeon was going to kill me.

He fell over laughing.  

It turned out I only fractured my tailbone.  In two places.  

Bashum's eye had to be treated with medicine but all was fine there too.

The other injury involved my horse Selah.  It was summer.  I was barefoot.  In order for a Little Person like myself to put a bridle on a horse I had to lean into her to get the head strap over her ears.  Summer means flies.  At the exact moment I was leaning into Selah to do the head strap she raised her hoof to knock away a fly.

Only when she put her hoof back down it was ON MY FOOT.  She couldn't know it so I had to push her off but because of the position we were both in she TWISTED off my foot.  Then I did what any respectable owner would do...I rode her.  Thirty minutes later I looked down at my foot.  By then it was three times its' size and every color.  Oops.

I rode Selah to my car, fed her, then drove myself to the ER.  Again my very dear orthopaedic surgeon fell over laughing.

I was lucky.  Because I was barefoot everything was only severely bruised and kind of torn...not crushed.

To this day though I proudly have Selah's clear hoofprint on my right foot.

In five decades these were my only injury accidents.  And not their fault!😄

That I was so blessed to fly without wings for many years I had been given a gift worth the price of a very bent tailbone, and a hoof shaped scar on my right foot I am so darn proud I have.

Aiden, Adelaide, A Dream, And 911 Twenty Year Anniversary...

On that bright September morning, Aiden and I were already each at work.  Aiden, at the architectural firm he worked for, and I, at a small theatre working on a set for the new Theatre Season beginning in early October.  The Box Office Manager and I were the only ones there.

Simultaneously, Aiden called and Sara, our Box Office Manager came flying into the Scene Shop.  

Both said, "Adelaide, a plane has flown into the World Trade Center!"

Sara and I rushed into the staff lounge which had a small television she had already turned on.  I still had Aiden on the phone as he and his office were crowded around a television.  We were utterly horrified for what had to be a huge loss of life. 

Just as Aiden said, "I wonder how a pilot could have..." the second plane hit the other tower, and we, like the rest of the country realized we were under attack.  

In shock we continued watching.  Then the Pentagon was struck.

"Adelaide, we're closing the office and going home..."

"We're leaving too!"

As we both arrived home and turned the television on, the South Tower collapsed.  He knew people who worked in it.  Though not personally, I knew of actors and artists who worked and had studios in the Towers.

Aside from all the other humanity.

Before the North Tower came down, Flight 93 came down in Pennsylvania. 

Our hearts shattered for the terrible loss of life.

We each began making and receiving calls and getting and sending Emails from friends checking on us because suddenly that is what everyone did.  To just be close...to connect with those who mattered in the midst of a horrible, tragic nightmare no one knew where the end of the attack was yet.

Hours later we were grateful we had to go check on and feed our two horses.  Though calming of course, not even the peace and innocence of our horses could take away the horrors of that day, still unfolding.

Fast forward twenty years.

None of us, especially me, could imagine that less than two years after 911, Aiden would suddenly be gone and the profound sorrow of losing him.  I have continued surviva-soaring because that is what I do.  Yet there are moments which will come out of nowhere and I grieve for him so much.  I grieve for the journey we were on together, now gone, and for what we shared...for what we planned.

It hit, and it hit so hard on the Twenty Year Anniversary for September 11, 2001.  I just happened to check the BBC for news to see their Live Coverage in NYC...right when Bruce Springsteen sang, "I'll See You In My Dreams."  The words are about losing one we love, miss them, and how we see them in our dreams.  And I do.

This has been a very hard week since hearing the "Dream" song on September 11th.  The sorrow, the missing, and longing all came flooding back.  It is when my challenges are the hardest, like my current living situation, I miss Aiden so deeply.

My spinal cord disease is worsening.  In these recent months the medicine keeping my colon working has become less effective.  The bladder barely functions.

Pain and nausea have increased.  More frightening, the breathing difficulty began due to the spinal cord disease.   I wake up and can't breathe.  This stage was predicted long ago.  I am confined to my bed more and more.

My doctor began the paperwork to get me Home Health, where someone comes in each day to help.  We have known this was coming and I am ready.

Yet I am still a surviva-soarer. 

Through the years I have often seen Aiden in my dreams.  Recently I vividly dreamed Aiden was reaching

out his hand for me to take.  Behind him were Patches and Sierra, our horses also gone.  In the dream though, I couldn't reach his hand and was so sad, but he told me, "It isn't time yet.  You still have more to do, my love.  You can do it."

Then the dream ended.

I still have more to do before I grab hold of that hand.

And...I am still surviva-soaring. 

Adelaide In The Military...

Along the way when I had long hospital stays, often the theatre I was designing for would have to arrange for another Scene Designer to take over because in theatre the show must go on.  Then when I was able to again I would take on what I refer to as my interval jobs usually outside of theatre until I could get back to theatre where my heart was.

Another one of these interval jobs I had following one of my long hospital stays was working in both the civilian and federal government capacity helping veterans obtain their benefits.  The job was located on a military base far out in the country to accommodate all the military helicopters and other aircraft.  There was even a base tavern just for base personnel open in the evenings.    

My civilian coworker was a tough lady who had a heart of gold, cussed like a sailor, drank like a fish, and smoked like a chimney.  Her name was Rita.  And Rita had quite a story too.  Five years earlier Rita and her dear husband were driving into town to get take-out dinners for their four children and them.  A drunk driver hit their car head on killing Rita's soul mate instantly and nearly her.  She came close to losing her leg, yet fought like hell to walk again despite the prognosis.  

So here she was suddenly a widow with four kids.  She soon landed the job at the military base.  Though she usually kept people at arms length, she immediately formed a bond with me as I too, fought to walk yet again.  And she loved my wicked sense of humor.😂

Now Rita, who had never drank before this job, took up drinking at the base tavern.  As her drinking worsened she kept begging me to join her.  Since I didn't drink due to being on pain medication (and still haven't for the same reason) Rita would have me drive her home and spend the night, which I did for a time.  I got to know her kids and they adored me as I did them.  The youngest was deaf and thrilled to have someone outside her family who knew Sign Language.

One night Rita REALLY got drunk.  Finally, I got her to leave.  Only there was a problem.  My car didn't start.  Though I could reach the pedals and drive her sports car without using extensions, technically I wasn't supposed to.  Unfortunately there was no way to remove my extensions on my car without tools which we obviously didn't have.  Rita begged me to drive her car anyway.

"Well whash could go wr-wr-wrong?" she said. "Aww, come on Shadelaide, we've jus' got to get home!  My k-k-kids...hiccup...shwill be waitin' ups for ush.  How elsh can we...hiccup...do thish?"

Thankfully we didn't have far to go on a country backroad.  After some silent prayers on my part I drove.  And then...

"Shaydelaide, I wanna shmoke now."

"NOT NOW!"

"Oh but Shaydelaide, I...hiccup...NEED a shmoke!"

"You're going to wait!"

"Yesh, mam!"  As she attempted a salute and accidentally whacked me in the face.🥴

Then she got all teary and mushy on me.

"Shaydelaide, do youse know yoursh the b-b-bestest friend I...hiccup...have eversh had?  Yoush r-really are."

"That's sweet."

"Shaydelaide, can I shmoke yet?"

"NO!"

"Uh oh.  Shaydelaide...hiccup...I need to pee."

"YOU'RE GOING TO HOLD IT!"

"Yesh shir!!  I mean...hiccup...your majusht...your majush...oh hell...your highness-sess.  Uh, Shaydelaide, what am I shitting on?"

"You're sitting on your coat."

"Uh-oh...hiccup...I think it-est wet."🙃

We made it.  That was the most crazy drive I ever made.  And the last with Rita.  

Though the word for this is called an intervention now, this is what her kids and I did by seizing the moment the next day.  We knew she needed help. 

 

I told her drowning her sorrow in alcohol was making her kids feel like orphans because she was lost in drinking.  I also shared how she could scar them for life if she didn't get a grip on herself and acknowledge she had a very serious problem.  We understood why she was drinking, but she was letting it destroy her life and her kids who needed her.  From that moment she got sober and changed.

She still swore and smoked like crazy though but we were all thrilled she wasn't drinking anymore.

Soon after a theatre needed me and since Theatre Scene Design had hold of my heart, Selah and I galloped off to yet another bright new chapter of my journey.  

Everyone hated to see me go.  Even the Adjutant General himself begged me to stay.  Said the base wouldn't be the same without me.😂

For a time I kept in touch with everyone.  Rita eventually married again and life was good for all.  Said I would always be the best friend she ever had.

"Adelaide, you really saved my life and gave my kids their mother back.  But you know what?  I still cannot remember how we got home that night."

"That's WHY I intervened."💫  

"And why we are all so grateful you did."

Three Adelaide Bits...

These are little pieces not long enough for a blog entire, yet still funny and interesting (I hope) to share...🐎💫

In my blog piece, "To See A Doctor," I told the amazing story how Dr. Kopits, renown orthopaedic surgeon for Little People became my doctor.  What I didn't tell in the piece was how I nearly injured him...

Many of my doctors often ask me to press my hand 

or foot against their hands to determine how much strength or neurological movement I have as all my surgeons did prior to seeing Dr. Kopits.  

So Dr. Kopits and I were seated in chairs close together directly across from each other.

"Now Adelaide, press your foot against my hands as hard as you can."

"Uh, Dr. Kopits, shouldn't we do this with me on the table pressing down on your hands?"

"Don't worry, this way is fine.  Give it all you've got."

"Okaaay..."

Immediately Dr. Kopits came to the conclusion that 

with me being both a horse person and doing a very physically demanding job for decades I was far stronger than many of his patients he was used to seeing.  For when he insisted I show him how much strength I had in my right leg I gave it all I had as requested. 

Again keep in mind we were seated very close directly across from one another...

Let's just say had he not reacted as fast as he did my foot came extremely close to making contact with a region of his male anatomy.  

Very highly unintended on my part I must say.😳

For a very brief moment Dr. Kopits, his nurse, and I were at a loss for words.  However if you've been reading this blog for awhile you will not be surprised by what happened next.   Yours truly burst into laughter.  They burst into laughter.  All three of us dissolved into uncontrollable laughter with tears streaming down our faces.

"Dr. Kopits, you did tell me to give it all I had!"😂

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 seldom been defined by being a Little Person I still am trapped in this painful broken body which constantly gets ridiculed 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 a hell of a fun journey too regardless of how I came packaged.🐎😃🐎

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 have been really something.  However, my parents in typical fashion took one look at my poster and said it was terrible.  I was so crushed I almost didn't even try to submit it after working so hard on it.  Apparently the judges really liked it though because I won!  My poster was a very colorful matchstick with arms, legs, and a face which was in flames.  I had it seated on a pile of trash and he was holding up one hand 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 came very close to not submitting because it was so "terrible."🙂

Years ago when I was working at a huge performing arts center complex The Ringling Brothers And Barnum And Bailey Circus came for three sold out shows.  They arrived two days before to set up.  The arts center complex also contained shops and restaurants.  One day backstage I nearly ran into a Little Lady who was a clown.  As I approached her with my hand extended to meet her  she bolted away.  One of the average size clown ladies told me the Little Person had already been aware of me but felt embarrassed because she was "only" a circus clown.  Apparently some Little People told her she was demeaning herself and all Little People by being a clown like her parents and grandparents had done.  I asked if her friend would give her a message for me.

"Yeah, sure honey, I'll be glad to!"

We went to a nearby coffee shop and as we had a cup of coffee, I briefly shared my journey as the lady jotted things down on napkins.

"But most of all tell your friend this...she has nothing to ever feel ashamed about.  She is not defined by her dwarfism or being a clown.  That if she is happy doing this (which she was actually), she has already attained far more than many in life do.  Tell her never to let others have the power to take away her happiness or make her feel less than what she is."

The next day the Little Person and I saw each other briefly as she was dressed as a clown rushing to do a performance, but she went out of her way to show me a very happy face and heart sign.  Then she gave me a very enthusiastic thumbs up I returned back to her with a huge smile and heart sign.😃👍💫

                          

Purpose...

 A life without purpose is like jumping off a cliff and THEN 

trying to build wings on your way down. 

 ~Ray Bradbury

Kindness Passing...

I shall pass through this world but once, 

If there is any kindness I can show, 

Or any good thing I can do, 
Let me do it now, 
For I shall not pass this way again.    ~Grellet

People seldom know this about me but I am partially deaf.  I have had such severe ear problems several surgeries were needed.  Unfortunately the violence I lived with as a child caused pieces of the mastoid bone to break off deep inside my left ear.  Surgery was unsuccessful.  

Not knowing how much worse my deafness could become, as a young adult I learned Sign Language and lip reading which have brought unexpected blessings along the way.

Some of the best are when I have encountered a deaf person having trouble communicating in places like a hospital where I would be.  Imagine their joy and relief when I happened to be there too and could help.

The best ever experience was when I moved to a new city into a apartment across the hall from a dear elderly lady who was deaf.  I had heard she was a very sad, lonely woman and shunned people but no one knew why.  One day I decided to introduce myself to her when I saw her in the hallway.  She pointed to both her ears and shook her head "no," indicating she was deaf. 

What sheer joy came over her face when I began "speaking" to her in Sign Language!  She could hardly believe finding someone who could communicate with her, and for her!  She was overjoyed! 

For the remainder of Laura's life I was her lifeline.  Even the one who found her after she passed away.  For the final time I communicated on her behalf with the police and coroner as she had entrusted me with everything that was needed by them.

When Laura discovered someone who opened the window of communication for her, she became a different person, joining get togethers and casting her isolation aside.  Her world changed and others got to see her in a whole new light.

We never know what a powerful gift kindness can become until we share it, because you see my dear ones, therein lies the power of kindness.  

                                                                       

That Day Of 146 Tornadoes...

In 1974 a very astounding rare weather phenomenon unleashing one hundred forty-six tornadoes in less than twenty-four hours happened one horrific spring day many of us here will never ever forget.

I was especially reminded of this quite recently as a very powerful storm system unleashed tornado warnings as the shrill tornado sirens were blaring while I hunkered down in my bathtub...waiting.🥺

On 3 April 1974, an extraordinary weather event rapidly unfolded forecasters had never seen before or since.  Three volatile weather systems were about to collide.  

Right over Kentucky.😱

Before the National Weather Service could issue the first tornado warning they began touching down.  The first hit near 3pm and continued one after another, AFTER ANOTHER all through the night.  

A horrific total of 146 tornadoes touched down in Kentucky and six other states with the majority of them in Kentucky.  There were even FIVE Category 5 tornadoes which are the most deadly and destructive ones imaginable.

The first tornado was a Category 5 which plowed into the small town of Brandenburg, Kentucky, wiping it off the map.  The other two Category 5 tornadoes plowed into Louisville where I was living then and the small town of Stamping Ground, Kentucky wiping Stamping Ground off the map.  Few of the tornadoes were lower than Category 3 which are considered to be extremely dangerous.🥴

In an earlier blog I told about my friend Ella who owned the florist and gift shop where I worked as I finished high school.  This was also where my artwork was being sold too.  We heard on the radio when the tornado that hit Louisville began its path of destruction in the southern corner of the county.  It was 4pm.  

Another thing about these tornadoes is they stayed on the ground a long time which was very unusual and why they became even more destructive.  Louisville's tornado was on the ground approximately 25 minutes and traveled over 30 miles crossing the Ohio River which tornadoes never do without weakening.  Not this one!  It kept going far into southern Indiana cutting a terrible swath of destruction before finally dissipating. 

Because it was near time for rush hour traffic to begin Louisville had a police officer pilot who monitored traffic from a helicopter.  So due to his safe position he was able to give a non-stop broadcast where the tornado was hitting and the horrific destruction he was seeing.

It hit Churchill Downs home of the Kentucky Derby yet thankfully spared the Twin Spires.  Still it took out empty horse barns, destroyed the landscaping, and did other significant damage.  Then the tornado completely destroyed Cherokee Park.  In one moment thousands of trees a hundred years old or more were gone.  It also destroyed the water plant which supplied all of Louisville's water.

Ella and I were in the north eastern part of the county and had gone outside.  The massive tornado could clearly be seen slowly heading northeast.  At that point we were about ten miles from the tornado's path yet could hear it's loud roar.  We saw debris swirling high up around it and the many sparks and fires from power lines and gas lines as it destroyed them.

We just stood there a moment quietly watching this thing...just totally transfixed.😱

"Holy shit, it...it is so HUGE!" I said when I finally had words.  

Ella said, "I've never known one could be this...uh, so...so...big."

"I doubt anyone else has either."

Then it turned somewhat.  Our direction.

"Ella, don't you think we should go to the basement?"

"Hell yes!  NOW!"😱

The roar was intense, the building violently shook, power lines snapped, windows broke, then it shifted continuing on the same north eastward path it had been on sparing us further damage.  The power went out.  But thankfully we still had the radio.  And batteries.

By then the National Weather Service knew Kentucky was really in for it and we were ordered to remain where we were if it was safe.  But suddenly "safe" seemed quite elusive in light of the many more tornadoes which kept touching down all around us.  Some in the same places already hit.

All through the night police, fire, and ambulance sirens kept blaring.  The National Weather Service had to keep blaring its alarm on the radio too, over and over as tornado after tornado struck.  They urgently had to keep repeating again and again, "Take cover NOW!  I repeat, TAKE COVER NOW!"  Even national radio programs broadcast during the night cancelled their regularly scheduled programs to focus instead on Kentucky.   

Obviously we, nor most of Kentucky slept.  

The tornadoes continued well into daylight the next morning.  Kentucky was forever changed.  Hundreds were killed.  Thousands lost everything.  Schools, everything closed.  Those of us who lived through it were forever changed.

Two tornadoes hit close to the farm where I boarded Selah.  Thankfully the horses were fine.  Just part of the barn roof was gone.  However it was days before I could even get out there because so many roads remained impassable due to fallen trees and power lines.  

Louisville was a horrible mess with huge destruction.  Video was taken the next day from a helicopter showing the whole path the tornado took.  It was astounding.  The path made by the tornado was not only so very long but a few miles wide too.

It was the same in Brandenburg and Stamping Ground where the two other Category 5 tornadoes struck.  Not even counting all the other tornadoes that hit Kentucky and beyond.  The little town of Xenia, Ohio just across the Ohio River from Kentucky was also hit by one of the Category 5 tornadoes.  It too was wiped off the map with a large loss of life.

As in all situations like this good comes shining forth.  Since this tragedy struck only three weeks before The Kentucky Derby there was talk of having to do the unthinkable...canceling it.  Though the famous tulips were all gone it was the other severe damage at the track everyone was concerned about and the daunting task of repairing it in time.  Then a very amazing thing happened.  A plane from the Netherlands arrived in Louisville loaded with tulips.  So dear.  And that settled it.  The Kentucky Derby would go on.

One very serious thing officials realized in the aftermath was how lacking a warning system we had for tornadoes.  Immediately a change happened.  A huge one.  Even the other tornado alley states like Kentucky took notice of what was done and changed their own warning systems based upon ours.  Hundreds of tall tornado sirens were installed throughout the whole state so that no matter where anyone is in Kentucky, if a siren goes off it is heard because there are so many of them strategically located from one end of the state to the other.  And they have saved lives many times since including mine.  In addition Kentucky has always invested in the latest weather technology regardless 

of cost.   

Hopefully Kentucky will never experience another day like The Day Of 146 Tornadoes ever again.  

And Adelaide too.

Your HOTWALKING Adelaide...

HOTWALKING ADELAIDE?!!

Before anyone begins thinking hotwalking means "lady of the night," uh...NO.🤔  

Rather instead think horses...  

Back in the 1970's as I was finishing up my Theatre Scene Design program I suddenly found myself a bit detoured by my first spine surgery when I was at the age of nineteen.  Unfortunately complications during surgery necessitated my learning to walk again.  Yet true to my indomitable spirit I did, even inspiring a few others along the way too.

During this period since I had been unable to work I desperately needed income so I could finish school.  And keep my horse Selah.  I just had to find temporary work in the midst of all this near school.

At racetracks one can almost always find work and be paid each day too, by working as a hotwalker.  You see racehorses are exercised or worked each morning beginning around 3-4am.  Backstretch life comes alive early every day.

Usually while horses are being worked grooms and other staff are mucking out the empty stalls while each horse is out.  Grooms are also very busy saddling up each horse getting it ready too.

After a horse has been galloped it gets hot.  It must be walked to cool down which is when hotwalkers are needed year round.  It may first be sponged down a bit to remove sweat, then hotwalked for thirty minutes or longer.

Those without experience with horses never last long.

As I have touched on here before, a horse immediately knows if a hooman is inexperienced and it will always seize the moment to either escape or to show the hooman a thing or two.  Horses can be very good at this.

Obviously when I showed up at 3am one morning, Chuck was first shocked to meet someone shorter than jockeys are, then had concerns if I had any ability handling a horse.  I came prepared.  I brought a photo of me riding bareback as always at full gallop on Selah my horse.

Chuck told me later he still had concerns about my being able to handle young Thoroughbreds...that is until I was given my first one to hotwalk.  A feisty colt with only a leadrope.  

I am going to let dear Chuck, the best backstretch boss one could ever have tell you what happened next.

"'Dere I wuz watchin' Miz Adelaide cuz I wuz afeard dis job might jus be too much fer her an she shor enuf 

sho-ed me!  That dere colt lifted her right on up!  We rushed ovah dere.  Heah she wuz calmlay hangin' in thuh air holdin on to thuh haltere askin us tuh hand her thuh leadshank with thuh brass chain."

"So whut did ya do?"

"I han-ded her dat leadshank!  An do ya know whut?  While she wuz still hangin in thuh air she took dat chain, hooked it on thuh haltere neah thuh colts ear, den putz it in itz mouff den thru de othah side of itz haltere jus lak a pro an BAM!"

"Whut happened?!!"

"She had dat colt in her powah!  An she walked it!  Nevah had anothuh problum wif it!  Nevah saw enythang lak dis in all muh yeahs a doin' dis.  Dat laydah shor has thuh Magic, I tell yuh."

After that any reservations Chuck had about my being able to handle these horses were blown away.  He saw me handling them very gently, yet with a kind firm hand only as needed to help remind them I was in control.

One morning around 8am a man named Sherrod showed up seeking to hotwalk. 

Chuck told him, "Son, fuh one thang ya gotta sho up heah by 3:30am tuh do dis werk.  An ya sho caint come heah duh-ressed inna shirt an tie cuz dey will git 

ru-unned!  Why ya come duh-ressed lak dat heah?"

"Well why not?!!  How dirty can one get walking a horse?"

"Son, why is ya needin tuh werk heah?"

"Not that it's any of your business, I kind of got in trouble gambling and need money."

"Son, has ya eveh walked a horse befoe?"

"No, but if that midget and you black people can do this, I sure as hell can and I'll do it even better too!"

Instead of having Sherrod tossed out on that Chuck told him to go get a horse out of a stall and walk it over to where we were.  In that stall was a filly.  

Have I mentioned yet about the large carts loaded with manure from cleaning the stalls?  This one hadn't been taken to be emptied yet.  Some of it was quite fresh.

Sherrod barely got inside that horse's stall when it lunged at him riping a huge section out of his shirt with its' teeth.  Unfortunately for Sherrod, when he backed up to save his body from having the same fate as his shirt he fell backwards into the horse manure.  DEEP into the manure.

Lucas who was near, first closed the stall to keep the filly from getting out, then gave Sherrod a hand freeing himself from his stinking predicament.  It was terribly difficult to keep our composure even if he had it coming for being so rude.

Still we gave him clean towels to remove some of the manure.

A contrite Sherrod decided the job just wasn't for him, then even mumbled something about wishing us all well as he left.

Interestingly none of the rest of us ever had a problem with that horse.

I fit right in with the backstretch gang and so loved my time with them all.  Worked there for nearly two years as I finished school.  But the time came for me to do my theatre internship and begin my career.

The guys so would have loved it if I could have stayed but certainly understood why I needed to move on.

So your hotwalking Adelaide became Scene Designing Adelaide.

On The Wings Of Discovery...

Often there are times in our lives when we may 

find ourselves trying to understand our inner self 

as we wonder who we are and where we're going.  So often the deeper understanding of ourself will come right on the wings of our toughest challenges when our journey may seem darkest.  

Yet remember, it is darkness that makes stars shine brightest...

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.  

This deep abiding courage of mine though is to not lose heart but to always keep surviva-soaring the fight of my present by pouring as much positivity into my living as I can with a gratitude attitude. 

However I hit a place where I was not depressed, but because I continually had to surmount so many very tough challenges since I was three I suddenly realized I was tired.  And I really did not know myself.  I had not had a chance to.  I knew I was a surviva-soarer, full of love, humour, optimism, and had a lot of boldness.  Yet who was I beyond these?

Self understanding often eludes us no matter who we are.  To be able to grab it we need to reach that place within where we really WANT TO attain self understanding before it is ours to hold.

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 found himself at the same kind of place too 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 of my life had been spent fighting the challenges of dwarfism coming from 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 just 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.]

Screwing This Up Is Not An Option...

I have always tried to find ways to keep humour in situations.  And since I spent a huge amount of time in hospitals with doctors, they often were on the receiving end...😂

When I had the spine surgery that came very close to permanently paralyzing me, I had a orthopaedic surgeon with a sense of humour as wicked as mine.  We would often humorously banter back and forth with each other.  This is the same dear surgeon who was operating on me when thirteen hours in I suddenly began bleeding out during surgery, which was not his fault.  And who cried two days afterwards in ICU on Christmas Day when we discovered I could only move a few toes, because he felt so bad for me.

This is also the same surgeon who came to the emergency room when I had my first ever accident with a horse.  Bashum and I were galloping across a field when we disturbed some huge grasshoppers, and one suddenly flew into Bashum's eye.  He stumbled west and I went flying high east...with my tailbone taking the brunt of my landing.  

As I somehow managed to drive myself to the emergency room I feared two things:  that I either seriously injured my spine which surgery had been scheduled for at Christmas, and/or my dear surgeon was going to kill me.

He came into the room laughing.  Hard.  Very, very hard.  

"I heard you went flying and had a rough landing!"

"Well the flying high in the air part really wasn't 

too bad."  

Still laughing hard, he said, "And you fractured your tailbone.  In TWO places!  Most people only fracture their tailbones in one place, but you tend to go the extra mile."

"Well, I like to think BIG, you know?!!"

Though he obviously always had concerns about his unique patient flying across fields on her horses bareback, he loved how I wasn't defined by the dwarfism...and was one hell of a fighter.

Anyway, prior to the Christmas spine surgery, I had made a sign and laminated it.  I wanted to have a moment of fun even though I knew I would have already been knocked out.  So on the morning of the surgery I attached the sign I made to my back with surgical tape hidden by the hospital gown.  No one knew it was there.  

It wasn't until after I was on the operating table all knocked out that they turned me over.  My surgeon opened the gown only to suddenly see in these huge block letters: 

"DON'T SCREW UP."

I was told later it took everyone several long moments before they could quit laughing and regain their composure.  

My now retired dear surgeon kept the sign and still treasures it.🐎😃🐎💫

A Step Forth In Faith...

Whenever you may 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.

The Rare Gift...

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 from "To The Lighthouse" 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, laughter, 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 what we CAN do is strive to nurture the rare gift of listening within ourselves.  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.💫