Archive for March, 2010
This week a year ago I saw your little face for the first time as you burst into life on this planet. You have been firing on all cylinders ever since. You make us smile, demanding our attention every minute you are not asleep. Your little body giggles with mischief and deviltry. You are a wonder! I watch you as you discover the world about you unafraid to try just one more thing.
Those stairs were just MADE FOR CLIMBING, then there is the big window, where is the dog – he is always up for a game , and what is down that hallway ? If I push the drum in front of me they will think I am playing with my toys and I can make it to the back door..Oh look I can walk ( sort of)…
Your thoughts are written all over your little face, you are a joy and a spark of life amongst all the sorrow.
Gavin, your Uncle Chris wanted so much to be a part of your life. He didn’t get to spend a lot of time with you but he loved you , that I promise you .
The night you were born he was in a hospital undergoing the first of two stem cell transplants, but he was on the phone with your mummy the whole night. They traded cell phone pictures back and forth that night, he talked to her , kept her going when she was tired, making her laugh when she was scared.
“It’s a boy!!!”
Your Uncle Chris was so excited , he had great plans for you , he wanted so much to be a good Uncle. You were the first person he wanted to see when he got out of that hospital room and on April 10th he saw you for the first time.
He was a little nervous Gavin as he had never held such a tiny baby before but he held on tight to you.
Whilst your “Nag Nog”(me) stayed with him in Texas he would talk about you and what he wanted to do for you . He wanted to teach you to play soccer, ( said with your big hands you would probably end up in goal).
He bought you the cowboy belt in Texas and we went looking for a hat and he made me buy the camouflage fleece bunting rather than the blue one I was planning on.
Your Uncle Chris discovered a love of horses in Texas, and even I managed to get my more than ample rear end on one. He and I went riding through the Texas brush, but just like you -your Uncle Chris was straining at the bit to get his head down and gallop. He was strong and incredibly brave and I promised him in Texas he would always be a part of your life. I had thought in a different way than it has unfortunately turned out to be .
I knew what your Uncle Chris wanted to buy you – a horse- (well not just yet )but he said to me after that very hot ride in Texas.
“When I get through this – I am going to buy some land and a horse and I will buy Gavin his first pony “
He couldn’t keep that promise to himself or to you Gavin. He is unable to be part of your life in the way he wanted to be, but he loved you just as he so loved your mummy .
Your first Christmas had a “Chris Miss present” under the tree and whilst it was a little big for you at first you have managed to “gallop”.
I will keep my promise to my son , your Uncle Chris and there will be a present for you always from him , one that I know you and he will appreciate. Although I am not sure mummy and daddy will always agree with the choice 🙂
And on my part my little “beautiful boy” I will take all the words I have written and will write about your terrific and wonderful Uncle Chris and save them for you – because that is all I have are my words and memories but know this Gavin he also left you words – words from his heart to help you grow.
HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY GAVIN CHRISTOPHER – NAG NOG
This past week the Plain Dealer has outed one that comments on their Cleveland.com blog
Plain Dealer sparks ethical debate by unmasking anonymous Cleveland.com poster
“Anonymous online comments are linked to the personal e-mail account of Cuyahoga County Common Pleas Judge Shirley Strickland Saffold”
and this morning Connie Schultz weighed in putting “face”-book to a name:
Web site posters’ anonymity an invitation to mischief: Connie Schultz
NOTE: you can find a list of the related articles in that post.
There have been hundreds of comments by the real and unreal including mine on the Plain Dealer article:
I have posted on this site a few times , and never the same name twice because I forget my user name half the time and since I have signed in more than once , my name is always already taken whew! OH and I always use my real name when posting .
This isn’t a personal blog such as I have ( http://www.thatwoman.wordpress.com) and hundreds of thousands if not millions now have. This is connected to “professional media” and there in is the rub, we, rightly or wrongly ) expect more from you. Commenting can (and has done) led to a person who posted becoming the news through tracking back of unpublished information and possibly adding to the coffers of the PD through the selling of the newspaper due to the “news” . I would think we will be seeing this story next on one of the local news channels ( who also garner income )
Are we that comment just another way of gathering news or investigative journalism fodder?
The Plain Dealer can justify what they did , we can pro and con it to death BUT the deed is done and with it another news media outlet has added to the mistrust ( warranted or not) John Q Public will be even more skeptical .
Oh and by the way at least four others in my family have access to my email account.so who am I really that is clicking on the submit 🙂
I also broached the subject on the Tell the Editor Blog ( Morning Journal)
And “there is the rub” in all of this is that rightly or wrongly the Plain Dealer – which by its very name suggests they will deal plainly the cards dealt 😦 is a professional NEWS organization.
They are news hounds and sniff out the news, that is how they feed themselves.
Professional Blogs that are media first and foremost are still in the business of “selling the news” to us , either by subscription to their hard copy or through ads on line.
When you comment you enter into their world and are subject to their rules. It is a case of buyer beware you may end up the commodity for sale.
Tom Skoch ( Editor of the Morning Journal ) today stated :
A whole new column could be written about the need to tolerate some anonymous writings as the only way an author can express vital ideas without fear of personally disastrous consequences.
That is true in nations where dissident voices face arrest and even death at the hands of a repressive government.
But in the United States, anonymity and screen names mostly serve only the author’s desire to throw stones without risk of getting personally bruised in return. That’s a poor excuse.
If you have something worth saying, it’s worth putting your name to it.
When it comes to weighing the relative value of opinions and statements, those backed by the author’s real name are gold while those made anonymously or under screen names are feathers.
BUT ONLY IF YOU ARE PREPARED TO PAY THE PRICE OF THE AMMUNITION !!! 🙂
“In search of my son- in search of me.”
Part One – In search of my son- In search of me
Part Two – Tourjours Moi-Always Me
Part Three – Always Me – Always Chris
Part Four – In search of My Son-
Chris Ritchey – Thanks
Part Five – Dark Humour- Shedding a Light
Part Six – The Unfinished Portrait
Part Seven– The Unfinished Portrait- The Artists
(2) Part Two – Who Are We Really?
Part Eight– When Premonition Becomes Hindsight
Part Nine– When Premonition Becomes Hindsight – Part Two
THE BASILISK BACKSTABBERS!!!
As the death of my son reached out and encircled and smothered with grief those that loved him we all experienced the “I” .
“I” denotes self and with it “self”ish. We are selfish in our grief (Selfish denotes the precedence given in thought or deed to the self, i.e., self-interest or self concern)–
Yes! the I is definitely there – “I” who would fight without fear and never cry – “I” am awash with tears never before cried – “I” who have to talk through attorneys as no longer can “I” trust those that hold positions of trust in their profession no longer hold my trust. ( ironic????)
“I” have learned so much about the selfishness that surrounds a death. You would think after three and a half months I would not be discovering more damnably selfish and surprising behaviours but I have.
They come to me from the most unexpected of places and people.
Wounds that are raw and bleeding once again torn open by selfishness and a loss of trust .
Lord Byron once said
We are all selfish and I no more trust myself than others with a GOOD MOTIVE.
At least two people, in whom I had a great deal of trust, have caused unprecedented sorrow since they have made the “I” in death no longer silent I find myself “abandoned by trust “.
One – I had a premonition about, the other has blind-sided me , but both I now think about with total abhorrence and a gut wrenching sickness in my being at the mere mention of their name. And “I” am changed – not for the better” because of the “I” inflicted upon me.
I have always been a cynic and have said “I trust no one ” but I let my guard down during the worst time that can be visited upon a mother and for that I have paid a terrible price. The toll on my heart continues whilst those that have put the I in death carry on, pontificating, posturing and patting themselves on the back, whilst I share my tears with the night .
I will walk the path as laid out for me – I have learned that Jean Paul Sartre was right “Hell is other people “and this planet can be hell and even hell has its layers .
If this punishment by “whom ever” is writing the play and casting the villains of the piece is MY Karma then all I can say I must have done something vile because otherwise there is an injustice in this Karmic Justice.
I wish for the play to close and to make my exit quietly. I can only hope the villains of my piece end up in a worst place than I am at the moment.
I am no longer a forgiving and understanding person- ( I tried to be – but in recent years I have discovered forgiveness is overrated it just opens you up and exposes the underbelly to those who would take advantage.
I have learned that to truly forgive you have to understand the reasoning for cruelty and of the act perpetrated, without understanding there can be no forgiveness ….
Recent events since Thanksgiving Day 2009 have only proven to me I am not far wrong. There are those who hide behind a mask of sincerity hiding the Basilisk that is their being,leaving a trail of venemous treachery in their wake as they slither through life with their true natures kept from all but the few.
Beware the Basilisk it maybe one you least expect.
Watching the “fallout talks “ by the talking heads of the new Health Care Bill on the BBC, I was struck by one observation.
“what they are counting on is the American Amnesia, Americans go from one thing to another very quickly so in November if the economy looks better etc.etc etc……
I was curious what is this apparently national phenomenon? Is it catching ? I did a google search on this term and it has been used before
even books about “American Amnesia” is it just peculiar to Americans ?
And it seems that it is relied upon in the grand scheme of TPTB when making decisions and the timing of those decisions, in this case the Health Care Bill .
Since I know absolutely nothing about the Bill in question ( having been caught up in my own health care nightmare ) – I can’t debate the facts – whether it is good or bad in its content but I know at least one person who sighed with relief. Her take can be found here
American Amnesia ( explains a lot even in my little world)
Trust– just a little word actually, one of those “throw away “ words ,seemingly unimportant in the wonderful mind and tongue pleasing words that you can get you teeth into, as we frolic in the English language.
Trust when broken , no matter the language, is broken forever. There aren’t any “degrees of breaking trust” it is intact or it is irrevocably broken.
Trust like beautiful crystal bowl transparent in all its facets , fragile in its design, the clarity of the “ringing of purity” becomes even after being repaired nothing but a dull “thwack“ when tested. A repair unseen to the eye still leaves the sign of the break as the crystal no longer “rings true”
We all can find lack of trust and credibility in our lives – politics- governments – media – even religious icons have broken trust , it all affects us daily, but we seem to have come to expect the “thwack” in those areas of our lives and in many cases shrug it off as just another part of our existence.
Yes, we might get upset and angry but hey that is the “way of the world “- isn’t it?
When trust is broken by those that love and are loved then a crystal shard becomes
to the heart.
A heart pierced by the shards of a trust broken will continue to beat, it beats a melancholy rhythm , it is heavy and pulls at the very life it is trying to sustain.The heart has to work harder but to further pierce that heart in the name of love is not only a betrayal of the basest kind but can kill.
Come, I invite you the bearers of the “shards of broken trust” to visit my world and see those whose hearts you have pierced……………..
I have watched with trepidation as the ice and snow on the pond has melted and life begins to stir.
A few years back , after experimenting with expensive Koi and other exotic types of fish in our pond and managing to kill them all off in one way or another, I got fed up and went to the old Broadway Feed and purchased 100 goldfish that were normally meant to feed bigger fish.
In fact some of these fish are 10 years old- I kid you not . One poor little devil with a beautiful long tail accidently got dropped on the ledge when we redid the pond a few years ago. I think he/she broke its back . I fully expected to be taking it out of the pond the next morning, but I was wrong apart from having to swim sideways he/she has managed to stay alive over three winters now.
My husband has moaned and moaned about the cost of keeping the pond going all winter for fish that were essentially “fish food” .
” Lets shut down the pond and just buy more feeder fish every spring.”
But I couldn’t do that , those fish had “procreated” and had babies of their own (some of whom they ate I will admit ) but I felt responsible for them. So the pumps keep the water flowing and the “air hole” for the escaping gases has to be kept open much to my husbands annoyance.
There was always a lot of grumbling from the men in this house as I nagged at them to go out in minus temperatures to make sure the air holes were open. It is a big job to keep the pond healthy summer and winter, but it gives so much pleasure ( to me at least)
Chris actually loved the more exotic fish and would buy them., such a waste as they were very expensive and they always ended up dead.
I thought he had learned his lesson but last Mother’s day along with my tadpoles that have turned hopefully into frogs ( I know two did ) I watched as Chris slipped something else into the pond.
A Ghost Koi
“Oh Chris ! why would you buy another Koi? you know they never survive the winter”
as he mischievously grinned up at me from the water’s edge
“I needed to get this one and it’s Mother’s Day so you have to accept it “
The pond was not taken care of this fall in the same way and attention as we would do normally. No netting to stop the leaves from falling in the pond and decaying causing the toxic gasses. We only managed to run the small pump which cut in and out through the winter. Our days of despair left no desire to make sure the air holes were open . In the grand scheme of things the fish were the least of our concerns.
I watched as the snow got higher and higher on the pond and felt a twinge of sadness and guilt ( the truth be known )that my last Mother’s Day present was probably gone. I hoped the frogs would survive and I hoped that Chris would understand.
I was in Chris old room a couple of days ago. I looked out of the window at the pond , the spring sunshine was warming the water. There were flashes of gold as the surviving fish made their way to the warmth and then -a flash of silver.
I was scared to look closer , maybe it was one of the pale goldfish , we have a couple. I couldn’t bring myself to go to the pond for a better look. I can still see my son kneeling by the pond and surreptitiously slipping in that Koi .
Chris would check on the Koi every time he came home , he would ask in the hospital
“How’s the Ghost has it given up the ghost yet?”
I had told myself last summer I would look up how to keep this fish over the winter.
I berated Chris for giving me that hassle and he just grinned at me again.
would I have to set up an aquarium for it?
I got my courage up and took a deep breath and went to the pond. Yes the Ghost Koi had survived and slides silently among the gold and the dark water .
My Mother’s Day present survived and once again I saw in my mind my son’s grin .