Growing Up Ronnie - and These Further Truths

One of the most influential people - would be my Nana.  My mother's mother.  (by adoption - that's a whole other story)  Nana was a complex, amazing soul and she was - in the years that I knew her - the poster child for Southern Baptist living.

My grandparents - Nana & Papaw - were avid and vocal Republicans.  In the 80s they donated various funds to the Reagan efforts of election and I remember a framed signed photo from 'Nancy and Ronnie' thanking my grandparents for their financial support to the Reagan cause.

How very glamorous in my young mind.

I grew up.  I made various choices - I became rather independent minded and it drove my grandmother crazy.  I was not/am not always right in my direction - but I try very hard to balance my own heart with the belief that I have been raised.

In 1996, I could vote in a Presidential election for the first time.  I was 20.  I watched debates.  I read the paper.  I tried my best to educate myself ... and I voted for Bill Clinton.  I did not (do not) consider this a fault.

Telling my grandparents - however - that admission on my part showed how quite unaware I was to the political differences and opinions of those I love.  They didn't talk to me for a month.  (However, these were an extraordinary couple who, when I disclosed my pregnancy at the age of 14, they were amazingly supportive and loving...)

Politics - man, how they divide us.  Politics/religion/financial class - these are - throughout history - dividing measures for much of society.

"Us and them," - these are dangerous lines. Often we buy into this prescribed version of 'reported' current events and history.  Maybe we hold ourselves afar from other religious beliefs or we cater to the media's version of fear and indoctrinated hate and suspicion.

I can't be part of this.  I won't be part of this.

I am consistently thankful for the diversity of individuals who have crossed my path.  These real life interactions have molded me - and  I realize my voice may often be the minority of my small world paths.

These - though - are my truths:

• The religious readings of every system speak of extremes that we would not allow in a civil society.
• I am a sinner of proportion past redemption - and yet - this is exactly what I'm offered. (Redemption.)
• I know "felons" who are some of the most admired people in my life.  I would give my all for each one of them.
• Love, in any form, is the light of this world - better check your anger, bigotry, and homophobia. 
• We cannot allow a world where fear invades the following: protection (2nd Amendment), free speech (1st Amendment) - and here - without Bill of Rights and Constitution - respect for your neighbor.

I'm incredibly - and always - verbal.  It's because of my true and very real belief in you - each and every one of you - that I'm this way.

And, frankly, I love being this way.

May love and light grace your paths.

- Simone

22 Years Ago - Mom

22 years ago today I got a life changing, bone-jarring phone call.

"Your name is Simone Frigo."

"Yes."

"Is your mother Nicki Hite?"

"Yes - is she okay..."

"Ma'am, I hate to tell you... but..."

The rest was a roller coaster of letting everyone else know - calling - finding - comforting...

Her parents, my Nana and Papaw, were on vacation in Ruidoso at their cabin.  I had to call the church in Lovington, New Mexico so my Great Uncle Joe could find them.

Jimi - my oldest brother - literally challenged me and then ran out the door - trying to outrun the truth that our mother was dead.

Joe - my second to oldest brother - laid his head upon my dining room table and wept.

John found out from our aunt and uncle at the military school he was currently attending.

... I was just 17.  Just.  It was 6 days past my birthday - and I was dealing with moving her body from San Angelo to Abilene.  Getting in touch with Grandma Eva - my mother's birth mom - coordinating people - comforting friends who were my age but had known my mother well - comforting my grandparents - arguing the place of mom's burial - she never said anything good about New Mexico - I could not allow her to be buried there.  Agreeing to a casket - ... it was hell for a seventeen year old.

My husband, Robert, was watching over me - mentioning, "you need to rest... you need to sleep..."  How could I sleep?  How could I rest?  My mother was dead - I needed to take care of people - I needed to take care.... of...

Her.  I have blogged ad nauseam about the relationship with my mom. Her death changed me - her life changed me.  We switched rolls often - and I will venture to say I knew her better than most - and likely more than I should have.

I miss her.  Still.  22 years later.  I miss her laugh - I can't tell you how many times she and I would be so tickled by something that we were rolling with tears streaming down our faces.  I miss her writing.  She saw the world so differently - in a good way.  I wish she could see all of her
grandchildren - she only met Meredith - because she would be as proud of Jimi and John as I am - they have beautiful children.

She would have, likely, tried to talk me out of moving to Montana.  Change wasn't her strong point - and change with chance was downright intimidating. Secretly, though, she would have been really proud of how I make a decision and just go with it.  I did not become the woman dictated by her past - but I am strengthened by every single bump, hill, and mountain.

She was a daughter, a mother, a sister, a wife, an aunt, a friend, a writer, a kind soul, a haunted past, a singer, a cousin, a comedian, a daughter - and so much more than each of these titles will tell you.  She was married, divorced - married - and God love her - she was, most days, just trying to survive.

I write that - "God love her" - it's a phrase I use often.  But - here - it carries a different meaning.

She believed in the grace of God.  She was a sinner who believed in the mercy and love of her Savior. With the very few consistencies that she instilled - she did make her love of the Lord very clear and the importance of our choice in spiritual path - hoping that we would find our way to Him.

22 years.  That's more than half my life.

Nicki Dianne Hale Hite Simpson (Mary Gibson) - we honor you today.  We love you.

Love,
Jimi, Joe, Simone & John
(and every single life you touched)

Father's Day Adventures - Traveling Opportunity

Montana has molded me into a soul that discovers.

For that matter, since I've arrived in this lovely 41st State of the Union, I can't help but search for the road that goes "higher" or those roads that are unpaved.

But this is not the story of Simone.

Today, Father's Day, JT and I wandered up a known road - trying to find paths that we didn't  take the first time around when, much to JT's frustration, we happened upon a bicyclist who slowed our progression.  JT didn't want to pass him because we had already seen multiple ATV riders on narrow curves - ... so the jeep slowed... and slowed... uphill...

"Wait til' this next turn," I told him.  Then you can pass.

And we did... and we both glanced at this bicyclist - wondering, 'what in the world is he doing this far, this high up... '

And we kept going.

Nearing a clearing in the woods, continuing up the mountain, - we stopped to let Dexter run.  After 20-25 minutes I glanced behind our parked, bikini-less Jeep and said.. "Look.  There he is again."

Walking now, his mountain bike alongside him, was the man we followed and passed before.

He called out, "You wouldn't have any extra water, would you?"

... A side note, for those who have not traveled with me...  I pack like we're going into war, or the forest, or Carlsbad Caverns, or the Grand Canyon, or... just go with me...  it's how I'm made... I'm predispositioned to be the person who packs with "what if... " in mind...  

"Yes, we have water," JT called to the man.  And so they worked out filling a bit from the ice chest and and a bit from our water reserve.

The stranger mentioned, "There aren't many signs around here.  I think I missed my turn to Lincoln."  JT glanced at me - I looked around.  We have learned that most Montana folks don't typically take well to correction or direction - we explained we were recent transplants from Texas and JT offered the man one of our blankets (stored in the back of the Jeep) - he declined, thanked us for the water and continued UPHILL on his way.

JT and I loaded up Dexter, looked forward at the bicyclist and discussed, "Lincoln is not this way."  "Not on this road."  "Do you think he can fit in the jeep with his bike?"  "Think we can get Dexter in the front and he and his bike in the back?"  ...

I said, thinking of the determined men and my own determined soul - "Let's just go and we'll keep our eye out for him..."  And so we did...  We went up and up - on old paved roads - on roads that took us to the first Mason gathering of Montana (1862?) ...  We walked around, took photos, scolded Dexter for moving logs to get mice or small animals .. and then we headed on our way...

And then... we saw him again... passing....

"You sure you're okay?"  "It's going to rain soon."

He said, at the top of this mountain, "I'm okay, I have a down-sleeping bag here..."  He pointed to a pink bag covering a pack on the back of his bike... for that matter, he had a pink bag protecting items on the front of his bike... and pink and silver strands on another area...

"Okay... "  "Be safe," we offered...

As we drove past, and JT decided to travel a road that was not of my choosing, we discussed the man again... "Do you think he'll be okay?"  "It's awfully cold up here..."  "Did you notice the pink?"  "Maybe it's for breast cancer awareness..."

I mentioned, "Did you see the camera he had recording us the last time we passed?"  "Was that a camera?"  "Yes, yes it was...."

And so we drove on - discovering roads that we have never traveled upon, drops of rain falling upon us ... "Look," JT mentioned - "there is a great camping spot."   A few miles down the lane - crowded with trees, bushes, flowers - we look to the left and another camping spot presented itself.   Soon - a mile or more - we see a more traveled road and look left and right  -   "Right" we decide, and off we went.

There were areas of cattle - lots of calves with their mothers, cattle guards, more calves, more mothers - a few bulls - another cattle guard - we realized a spot left of another T in the road and pulled over to take a break and do what nature requires.... about 10 minutes into our looking around and breaking I look at the crest on the rise we just crossed and ...

"There he is again!"  We both watch as the man on the bike worked his way through the calves and their moms - he crossed the last cattle guard and then peddled our way...

"Is it dinner time?" he called....  JT and I both waved - smiled... welcomed this man that we kept passing and worrying over along this day's adventure.

He told us his name.  He was, in fact, recording part his adventures for a movie he was making.  There was a ride from El Paso to Alberta Canada - he had completed this ride last year, but this year decided to handle the Montana portion of the ride - his bearings were a bit discombobulated from the Garmin that was giving him great and not so great directions.  He has a wife in Detroit, a daugther in Kalispell and was quite kind and agreeable.

He listened to our story - offered us his business card - and we refilled his water reservoir.

Before he went on his way he mentioned, "Make sure you email me and I'll send you a link to the movie - you're the people who saved me on Priest Pass..."

And on his way he went...  we turned around and returned home on roads that we had already discovered...  because it's Father's Day and JT wanted to watch a certain baseball game.

... and I sit here sending our prayers and good tidings to this traveler... I wish him well, I wish him good speed, God speed ... may kind souls cross his path.

And that, dear reader, is my blog for the day.

May you always offer water, be kind to strangers, and be aware of the opportunity to serve others.

Much love - it's crazy beautiful here....

- Simone

WARNING: Incline, Laughter, Amazing Locals, Corporate America, and You

Random blog - ready?

...

True story.  You're going to laugh.  It's funny now - it was not funny then.

In my broken ankleness, I have this knee scooter thing.  You put your knee on it and wheel around pushing with your other leg.  It's not too bad - why didn't I have one of these sooner. (Side note: it was cheaper for me to just order one online than it was to do a rental with insurance.  Amazon: $170.  DME Purchase: $900 or $75 a month.)  Anywho - it's difficult to get around still, have to focus on where I'm going, take the turns, can't move too fast.

The cool part is, in the apartment building, I can scoot off fast and then take the turns with both legs up.  That's fun.

(Looking down from Mt. Helena - see the green arrow - that's where we are...)

(Looking up from downtown, Last Chance Gulch Street)


What is NOT fun - not fun at all - (but funny) is going down a slope.  Uphill or slope, not difficult, just push, push, push.... whew... what a workout.  Going downhill you have to use the hand brakes and your foot to 'skid' to a stop.

A few days ago, I decided to go out by myself.  I had not done this yet, but was determined.

Exiting the apartment - difficult because I go down a hall, turn right, turn right again - open one of the double doors to the loading dock of the apartments, have to lift the scooter up the one step to the outside, put my weight on the doors, lift, get on the scooter.  Up the loading area - up the sidewalk - think "UP" - we live close to the bottom of Mount Helena - it's a bit of an incline.

So I push off, up the sidewalk, up the sidewalk - thinking how thankful I am for Ben, the personal trainer, for strengthening my core and legs for this broken ankle adventure.  Dexter, the best dog in the world, is following me and watching me carefully.  We make it to the back sidewalk of the apartment, walking/scooting - he does his business - and after 10 minutes or so I decide to walk back.

Rolling down the sidewalk, brake - brake - foot skid - brake - brake - food skid.  Brake, brake - foot skid... too fast, too fast, too fast!

Soon I find myself out of control, the handlebars are agitating erratically and I realize...

"@#%^... I'm going down."

And I did.  I fell hard - on the cement wall of the loading dock and the ground.  Immediately I attempt to right myself and Dexter is doing his best to inspect me and ascertain my condition.

Looking around - knowing SOMEONE saw this - I wheeled back into the building, apartment, couch... and assessed my condition.

Skinned knee and palm... HU-MIL-I-ATED.

I laid my head back with a racing mind, "Who does this?"  "Did anyone see me?"  "Did I mess up my knee more?"  "These brakes stink!"  "AHHH!"

I am clumsy.  In fact, I'm the president of falling and injuring - but I sure have the best intentions in getting to the places I want to go.

This entire story - play it in your mind again - and now that a week has passed - this is really funny.  It's movie, ironic funny.

The short story - downhill is more than a knee scooter, broken ankle Simone can handle.

...

How's everyone?  May is right around the corner and there are so many plans for June, August and September.

These Montana friends have been out of this world awesome.  (Out of this world!!)  I consider myself blessed - loved - and thankful.  (Very thankful.)

...

I'm really blessed that my employer is allowing me to work from home.  My department does not typically allow the long-term work from home experience but my new boss (and former boss) made this happen.

When I started working for this company our bestest friends said, "You're not going to like it.  Corporate America is not your speed."

I think, in any other circumstance, they would have likely been right.  But, crazy enough, I get this company.   It gets me.

...

That is all.

I wish you stories that make you laugh - make you thankful - and make you challenged.

And, hey, there is crazy light and love coming all the way from Montana - close to the bottom of Mt. Helena.... which is more steep than I realized.

- Simone

Week One of Broken and Blessed - and grumpy

I have had a pity party for one this week.

It's ridiculous really.

There are people who have known pain and hunger all their life - and one week of a broken ankle and I'm an odd version of ridiculousness.

If you don't know - early in the 21st Century (it sounds good outlining it like this) - I broke my other (left) ankle many years ago.  I didn't realize it was broken at the time - I was trying to be a tough woman - so I didn't recognize the injury.

Over 8 days later an orthopedic surgeon advised me as follows: "Your ankle was broken and now it is obliterated after walking on it for so long..."  He sent me to a specialist in Dallas - the coolest doctor who had just rebuilt Emitt Smith's ankle - and then he rebuilt my ankle.

...

I am frustrated with this current injury.  I've had weeks of working out with a personal trainer - I've worked on walking around this beautiful Montana area and I've made it a point to adventure - DagNabIt - this just ticks me off.

I know I'm clumsy, and if you know, you know I'm clumsy - but I just don't have time for this.

This past Wednesday the doctor was looking at my ankle and then turned his attention to my knee.  "We'll look at the ankle now  - but next week, we'll have to look at this knee."  I must admit to sighing at him.

A funny part of this story is his request that I explain what happened when I fell...

"I fell - and then I jumped up...."

I told him - just as I've told so many doctors and teachers before...

You have 3 brothers - and frankly - if you fall - you'd best jump up and say, "I'm fine!"  ... there's no other option.

So pity party for one - I'm disliking this downtime - a lot - but I realize how blessed I am.

And, I am blessed.  I realize this.

Much love from the Montana State.

Which is currently broken - but loving you muchly.

- Simone

So many topics - SQUIRREL

Having one of those days where my mind is jumping around from topic to topic - so I thought I'd blog.

...

Anyone see the news about this "free-range" parenting concept?  Otherwise known as, raised before 1985?  In the same vein of thinking, I ran across this Time Magazine article:    http://time.com/3720541/how-to-parent-like-a-german/

We all know - or if you don't know - I'm partial to my Germans.  I say my Germans because in 2007 this beautiful 15 year old girl named Melanie, a German exchange student, came to live with a single mom in West Texas.   There are so many great stories - I'll need to start writing them down - but Melanie became/is my family.  Her parents and grandparents are my family.  My daughter spent 6 weeks with Wolfgang, Karin and Melanie and, later, I spent 10 days in Germany with them.

I fell in love with Germany.  I completely love the Stoelck family as my own - and the article hit on topics I saw with Melanie - and what I observed with parents in Germany.  I don't understand the helicopter parenting  - I think it raises extremely dependent children and that worries me for future generations.  My parents, although not a model for great parenting, let us run and explore and walk home from school - we survived and are all amazingly independent people.

I made a lot of mistakes as a parent.  (Oh, so many)  But - I hope I instilled a sense of independence and understanding of the limitless power of a "can do" spirit.

...

It snowed here yesterday.  I missed it because I was in a drugged stupor and the blinds in the apartment were closed all day.  My neighbors, co-workers, and friends continue to pour support upon JT and I: yesterday lunch was delivered, then fresh bread from a local bakery, early grey chocolate cake and a foot-scooter device that lets me scoot around with my foot up instead of balancing around and hopping with two-sticks.

It is very hard for me to accept help.  I'm learning.

...

I'm forming a blog about man-bashing - I'm tired of it.

...

In June, our best couple friends will be here with their kids.  In August, our two middle kids will be here.  In September, we'll be headed back to Texas for a Simpson Family Reunion near Waco.  I've got to get healed up so I can join in all this fun.

...

That's it.  More later - love to you from a broken, but blessed, Montana.

- Simone

Accepting Blessings - With A Little Help From My Friends

So - yesterday I fell.  This is not unusual.  I fall.

The doctor saw a fracture in my heel bone and informed me that I broke off the tip of the ankle bone.

This is not the point of this writing...

...

In Texas, should this occur, I would have Athena, Kim, Diane, Rebecca, Becky, the kids, and so many other friends and family close that, should I need something, I know they'd be there.

Falling and breaking something in Montana - what I've found - is a pretty amazing group of friends here.  ... I am so blessed.

Tonight, Jami, a friend I met through work, showed up with roasted chicken, flowers, soup and more... My department pitching in to take care of me while I'm down and out.

I've had so many offers from local Montana friends -  various forms of support - it humbles me.  It makes me less homesick and more appreciative of these great people who have crossed my path and planted themselves in my heart.

I am not very good of asking for help or accepting it - but - really - this day is a reminder that part of living a balanced life is being receptive to and accepting blessings.

...

I have lots of blog topics floating through my mind... lucky for me, I'm going to have the downtime to make those blogs happen.

Love to you.  In my drugged stupor - just crazy good love.

- Simone

Random Blog - Jeep - Daisy - Force - 100 Bucket List & More

Many moons ago, I blogged in a world called MySpace.  I blogged a lot.  Often they were random observations and thoughts.

Today - welcome to such a blog.

...

Folks.  I purchased a different jeep.  Gone is the grey Jeep Liberty - say hello to "Daisy" ...

Got her back from the mechanic today (who, by the way, thinks we got one heck of a deal) and I'm ready to put her 4WD through its paces.  A bit Southern Redneck extreme?  Maybe.  My dear husband has asked me numerous times (really, expressed sincere interest) about removing the "01" ...

Uhm. No.  It screams for a new horn, a good speaker system and a new bikini top for the summer.  (The bikini top is for the Jeep.)

...

I hired a personal trainer.  Like a guy who stands there and counts while I sweat and shake each rep.  It's absolutely fantastic.  It's hard.  The first week I thought I wouldn't be able to continue because I hurt so bad - this week, I still hurt - but not as bad!  My friend, Rebecca, and I were discussing this process and she mentioned that we are each a force in our own right.

**Que Bells**

#Iamaforce.

It's difficult going from super focused on kids, family, work, friends to ::brake squeal:: ... myself.

As I was taking a lap around the block today at break I realized I have had every excuse why I don't take care of me - gotta take care of ___________.

Note to self:  "Hey, you - work on thyself."

...

Texas.

What is up with your weather?  Snow?  Rain.  90 in March.

...

Spring and Summer are approaching - or are on my very doorstep.  I have outdoor fever.  Roads I've never found, questionable paths that prove to be gems in their own right.  Last year I found a list of the Montana 100 Bucket List.

http://www.greatfallstribune.com/story/life/my-montana/2014/04/23/a-montana-bucket-list-100-things-every-montanan-should-do/8061087/

I'll do my best - to do my best.

...

And - YOU - man - have you taken stock yet of your possibilities?

Get to it!

Much love from Montana and an ever-expanding Simone heart.

§

Age. Reason. Surely.

It irritates me greatly when people express their opinion and then tell me it's based on their (surperior) experience or advanced age.

My grandmother might have been appalled (or apetered) at my point of view, but don't tell me that your advanced years makes you wiser - because, likely,  I'll lay out my life experience to compare to your own.

Sure, sure - I may have the years that you click your tongue at... I may have the years that you don't understand -  but I am sick and tired - and fit to be tied - that my life is less because of my years.

You don't know my path.

After years of trying to be less than local opinions, I simply find that I'm quite fierce.

In fact, I'm likely to be the one who stands in front of the line to be plowed over - only to stand again.

Yes.

And yes.

You have earned every year, every scar, and every single pain and heartache.

Let it mold and meld you.

But please, don't believe your individual 365 days multiplied by what you have, gives you a creative base to launch and judge others from.

Please don't.  Please.  Even if I ended the sentence with a preposition.

I'm fierce because I survived and love in such a way - I am faulted because I lived and loved in the same measure.

I'm not close to half a decade - but I'll be damned if I don't try to live twice as long.

... venting - ventng because my young years makes me fierce.

(and I love this about my life)

(and I surely love this about you)

because -

- Simone

Nana, Meredith & Windmills

Recently we logged almost 6000 miles within 8 days time.

My husband's grandmother passed away and we traveled from Helena, MT to Abilene, Texas to White Settlement, Texas, to Denton, Texas, back to Abilene, Texas, back to Helena MT.

That's a lot of miles.

As we were traveling, I find myself searching the horizon for windmills. Not the new kind - the kind used for over 100 years in lands of cattle, ranching, and southern homesteading.  Windmills had a new meaning for me after my grandmother wrote a poem so many moons ago.

When I was gathering her writings after her death for central publication and sharing - her windmill poem really struck me - maybe it was the experience of traveling back and forth from Lovington NM to Abilene and seeing these amazing wooden structures just turning and turning against the red clay and sagebrush.

A few years ago, (maybe two Christmas' ago) my daughter gave me a Christmas gift.  It was a painting that she did of... you guessed it ... windmills.  It made me tear up because I realized she listened every single time we drove and I would point out an old windmill and tell her Nana's story from the poem.

Windmills were life - and for old ranches still operating today - windmills are often life for cattle.

Nana (my grandmother) had a windmill in her garden.  It was a small windmill and had an electric motor to assist in pulling water from the ground and I was completely smitten with it.  I loved that she often used it to water her beautiful flower garden and, looking back, how I wish I had learned more about the whole process.

Simple observations that will last me a lifetime.

I wish for you this: realizations of the importance of history - a smile from old windmills - and loved ones who will create beautiful art that remind you of the important stories.

(See Nana's writing and Meredith's painting below.)

Much love -

Simone

Wiped Clean With (Lots) of Snow - Tabula Rasa

Sunday's morning walk with my trusty Dexter has me thinking.  And, well, those mental wanderings have found their way in and out of thoughts since that walk...

If my many posts and photos on the matter haven't made it abundantly clear - there is a lot of snow in Montana. In fact, the snow that fell on Christmas Eve is still here and - crazy enough - more snow has joined that holiday snow and it stuck around too.

This is a lot of snow for this Texas born and bred gal.  I am still completely enamoured by it - and if the grin on my face is any indication, I don't see myself getting tired of it anytime soon.

The really interesting thing I find on these walks are the tracks.  The people tracks - the dog tracks - the deer tracks - the tracks that I have no idea what they are, but there is indication that something - someone - some animal - has traveled in the direction I am going.

That's comforting.

With that - Saturday night Dexter and I went for a walk around the neighborhood - something he appreciates and I paid attention to the tracks that found their way crossing ours.  Dexter's running to-and-fro leaving lots of Dexter tracks for the next person to observe.

Sunday morning, we ended our longer walk on the same path that we were on Saturday - it was snowing again - and something dawned on me...

Our tracks were gone.

There was a clean slate on the pavement before us.

I actually stopped walking and turned to look behind us - and there were our tracks again.

What dawned on me then - what continues to marvel me today - is the grace that we're given to start anew.

Some days are just hard.  Sometimes those days add up to weeks, months or even longer of hard.  But truth be told, more often than we realize it, it snows again - and our tracks are wiped clean.

That's heady.

Many beliefs have this concept deeply rooted in their history - that our yesterdays are wiped clean for today's opportunity.

We forget that.  A lot.

We have our lists to do, our things never accomplished, our mistakes carried, pasts that are never unloaded - busy looking back and forth at the tracks.

I guess - simply - I marveled at a simple reminder that I get to make new tracks - even in places I've walked before.

My wish - for you - is that opportunity to start anew, even in known places.

Much love on Tuesday - and every other day for that matter.

- Simone

Mustard, Onions and Siblings

I am the third of four children.

I have three brothers - and in the order of things, I'm number three of our four-pack.

You can only imagine the stories being the only girl in a pack of boys.  Minimal advantage - mostly, and often, I felt shorted.  These brothers of mine always got to go and do the coolest things with the best people.

One Christmas, I remember our grandparents came in from New Mexico to Midland, Texas and they had decked out our tree with ones and fives and various green backs.  The four of us walked in wowed... and then it was pointed out to me that the green hanging from the tree was only for the boys... I had the wrapped gift in the corner.

It was a silver vanity set.  I felt robbed. (Though, older now, I still have pieces of this set... so, really, who was robbed...)

Oh sure, there are the stereotypes among us.

We have the oldest - who was punished or responsible for the actions of the rest of us.  The second sibling, who our grandmother favored because she was convinced he was somehow slighted for the spacing of his birth.  The third child, the only girl - and then the baby, another boy - the runt.

We made quite a tribe.

The first three, well, we each have fire-cracker tempers - likely, the youngest of us has the same - but I've always viewed our youngest brother differently.

Lots of stories involved in and out of these ribbons of information - loss, pain and more - there are pieces that are meant for later recount... but as I was working in the kitchen tonight - I was drawn to a story involving my youngest sibling...

All four of us ended up in a children's home - I was separated from my brothers - something that left me a bit screwy... and somewhere in the on and off of the family who were close enough to be involved - my little brother and I ended up living together again with our mother...

There are many stories here - many other stories that trail elsewhere ... but it wasn't until a recent visit from this brother that I found myself aware of recalled truths...

...  It was less than a year ago - maybe the spring of 2014 - that he and his family visited my home in Texas after a long (too long) hiatus on his part...

His oldest son made a comment about not having some type of technology device and my little brother looked at him and said, "Oh, really - you're worried about a phone?  How about this?  How about you go hungry and live on Bisquick, onions and mustard for awhile?  How about you worry about stuff like that?"

I sat there - in my home, chilled and awed - and I simply asked, "You remember that?"

...

Ever see then movie Sling Blade?

Billy Bob Thornton - odd movie - but I'll tell you that when he showed a penchant for mustard, onion and biscuit sandwiches - that made the hairs on my neck stand up - it was a weird memory that wasn't painful - merely wanting.

There was a period of time where my youngest brother and I went hungry.  We were way too young and living with our mother.  I often reflect that I became a resourceful cook because I experienced this time period - but for a very long period of time... all we had was mustard, onions, and Bisquick in abundance.

We could possibly win a contest for creative cooking of these three items.

Over the years I have wondered if I exaggerated this time period, Lord knows I have a crazy imagination and memory - and I thought maybe I had made this food memory bigger than it was...

Until, John, my little brother, made it real again.

There were a few months where we didn't have milk so miracle whip and water were mixed for boxed mac and cheese.  This might be why I dislike miracle whip...

But when John said aloud what I held as a silent truth I felt the air thicken and lessen.

This is not who we are.  This is not our mark or manner - but in a very real way - our humanity is made more fragile and aware of what is around us... so...

.. so...

...

What do I draw from this?

Well, first off - I became much closer to John's children - and I was aware that he and I experienced life paths that no one else knew of...

I am fiercely proud of my baby brother, his wife and his two children.  Fiercely.

Also, I realize that we can all be greater than any past that attempts to define us.  We can get knocked up at 14, run into all kinds of difficulty, only eat Mexican food (Kelly) and still turn out - on the other side - good, well, and functioning people.

...

I still love onions and mustard.

And I am completely proud of these paths that four children took - four children who became amazing adults, parents, and friends.

We kinda' rock.

...

Much love - after another story....

- Simone

Why Post?

After my last post, I had a friend who has known me for quite some time ask me, "Why are you sharing this online so publicly?"

Writing is a salve for me.  Sharing is a reminder that we are intertwined.

Frankly, we all spend a lot of time trying to take the best photo, or compose the right line, or do the right thing for some appearance or another.

To be a Paulie-Anna storey of myself is to, in some way, wrong myself of every hard part, every trial, and every large truth that taught me a big lesson.

The best part - and this is what I have learned - we all have more in common than our bylines or random public descriptions.

We have been through hell.  Back again.  Bought the t-shirt.

And we made it.  We're still going.  Still wandering.  Still being true.

Bless you and your path - past and present.  May it strengthen you to know that there are so many options of hope and wonder.

- Simone

2015 Challenge. Shame in Truth. Homelessness.

It is no secret that I was very young when I became pregnant.  (14 for those who didn't know...)

To preface the next part of this story let me remind everyone that with hard work, much prayer, and the love of her great-grandparents, grandparents, teachers, friends, and family - the little girl born in 1992 has turned into an amazing woman in college figuring her own world out.

Blessed. But for this story - I digress.

I moved to Midland, Texas with my mother when I was pregnant.  This was with assistance from my grandparents - her parents. (who are quite possibly the closest souls to saints I've ever known...)

There is a lot to this part of the story - one day I'll write it all - but in that time frame - from the move to Midland, to the birth of my beautiful daughter there were many lows ... one being this: for almost 3 weeks - my mom and I lived in her car.

We were homeless.

A few people know this - it's not a banner I wave, nor a feeling I care to ponder for long periods of time, but truth be told, living in a car humbled me and I am thankful for the humility and foresight this time gave me. This sad experience was quite possibly the point in my life where I realized that I held a greater part in my own destiny.  I could be one who acts - or I could react to the life handed to me by others.  Acting and making my own choice(s) in life seemed rather preferable.

We survived those few weeks on leftovers from my mother's hostess job at Western Sizzlin, kindness from friends who knew her from there, and from my PDAP group in Midland, Texas.  PDAP also had a large hand in saving me - but again, that's another writing.

All of this disclosure and public writing is more to bring light to my experience and opinion of those homeless who you see and then pass by with a side glance  -  don't look too close.  It might become too personal.

It's personal.  For many.

Without a doubt, there are many able people who take advantage of others.  I know this.  (I do.)

What I will tell you, from personal experience, is this:  there is a larger group of people who feel utter pain asking you for money, help, or assistance.  Those who sleep in cold, wet places at no cause of their own - just a bad flip of the coin.

There are few things that make me more angry than the indifference to those who suffer and are in need... don't let the haves tell you that the have nots are less than - they are not.  Don't become blind to compassion and the works of every ascended Master before this time - Christ included.  Christ didn't walk beautiful ballrooms, with assistance to raise money, looking in a sterile way to help those in need.

Poverty is dirty.  Homelessness is dirty.  It is not pretty.  It's not a simple check signed, an auction item won - it's heartbreaking.

For 2015 I challenge you.  Anyone who happens upon this writing: take stock in what is real - lives are real.  There are souls who can be lifted by close touch and realization of value of their humanity and life.

Be aware.  Be real.

Blessings.  Always.

- Simone