"10 Years From Now" - 6 Years Later.

Reading old blogs - seeing photos I posted sometime ago - ... I ran across this old blog:

http://sim1says.blogspot.com/2010/10/in-ten-years.html

In October 2010, I wrote my "ten-year" blog.  Let's cover the highlights:

• In 2020, I will be mom (and step-mom) to 28, 27, 25, and 24 year old children who will not so much be children anymore.  I'll be 44.

• I'm quite sure I will have traveled east.  I seem to travel west a lot.  I will (hopefully) have finished my book and I will spend much debate on whether anyone will read it. 

•  I will have that convertible.

• I may - maybe - might - be a grandma by then and I have decided that I don't want to be called "Grandma" or "Memaw" or "Nana" - I want to be "Bootsie."  Yes - you read that right and if it makes you giggle or 'pshaw' just a little then you get the point.  I like it.  "Bootsie"

• I am quite sure that I will have traveled to Germany to see my German Cookie and her parents.  Maybe I'll have learned a little bit more German - maybe not. 

• I will not give one flying flip about the dust.

• I will paint more.  

• I'll listen to all of the music that I want, not worrying that someone asks to change the song AND I will attend many more a concert.

It's day one of 2017.  I am 40.  2016 brought me opportunities beyond anything I ever imagined possible.  Standing in front of real (and many) Klimt creations.  Feeling the ache of so many Van Goghs.  Embracing the Alster with sparkles in my eyes - they were tears, but the very best kind.

I'm amazed at the kids - all of them.  They are the biggest reminder of humility and humanity.  They're all just so good.  I'm so proud of them.

I still haven't made it to the Eastern US (did go to Chicago though - the year that they became World Series Champs) - but I sure did make it over the pond to beautiful parts of Europe.  I'll work on the Eastern part of the US over the next four years.

I have a jeep (that counts as a convertible in the summer) - that I drive in National Parks, over mountain passes and through tall trees that embrace me with presence.

THANK YOU, MEREDITH, CHRISTOPHER, AMANDA, ROB and MELANIE for not making me a grandma before I was 40.  But I still like the idea of "Bootsie"

I have traveled to Germany - I have fostered every bit of love possible for this family that never knew we were supposed to be family until a fateful August 2007 day.  I'm going back this year to see Melanie married... and my soul smiles.  (and I know A LITTLE more German)

I don't care about the dust.  I'd rather spend my time learning, reading, walking the lanes of beautiful Helena, Montana... dust is character.

I do paint more - I need to paint more still.  I LISTEN TO ALL THE MUSIC THAT MY HEART DESIRES!  I dance wildly when no one is looking - and sometimes they are looking... and I really don't care if they are....

.... I haven't worked on my "book" since 2010.  For some reason, I just felt like I didn't need to tell the story anymore.  I want to live it.

Ever one to try to sum up the whole - 2017 is my continued effort to foster my simple goal... "... she lived..."

There's no resolution.

Just life.

My wish for you is every moment lived, every possibility to love - and don't forget to pepper your life with every opportunity to create random acts of kindness.  You will change this world.  (It's true.  I promise.)

Much love.
- Simone

Kissing A Fool

https://youtu.be/abZsORenPTA

You Are Simone.

You are Simone - you do not moon.

You Sun and you Stars.

You sway with tall trees while diamond light captures your shadow.

You call the seas and walk the old paths of new adventures.

You sit in fields of gold and watch the butterflies chase.

You do not chase.

You are Simone - you do not moon.

You Rocket and you Galaxy.

You teach by action. You love by action. You live by action.

You wade barefoot in cold waters - mossy and deep.

You seek the unpaved and search for the direction up.

You do not look back.

You are Simone - you do not moon.

You Comet and you Universe.

You draw line and color because your soul directs it.

You dance with hands aligned with the airy notes of tune.

You accept the face of challenge and bless its being.

You are Simone.  

You are of the Divine.

...

A reminder to myself.

The Grace of Color

A few months into my Montana 2014 move I went to the optometrist.  A new patient, I had to fill out all of the paperwork - wait around the waiting room - browse the spectacles - you know, your ordinary visit to the optometrist.

A man in his late 40s and a young boy - maybe 8 - exited the exam room.

Got back to see the OD - and he seemed distracted - not anxious - not unprofessional - just... deep in thought.

Looked over my chart.  Looked into my eyes - shined the light - "look over my shoulder," he directed ... and then he handed me these cards.  There were 6 or so cards, and they were different colors, with circles that formed number combinations.

Like this:

I read off the numbers (in the case above, 74) and handed him back the cards and he looked at me and said, "I've been an optometrist for over 25 years  - that test you just completed I performed on a little boy that just left here.  He didn't read the numbers.  In fact, he asked me if I could give him glasses that would make him see color."

The little boy was colorblind.  He could see - but he couldn't see colors.

I distinctly recall walking outside and staring at the very blue sky of Montana and the white snow capped mountains which are a wondrous cornucopia of shades of grey, blue and purple.  I took a very deep breath and felt thankful for color.

Some days - weeks - I get wrapped up in "the solution" part of life that I forget to balance it with the blessings.  Today, I watched snow fall in the early dawn that sparkled like glitter - and tonight I looked around me and saw blankets of white wonder, people in bright coats with yellow shovels moving the heavy blankets aside - and for some reason - I was struck by the color of the shovel... and then remembered the little boy.

I live in the grace of moments that are recognized and unrecognized.  I live a life filled with vivid, bright color and need reminders that I should not take it for granted.  Just color.  Just yellow.

Just right.

It's cold in Montana.  There is snow e.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e. - and I love it.

May you recognize your own moments of grace.   May color be a reminder of the amazing (and often unrecognized) parts of your life.

Much love - (like so much your heart smiles...)

- §

Blogging First in the Last Part of 2016

It has been some time since I've posted.

I think I write a lot in my head right now.  Whole blogs of Simone-isms and thoughts.

... just felt the need to blog today.

...

First I need to say - Hey - Universe.  I remember.  I remember and I'm thankful and grateful.

Here I am again offering myself - I'm open.

...

This year has flown by - light-speed holds nothing on 2016.

It's December and I haven't blogged all year - does anyone remember a time when I blogged sometimes twice a day...

This year I turned 40. This year I went to Vienna, Austria.  I walked the same streets of Beethoven, Brahms, Mozart, Strauss, Freud and my beloved Klimt.  I drank coffee in cafes and watched people strolling, walked in palaces, got lost on the subway, rode the prater - drank wine with waiters calling me "madam" and stood in the midst of old Vienna turning in circles and grinning.

Don McLean's song "Vincent" played through my head the entire time I walked through the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam and I felt this strange kinship with the frantic works before me.

I danced with my hands waving over my head at the Baltic Sea - wildly letting the wind blow my hair and letting my soul soak in the sea.  Accountable to none and loving all.

I stood in awe of Brandenburg Gate, ached for those affected by the Berlin wall, listened to the most beautiful street music in Amsterdam, Luneburg, Berlin, and Hamburg.  I was introduced to Goslar, Germany - a city I feel like I've known for the centuries it has stood.

I fell in love - mad, passionate, heart-aching type of love with a city and people half a world away.  I celebrated the 25th birthday with a young-woman whose family is every bit of my family - blood of my blood - heart of my heart.

My 40th birthday was my walk-about - one of many - to remember that living is about just that...

Living.

....

My living is a lesson of yearning.  (happy sigh)  How. Very. Fantastic.

Yes, indeed.

Much love to you.  That Simone-calm-frantic-living-patient-anticipating kind of love.

§

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)