I have lots of heroes and people I look up to but some are more "heroic" than others. The couple that tops the list is my mom and dad, Paul and Ginny Simmons. If they've ever wavered, I haven't noticed. I know they're human and subject to the same mistakes we all make but when it comes to raising their family they're always on target.

Mom and Dad have raised 5 kids to adulthood, actually to senior hood; all but one are over 50. They've been married for 68 years and live in the house we moved into in 1961. We all go there on a regular basis because we like their company. Even the grand kids who can drive stop in to visit and take advantage of their homespun wisdom. Now don't get the impression I'm describing Ma and Pa Kettle, far from it. They're modern thinkers who enjoy good company, good scotch, and a good joke. They can discuss world affairs or a grand kid's latest heartbreak. They don't live in the vacuum so many of our elderly citizens retreat to.

Mom and Dad taught us by example. Kids don't always hear what they are told but they always see what's going on and that's the behavior they'll choose to model. Mom was the MOM and Dad was the DAD and we were the KIDS. Everyone knew their parts and the lines never blurred. Mom and Dad worked as a unit, there was no divide and conquer.........ever.

By watching them we learned solidarity, honesty, compassion, and courage. Racial or economic biases weren't tolerated. They gave us room to develop as individuals. We were never pigeonholed or expected to behave the same but we were expected to behave.

I never feared that they would stop loving me just because I did something stupid or made a bad choice. That's what growing up is about. The path from adolescence to adulthood is a minefield and they helped us maneuver through it. When we stepped on a mine and had to deal with the explosion they were there with sympathy, or wisdom, or a just punishment, if that was what was required. We were expected to learn from these errors and avoid them in the future. Sometimes that happened but sometimes we were doomed to take a second run at it. As you'd expect, a second or third run at the same dumb behavior met with different consequences. Mom and Dad are fair people, but impatient with stupidity.

I think they are amazing people, and not just because they are my parents. They set a standard for dignity and independence we'd all do well to follow. I'd be lying if I said I don't worry about Daddy mowing the yard and Mom going up and down the steps but my admiration for their spirit and courage outweigh my anxiety for their safety. As children they never wrapped us in cotton and they trusted us to make sound decisions. Now it's my turn to give them the same respect and trust.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda

There are four words or expressions that send me into orbit. I'll bet you agree. They are:
1. WHY didn't you .............?
2. You SHOULD .................
3. Here's what you NEED to do.
4. IF I had...............
When used under certain sets of circumstances these four unfinished sentences can make me spontaneously combust. It's not because I'm a sensitive shrinking violet. In fact, it's quite the opposite. We are all guilty of this at one time or another but that doesn't make it less annoying.
First off, if I don't ask what I SHOULD do, I probably don't want your input. Let's say it's cold outside and I'm barefoot. I know I SHOULD put on shoes but if you aren't my Mama, mind your own business. Maybe I like the way the cold grass tickles my toes.
In that same vein, if I'm barefoot outside and I step on a bee or a sticker, don't ask me WHY I didn't have on my shoes. I just didn't, okay? I made the decision to go shoeless and now I'll pay the consequences. You asking me WHY won't change anything.
Don't tell me what I NEED to do, about anything! I probably know that I NEED to do whatever it is, but don't want to. If it isn't threatening my health or yours don't worry about it. Even little kids know what things they NEED to do to survive. A mature adult with many life experiences doesn't want to hear, "You really NEED to drink the spring water from the fountain downtown." This might be true and I might come to that conclusion on my own, but in the mean time, leave it alone.
Then there is IF. I do not like the word IF. Those two little letters can and have toppled governments and families. IF I had bet on horse A instead of horse B I wouldn't have lost the money. IF I hadn't lost I would have won. IF I hadn't changed my bet I would be rich.
On the other hand, IF is an important word, a word that alerts us to consequences. "IF I don't get to the airport I'll miss the plane." "IF I walk into moving traffic I will be killed by a speeding motorist."
Listen to yourself. Try not to be one of the "shoulda, woulda, coulda people."

Meet Pete

Meet Pete. He's my cat. Pete is a Manx. He's bob tailed and his back legs are a little longer than his front legs so he looks like his back end is jacked up. That is a normal characteristic of a Manx cat.

I was going to make him an indoor cat but that didn't last long. It was clear that I wasn't going to "make" him anything he didn't want to be. A small space and an athletic, determined cat is a recipe for disaster. I've managed to make every pet I've owned needy and neurotic but Pete just won't buy into that. My job is to feed and water him, open the door, and pet him IF he wants to be petted. Otherwise, back off!

This is actually a good thing. While he's curious about visitors, he doesn't harass them. He likes men better than women and after his curiosity is satisfied he goes on his way. We've all tried to visit around an obnoxious, insistent cat so I'm glad Pete is like he is.

Unlike Levi, who had to have constant monitoring and attention, Pete just wants to be left to

his own entertainment. It's almost too easy. If he's in the condo when I leave, fine. If he isn't, fine. He's usually on a porch chair when I get home, ready to go in for a nibble and a nap.

I sit on my porch and watch him making his rounds. His nosiness gets him in trouble sometimes. One day he came home smelling just awful. When I got close enough to him I recognized skunk scent. Horrified, I locked him in the bathroom until I could go buy something to bath him. Petco told me to go buy tomato juice and drown him in it. I put this unhappy cat in the bathtub and poured a couple of cans of tomato juice into his fur. By the time we were done the bathroom looked like a CSI murder scene. I had tomato juice on all four walls, the floor, the mirror, and me. It took longer to clean up the mess than it did to clean up the cat.

Pete is a good hunter so I keep a bell around his neck. In spite of that he's brought me a squirrel and several wrens. This makes me sad but I can't fault a guy for doing what he's engineered to do. Right now I'm watching him very closely because we have a couple of bluebird houses with eggs on the nests. One of the boxes with eggs is on a light pole out front and he'll climb up and sit on the box. The daddy bluebird guards his nest and divebombs at Pete while Pete swats at him like King Kong swatting at airplanes on the Empire State building. The real danger will come when the babies start trying to fly. I can't sit and watch a bluebird box day and night but I'm making it my business to monitor it as much as I can. Life in the wild is tricky business and Pete is a tricky guy.

Levi

I've resisted writing this since March 19, when I had to have my 14 year old rat terrier, Levi, put to sleep. Lots of times I skip the poignant, "My old dog died," stories in memoirs or essays. They're too painful. Now, here I am, writing one of my own.

Levi was 6 weeks old when I got him. I had to pass a rigid inspection before his owner let me take him. She was the receptionist at our vet's office and I knew she'd be watching me. Headstrong and energetic, I was no match for him. I was under his control in nothing flat and it didn't change for 14 years. I belonged to him, not the other way around.

When I sat, Levi sat on me. When I crocheted he would be on my lap, burrowed under whatever I was making. We slept curled up together, Levi under the covers. I don't know how he kept from suffocating sometimes.

A doggie door in the Benton house and a fenced yard gave Levi the freedom to come and go at his own pace. We didn't have to do the leash thing or let him in or out. It was easy. Then we moved to the lake and I became his virtual slave. He actually adjusted quite well to condo living. His advanced age gave us the advantage. He wasn't too interested in exploration and didn't fight his leash. We walked miles and miles around our complex several times a day and he became the doggie darling of our neighbors. But dog walking is very time consuming and I had to factor in that time when I had to be somewhere. I couldn't leave him alone too long or he'd set up a howl that was annoying and embarrassing. We live on top of one another over here and a yapping dog can drive sane people to violence.

So, I couldn't leave him here alone when I went to work. Every morning I drove Levi to Benton and dropped him off at Mom and Dad's. Then, every afternoon I stopped by and picked him up. Yeah, it was doggy daycare with Mawmaw and Pawpaw. Thank goodness they could do it because I don't know how we'd have managed otherwise.

I quit working in July and that helped. I made sure I wasn't gone too long at a time and he slept more hours than he was awake. His health steadily declined until he wasn't even Levi anymore but we agreed that as long as he wasn't in obvious pain we'd let nature take its course.

Sunday, March 18, was D-day. We don't know what really happened but it was terrible and we knew it was over. Being Sunday made things a bit more complicated. Our vet's office was closed and I really wanted her to take care of him. He'd never seen another doctor and I couldn't let a stranger do something this important. I called my niece, a vet in North Carolina, for advice. She told me I could give him a little of my pain medicine to make him more comfortable and get us through the rest of the day and night. She assured me that putting him to sleep was my only alternative if he didn't die in the night. Monday morning Levi made his last trip to Benton. It was a long ride home without him but I took comfort in the fact that he'd had a very good run.

I miss him like crazy.

And the winner is....

My boy Blake didn't win American Idol but his career as a singer and entertainer is launched. After a two hour marathon of songs and commercials Ryan Seacrest announced the winner. Jordin Sparks, a long legged, dark eyed beauty from Arizona was officially named American Idol for 2007. Blake was a gracious "loser" but we haven't seen the last of him. The American Idol phenomenon has jump started lots of careers in a field where it's tough to get a break. I expect he'll have a CD on the market before the end of the year and I'll be there to buy it.

The good life

I've been retired since July 17, 2006 and my life is a whirlwind. It took me a little while to get the hang of it but I've discovered the secret to adapting to freedom. Leisure time isn't leisurely. This might be an arguable point to an average working stiff so I'll explain what I mean.

I'm the half of the couple who lives without time constraints so any errands or mundane chores are mine. Going to the post office, making beds, errands to the court house or marina, they fall to me. I regularly go to Benton to visit Mom and Dad, and there's my volunteer work at Garvan Woodland Gardens. Between these duties I must squeeze in reading novels, working crossword puzzles, trying out new crochet patterns, and discussing world events or literature with Buddy over an Amber Bock. All of the above activities are done on my porch with its incredible view of the lake. Now that it's summer I have the added responsibility of riding my Sea-Doo around the lake, checking out the new construction and exploring coves and inlets.

What's my point? No one's life is ideal but right now, in this moment in time, mine is pretty darn close to it. I don't take these blessings for granted. My parents are alive and lively; a joy to visit with and a weekly highlight for me. The beautiful gardens give me a sense of usefullness and a like minded group of people to interact with on a regular basis. Novels and crossword puzzles were guilty pleasures to be indulged in when the work was done. The same thing with crocheting. Now I can do any or all of them whenever I feel like it. Living close enough to my big brother to share a beer and regularly enjoy one another's company is worth more than I can express.

Over the years Debbie and I discussed and dreamed of the life we have now. We hadn't figured on cancer being our catalyst but it has been. I guess I can call cancer a backwards blessing. If I hadn't gotten sick we might still be slogging through a daily grind, losing sight of what matters. Cancer forced us to assess our priorities and make major life changing decisions. I never expected boats, docks, marinas, windy conditions, and Bass Pro Shop to figure so prominently in our daily lives. We are lucky women and we know it.

Conspiracy theory

During fits of paranoia, I'm convinced that there is a cure for cancer but for reasons known only to it, our government is withholding the information. Think about it, cancer is big business for insurance companies, hospitals, and countless merchandising enterprises. Without breast cancer, how would they unload all those pink ballcaps? Cancer kills enough people every year to make it an effective population decreaser. And its targets are random. We're all affected. No one group can cry foul because cancer is an equal opportunity agent.

I figure insurance companies have the most to lose if cancer becomes curable. I pay over $500.00 a month for health insurance and then have to fight with them about what is covered at any given time. I've been working on getting a PET scan payed for since March 2006. Dollar value? $3,633.00 Peace of mind? Priceless to me, so if I have to pay it, I will.

PET stands for positive emission tomography and it is a nuclear medicine medical imaging technique that produces a three dimensional image or map of functional processes in the body. It detects changes within certain tissues or organs early, often before disease progresses and is important in determining neurological conditions, heart disease, and the spread of cancer. How about that for an idea?!

In a sane world insurance companies would require these scans. I think, in the long run, they'd save money and lives. In the last 11 years I have cost Blue Cross thousands of dollars but I have paid their premium every month since I was 23 years old. That's 33 years and I'm just one person! Do the math. They're still ahead.