family

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Cars, Coroners, and Cops: One for the Books

As we slowly work through the fallout since my brother-in-law’s death late last year, I’m sharing a few updates.

The revised coroner’s report determined the cause of death as cardiovascular disease. JJ died alone from cardiac arrest on his bedroom floor, a grim and untimely death. The toxicology reports came back negative, with no indication of foul play. Sadly, he appeared morbidly obese in his recent DMV photo, and he’d taken up smoking cigars. Further, anyone living in squalid conditions like the ones we found in his apartment has a five-year survival rate.

According to NCBI: “Diogenes syndrome is a behavioral disorder characterized by domestic squalor, extreme self-neglect, hoarding, and lack of shame regarding one’s living condition. Patients may present due to a range of reasons. Recognizing these will allow for earlier management of this high-mortality condition.”

Sadly, he never got help, or more accurately, he didn’t realize he needed help. A healthy person would never choose to live this way.

If you’ve read prior posts, you’ll recall that his car disappeared one day after the coroner recovered JJ’s remains. You can catch up here and here. Mike reported the vehicle stolen, and while connecting with the Department of Motor Vehicles or DMV, someone unknown to us had begun transferring ownership of my brother-in-law’s car. We were shocked.

A week later, the sheriff found the car back at the apartment complex, located and identified the suspect, and arrested him for felony burglary, auto theft, and possession of a controlled substance. He told the arresting officer that JJ was like an uncle and had given him the car for his birthday.

The car bounced back and forth between suspect, tow lot, back to suspect, and again back to the tow lot before the sheriff gave us the go-ahead to claim the car, which we did. They emphasized that the vehicle would remain “stolen” in the records until the DMV could finish investigating. We drove home with the car on a Friday and arranged to have it locked in a garage ten days later.

The car sitting in our driveway that week, especially with Mike traveling on business, made me nervous. One night, I saw a car slow in front of our driveway, adding to my fear and dread.

I wasn’t imagining things.

A few weeks later, I stepped onto our deck to get the mail, turned around, and saw three police cruisers pull up and block our driveway. At first, I thought something had happened at a neighbor’s home. Then I thought someone had died. Badly shaken, I approached the officer, and he said that he had a report of a stolen vehicle in our driveway. I explained the circumstances, and he promptly dismissed one of the squad cars, but the other two remained. We spoke to them at length. They understood the delays at the DMV but also said the car would remain stolen in the system until the DMV completed the investigation. It took me several days to shake off the trauma.

Mike promptly contacted the DMV for an update, only to find that they canceled the investigation for “lack of evidence” without bothering to let us know. With the help of Mike’s “leg work,” they reopened the investigation. Now we wait.

It’s good I committed to a sugar-free January, or I would be heading to See’s Candies for a pound of good chocolate. We all desperately want this chapter to end.

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Miseries and Mysteries and Mourning on Hold

It’s been a surreal and emotional few weeks as we work through the complexities in the aftermath of my brother-in-law’s death.

The coroner completed a preliminary autopsy, but it will be at least a month before the tox reports are in. They issued a death certificate with the cause of death pending and released JJ’s remains to the Neptune Society for cremation. Mike’s greatest fear is that his brother suffered a lingering death. For now, we have to live with the unknown.

Also unknown is the mystery surrounding JJ’s car. We learned from the apartment manager that when the police and medical examiner arrived, a man she didn’t know tried repeatedly to gain entry into the apartment. The following day, someone disregarded the “Warning – Official Seal” placed by the coroner and entered the apartment. The car and my brother-in-law’s phone and laptop went missing that day.

Mike contacted the DMV and the Sacramento Sheriff’s Department to open an investigation into the potential theft. We pondered different scenarios: Did he sell the car to this man? The car is only a year old. Why would he sell the car, his only form of transportation, and why would the guy try to register the car a week after JJ’s death? We wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but things didn’t add up.

The car later resurfaced at the apartment complex, and the sheriff came and impounded the car at a tow lot. Mike had to prepare documents so we could claim the car (about 100 miles from where we live). Before he could do that, the man who took possession of the car the first time went to the tow yard, presented his newly minted car registration, and drove the car off the lot, telling the tow yard that he planned to sell the vehicle. We couldn’t believe it.

Meanwhile, a special carrier delivered JJ’s ashes to our home. The driver showed great compassion as she handed us the cremains and asked for Mike’s signature. We had a somber moment at the end of our driveway as we thanked her and carried the box into the house. My chest tightens just thinking about it.

More mischief ensued. The bank told us that fraudulent checks had been written against JJ’s account amounting to nearly $20,000. The perpetrators wrote four checks to three individuals after his death. The bank reversed three checks, and the fourth didn’t pass through due to insufficient funds. I guess they planned to keep withdrawing as long as they could.

We heard from the sheriff again. They found the car in a public lot. They asked the driver to remove his effects and towed it for a second time to the impound lot. This time, the car was marked as stolen.

On November 3rd, we took the train to Sacramento and hired an Uber to drive us to the tow yard. We had four hours to collect the car, go to the coroner for JJ’s personal effects, go to the local post office to complete a change of address, and finally meet the apartment manager. She has been kind and helpful through it all, so we wanted to meet her in person and bring her a gift of thanks. She greeted us both with a warm hug, the highlight of an otherwise depressing trip.

When we picked up the car, we were dismayed at the horrible smell reminiscent of the apartment. We hoped to have it professionally cleaned but didn’t have time. From there, we drove to the coroner’s office to collect the items on my brother-in-law’s person at the time of death. The coroner is open to the public for just three hours a day. Receiving the contents was another emotional blow for Mike. He had hoped for a wallet with personal items and photos, perhaps a glimpse into his brother’s recent life. Instead, they handed him a small plastic bag with a driver’s license and two bank cards. Further, JJ looked unwell in his license photo, resulting in more sadness and more grief.

With that time-sensitive detail out of the way, we did a quick tidy of the car, still parked in the coroner’s lot. We filled a bag with trash and unwanted items, wiped the seats and cleared out old cigarette residue so that our long drive home would be bearable.

At 4:30 we made our last stop at the local post office and grabbed a quick bite before returning to San Jose. Mike flew to South America for a two-week business trip a day later, weary but grateful that we accomplished so much.

I’m looking forward to Mike’s return on Saturday, followed a few days later by Thanksgiving and a four-day holiday weekend. It will be a welcome change of pace and the chance to shower him with lots of TLC. Then, perhaps, the tears will flow.

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Multiplying Grief

We arrived home from Italy on a Friday early this month. Five days later, the Sacramento coroner called to tell Mike his youngest brother JJ had been found dead in his apartment. We hadn’t seen him in years.

The brothers were bereft when Mike’s parents died weeks apart in 2008; however, JJ took it the hardest. At the time, he lived on the same property as his parents, managing a small vineyard and eating meals with his folks. He never fully launched, even though he was in his early forties.

After settling the affairs, he moved to Sacramento and cut off his entire family, including his brothers, cousins, nieces, and nephews. We collectively reached out over time, but he changed his email address and phone number and didn’t respond to physical mail. I had the local police do a welfare check in the early days, and they called and said he was okay.

Learning of his death last week has torn the bandage off a deep wound. Compounding the loss, we discovered he’d been living in squalor and warned many times to clean up his place or face eviction. He had sufficient financial means to buy his own place, yet chose a different path. His apartment manager was under the impression that he had no family, unaware of our attempts to make contact. We’re devastated.

Mike’s middle brother met us at the apartment on Saturday so we could collect paperwork, personal effects, and keys to JJ’s car, mailbox, and storage unit. The investigator sealed the apartment when he left on Tuesday, but someone let themselves in the following day and took my brother-in-law’s car, further complicating an already challenging situation. We had been warned of the apartment’s condition, so I bought protective gear in advance, including respirator masks, heavy-duty gloves, and shoe coverings. We had no way to prepare, however, for the smell.

I uncovered a dead rat in the first hour. More followed. The stench of spoiled food, rat urine, and cigar ash permeated every corner. Sadness and dismay, anger, and grief hung in the air. At one point, I kneeled on a plastic lid to gather coins that had fallen to the floor. A giant rat darted out from its cover, raced by my leg, and took refuge under a stack of crates.

Bone-weary and filthy, we retreated to a hotel and later a meal. It’s been a lot to process.

We returned home on Sunday, eating junk food for dinner in the car and taking another round of showers. Mike continues to be repulsed by the terrible stench that permeates everything, so I spent Monday airing out the paperwork we retrieved, placing framed pictures in a plastic bag, and taking the washed coins I gathered from the apartment floor to Coinstar, donating the proceeds to the Red Cross.

When I close my eyes, images of the apartment appear. I’m a professional organizer by trade, so I’ve seen this before; however, it’s another story when it’s family.

Meanwhile, we await the autopsy results. When finalized, the medical examiner will release JJ’s remains to the Neptune Society for cremation. A professional team emptied the apartment of debris, and the highway patrol will continue investigating the missing car.

JJ’s death leaves us with multiplying losses: what is and what might have been. Two brothers are devastated with profound grief and a sadness that won’t soon disappear.

JJ and Olga (my mother-in-law)1968 and 1995, Francini brothers and nephews, wedding party (JJ as best man), Thanksgiving, 2008.

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Getting Things Done

I’ve been a woman on a mission for several months, clearing out our side yard, updating photo albums, and disposing of unwanted items in our garage and home.

It’s not difficult for me to let things go. I’m sentimental about letters and photographs, but not much else. That said, a few items require negotiations when married and with two sons.

Now that both of my young men have graduated from university and moved into their own space, it’s been a good time to assess. My younger son hung on to wires, cables, electronics, defunct phones, etc., which I knew would never again see the light of day. He willingly went through it on his last visit home, and just like that, 95% went to an e-waste location with just a few treasures remaining. My husband, Mike, is also a “cable guy,” so that apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. We also sorted my son’s backpacking and camping gear and donated a bag of things he’s outgrown. It feels good.

I relocated several of the photos he took in high school from the hallway into his room and had one series of pictures framed and hung over the bed. The photo series spells out SLEEP. Now, I can frame his diploma and graduation photo and put it next to his brother’s in the hallway.

The messiest job involved clearing out the side yard. Since we don’t have a basement or a usable attic, we use this side yard for storage. I have a RubberMade storage container that fits the width of the area, and we’re using it for off-season items.

I consolidated two bins and made room for both in the shed. I passed on two small patio tables and a few planter boxes to a gardening friend, and the remaining items were recycled or tossed. After years of working as a professional organizer, I’ve found ways to dispose of most things responsibly. While I’m happy to give something away, I’m not crazy about adding to the landfill.

Our water tanks also line the side of the house. I hung a piece of upholstery fabric behind a trellis, so this area is camouflaged when we sit on the garden swing.

Next up, the garage. Now that paint stores can color match from a small swatch; it’s no longer necessary to keep back-up paint. Further, I’ve learned from experience that the paint on the walls fades, so touching up a scratch only works for about a year after painting.

Benjamin Moore Paint sells tiny containers in all colors and sheens, about the size of a spice jar so that you can try a small sample with far less waste. I took eight gallons of half-used paint to a local PaintCare site, making room on a lower, more accessible shelf for other items.

With a nod to Swedish death cleaning, I unpacked four small cedar boxes with the cremains of beloved but long-deceased cats. The boxes were difficult to open, part of why I didn’t deal with them in the past, and the accompanying emotions. It didn’t feel right leaving them in a cupboard for my sons to deal with after we’re gone.

Slinky

One by one, I scattered the cremains of Slinky, Grant, Collar-Collar, and Fluffy on different days and in various areas of the garden.

It’s been an emotional journey but a cleansing one and a gift to myself and the ones I love.

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My Garden Sows Content

The sweet peas are out, but the cornflower will remain for awhile

Life is full.

Since my last post we’ve celebrated three family birthdays, Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, and my oldest son’s graduation from college. My youngest son came home from his first year away at college and my oldest son moved home mid-June. Somewhere in there we took a two-day getaway to Las Vegas after Mike finished a big work project.  Next week I leave for a long-anticipated trip to British Columbia and Alberta. I’ll be traveling with my friend Kelly, a dear friend whom I met through blogging nearly eight years ago. I am really looking forward to this trip.

Through it all though, my garden continues to sow content.

We had some brutally hot days in the low 100’s (104 F or 40 C), but it has settled down into cooler temps.  During the heat wave I arrived home to wilting hydrangeas and burnt ground cover. The flowers recovered but the ground cover is done till the rains return.

Pink hydrangea looking refreshed
Burnt ground cover after the heatwave
Burnt succulent during the triple digit heatwave
Pink hydrangea dominating the corner
On the subject of rain, we had the loveliest, late-season rain in May, bringing about larger and taller flowers, fuller blooms and a short-term delay in the unbearable heat. It was such a gift.

(name escapes me) purple flower
Miniature yellow roses, a long-ago gift from a friend
Kangaroo paw amid grasses, salvia and the last of the sweet peas
pin-cushion flowers
This gladiola grew twice as tall as last year
Gladiola closeup
I spent some early mornings this week pulling out the spent Nigella, also known as Love-in-a-mist and the sweet peas. I let both of them go to seed, reaping the benefits of a self seeded garden each spring. The cornflowers are the last of the self-seeded spring flowers. The bees are still pollinating the remaining blooms while the birds swoop in for the seeds.

Bee pollinating nigella bloom
Cornflower seeds equal happy birds
The darkest of the cornflowers
Sweet peas in rich purples, magenta and lavender
Sweet peas grow amid the perennials
Assorted sweet peas return year after year
I’ve been musing to myself that some of my garden favorites are the ones that return year after year with no effort on my part. They attract birds, bees and admiring neighbors. I get several month’s worth of small garden bouquets, and enjoy sharing the bounty with others.

Now that summer is here, our plums are ripening and the four o’clocks are about to bloom.

My miniature Hobbit garden, planted a year ago in celebration of my New Zealand friends and hosts is also robust.

Miniature succulents filling in
Tiny flower lights from Laura
A tiny violet self-seeded near the Hobbit door
Table and chairs
My miniature Hobbit garden in May, 2018
I’ve added a tiny rusted table and a few flower “lights”, a gift from my friend Laura. I noticed this week that a tiny violet has self-seeded near the Hobbit door. We’ll see how it grows.

The tomatoes are looking promising this year!

Mouse next to the Earthbox tomatoes
Three stages of ripeness
Tomatoes growing skyward
Still grayish green with the spent flowers attached
Red mulch keeps the soil warm and weed-free
Over the years people ask “is your garden a lot of work?” and the answer is always the same. Yes, it can be back-aching work, bending and lifting, pruning and pulling weeds, especially during the hot days of summer.  But the work is joyful. It’s not so much the ends but the means. I love working in the dirt, discovering new things, seeing what works and learning from failures. Working closely with nature is uplifting.  I marvel at the different shapes and sizes of the bees. I’m honored when a hummingbird comes close, inquisitive and open. I hear the rustle of the lizards and hope the cats will let them be. I laugh at myself when I’m startled by a spider, but I’ve learned to manage that fear while respecting the gifts they bring to the garden. A few ladybugs came for a visit last month and polished off the invading aphids. These are some of my favorite examples of nature at her finest.

I get dirt under my fingernails and sometimes in my teeth. Bruised knees and a sore neck mean I’ve stayed out too long. It takes me a lot longer to get up from the ground, and the pain in my hips reminds me of my advancing age. It’s all worth it for that time in the garden where I find a real connection to this earth.

Laboring in my garden sows content.

 

 

 

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A Journey Back to Blogging

I’ll write a blog post tomorrow, I thought, and then, and then, and then. Tomorrow becomes next week, then a month, while life serves up challenges big and small.

I miss blogging. My time on WordPress has yielded wonderful friendships, rich connections, and thoughtful and thought-provoking conversations. How could I be away for so long? In short, life is full.

My youngest son went away to college in August. This included helping him get ready, attempts at helping him get ready, a one-fell-swoop shopping trip and a day-long drive to Southern California.  Within a few weeks my oldest son went back to the dorms, and is now into his senior college year.

We celebrated our wedding anniversary (23 years on September 23rd)

after dinner Santana Row

After dinner at Santana Row

and ten days later I turned 59. Dear friends visited from Canada over my birthday week, including a few days in beautiful Carmel.

An alleyway in Carmel
Posing for selfies near Pebble Beach
The soothing fountain at our hotel
Pebble Beach golf links
17-Mile Drive stop
On the beach
Seagulls
With my BFF

My volunteer work at Lifted Spirits kicked into full gear. If I wasn’t working with organizing clients, I spent time volunteering in the boutique. I work two shifts a week, and I’m often there on Thursdays organizing the boutique or other areas of the program. It feels like home.  The work is challenging and rewarding. It also allows me to serve women in need in my  community. I’m learning so much as I go. My favorite organizing project so far is the computer lab. We needed extra space for other programs, so I split the room in two using an abandoned old chalkboard and a fancy shower curtain found in a drawer. How’s that for using what you’ve got?

Reorganized stationary cabinet
Computer lab and food delivery
I split this room in two using an old chalkboard and a fancy, donated shower curtain
Food donations, computer lab
I devised a sorting system for donated bras
Donated bras, color-coded for easy reach
Color-coded labels for donated bras
Lifted Spirits boutique (a table runner and a few small bins added some style)
Lifted Spirits boutique: color coded hangers including pink for plus-sizes, blue for dresses and white for the rest

Mike and I are enjoying our evenings and weekends as a couple once again. In many ways, the empty-nest blahs seemed worse leading up to the boys respective departures. It eased once I knew my young men were and getting on with life.

This past weekend we planned to fly down to see our youngest son for parent weekend. I ended up going alone. I took Mike to urgent care the night before, where they referred us to the ER. They diagnosed Mike with a blood clot or Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT). It was a long, scary night, but he’s home and receiving good medical care. He’s not allowed to fly for at least three months so we’re adjusting to the idea of possible train travel.  Mike’s not in pain and he’s able to work, so those are both a plus.

Our felines continue to cozy up the place. As the weather cools into a California autumn, I hope to haul out my crochet once again.

Tessa, my snuggle bug
Mouse keeps the puzzle warm
Tessa’s turn with the puzzle
Lindy, Mouse and Tessa soaking up some sun, embroidered pillow by Marlene H.

Meanwhile, I’m on the committee for our Front Door Communities, Lifted Spirits fundraiser in early November. I’m putting together the program, a soup recipe book, preparing a raffle item and working with another volunteer assembling silent auction items.  It’s a busy time.

Oh, and the garden I used to blog about? It’s still here. The tomatoes were a complete bust this summer, with four huge plants producing about two dozen tomatoes in all.  I planted late-season cantaloupe, only to see them munched under cover of darkness.  I did manage five small pumpkins so all is not lost in the produce department. Overall though, I feel like I lost my gardening mojo. As that tired cliché goes, there’s always next year.

Not bountiful, but definitely delicious
All the pumpkins ripened in August
Succulents along the deck and walkway
An upside down praying mantis in the Scabiosa
On the deck

Here in the States we’re gearing up for mid-term elections in three weeks. Once again our garage will serve as a polling place. Change is in the air. I can feel it.

Thank you for stopping by today. I hope you are doing well.

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How to Trim A Christmas Tree: The Tessa Edition

The vote was unanimous: no breakable ornaments on the Christmas tree this year.

Kitten in Christmas Tree

Those eyes! That face!

Our growing kitten, Tessa could hardly believe her luck. Were we really putting up a tree in the house?

We have an artificial Christmas tree that we set up in our living room the day after Thanksgiving. With the boys home from school and Mike off work, the four-day weekend is the perfect time to trim the tree.

Kitten in Christmas tree

Mike may have needed a bandage after this encounter

kitten in christmas tree

Mike and Tessa exchange looks

Like most kittens, Tessa’s curiosity peaks at the sight of anything new. So after assembling the tree, we let her explore. She wasted no time climbing into the tree for a little adventure. As Mike sat on the floor opening the branches she jumped up, climbed down, rolled around and peered out at me with excited eyes.

two faced kitten in Christmas tree

I’ve got my eye on you

From now on, when I hear the expression “lit up like a Christmas tree” I’ll think of our tiny terror frolicking through the limbs. Who needs lights when you live with Tessa?

Well…we still wanted some lights. Once she lost interest we strung the lights and the boys carefully chose the soft, unbreakable decorations to hang low on the tree. I gave it a second pass, and moved up anything that hung too low. You have to think like a kitten. We unplug the lights when we’re away, and nearly two weeks in, all is well.

kitten in christmas tree

Tessa gymnastics

two faced kitten in christmas tree

She may never come down from the tree

If Tessa’s likeness were a tree ornament, they might look like this.

Heat Map Tessa
Soft-focus Tessa
Neon Tessa

Do you celebrate Christmas? If so, do you also decorate a tree?

Tessa's back side in the Christmas tree

The End

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It’s Kind of a Long Story

I was out-of-town for a couple of days visiting my friend Marcia in Santa Rosa. When I got home Friday evening, Mike said all was okay, but that he and my son thought they were hearing things.

“Things” they said, sounded just like a cat’s meow coming from inside Mike’s car. The sound was neither loud nor repetitive so they chalked it up to a song playing through Mike’s phone. Mike drove our son to school Friday morning, then drove across town to work. Late that afternoon they both heard it, but again, couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Shortly before I walked in the door, Mike heard the sound coming through the living room wall. Our living room faces the back wall of our garage.

As the two of them finished the story, the three of us traipsed out to the garage and stood listening for a tell-tale meow. Nothing.

At this point, Mouse the Cat started demanding “where-have-you-been-how-dare-you-leave- town”, circling the wagons so to speak. We took a 15 minute walk around the block, an evening ritual that leaves kitty tired and content. We’ve grown used to the stares and comments by now and when asked simply joke that we’re “walking our dog.”

Back home, my kitty radar had piqued. If there really was a cat in Mike’s car, I needed to know. I suggested we sit quietly in the back seat for a while and just listen.

As an aside, I wonder sometimes what things look like to a casual observer: “Oh look, Mike and Alys are sitting in the garage in the back seat of Mike’s car having a chat.”

Within minutes, we both heard the meow. It seemed to be coming from the front of the car. Mike drives an electric car called a Tesla. It’s assembled differently from a traditional car, so when you pop the hood where the motor would typically be, there is an open storage space instead.

We popped the hood…and found nothing. We searched the interior of the car, the trunk, the front compartment, and I even crawled under the front of the car to see if there was an access point we’d missed. There are two holes under the carriage of the car, but neither one of them large enough for a cat to gain access.

We coaxed and cooed and called “kitty-kitty” to no avail. Somehow, somewhere a cat remained trapped somewhere in the inner workings of the car.

I felt sick.

My son Googled “cat stuck in Tesla” and he got a match. Sure enough, someone captured this video of a cat as they freed it from inside the inner workings of the car.

It’s a different model than ours, but suddenly it seemed possible.

It was after 9 now on a Friday night so there was nothing further to be done. If there was a cat inside the car, it had now been in there for over 12 hours. We left food and water under the car and went to bed, sleeping fitfully.

We drove to the Tesla Service Center in Santa Clara Saturday morning and expressed our fears. They were terrific.  While we waited for the auto mechanic to arrive, two of the service professionals drove the car on to the lift to expose the under carriage. We heard a meow!  They worked quickly to remove one of the wheels and several surrounding parts, then started to remove the covering from the bottom of the car. When the mechanic arrived, he approached the problem from a different angle, removing the lining of the front compartment and several bolts. This exposed a shoe-box sized opening (the auxiliary battery compartment) above the electric panel and one frightened little cat.

I swooped in, nabbed her and immediately placed her in our cat carrier.  Deanna, one of the service technicians escorted me into a quiet waiting room while the team re-assembled the car. Talk about excellent customer service!

Tesla Service Team

Diana, Jimmy and Jake, Tesla Service Team, Santa Clara, California

My son was anxiously waiting at home. He asked the night before “if it’s a cat, can we keep it?”  I blurted out yes, before conferring with Mike, but I needn’t have worried. The desire to keep the cat (before ever meeting her) was unanimous.

It was love at first sight for the lot of us.  Here she is, the little darling, two minutes after her rescue.

kitten in a cat carrier

Safely ensconced in a cat carrier

It’s a holiday weekend here in the states, so our vet won’t reopen till Tuesday. We’re keeping her isolated from Mouse and Lindy till we get a well-kitty checkup, but the rest of us can’t keep our hands off of her. She has a lovely purr and enjoys nuzzling around our necks. Our little darling is a beauty, too, with soft gray kitten eyes and the loveliest markings. Look at that face! She must be quite young but she’s eating solid food so she’s old enough to be away from her mother.  Our postal scale says she weighs 24 ounces or .7 kg.

Tessa, 7 weeks old, in my sister’s arms
Papa Tesla
The sweetest face
Sharon meets Tessa
She likes to stand in her food bowl
My son made her a blanket nest
Playing
Looking adorable

Our sweet girl has gladdened our hearts and lifted our spirits. We’ll never know her origin story, but we’re happy to have our own story to tell. Welcome to the family, Tessa.

PS: Do you remember this post from February: Loving Cats, Real and Imagined??

Pauline King quote

“It really grew like that? Then it must be a message from the fairies – isn’t it special! I love it! Maybe they are saying there is another kitty on the way ….. 🙂 ❤” – Pauline King, February 11, 2017

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Once Upon a Time: My First Thanksgiving Day in America

fall colorsIt was 1966. After a three-day train ride through the cities and countryside of America, our family arrived in Northern California. As newly arrived immigrants from Ontario, Canada, we didn’t know a soul.

Why we arrived on Thanksgiving day is a long story. My parents were smart, hardworking people, but neither of them had a formal education. They wanted their girls to get a college degree. California seemed like the land of opportunity, especially for my dad the horticulturist. The plan was to finish the school year, sell our house and come to California. The house sold, we said our goodbyes and we gave away most of our worldly possessions. Then we hit a snag. The US government delayed my father’s visa while they continued to research his background. Dad was a British immigrant first, moving from England to Canada where he met and married our mom. Long story short, we were not allowed to immigrate for another five months. We stayed in a hotel at first, then later with a relative. From there we stayed in the home of our former babysitter and finally rented rooms in the home of an abusive man. These were traumatic months for all of us. We were homeless in a way, straddling uncertainty between two countries. Dad took odd jobs while we waited and our savings kept us going during the wait.

Memories are a fascinating thing. Our brains record everything, but our hearts seem to decide what we recall. The highs and the lows often play out, with the minutiae of daily life lost to the ether.  I remember the brief layover in Chicago. Mom bought us a kit of paper chains to keep our hands busy during the wait. We traveled by coach, so no berth for sleeping. We took turns draped across our mother’s lap. Three days on a train is a long journey when you’re seven.

We arrived in Loomis, California on that wet Thanksgiving day in 1966, welcomed into a stranger’s home. The man who would be my father’s co-worker invited us to dinner! Most of the details remain a blur, but I remember sitting on the floor of a small, warmly lit room watching an episode of Star Trek with a large, lumbering dog nearby.

There were many dark days ahead, but in that moment I felt safe and warm and welcomed, one immigrant family to another, in a vast, complex country called America.

The names and faces of our hosts that day are lost to history. But in my heart I’m thankful for that gracious family that opened their doors and hearts to ours.

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Vintage Postage: A Daughter’s Love Letter and a Blogging Giveaway

daddy's easel

Dad’s easel hangs in my crafting area with special photos

Today’s post is a bit of a departure from my gardening antics. It’s a love letter, a giveaway and a way to celebrate my dad. He died in early August, 1969 at the age of 54. I was nine.

This year, things are different. I’ve worked many hours with a caring and knowledgeable therapist, reaching in to the dark corners of my confusing childhood. My willingness to do the hard work finally paid off. I’ve been able to integrate the vulnerable girl I was into a strong, caring adult. Through Fran’s guidance, I’ve arrived at a happier place.

Will you celebrate with me?

Eric Milner

Dad's Landscape Drawing_0001

Eric Milner Landscape Design

My father, Eric, had lots of hobbies.  Outdoors, he gardened, spending hours working with his hands to shape our beautiful, Ontario garden. He dug a small brook along the garden path to collect water and snow. The garden brimmed with flowers and in the summer, garden vegetables and fruits. I tasted my first cherry tomato from his garden. My sister Sharon and I would race around pinching the snapdragons. Dad taught me why bees are important and why you should never hurt one. Mom gave me a pair of spoons so I could dig in the dirt under the kitchen window while dad played in the garden nearby. There are many cherished memories of our home in Canada.

During the winter months, dad worked on his indoor hobbies. He built a wooden model of the Golden Hind. He painted, collected coins, made home-made movies with his Super 8 and he collected stamps from around the world.

Daddy in India 1941

Dad in India

Born in Oldham, England, dad studied horticulture and design. He lived in Darjeeling, India for many years where he worked on a tea plantation. He was a captain in the army, and worked as a translator. After the war, disillusioned with life back in England, he moved to Ontario, Canada. There he met our mother on a blind date.  According to Mum, she didn’t want to go. Her friend convinced her that my dad was a good dancer so she went. They married a year later.

Mom and Dad on their wedding day

Mom and Dad get married

My parents moved to California in the fall of 1966. By Christmas, 1968 dad had lung cancer. He died the following year.

My tall, slender dad loved teasing us. He would exclaim loudly at something outside the window, then when you turned back your dessert was gone. We fell for it every time. He came home from work hiding small gifts behind his back and my sister and I would get to choose which hand.  He saved extra postage stamps to encourage our own collections. He loved animals and children, art and photography, and most of all he loved us.  And of course, he loved gardening.

 Vintage Postage Give-away

My dad collected stamps from his travels and through buy and trade. Packets of stamps arrived in the mail, ready for soaking and mounting in his Burgundy-covered New Age Stamp Album.  May years after his death, Mum sold a few of his stamp albums and gave each of us the money toward college.  She saved the rest of his albums and they came to me after she died.  I’ve leafed through them from time to time, amazed at his vast collection. My oldest son took one of his albums for show and tell in grade school. Recently I sent some of his stamps to a dear and trusted friend and realized the joy in releasing them to someone special. My sister plans to make cards for her friends with the album in her care.

Here is where you come in. My dad would get a kick out of the idea of mailing these stamps around the world again. The album pages have come free of their binding. They’re ready to go.  If you look for a ‘sign’ you can find one anywhere, so for me, this is a sign to mail the stamps to you, and quickly before the post office goes broke.  I once viewed his albums as a life and a hobby interrupted. Now I see them as a gift to be shared, and as a way to celebrate his kindness, generosity, curiosity and care. Will you please take part?

Sample Pages

The stamp issue dates are mid-1937 to mid-1938.

Please make your requests using the contact form.  Click here.  This keeps the requests private and allows you to provide your complete name and address for mailing.

On the form, please request your first, second and third country of choice. Include your full name and mailing address. That’s it. Please make your request by August 31, 2014.  If I still have pages after that date, I will let you know. Click on the list of postage stamp countries to see what’s available:

List of postage stamp countries

postage stamp collage

Pages of postage stamps 1937 – 1938

What can you do with a bunch of old postage stamps?

  • Use them to make mixed-media art
  • Make a birthday card for someone special
  • Laminate them in strips and use them for bookmarks
  • Add them to a scrapbook page
  • Give them to a child and make up a story to go with them
  • Celebrate history
  • Take part in this gardening nirvana blogging adventure.

Pinterest curates some great pieces of art using postage.

Please let me know what you think in the comments, and then send your request via the contact form.  I would love it if you joined in the fun?