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Updated on January 3, 2011
Bob's House
Bob's House
I love persimmons and lo and behold, right outside the window of my room is a persimmon tree!
I love persimmons and lo and behold, right outside the window of my room is a persimmon tree!
Fresh flowers
Fresh flowers
Where I have given birth to all the blogs since August!
Where I have given birth to all the blogs since August!
Sometimes walking into the fog leads to the light
Sometimes walking into the fog leads to the light
My mountain.  She's a beauty.  I see her every day and she inspires me with her strength, her beauty, and her constancy.  She is always there and always has been since I moved to Yucaipa 43 years ago.
My mountain. She's a beauty. I see her every day and she inspires me with her strength, her beauty, and her constancy. She is always there and always has been since I moved to Yucaipa 43 years ago.
An older sister who is blind but who graces me with vision and love
An older sister who is blind but who graces me with vision and love
my two "younger" sisters who support and love me
my two "younger" sisters who support and love me
My three younger sisters who support and love me.  Candy on the far left (not politically) is difficult to explain, but she's not heavy and she is my sister!
My three younger sisters who support and love me. Candy on the far left (not politically) is difficult to explain, but she's not heavy and she is my sister!
My oldest sister (and her husband) who has loved me longer than anyone else in the family who is alive!
My oldest sister (and her husband) who has loved me longer than anyone else in the family who is alive!
Fog or no fog, I figure if I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, I will find my way home.
Fog or no fog, I figure if I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, I will find my way home.
Lucky to have people who will not only see me off on my journey but who are also willing to pick me up
Lucky to have people who will not only see me off on my journey but who are also willing to pick me up
The office.  Once again a beautiful place
The office. Once again a beautiful place
Men and women who love me
Men and women who love me
My best friend for too long
My best friend for too long
Never too late to open an invitation to LIVE
Never too late to open an invitation to LIVE
Yes, we all have grief that goes way way back
Yes, we all have grief that goes way way back
Sometimes the grief around losing someone you love just never goes away for lots of different reasons
Sometimes the grief around losing someone you love just never goes away for lots of different reasons
Let the skyblue pink be your constant reminder to open all the invitations
Let the skyblue pink be your constant reminder to open all the invitations
Don't forget that one important invitation:  Be like little children
Don't forget that one important invitation: Be like little children


Usually you get an invitation by mail, either usps mail or email. If the invitation comes in an email, you save it with all the other email, knowing full well you are going to delete all of it in six months! You know how it goes. One day you wake up and decide for whatever inexplicable reason, that today is the day, the day all the old email has to be exterminated, sent off to some non existent graveyard in cyberspace which is probably a huge file that the CIA keeps on us! I AM NOT PARANOID!

And it is about the same for the invitations that come through the postal service. You toss the invitation on a pile of other unopened mail or maybe even other invitations. You tell yourself you are going to get to it later, to open or do something with it in the future, but in reality, you have no intention of doing anything with it except to let it pile up. You are afraid to just toss it in the trash, so you hold onto it as if it were the winning lotto ticket. What is that? Surely, you are not going to tell me that I am the only one who does such weird things. Well, the truth is, someone, as you will see later in the hub, did threaten to send my name to that reality TV show! I have to be honest. In the not too distant past, I had such an abundance of piles of “stuff” I could probably have coated it all with steel like the Japanese do with garbage and built myself quite the mansion. I am happy to say that I am I improving! But more on that later.

Yes, of course, any person in their right mind, recognizes and acknowledge some invitations, like the invite to your niece’s wedding or the invite to your most valuable customer’s Holiday party, but even with those, you end up losing the time and place and the directions amidst the piles.

But then there are other invitations. They don’t come by email or usps. But just like the other invitations, we can dismiss them, toss them into “piles” of unaddressed emotional turmoil, some of which we have been lugging around for years.

I have had quite a few of these latter invitations during 2010, and I thought it might be useful to share them with you. When I finally did pay attention and respond to each invitation, the results were life changing, life changing beyond my wildest imagination. The changes were also extremely painful and the grief continues to this very moment.

The first invitation for 2010, came from a old therapist buddy with whom I have worked on a variety of projects. I actually supervised him when he was an intern. He is extremely fun and funny. Quite tall, handsome, a die hard Laker fan, gets depressed when they lose, is extremely opinionated, but nevertheless, gentle, wise, a marvelous Dad, and again, just a LOT OF FUN. When we get together, even for business, we spend most of the time LAUGHING.

So he tells me that he has stopped drinking, and his entire life has changed. I remember congratulating him and wondering to myself what more of an invitation I needed to stop drinking myself. But like the mail invitations, I tossed it on a pile in my brain of have-to-get-back-to-that- later. So that was the first invitation for 2010, and it got tossed on to the “pile.”

Then someone very dear to my heart began inviting me TO LEAVE. Whoa, that was awful. I did everything to control the situation including just refusing to leave. For months, I continued to cuddle, to let her know I wanted to remain connected. I made it next to impossible for myself to read the invite even though it was in bold letters, posted on billboards, full page ads in the local newspaper. (Not really, just making the point!)

I finally acknowledged the invitation, finally read it, finally knew it was for reals, and finally accepted it. But I was stubborn and continued to resist, and I selfishly held on for another three months, literally holding on to the very edge of the mattress, careful not to touch even by accident. I finally mustered up enough intelligence to rent a room at Bob’s house, and I moved out. That was exactly five months ago.

Within a week of moving out, I quickly realized that it was probably the best thing that ever happened to me, and I thanked her. It was also perhaps the most painful thing that ever happened to me. I am not sure if moving out was painful or if moving out was simply a gathering point, (you know, like metal shavings coming together on a magnet) of piles and piles and piles of emotional mail, of unopened emotional mail. Some of that mail dated back to birth. Yes, how did I manage not to open it?

Well, as human beings, we make survival a priority, and sometimes survival means avoiding emotional experiences that can potentially kill us, either by HEART attack, literally HEART attack or suicide, and suicide in all of its varied forms, like drinking, for example. You don’t need to put a gun in your mouth to kill yourself. Sipping Single Malt Scotch like a high class seasoned drinker with fine taste will do the job really well.

The day I moved out was Saturday, July 31, 2010. It was that day I began to grieve all the ungrieved losses in my life. The tears continue to stream five months later. The tears are cleansing and healing. They have opened my heart in ways I have never experienced before.

So that was a huge invitation, one I fought tooth and nail in resisting opening, let alone responding to. I sometimes think that perhaps I really didn’t make a decision to leave, but simply picked up my ball and went home, and home became a fairly large sized room in Bob’s house. But I think I did make a decision and sometimes, like all of us, I am just too critical of myself.

My room started out looking really homey with fresh flowers to remind me that my life was not over. But little by little, my room looked like a homeless person’s shopping cart. And I guess in some ways, I was feeling homeless. Thanks again to special people, I have gotten a grip and my room is back to looking homey, a good place to come home to, and yes, there are fresh flowers here once again.

Recently, I hired a business consultant to give me direction with my office which had come to look like all the other parts of my life, like a shopping cart. In fact, my room and my office were like identical twins at one point. The office had been not only a beautiful place where I “practiced,” but it had become a delightful refuge, the place I loved to go to for an emotional reprieve, for a time out, a place to recoup. But no longer.

The consultant threatened to have me featured on that reality TV show about hoarders. I would never qualify! I am really NOT that bad!! You can actually walk through my office, well you couldn’t walk through the rooms whose doors were always kept closed!!

It is fascinating to me that sometimes clients like an office that represents how they feel. Shambles, hopeless, depressed, dead. Dead like the office plants! So no one every complained. They felt at home. Perhaps that was good and perhaps it was not. But I took some comfort in that phenomenon. I could hear them saying to themselves, “he really understands.” Until, one of my best friends said to me, “this place looks like you’re dying.”

So invitations come in interesting packages. Like my dear friend, the first words out of the consultant’s mouth: “What happened here? What is going on here, Mr. Bradley?”

So here was a huge invitation, perhaps the biggest invitation of my career as a self employed businessman. The consultant’s kind “crew” descended upon me like the Holy Spirit. I am only perhaps half way through this “intervention” process, but even so, my clients think they are in the wrong office! One client actually searched the place looking for the familiar piles! “What did you do with them?” he asked. Could have killed him!

The more I came to terms with the impending “shipwreck” of my marriage and the more I sank into depression, the more another counterpoint movement stirred inside my soul. I started swimming, swimming for my life, beginning to stand tall and believe in myself once again. Wow, how life is so miraculously paradoxical, the stuff of mythology!

Depressed as hell and crying almost all day long on the one hand, but becoming more alive on the other, reclaiming parts of myself that had washed ashore who knows how long ago, waiting for me to show up and retrieve them.

During this time, I told only my family and a few friends what was going on. Obviously, I had some difficulty explaining my constant flow of tears to everyone else, and I simply told anyone who asked that there were sad things going on in my life, and no one seemed to need to ask any more questions. I think sometimes we can send off non verbal messages regarding our boundaries, and people will respect them. Interesting, uh?

Anywho, it was during this time, that there was yet another invitation, perhaps the most unexpected invitation ever. For some reason, I found myself comfortably looking more directly and more fully into the faces of people with whom I am at home. Perhaps because I was feeling so homeless. People like my sisters, with whom I spent a week shortly after I moved out, people like Dan, Bruce, and Andrew who had always freely said these precious words to me, “I love you.” And there were yet other people, both men and women, for whom there was a fondness is how I would have put it, but not a conscious clue that these gentle people, like my sisters and friends, loved me and would actually say the words, “I love you” in response to my “silly” question, “What is that look on your face?”

And you better believe it, these experiences of being loved from so many different people scared me, and I tried desperately to retreat to a place of “safety” or familiarity, where I could justify in my deranged mind, rejecting the “onslaught” of deep, genuine, and caring love. But I was warned on several occasions that I was not going to be allowed to return to business as usual nor was I going to be allowed to hurt the people who loved me by pushing their love away–courageous friends thumping me on the head, inviting me to experience love down into my bones and into my soul, an invitation I almost tossed into the pile of my emotional turmoil, a move, I realize now would have resulted in certain death for me, because as much as I KNEW I was loved, I did not let it in past my skin, and I looked more to my relationship with alcohol to ultimately FEEL loved. I know, pretty sad, but true.

The experience of looking into the faces of men and women who loved me and recognizing the love and then letting it in was so profound that I published the blog LOVE-BABY-LOVE.

Check it out if you haven’t already. A long read, but useful and enlightening.

There are a few paragraphs in that hub, that I want to go back to here.

I think most of us have a hard time believing that anyone could find us, find me, THAT has been quite a revelation...., in the midst of new grief, to be shaken to my senses by more than one person, shaking me till I believe they really love me. Yes, indeed, that experience of letting love in can be very exhilarating, but with it comes a gentle and precious responsibility.....When I decide to love you and simultaneously decide to be loved by you, I am answering an invitation to be accountable not only to you, but perhaps even to the larger community of people, and I am answering an invitation to be responsible enough to take care of this precious experience called love.....Loving and being loved is HUGE. It’s not particularly complicated, but it is huge, not to be taken lightly, not for the faint hearted....

If I use the analogy of a meal, I can’t just gobble or gobble up as much as I can and take home the left overs for myself later....So I am beginning to look at a kind of measuring "stick" for myself when it comes to experiencing love, either me loving you or being loved by you. Does what we are calling love bring a huge brilliant light to the space around us? Does what we are calling love make me walk tall and love even more all the other people in my "circle?" Does it increase my compassion for those relationships where I experience intense–intense–conflict and pain? Does the love shake me to the bone to loving myself, so my neighbors will be excited about being loved by me the way I love myself?! (That is the commandment you know.)

The safer I felt in these love relationships, the more I began to ask questions of those I loved. The biggest question was “Do you think I am an alcoholic? Do I look like an alcoholic?” Oddly enough, no one was willing to answer my question directly, but one person said to me, like a good healer would, “What do you think?” So yet another invitation. I was being invited to acknowledge what I already knew, what I had known since 1994 after seven years of sobriety when I started drinking again. I was being invited to go back to my therapist buddy’s invitation some nine months before.

And so I have been sober once again since September 17, 2010. Perhaps it was really an invitation from myself, harking all the way back to 1994. I relish in the reality of those parts of myself, parts we all have, that are so absolutely healthy that we will not give up on ourselves. Isn’t it awesome when you think of how we are created?

My big mistake in 1987, when I decided never to drink again, was going it alone. I have, myself, encouraged all of you to go to meetings for support, but never took my own advice. In fact one of the meetings I now attend, I specifically recommended to everyone because I had heard from others just how absolutely wonderful it is. And it is. Thank God, I finally followed my own recommendation. What the heck is that with us? We make such dynamite recommendations for everyone else!

I hate to admit this part, but what the heck. After stopping drinking and beginning to get support, I also went to the doctor and found out, if I did have any doubt, that my liver was also complaining about my drinking. I am grateful, a grateful alcoholic, that I was open enough at this time of my life to take in your love and in return, love myself, so I can live longer than I would have if I had continued drinking.

If there are any of you who wonder yourself where you are, in terms of your own addictive behaviors, I want you to know that I was a pretty good drunk (!) in that I think I masked it well. You know, I never drank during the day. I only drank after I got home. I did not stumble around drunk (well, yes I did, but late at night!), and I have been smart enough in recent years not to drive after drinking. I ate very healthy foods, drank very healthy wine and very good Scotch! I exercised regularly, walking four, five, six miles at a time.

So I was theoretically a responsible and health-conscious drinker! But I WASN’T, and my liver and particularly the people who lived with me and tried to love me, knew the truth. I was a drunk pure and simple. So my invitation to any of you who wonder for yourself, maybe the wonder, the gnawing question, IS your personal invitation to stop whatever it is, and if you do stop, surround yourself with support.

Allowing myself to be loved and recognize that I am loveable led me to yet another invitation. We hear so much about how God loves us. Such a simple statement that folks for zillions of years have talked about, been inspired to write about, composed poetry and songs about, have literally fought wars over (Ugh), and have struggled to understand. Just what does that mean?

Well, I don’t know what it means means, but I figured this profound experience of love, I was allowing myself to take in, had to be parallel to God loving me, so I began to write poetry both about my experience of love from each of you as well as my experience of love from what had to be God if there is a God. I only say that, not because I don’t think there is, but if one has to be overly logical, then the experience of love sort of caps it for me. Yes, God exists, and loves.

At first, I became critical of my poetry. Hesitant to share it, but I was nudged, as I am so often by a chapter in Julia Cameron’s book, The Artist’s Way. And so I have posted many of my poems here on Hubpages. And by the way, if your life needs changing, and you’re looking for a genuine but relatively simple and inexpensive makeover, READ Julia Cameron’s book.

One of my favorite poems about God’s love for us is You Give Us Gifts, Lord.

Another favorite, about coming “home” is To Dream.

From time to time, I am accused of enjoying making folks feel uncomfortable, so this poem probably proves their point.

For those of you who are not Catholic, a little explanation. When your ministry is to take communion to the sick, you go to the Church and take as many consecrated hosts as you need from the tabernacle and place them in a small round container called a pix. The pix fits inside a small wallet-like leather case with straps and you hang the pix "wallet" around your neck. In the Catholic tradition, according to Scripture, Jesus is substantially present in the consecrated host.
So here is the poem


After picking up
To visit a friend or two,
I stopped by the house
For another round of Jo.

I saw the crumpled covers
Inviting me back
For just a momentary fling
As I was wanting
From late night meanderings
With poetry and prose.

The temptation was too delightful
To turn down,
So under cover I went
With Jesus around my neck.

I awoke some time later
With the pix pressed firmly
Against my heart.
I was ever so refreshed.

I laughed
As I realized
I was needing to confess
I had slept with Jesus

So with that, I will wrap up. Thank you for reading to the end. I invite you to reflect back over the last twelve months (or more) and take note of any and all invitations you have received, and unashamedly look at what you have done with them. It is never too late to open or respond to an invitation. It is never too late to live because there is only THIS MOMENT to live, and obviously, if you are reading this hub, you have THIS MOMENT.

You might consider sharing in the comment section your own invitations and how you have responded to them. Someone else may need your story.


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    • vrbmft profile imageAUTHOR

      Vernon Bradley 

      7 years ago from Yucaipa, California

      Thanks for reading and commenting, Crystolite. Your stopping by caused me to reread the hub myself. It is early on Friday morning and what a great way to start my day. Again thanks for giving some new life to one of these hubs. I am not sure they are really mine, but I get to take credit!!


    • crystolite profile image


      7 years ago from Houston TX

      Cool hub that is well shared.

    • vrbmft profile imageAUTHOR

      Vernon Bradley 

      7 years ago from Yucaipa, California

      Hi Kim,

      Happy New Year. I don't think I wished you Merry Christmas.

      Thanks for reading. The invitations have been so profound this past year and especially the past five months. It is really scary to me when I realize where I might be today having missed or not responded to the invitations. The consultant is another self employed person here in town who has lots of business experience and savy and who happened to walk through the office one day and opened my eyes. Maybe they would be willing to travel. I'll ask!!!

      I don't know what to say about the relationship. Probably had we both been more honest with each other from the beginning, we may have faced the reality that our relationship would not work ultimately. That is sad for me to say for lots of different reasons.

      Thanks again for reading and commenting. Best to you this day. Heck with the year, that is too big of a time space!!!


    • kimh039 profile image

      Kim Harris 

      7 years ago

      I like the idea of paying attention to "invitations." how insightful. I'll have to give that some thought, and get back to you on it. where did you find a consultant to help out with the practice? Where can I find one of those. I don't seem them in your amazon collection below. I'm happy for you vern. I hate that your relationship wasn't salvageable. Too little too late perhaps. I'm going to drift off to sleep now contemplating invitations. Sweet dreams and warm regards.

    • vrbmft profile imageAUTHOR

      Vernon Bradley 

      7 years ago from Yucaipa, California

      You are so frigin funny and profound all at the same time. I get it about you will not take me alive. I have those thoughts and emotions running through me as well about a host of different parts of my life, perhaps not with the profound experiences behind yours. I too feel eccentric and have in the past twenty years started looking at that for myself. As eccentric as we might be, obviously we are not!! It could be those other people are the eccentric ones!!! Or it could just be, we are all alike, as you say, the same God leads all of us to somewhere. I am glad that God led us to this connection with each other. I hope some day to sit down and talk and we will find out that neither one of us have any parts of our souls that are cast in stone! It feels that way sometimes especially when one lives on the outer edges of survival for any extended period of time. Eccentricity becomes the only way to maintain sanity after those experiences. And maybe eccentricity is what made it possible for us to venture into those experiences in the first place.

      Anywho, Brother. I love you, and see you soon.


    • 50 Caliber profile image

      50 Caliber 

      7 years ago from Arizona

      Vern, like wise, I read you and don't always feel like typing then there's days you view cracks me up and just gotta, but these 2 parts were not funny, mildy entertaining most of all the fuse to a look at your self kinda thing, for me, I looked I saw normality taking shape. I look at me I saw eccentricity cast in stone, sorta "You'll never take me alive, dirty copper".

      I saw the same God lead us to where we now are, Brothers, Peace and much Love, Dusty

    • vrbmft profile imageAUTHOR

      Vernon Bradley 

      7 years ago from Yucaipa, California

      Hi Dusty

      Certainly not disturbing in the sense of you disturb me! But more in the sense that I feel really really sad when I realize what life, what war, what insanity does to us men. Not that it doesn't equally bombard women, but you have carried your share of the "load," my man. And it sounds like you have found a place to now live, but it is just plain disturbing that the general population just goes on like everything is okay and it is not and hasn't been for ever! War is a terrible terrible ordeal and in this day and age, hardly the solution. Anywho, that is what I mean by disturbing. Not enuf people are going to be disturbed by your comments!! I hope that clarifies. I appreciate our friendship.


    • 50 Caliber profile image

      50 Caliber 

      7 years ago from Arizona

      Vern, the words per minute was like those divided into about 1.5 hours, but you gotta figure left hand rolling cigarettes and funneling coffee at me but if I'd use two hands I could do better, but heck I'm in no hurry. My mind breaks off into 200 directions when I read, especially if it's deep thought reading like this.

      So tell me what's disturbing? Just curious, I type where my mind wanders and if I stopped and started a reply as I read it would get long! Cheers, Dusty

    • vrbmft profile imageAUTHOR

      Vernon Bradley 

      7 years ago from Yucaipa, California

      Hello Dusty,

      So how many words a minute was it?

      You remind me of the character, Dusty, on the Prairie Home Companion radio show. They have a segment called, "Days of

      the Cowboys."

      I enjoy your absolute honesty. I appreciate you sharing so much of what seems to have pain buried beneath it and perhaps anger as well. Altho, it sounds like you have reconciled a lot.

      You are so absolutely correct, if I cannot be at home with me, why would anyone else be? And we are ALL so connected, have so much more in common than different, and maybe even the differences are just a smoke screen, our fear of knowing we are like everyone else.

      Isn't it amazing or miraculous that you are still alive, still here and amazing for that matter that any of us survive as well as we do? It always brings me back to TODAY and looking and paying attention. Why am I here TODAY? Someone was just talking about thriving instead of just surviving. I am here today to thrive, perhaps not selfishly, but thriving in my own heart so I can be here for whoever else comes my way.

      And it is a shame, families can't play nice. I struggle with that one every day because there is so much I think I should be able to do to make my family play nice, but there isn't or I haven't discovered yet what it is I can do other than continuing to love each of them and letting go what is out of my control and praying that I will see if anything ever pops up that is in my control.

      I so enjoy your comments. They are honest, sometimes disturbing, but refreshing all at the same time. Ingredients to what I sometimes call good stuff!

      Thanks for reading.


    • 50 Caliber profile image

      50 Caliber 

      7 years ago from Arizona

      Know what I mean Vern? I found myself wrapped up reading this and had to "laugh slap my leg a step", there lies about 3 hubs of response I could type here, if I knew how, so mark 0621hours and when I'm done with this right index finger and thumb we can figure words per hour. I don't know about you but flying helo's pretty legally drunk or most assuredly stoned for uncle sam, was way different than getting caught burning a bowl as 3 dignitaries reembark for a flight to the main land after a nice 1500 dollar flight and 600 dollar lunch talking about who knows? You can take it to the bank, your pretty much done, your 1000 dollar days are over. You just wrote the only invitation you'll be getting, except the one to the blood test after swearing it was apple soaked Prince Albert in a can, where blood alcohol and cocaine get added to the charge. 3 strikes your out, clean out the locker and be escorted to the exit of the underside of the terminal and back then the golden key to the doors. So that fine car and town home along with all you could afford just went up with that puff of smoke that seems couldn't wait an hour. Then come the self excuses of flying sideways ripped on opium with 12 souls on board and all the stunts you pulled off while Charlie was trying to bring you down. All smoke and mirrors, pun intended, you were just shot out of the friendly skies by a single phone call from a silent band of white knuckling guys who couldn't shut up on the flight to Catalina. Now ready to foul their monogrammed shorts, due to the now impending crash into the water of the Pacific, that was sure to come because the passengers know why your so friendly and smile a lot. A FAA suspension and complement of a hospitalized rehab program and I was able to mount up and fly and fix just as before, 12 months, that's all, but an opportunity came along, one I was sure would never come again and I handed in my 12 months of playing right to tackle 2 true blonds naked in the kitchen floor of a crappy apartment after courting them for a few months after finding they liked to swing both ways. Still don't regret it, but I had to ask was the year a fluke? would I come straight back to life unless caught? I took a job on a ranch, keeping anyone from establishing a successful crossing to a land locked piece of ground, obtaining right of way. It was 24/7 with one weekend a month to go to the great intersection of Tehachapi. I made it no sweat and returned to a profitable career, that set me up to do what I do best. I had a plan this time, hoard my money and split, get out of town and stay out. So leaving a lot out I'd thought of putting down, I learned to live with self in this old skin and be happy there/here first. I think that if one doesn't find that spot of being comfortable, all else is a sham. If you don't recognize self, who will? If you don't like self who can?

      We have a commonality all of us, like it or not, believe it or not, we have a place of origination, God, that makes us related and a shame families can't play nice for the largest part of life, 50

    • vrbmft profile imageAUTHOR

      Vernon Bradley 

      7 years ago from Yucaipa, California

      Dean, thanks as always for reading and commenting and yes, no qualifiers!!! Sorry about your "challenges" and personal tragedy. There is a wonderful song from the musical, Avenue Q, called "My Life Sucks"! A great song and a great musical with a huge dose of Hope. So after it is all done and sucked, I hope there is still plenty of hope. Thanks for the comments about the pictures. I look much difference today than I did five months ago. Even I notice!! Part of it and maybe a lot of it is letting in the love that many dear dear people give to me and through some miracle of the universe, I have been able to take it in.

      You know, around here, I see cactus fruit a lot and have always wanted to know how to eat it!! I have never asked anyone, speaking of reaching out, so I will have to do that this week, in your honor, and before the birds eat all the persimmons! Thanks again. Love you, Dean.


      I panicked when I saw my fifth sister's name and realized I did not have a picture of you here!!!! So the truth comes out!! Will have to change that in short order, speaking of Candy's Cafe. Glad you had a good time at the wedding and it is wonder ful that you are aware of having a difficult time taking love in. Always has been and still is still a challenge for me. BUT the powerful experiences since last August have been almost too powerful to ward off. Like being drenched by an errant wave and I am soaked, like it or not, BUT I like it and am most appreciative for those who love me, including yourself. And I do love you, Candy. Thanks for reading and commenting and thanks for being my sister.



    • profile image


      7 years ago

      Thank you for the invitation to read your reflections. So glad you are taking in love. I had a loving weekend at the wedding. I know some people may think I am too free with the L word, but truly I do love many, many people. Like you were, I am not as good at receiving as I am at giving. Working on that! I love you and feel loved by you.

    • cheaptrick profile image


      7 years ago from the bridge of sighs

      Hello V.I hope you've been well.It's been a rough five weeks since I was called back to the office.These new laws have wreaked havoc on many of our projects.Especially S 510.Might have to shut down our farms if permits get much higher.Had a personal tragedy as that I've cried on your shoulder and probably ruined your day.What a Cool Pictorial tour you've laid out here!I would love to introduce your"Best friend"to My best friend!AND I put my magnifier on your photo!Thumbs up bro!you have that distinguished look that women fall for every time!On a final note,I love persimmons too!You must try cactus fruit.It goes perfectly with persimmons.Keep up the good fight ya[notice I didn't qualify it this time] :)



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