Immigration

What You Missed: Vice President Biden Answers Your Questions on Immigration Reform

This week, Vice President Biden and Cecilia Muñoz, Director of the Domestic Policy Council, sat down to answer your questions on immigration during a live Skype event. "At its core, we’re a nation of immigrants,” said the Vice President:

"What we’ve been pushing...is a rational policy to allow these 11 million people to come out of the shadows and have an opportunity to earn the right to gain their citizenship. And it is not only the morally right thing to do, it’s not only in our interest, it’s a thing that would allow us to continue to grow. And it will save us billions and billions of dollars."

I am an immigrant. I cant to the USA 1955.
I became an American citizen in 1967
I am still a Belgian in my heart. Hard to give up the feeling of the culture I was living in for 21 years.
So how do I feel about Immigration Reform?

I am sure there must have been quite a few "reforms" since 1955.
In 1953 my husband and I had a family ready to sponsor us in the USA.
What did a sponsor do?
They promised to take care of the immigrants in case of financial or legal problems.
It was quite a duty.
We never abused it or ever had to ask for help.
You had to have healthy lungs, no TB.
If you had TB you could NOT enter the USA.
If you had even been talking about communism there was not a chance in hell to get in the USA.
Someone even asked questions to our political status from people who knew us in our hometown.

I had pleurisi whenI was a child and the scars on my lungs almost got me excused from entry till another doctor took a second look at the Xray and affirmed I only had scars from pleurisi.

We went first to Montreal, at that time anyone could get in Canada, they were almost begging for more immigrants. We waited 2 years in Montreal before we did get notice that we could  apply as there were x number of available visas for each country. Italy had the most possible entries then, Belgium very few, (it's a very small country). So we started our journey to and fro the Consulate in Montreal for forms, exams and more forms till we finally received the coveted visa.

How much of this ritual is changed? In our time we did not hear from illegal entries ,perhaps they were here but we did not know about them and would not have tried that route anyway.

Why does a person want to come here?
For me it was all about a dream to be in America. Ever since the GI's came and liberated us I would
talk about nothing else but going to America. I had a steady job with chances of advancement in the same office were my Mom was a bookkeeper. My new husband had work in the firm with his parents.
We had an apartment , a dog and enough left over for a movie or a dance. We were young and dreams for us both still was to live in the USA.

I can well understand that in today's situation, some people want to come here hoping to make a better living, or have more freedom, or various reason. I no longer know how the system works. I do not know how the "legal" way works. Do they still have numbers for every country?

I wanted American children, I have 3, I have 6 grandsons , all are respectable people and I am very proud of them.
I am hoping that people who are here no longer have to hide with false papers, that they can get jobs, drivers licenses, learn the language but not forget their own.
I am hoping that we can all stop seeing colors, religions and respect one other for who we are, human beings.
My son in law can be a stick in the mud about politics but I love what he writes on forms in answer to the question :"what race are you?" He always answers: Human race.

ITS ALL ABOUT ST NICHOLAS.

ST NICHOLAS IS THE PATRON SAINT OF THE CHILDREN AND WOULD N'T YE KNOW IT ALSO OF THE MERCHANTS.

In Brussels at the St Nicholas church there is still a shop or two cemented against the church, the way it was eons ago. They tell us the shops were built all against the church at one time. I should Google that and verify but the guide told me that. If I did not tip him enough he probably told me a story.

Anyway St Nicholas dressed as a Bishop comes with Zwarte Piet, a little black boy.
Must research that too.....

I was totally immersed in his being the one who came with his donkey and gave us oranges and sometimes toys depending what financial state we were in.
We left him cookies or bread and a carrot for the donkey, I think we forgot about Zwarte Piet.

I must have been about 4 or 5 when I went to visit him at the Innovation. They had done a superb display made walls look like an ice tunnel, I loved it and my mother would not shut up about all the work they had done. So I looked a bit more intently.
Mother had a thing about dirty clothing, a good thing she did not have a boy. She knitted all my clothing and I had to be always neat or what would people think.
So that afternoon I had my beige knitted coat on with a french beret (knitted) which had a large ponpon on top. I slowly watched st Nicholas talking to the kids and became a bit confused about all the angels around him, angels with lipstick. I know my mother did not wear lipstick so this was odd.
Angels I knew also made St Nicholas 's bed and when they shook it too much then it snowed. Sometimes it was God making his bed, mother did get confused about that issue.

I gingerly crawled on st Nicks lap and gave him a good look and I felt I needed to tell him and my mother that his white gloves were dirty. I do not remember what he answered but I know the angels quickly took me to the place where I could get a gift. I was proud of myself because I thought he should know that his gloves would upset my Mama and I better warn him.

---------------------------------------------------

I was 14 3/4 , tall, blonde, and still having the shape of an ironing board for which my mother was very happy. I was all legs and thought I was truly an ugly duck. But slowly I noticed boys looking in my direction in town where I had started to work in a fabric shop and going to evening school. All the boys in our small village knew me so that did not mean anything when they looked but city boys was another matter.
So one day there was to be a st Nicholas parade. I stood in the center of town , corner of Veldstraat and the Koornmarkt and waited for the action to begin. Little brats all around me trying to push me out of the way as they felt I no longer belonged there. I stood my ground. I knew a secret. I had been told by friends that the University guys were all going to be dressed up as St Nick and ruin the parade with their dancing and yelling and whatever they had in mind. I knew this was going to be fun. One float with Mayor passed by and flag people and then about 50 St Nicholas guys with baskets of oranges and chocolates. They came running towards me ignoring the little kids and filled my pockets and arms with goodies. I could feel my cheeks exploding  like they were on fire, I must have been beet red. The Mom's around me shouting to the guys and here I stood. I even had a few kisses.
What fun it was to work downtown, I ran into my store and shared with the owners. They had watched me from across the street and could not wait to tell my mother.
I was in another world at least for a few hours.
By January 1st my mother managed to get me hired in her office, well under her control and eye sight!

My first Christmas away from my Belgian home.

Montreal 1953 Christmas time.

We are here since August.
Made friends with another Belgian couple.
They like us, my ex and I, speak French and Flemish intermixed, we get along.

We found an apartment, a "sous terrain"!
What does that mean?
It means that you do have windows but you only see shoes , dogs, a dandelion in the summer and snow for a whole long time in the winter.
You are the basement.
It is the cheapest apartment in all the buildings.

We do not have furniture.
We bought a mattress and put it on the lovely wood floor.
We loved it.
We found heavy crates somewhere and they were our chairs.
Ex made a table with a sheet of plywood on top of some round gadget he found somewhere. I did not ask questions.
Kitchen had built-in cabinets (new to us) a fridge and a stove!!!!
We were in America, albeit North America. We were en route.

We invited our friends for Christmas eve dinner.
She said: lets play it up big.
I have a lovely gown and you do too lets wear that with pearls.
The men laughed out loud but that we did.
I sat with caution on the wood crate not to get the tulle stuck onto it.

My main attraction was my turkey.
I never made a turkey.
We never talked turkey in Belgium it was always chicken or duck.
Turkey's only lived in America I thought.
I called my adopted Aunt J. and asked what to do with it.
I followed all her directions and of course I was going to make french fries with it.
I had with me my good trustworthy frying pot, I would not leave without it.
It was grey enamel inside and red outside, heavy to lift but I was young then.
I was 21. The pot, fresh oil. and the fries done for the first run were all set in the kitchen.
I figured in an hour the turkey would be done, as per instructions.

We went into was the living room and us girls sat with great gestures onto our boxes while the men sat on the floor and we had a glass of wine, all very nice and civil like. Our mothers back home would be proud of us. (Maybe not mine). Our fun was stopped suddenly with faces in the window, grouched on their knees were 2 firemen and then I heard banging on the door.
Firemen came in and ran for the kitchen door.
Smoke came billowing out in dark, dark clouds.
I freaked out . One man opened the oven door and it looked like the oven became a flame, he quickly covered it with something and took out the turkey.
I remember him saying: Madame votre diner.
Then the sous terrain was filled with Montreal fire department.
My first thought was "how much is this going to cost?"
the first thought of these men must have been about these dames sitting in billowing silks and tulle and not a couch or chair in the joint.
They just all made fun of us and told me that the turkey was ok and just smoked now.
My mistake I had put it on a cookie sheet , the fat had run over the sheet and started to burn in the oven.
Aunt J. forgot to tell me to put in a deep pan and I did not have the brains to figure out that the turkey
might be fat!

The fire chief said they wanted to stay for dinner but other crazy people were putting their trees on fire and they had a lot of work ahead. Their service was free.

They opened the windows and let the smoke out , checked all the rooms and the oven (still able to work)
hugged us girls and ran up the steps to the first floor were richer folk lived.

How could I ever forget my first Christmas away from home. For a short while I was embarrassed then we just turned it into something to laugh about for many years.

Solutions are always available.

I said I will not cook Christmas eve. Period.
I said : " kids you bring whatever you want to eat"
Kids said: OK MOM

rind ring ring.....

Mom?
Yup.
Don't you think it would be a good idea if we all go to the Outback?
Yup!

Macaroni and cheese

Frank said: That was some terrific macaroni and cheese, ask your Mom for the ingredients.

Mom said: Yup, a little bit of this and a little bit of that.
Frank, I love gravies and I try different ones quite often.
I make my white sauce and start from there.
Since I had made such a large pan of macaroni I truly was watching volume so I started my white sauce with a cup of butter, I mixed my milk with cream (like in whipping cream) I kept stirring and then added 2 cups of shredded cheese , mixed, it did not look good enough so I added more cheeses and then I was afraid I would not have enough so added more milk and cream. I had to keep stirring.
I have no idea about recipes. I do by smell, taste and use good stuff!
I could not believe how much of it was gone.
In case you do not make white sauce I make mine with cornstarch or potato starch.
That is how my mother made hers.

I did all this while I was a wreck cause it was the last thing I had to do before I started on the fries and the kitchen was full with man folk.

SANTA CAME TO CHECK US OUT AND SAW THIS

BOB puts up the tree while I was shopping

OCD in my house:

Son wrote on Facebook:
Oh good. Red wrapping paper. Not like there's going to be white lines from where you fold it or anything.

It's an OCD xmas.

Artesiana ?

I am not sure how to define this much used name , too lazy to look it up.
For me it is not about the bread or sauces it has to sound of something you make
yourself from scratch and enjoy.

Stop thinking about bread!!!!

I am thinking having sheep on your land, sheering, spinning, dying, knitting.

How much closer can you get to Mother Earth.

Such a lady exists in the UK and I am sure we have them here too (before I get emails with complaints) .
I happen to know about Sue and I am wearing her gloves and now became the price winner of a gorgeous blue shawl, almost a cape, just fabulous, Christmas present.

It is all connected to a lady I will never see in "real" life but has become a friend via the internet for several years. She spoils me with Sue's creation.

Her name reminds me of an Angel.
Thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

it's beginning to look like Christmas

Yesterday:
Spring, sweater weather : fabulous
Lunch with my bff at Olive Garden : yummy
homecoming surprise : Christmas tree set up and decorated by son: priceless.

Rejoining society

We lived 4 years in Southern Spain. Our girls in high school our baby age 2 , then we decided it was time to come home again. We arrived in NY greeted by our best friends who lived in NJ.
Our well wishers had 3 teen age children.
Immediately the comparison was being made. What is your favorite singer ?
Rhonda beamed and said Cassidy. Giggles and more giggles ...Cassidy was so passe.
Bob and I felt we were in a new era, and that we were.
A trip to the grocery store had me so overwhelmed I could not see it all and rushed out.
My big joy was to find "throw away diapers".
We had left a very small fishing village, and most ladies there went to the creek to do their laundry.
My mother bought me a small portable wash machine after the baby was born and I thought I was in heaven, the envy of the whole populations.
Appliances were very expensive. Only in our second year there did we buy a refrigerator.
We managed very well , no big problem, I went to the market every day and got fresh veggies and fruit and white fish just fresh from the boat. Eggs direct from the farm had huge tasty orange looking yolks.
We had to cook the milk anyway as it was fresh from the goats so who needed a fridge.
The most shocking to us was the way people had changed the dress code and truck driver language.
We moved to NC and there was yet another shock, this was the South, not native California for my husband who loved his Santa Cruz. In the stores I hardly understood the you'all greetings and they sure did not know what to make of this Belgian with an accent.
Settle we did and we stayed here since 1974.

Now I see my son recuperating. Almost 7 years in total has agoraphobia,  and no, it is not about spiders.
He has been in my house 5 years and most times he could not go across the street.
In the last year with medication and help he is now able to drive his car in a radius of about 2 to 3 miles.
So before he does that he has to set his mind to where he will go ,where he needs to turn,, where to park and then see how far he will get into the store to find his Coca Cola. It takes a lot of planing on his part. A lot of steps to avoid which areas COULD give him an anxiety attack and freeze him in the car for hours.
I go out with him as I then get a chance to see what is happening in our little town.
Last night we managed  to go into 3 stores and drive through BK. When we got to the grocery store I gave him money and asked if he could go alone and get me 3 bananas. He froze, that was not anticipated, yet he knew my back was hurting and getting in and out of the car can be a b....He started to walk away, came back, :"Mom, what kind of banana?Yellow, Green, spots?" Will I have enough money ?
I told him what I needed and yes I gave him plenty for 3 bananas.
He came back smiling like Cheshire cat. He said : I never bought a banana before in my life.
(I hates them) and I have no idea if bananas are 1.00 each or 5.00 a lb? In fact, he said, I have no idea what anything costs in a grocery store. I am so out of "this" world. I know eBay and Amazon and how much my jeans cost. I buy my T shirts on sale on line, usually with something to be read. I know how much my school costs last year. I know my phone price. I just do not know this place anymore. It is scrary!

When I heard him explain every move he did and how much of it had to be examined and accepted within his mind, I remembered how we felt returning from Spain but it was all a new and fun experience, not for him, every move he makes he has to follow steps for his re-entry. At least  every 100 yards he does more
are a victory, every new store he can walk in is another step forward. When he will ever go into a Wallmart or a Mall is up to his negotiations with himself. I am here with him every step of the way.
If you know someone with agoraphobia please have patience to understand him or her.

THANKS

While I am happy with most changes this past year, such as Bob's progressive healing but my heart and soul belongs to Zack recuperation and his great health. I can't stop hugging him.
He has more tests tomorrow but this is for skin rash. Or psoriasis.
Having lived with psoriasis since 1968 I know it's a bitch but there are more medicine now.
I refuses to take more meds, I have one kidney left and I need to baby that one.
Zack is fine, strong, and still my baby. Well..grand baby!!!!

Did you go and shop right after the turkey and went with the mob to the stores?

No, I did not, replied Rhonda.

I found a new way for excitement I went to the ER with my son to find out I had shingles.
I made Belgian Truffles and cream puffs for Mom's dinner and son made a big salad.

I had pills and later a salad with a truffle.

Happy Thanksgiving day!!!!!!

Thanksgiving 2013

Memo to myself:

Do not cook for the whole gang again.
repeat this message for 2014 if I am still here.

Next get together every one brings a contribution of some delectable goodies.
 I will sit in my chair watching Judge Judy.

I think I am 60 again and it is not happening.

Major sin

What a week sending the wrong package to my eBay client.
Posting the same picture twice on eBay.
Being distracted for everything.
Wondering what truly is happening.
Then the biggest blow of all : forgot my best friends birthday!
I have only known  her since I came from the lace and chocolate boat in 1955.
By now I should remember her birthday.
If she reads this and she will.....I would be on my knees to ask forgiveness but then I would not be able to get up until the EMS shows up and I locked my door so they can't come in.
Sorry Old Girl
I am a mess
Hugs

ALL IS WELL WITH THE WORLD

my baby Zack had all his tests today MRI, Cat, bloodwork etc.....
he passed as he should with a NO CANCER verdict.
What a great day for him and the rest warriors, and worriers.

Sabrina does not know it but he really is mine.
I look at that giant of a man and I see this :

NOVEMBER 11 2013

I am no longer here to write my story but I hired a ghost writer......

I was going to graduate in a few weeks, I was missing one credit , we all know how much I hated to do sports and I'd rather sit in a corner drawing their actions. I missed gym. Then I would be going to Salinas College and study art.

However, a war was going on. My mother already had 3 stars on plastered on her window. Would I be the 4th one? I was pretty sure , I was not a hero jumping in to volunteer, how would I ever shoot another human being.? I did not think I had it in me.

Uncle Sam on my birthday, June 8th, called and said hurry up and leave it all behind and go to Fort Lewis in the State of Washington.
Mother was left with 4 girls all weeping because I was the youngest boy. I was my sisters best friend.

I had only left my gorgeous beach town, Santa Cruz Cal., once. I had been to San Francisco so see a Disney film and had done it on my own on the Greyhound bus. So going away again was just going to see the world. I put it out of my mind that I would be fighting.

The winter in Fort Lewis was hard and I was delighted with snow and cold, it was something new and I loved it. I was all grown up now. My pals were much older than I and had volunteered. They took it upon them to tell me about what to watch out for and it was not Japanese. It was about women and about staying within your Faith and not stray.

I grew up a Christian Scientist , my grandmother had started it all and my Mom and sisters were following the little black book from Mrs. Eddy, the founder. My little black book was well worn and so was my Bible. We had daily lessons and I continued to read while away. My Methodist friend was extremely
religious and yet gave me the freedom to be what I wanted to be. I thought everyone in the world would feel that way but found out time and time again that people said I belonged to a cult. So I started to shut up about it and do what I needed to do. I learned that some people were prejudiced about religions.

I learned to smoke while there much to the chagrin of some of the older fellows. They said I would never be able to quit, this was it. It took me 42 years to do it!!! I did not have lung problems at the end but my brain just gave out. Lucky for me I never knew it, people just told me and I did not understand what they were talking about.

In the early spring of '45 I finished training , I had done little of it as they put me in the drawing department making drawing plans for everything needed and not needed.
Now I was on a train to New York with a stop in Chicago. I could not believe my luck when I had enough time to to go the museums while in transfers. I was in heaven. I figured I was very lucky for that experience.
Next I am on a ship on the way to the Philippines. I was to be under the command of GenMc Arthur.
The man with the pipe. I was to go to Manila. I was to go where there was war.
Immediately I was put in the office and back on drawing and burning documents for the General.
We heard the fighting, we heard a lot of action but no one got near our camp. No one died around me.
The hardest part was when I had guard duty. I had never seen bugs the size of my hands, they flew around us, guards, and I was tempted to shoot some.

One day I did receive a medal and I asked why , the reply came when I had gone to the infermary with a burned hand, I had been on the receiving end of dish of hot mush, trying to grab it I had a bad burn and a medal!!!!

September 2 1945 Japan signed the Instrument of Surrender.
I was lucky I did not have to kill anyone. I know what you brave people will think but I just did not have it in my DNA to be a killer or to defend my own body. It just did not register.

Once I was released my greatest journey was ahead of me : School on the GI bill, 2 years in Salinas under the umbrella of the best watercolorist  Leon Amix . then on  the BIG city L.A. to the Chouinard Art Institute  with the best teachers on the West Coast, Edith Head being one of them and she had Oscars to show her talent was genuine. I wanted to be a Disney cartoonist and some of them were my teachers. Once out of school (2 years here too) I decided Disney did pay peanuts and I wanted to became an artist, a watercolorist, and a trompe l'oeil master.
And so I did for all my adult life it was all about colors. Filling someone's wall with something that did not match their couch and they would like to keep forever.

Not every soldier had it that easy to be sure. Today remember them all.
Please remember them !!!!!!
RGK via JMK

All Saints Day

So in Belgium you used to get the day off and expected to go to church on this Nov 1st day.

My Mom had passed on November 8th , she no longer went to church, well she did for weddings and funerals both with some tears. Otherwise she did not want to go and tell a priest her business.
Besides that sinning was not really a problem with her anymore. Maybe gossiping is a sin ? I do not remember that? I remember stealing cookies from my mother was a sin and that was my weekly rapport to the priest. I could never think of anything else.

Anyway with the Catholic DNA still running in my veins the first year after her death I wanted to go to church. I wanted to go to Asheville, they have a fabulous little old church there. Daughter Rhonda who had just moved there was delighted to take me. To my surprise her husband (then) came also, he was on his way to work anyway so he decided to be with me too.

I wanted to sit in the back as I did not remember when to stand, went to kneel, the whole enchalada of church rules and torture. I wanted to watch the ones in front of us who no doubt were "regulars".

No sooner did the organ play a note and an old gentleman came to my son in law and whispered something. Jim , is a physician, and he was dressed in a lovely suit ,shirt and tie. He turned to us and smiled and left with the old man. We just could not figure what was going on. Looking at the prayer book we got into the
service when suddenly appeared Jim holding a basket and collecting money.'
His grin had us in stitches and we hid behind the books. It turned out that they were short of ushers, Jim looked dressed up enough to be one so they recruited the Methodist man to get money for them.

I doubt they ever knew but then a collection is worth every penny even if a Methodist begged for it.

HALLOWEEN 2013

It's Halloween today and the weather forecast for middle America is horrendous, storms, winds, rains. No Candy today for the kids in America's breadbasket. We have a 50/50.
Bobby will cut the pumpkin today and  I am curious to what he will invent today.

It used to be so much fun dressing the girls with all sorts of tulle, hats, make up. I made all the costumes, we just did not have money to buy them and I thought it a big waste since it only lasts for one day...come to think of it so do wedding dresses but that is another story.

The day of memories for me will be tomorrow. All Saint's day. In a Catholic country such as Belgium every one at least will go to the cemetery that is a given. Going to church?not so much.

My child hood memories about this day are vivid.
My Uncle was a horticulturist , his parents had been too. He had inherited 2 huge green houses and so did his brother and sisters all on one huge plot of land.
Unfortunately my uncle also had agoraphobia. In the 1930's and 1940's no one talked about it being a mental disease. I only heard that he was one lazy .......
He would have his green houses jam full with chrysanthemums. 
I can still see the see of these gorgeous white blooms. Here and there he had some gold ones.

What you do with your crop, a small job this was n't. He had toiled over this but he could not get outside the gate of his property, he could not even cross the street without a panic.
My cousins and I would put pots by the gate in the hopes someone would come by and buy them there but we were several miles from the cemetery so why carry this when you knew there would be thousands of them in stalls right outside the place. 

My aunt wanted to rent stalls but she was the bread winner as a hard working RN. She did have a knack with flowers. She would do the orders  people placed with her every year. She worked with out sleep for several days making "crowns" , pillows, bouquets, crosses etc....all in her kitchen.
Ribbons would be flying everywhere and the floor covered with stem cuttings and leaves ,it looked like a green rug with white petals.

My mother helped some but did not have the talent like her sister, I myself can't put flowers together at all. My bouquet looks like I have it ready for the trash bin.

 Mother was in charge to go to the grave of their Mom, my grandma I called Meme.
She had passed on in 1936 when I was 4. People told me that she adored me and I loved that thought but I had little recollection of her at all. I always felt close to her yet I could not remember her touching me. 

Mother, my two cousins and I would march each with flowers in our arms, bouquets and all sorts of "pillows". The girls did fine but my cousin Etienne , my age, and a red head (read: trouble) would have to walk swinging flowers up and down as he danced along the cobble stones.
I do remember how my mother hated this trip with kids she could not order around like her daughter.

I started to get sad, on purpose, I knew my mother would be talking to the grave and crying her eyes out, she adored her mother. I knew what was expected of us "Crying". I just did not "feel it".
I figured if I did not cry mother would have some choice words for me.
Her favorite for me was "lazy, slow girl, slower than a turtle" she would figure out something and look at me with her steel angry eyes. I just had to muster up crying.

The streets were full of people with flowers and the entry to the cemetery was almost blocked from the crowd. Mother would have walked past the stalls and tell us how puny these blooms were compared to what was in the greenhouse of Leon. Mumbling she would tell us he was too lazy to come out here and sell. Mother did not understand mental health, few people did. You were put on earth to work not sit on your behind was her motto.

The cemetery is ancient, has formidable monuments, I loved the girl sitting by her piano a life size statue on her grave, artists, poets, writers, were buried here with inscriptions and wreaths in full color in Majolica pottery. (in the 90's these would be stolen and sold in the fleamarkets)
In the 80's some parents ordered a partial sculpture of an Harley which obviously had been a part in the death of their son. 
Behind my Meme's grave were some graves of soldiers who died in WW2, can't remember what nationality they were but Mom would always bring them a flower too.

Once at the grave the floods started, the talks to her mother, did she know how hard it was to live today, did she know the kids were here, did she know Julia could not come because that lazy husband of hers had her make bouquets.....I was hoping my Meme did not hear all that. Mother was weeping, her hanky was getting quite wet and looking at her I finally felt sorry for her and started to cry, so did my cousin but Etienne was gone to see what else interesting he could find.
I often forgot my hankies but that was OK I always had a shawl around my neck and that was handy for the nose as well.

We  would stay there forever, Mother rearranged the flowers over and over again. She knew her sister would come tomorrow and see if it was done correctly. We took over the tasks as critics, after all we had the major one with us. We, Janine and I, would check the flowers around us, we would grade them .This one was ugly, that one we would have stolen it was so gorgeous, that one was cheap, look at the ugly ribbon, look at the faded one and the day is not over yet, a bouquet made many days ago and sold cheap, no doubt. It did not take perception on our part to be flower critics we just followed the talk of the grown women. 

My biggest memory of the Nov 1 days was the cold. I do not remember rainy days, I remember always bitter cold, snow, ice and the fact that I could no longer feel my feet. Hoping mother would walk away and lets get on home to a warm house with a carpet of leaves. 

It seems to me that year after year it was the same freezing cold. Now you hardly hit frost yet in B. they have rain, they had a bad storm last week, winds and rain. Not the enormous cold we had. Weather for sure has changed a lot.

We hoped that my Uncle would have the french fries ready for the second frying when we'd walk in the door, he was very good at that. We also hoped that his family had run out of blooms and had come to his rescue to purchase wholesale mums.

Me, all I needed was the coal stove and put my feet in the oven for a little while.

Now, most probably no one will see the grave tomorrow.
The crypt was full, my Meme, her husband, my aunt, then the last my Mom.
Cousin Janine always filled it with flowers.
Cousin is now in bad health and in a residency. Etienne is in a home with Alzheimer.
I am 3500 miles away. 

A few years ago the whole row of these graves caved into a large sink hole.
Who knows how they managed to get all the graves correct.
They rebuilt the area, it took forever to sort it all out.
Who could possibly know what skeletons they had?
For me it does not matter. I can only hope that they are around us still in spirit.

 

My son:

My son has agoraphobia. It started with a panic attack while he was at the movies watching "The Lion King", I believe it was in 1994. He struggled with the attacks on and off for many years. It runs in the family , I had them in the 1970's and they lasted 7 years. Daughter had them too. Bob was still working at the time and I remember that at times he just had to run to the back rooms of the shops to calm down.
There was a progression , they came more often and lasted longer. His fear of getting an attack multiplied , often we had to go and get him on the road as he was totally frozen behind the wheel of his car. One time he was in the back at Walmart and saw no way out. they would not allow him to use the back exit door. His dad and I rushed to help him out, by then he was calmer.
My experience had been that most doctors thought you could control these emotions and get on top of them....I survived with Valium and did not get addicted but it was in the 1970's.
Bob did not have help at all. Neither did his sister.

The attacks escalated so one day he and I on my way to work, he stopped abruptly and said he could go no further. It then took several short trips with his wife to get him home only 2 miles away.
I think then agoraphobia set in.

A move of his family had to be made to Texas, I am not sure how he did it as I was not there but without help his condition did get worse. When he returned to NC ,his sister picked him up, he was pretty much medicated and does not remember much of the trip at all. To make things worse they broke down with a U haul attached to the car. Sabrina had to hire the right transport to hook up the car and leave him alone till she got the help. Bob called me in tears, he had no idea where he was and what to do. It was a frantic moment as he obviously was not clear of mind.
It took until 1 year ago for him to find an agency which would allow home visits.
I felt like kissing the feet of the psychiatrist. It took many trials to find a drug which kept him calmed down but that does not mean one can just go out and stay in the outside world.

Last year he did drive around for a mile or two but then dropped that scenario and stayed more in house.
He did start to visit a couple of people next door. That helped a lot as one gal is also in the field of mental health. But then they had to move a month or so ago and Bob's world collapsed again. To make things worse he lost his best counselor as another company purchased his agency.

He was so down that I just did not know where he would get the power to continue to fight.
Last Saturday he texted his sister. "Can you drive with me? In case I get stuck, you can drive me home!"
She came and off they went. He did go into one store. Then he drove to a place where he had volunteered for a while at a Gem Museum. He  went inside albeit the way down (not easy to get out) is several steps. He always has to know he can get out quickly. He stayed one hour in the museum and admired the new specimens. No one there was from the old gang. Then he drove to visit his friend and tattoo artist which is several miles down the main highway. He went in and talked a bit then came home while stopping at BK to bring back a hamburger. It took them almost 3 hours for the trip. He recorded everything on his phone.
He sat at the table with Brie and I and said it was all just very "weird". He did not feel elated, terrified, nor could he find any emotions for the day. He said he was void of feelings, period.
Then he opened up a bit on facebook:
First his sister's entry:

I share my brothers journey as a reminder to those whom do not understand mental health. He has been agoraphobic ( no not a fear of spiders.. Look it up and educate yourself) for over ten years now. With mental health always being last on the list of help, it wasn't until last year that he was finally able to get someone to come to the house. I recently shared pictures of him in various locations. This is the first time in six years that he has managed to go that far and enter a building for an extended period of time. His strength surpasses that of anyone I know, having suffered with panic disorder for seven years myself, I still have only a small clue of what he has gone through. He has so much to offer society, my only hope is that society will give him a chance, welcome him with open mind and arms and not judge. I adore you brother, more than you will ever know!

and then his:
I was just thinking about some of the things we take for granted. Simple everyday things to most, but in a certain light, kind of frightening and abstract to others. I have been away from society for so long that I wonder if I have lost any social skills (and if so...how much). Being out yesterday can best be summed up best as "stranger in a strange land." I didn't feel like I was supposed to be there nor did it feel like a place I remember. I handed my debit card to the cashier and almost said "Do you still do this?" I had been out of it so long that I had no idea. At the drive-through I stalled for a moment because I wasn't sure what was the next step in the order of things. I am hoping that I get that back, but in many ways it was inevitable to lose some of that. It's all been eBay, Amazon, Facebook and very little actual human interaction. You people scare me at times, but I scare me too, so I guess we're even. At any rate, I hope to get out more and finally shake this off. Then I can have my cabin 300 miles away from people by choice. It would take something pretty incredible to ingratiate myself back into the old model of life. A bit terrifying in itself if you step back and admire it outside the frame that holds it together. Camus said it took greater strength to live and he wasn't joking. I guess I'm hanging on because I'm still thinking there might be something incredible out there in the mist. As terrifying as it is to go looking, I have nothing else to do at this point in time.