life

Ernie’s Morning

/ Lisa Poe / Leave a comment

I was relieved when AdMo arrived.

AdMo is short for Adventure Mom. She’s the one who joins us on a lot of our backpacking and white-water rafting trips. She is a substitute warm lap for when my mom is busy setting up her tent, brushing her teeth, or collecting water for dinner. I’m always looking for a warm lap. I run cold, but I’m just a nine-pound Yorkshire terrier.

AdMo was the first person to walk through the door that morning whom I knew. I sighed with relief when she walked into the bedroom. I was lying on my dad on the bedroom floor. I was trying to keep him warm for a change. He was cold. My mom was sad. She cried so much. The windows were wide open. The breeze was strong, blowing through the bedroom windows. The room was chilly from the cool morning breeze. I tried not to shiver. The willows outside the windows were rustling in the wind, but mostly the sounds came from mom that morning.

The morning started with crying and confusion. It was not our typical Saturday morning. Strangers with uniforms were in and out of the house. I was glad when they put my dad on the floor so I could lie with him. Two of the strangers pushed on his chest and shoved a tube down his throat. It was chaotic for a bit, and then they left. The other two uniformed men stayed all morning.

I knew what was happening. My goofy sister, the Labrador retriever, did not. She was running around the house like a crazy ass lab does, greeting all of these strangers as if she knew them and they were here to see her. I was staying out of the way. It’s easy to step on a Yorkie.

This was my adopted family. I had been through this before with my original human mom. I spent hours in her lap at the nursing home facility. I was there when she died, too.

I remember being removed from my original mom’s lap and carried by this big, big, strong man, my new dad. Did he know he could crush me with those hands of his? I was not happy about changing families. My life was slow and comfortable in the nursing home. I was placed in a large truck with a hyperactive yellow lab and this big man who drove with wild abandon, passing on double lines, honking, complaining about the other drivers. What was I going to? We arrived at my new house, where I found my new mom and took to her lap, where I felt safe. They took me in and treated me like a part of the family. I was happy. I transformed from nursing home Yorkie to adventure Yorkie, including my own life jacket, puffy coat, and even a dry suit. It didn’t take long to love my new life and my new family.

My dad was communicating with me, just like my original mom had when she died. The communication is so much better in spirit form. It put me at ease with both of their deaths. My mom was too devastated to communicate with him. I wished I could help her. She was so sad.

AdMo would come and go from the room, meeting people who came to help, making phone calls to Dad’s relatives. She would sit with my mom on the floor next to my dad. That was when the hyper lab would join us. AdMo must have given the lab some stability, as she would lie up next to AdMo, and Mom would cry. Mom would touch Dad. You could see he was cold, as his lips had lost their color. Mom cried that she would never see him again. “How could this be happening?” she would repeat. “How can I go on without him?” Her heart was breaking. She was in shock. We all were really. There had been no sign that this was coming. He had died in his sleep. A perfectly healthy man on the surface. An active, physically fit, full of life, happy, fifty-three year old man.

Eventually, another man in a uniform came into the room. He said he needed to take pictures if we could walk out of the room for a bit. I stayed. He took the blanket off that I was lying on. I hopped off, but stayed by Dad’s side as the bald man with a compassionate face took photos. He took the tube out of Dad’s mouth, the stickers off of his chest, and covered him back up with the quilt from the bed. I jumped back up on him; he was colder, the color gone from his face now, but still so peaceful looking. I couldn’t get over how peaceful he looked this whole time. It gave me comfort. I wish it gave my mom comfort. She couldn’t walk more than ten steps without collapsing onto the ground. Her friends stayed by her side, held her, and gave her words of encouragement. There were moments I was with Dad alone, and Mom would go blow her nose or talk to the bald man with the compassionate face, but I never left.

The next strangers to show up were not in uniform. They looked more like they were going out to dinner, except that it was 8:30 in the morning. He wore a collared shirt and slacks; she wore a skirt and blouse. Their faces were solemn, professionally solemn. Mom and AdMo stayed as Mom kept saying this was the last time she would see him. AdMo told her it was not him. He is with you now; that is not him. AdMo helped mom stand up and walked her out of the bedroom. I stayed and was nudged off the blanket for the last time. The solemn-faced people and the bald compassionate man managed to move my Dad onto a wheeled bed. I remembered the same thing happening to my original mom. They covered him with a new blanket and wheeled him out of the bedroom. I followed. No one noticed me, that is my super power, but also how I get stepped on a lot. Mom came in from the back deck to see him as they wheeled him through the kitchen. Dad’s friends moved some furniture and they took him out the front door. Mom collapsed again in the kitchen.

Now that Dad was gone, I had to stay with Mom. That’s what Dad had told me in the bedroom. Mom still has a warm lap. Mom went out the front door before the van left with Dad. She wanted to see him one more time. The well-dressed, solemn-faced man opened the door for her to have one more look.

Somehow, we all ended up in the living room. Mom, AdMo, Dad’s two friends, me, and the lab. We were spent. Mom’s lap was finally available for me, and I took my familiar spot. She put my fleece jacket on me. I felt my Dad join us on the recliner. Mom did not notice. It would be a while before she felt his presence. I would help her get there.

Montana Wild Woman

/ Lisa Poe / Leave a comment

I did it.

Published my book. It is available on Amazon. An ebook or a paperback.

WHAT?!!!!!

Yeah; I was really nervous about hitting the “publish” button on Kindle Direct Publishing. It felt so vulnerable. Like I was standing naked on the street.

Right off the bat I fucked up.

Version 1.0.0

I read my introduction as an ebook sample and the very first sentence is missing a coma. I would have never seen this in my draft. This was why I was nervous. What have I missed? What have I misspelled? And now I’m going to expose these mistakes to the whole world. I’M A FRAUD. I’M A PRETEND WRITER.

I couldn’t re-read the stories one more time. I didn’t see the glaring mistakes anymore.

I’m suddenly back in Algebra I class with Mrs. Idol at Western Guilford High School.

I’m sure I was an undiagnosed, on the spectrum, dyslexic. Luckily, I was given credit for doing the algebra problems correctly even though I rarely got the right answer. My numbers would get transposed along the way. I’d get a D and then get to take geometry. Theorems. Another D. Algebra II. It would have been better for me to fail the class and take it over than to be moved on to a more advanced class. My math books took a severe beating through the years resulting in hefty damage fees. My SAT scores were so bad in math that I was accepted to college only if I signed up for the remedial math classes. Vulnerability.

I knew the dyslexia existed when I worked my job at Bi-Rite Grocery store during my high school years. I would ring up a buggy full of groceries and say $89.67. The customer would look at the register and say $98.67. There it would be. Right in my face. I saw the correct numbers and totally said the wrong numbers. I heard myself say them. I’m an idiot. What is wrong with me?

Vulnerability. I would walk off the bus and into the high school while Andrew Martineau would walk right behind me quietly chanting “ug…ly…..ug….ly…….ug….ly…….”.

It took me three tries to pass my driver’s test to get a driver’s license. My mom took me. My dad took me. I think my dad’s wife took me the final time. I could drive. I could not drive with the driver’s exam person in the car.

My dad’s wife thought I might be gay since I didn’t have any dates in high school. She said it as if being gay were a fault, to be whispered about and kept tabs on. I didn’t play softball because I didn’t want people to think I might be gay, I had enough going against me already. I did play tennis my senior year of high school. An acceptable girl sport with no sexual labels. We had 12 girls on the team and I was ranked number 12. Kind of like my seat in band. Seat number 1 was the best. I had the last seat and pretended to play my clarinet for a whole year, then quit.

In my younger twenties, drinking alcohol and flashing my tits was a game changer. I would yell hooters, lift my shirt and was instantly the “fun girl”. I preformed and perfected the act of the full flesh flash for years. To this day, I can full flesh flash on my bike while riding no handed. I did not want to be known as “Lisa with the big nose and weak chin” as I had read on my chart at the orthodontist office while getting my braces tightened and rubber bands installed. I wanted to be known as “Lisa with the great tits”. It’s all about getting your arms up while you lift your shirt; everything else goes up too. It’s a great move.

Vulnerability. I’m better. Ever since I became a mom. Ever since I moved to Montana. But clearly it is in my skin, embedded. I think most people I know now would be shocked to hear of my insecurities.

I fear hitting the “publish” button. I could…… just not do it. No one would know I’m just a “writer want to be” who can’t spell.

Then there were the signs.

Yeah.

Literally signs.

I drove into Darby and there on the Bitterroot Community Federal Credit Union digital sign it said; “Believe in yourself”. I drive by that sign once or twice a day and it keeps telling me to believe in myself.

Then I went to my adult ed beginner drawing class at the Darby High School. The dated art room has a chalk board. On the chalk board was written in chalk; “Creativity Takes Courage!!! Henri Matissse”

I went home and hit “publish”.

I’ve been recommending books for over ten years on this blog and I am proud to recommend “Montana Wild Woman” by Lisa Poe as the book for this post. It may not be perfect. It might need some corrections. But I will lift my arms up high as everything else rises up. Thanks.

More great book recommendations and adventures can be found at Wild About Books.

Politics Part II

/ Lisa Poe / Leave a comment

Do you remember the end of the book “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas”? The part where the Grinch has stolen all of the presents, all of the decorations and lights. Yet when the people of Whoville woke up, they still celebrated Christmas. This is how I feel about the results of the last election.

Don’t get mad. Don’t get revengeful. And certainly don’t think to behave as a bully. We will gather hands and join for the common good of all people. This is what keeps me hopeful. Unity and love for our fellow citizen.

Here’s my story of Carl.

Carl works out at my gym in Darby. The Right to Bare Arms gym. Carl likes to visit. He told me of his journey nearly a year ago, of joining the gym, changing his diet and losing lots of weight. He eats only orgnaic and has cut oil out of his diet. I’m not one to chat much at the gym, or ever.

Most mornings I would hear Carl talking to others. He told the owner Dana that there was a winter storm warning. He told her he wished Montana had harsh bitterly cold winters like he had when he was a kid; “that would run the Democrats off”.

Wait! What?

I shook my head disgusted with this mentality that seems to prevail and is the majority of thinking where I live. People don’t think twice about wearing shirts that say things like “Black Guns Matter” as if the whole world agreed with them.

Another day I heard Carl explaining to someone else how the government had controlled the weather and caused deadly hurricanes in swing states.

I told you, since the election, I have been emboldened to have the conversation with people. Not in a fake insincere way, ha……… if you know me, fake and insincere are not part of my makeup.

The next time I went into the gym I went out of my way to say not just “hi” to Carl, but to ask him if he lifts everyday. To chat. Smile. I know Carl had forgotten my name as we talked.

The next day he looked up when I came in and yelled “Hey Lisa”.

As he was leaving he asked what else I had planned for the day. I told him about purchasing a used Fat Tire Bike. He was intrigued. I told him I was going to go ride up Skalkaho, start at the gate, see if I could get to the falls.

The next time I saw him he asked how the bike ride went.

We have not and probably will not talk about politics. I’m a minority and don’t usually advertise my political leaning anyway. Although I did just buy a new sweatshirt that says “Denali”.

I was setting up to do a shoulder workout, Carl asked me if I’d seen the NOAA weather for January. “No”, I said. “Above average snow fall and two weeks of below zero temps”, he said. “Yes!” I replied. “I’m excited”.

“Right” he said. “Maybe that will run off all the …………”

Oh jeez, I thought. Here it comes. How am I going to reply to what is coming, I’ll just tell him. I’ll fess up that we don’t see eye to eye politically. I won’t let this determine our friendship. Hopefully he feels the same.

But what did he say this time?

“Right”, he said. “Maybe that will run off all the people not used to the cold and snow.”

“Yes, it probably will” I agreed.

And why are the political signs still up in Ravalli County. You won. Let’s be neighbors and take down the signs. They didn’t work anyway. I didn’t change my mind no matter how many signs we posted, or full color flyers I received in my mailbox, or hateful TV advertisements I saw. Want to change my mind, show some love and compassion for all humans.

In the last post about politics I recommended the book “Good Reasonable People” by Keith Payne. Since that recommendation, I have applied and received a grant from Humanities Montana to purchase 10 copies of this book for a book club in my community. I hope to attract people in and out of my bubble to read and attend this discussion.

I figured out where Carl lives and have walked by his house several times before without knowing who lived there. He has a sign on his front fence that says “Black Cows Matter”. He also has a full size confederate flag on his barn. There are no political signs, commercials, or flyers that set me off as much as seeing a confederate flag. To me that is a clear symbol of white supremacy, racism, a system of hierarchy. These are not acceptable to me. Now what do I do? Do I pretend like Carl is my gym buddy and return his fist bump? Do I ask him what that flag on his barn represents to him? Ugh. Maybe I invite him to the book club.

My book recommendation is “Democracy Awaking Notes on the State of America” by political historian Heather Cox Richardson. This book was published in 2023. The book gives you the history and background leading up to where we are now. This book may help you understand people who vote differently from you.

“But Trump had done his work too well. His propaganda, cruelty, and demonstrations of dominance had empowered his followers and made his leadership central to their identity.”

This is not a book that I would use in a public book club. This is a book for people who are bamboozled by the fact that people would vote for a convicted felon for president. I challenge any of you who follow this blog who voted for Trump to read this book.