We will not forget the scores of smiles we lost,

On that autumn day.

When horror gripped our souls.

As a nation’s natural peace …

Roared to anger and grief.

We will not forget the cacophony of heroes

That scrambled to the aid of tattered lives,

To pick up the tiny shards of humanity

From a mountain of rubble

Left by indescribable insanity.

We will not forget the twin shadows

That shrouded Lady Liberty.

A mere glance from the smoky horizon.

Seemingly to look over her shoulder

Aiding her to beckon others to freedom.

We will not forget those left behind

The sounds of mourning and bell tolls of grief

As life as one knew it was shattered

To the frightening unknown

Of overwhelming loneliness and daunting confusion.

We will not forget the beacon of freedom to the world

Lady Liberty, standing on the precipice of the Sound

The collected salty tears of a nation lapping at her feet.

Clutched in her hand raised high,

A lit torch to lead the way.

JoJo

December 7, 2001

Copyright

Those were the words that resonated in my mind as I watched in glee and pride as the New Orleans Saints made their historical score into their first Super Bowl.  I have been an avid Saints fan for all of my life, had season tickets for several years until hurricane Katrina blew them away.  Until then, I had not missed a single home game, since returning to my native state.

As one can imagine, the fans here in Louisiana lost their sanity for a moment, as we realized, that finally, we had reached the promised land.  The sky literally lit up as we Cajuns set off fireworks.  The sounds of reverie, horn blowing, and a chorus of “Who Dat!” could be heard.

It is much more than football, that we Louisianans celebrate.  Though we chant and cheer for our team, we remember the Super Dome at a much worse time.  The ghastly images of utter human despair after Katrina.  Such contrasting events of misery to jubilation.  The Saints were as homeless after Katrina, as were some of the people of New Orleans.  We remember that triumphant return for the first home game after the repairs to the roof of the dome were completed.  It was so much more than repairing of the structure, it became the symbol of repairing the city, the people’s psyche, it gave hope.  Our trip to our first Super Bowl brings us ever closer to healing.

Some have asked,” Isn’t it time to move away from Katrina?”  We are now one step closer, always moving in that direction. We march on in hope.

Whether the Saints win the Super Bowl or not, we are winners, as Peyton Manning is a native son.  The Manning’s have long called New Orleans home.  Archie Manning was quarterback for the Saints.  He and his family have done well by New Orleans through personal support in every way.  A few years ago, while standing outside the dome, I got a chance to meet him and chat a bit.  He still had a firm grip as he shook my hand.  Mostly what I remember, was his gentle humility as we spoke, and that he looked into my eyes as we talked.  Milling around with the rest of we Saints fans.  Louisiana should let him cheer his son, just this once.  He has proven his loyalty to us at every other time.  This time, he plays as a daddy.  I say, it is the only way.  Blood is thicker than even gumbo.

Any way the Super Bowl turns out, we march on in hope.  Just like the roof of the dome, holes in hearts are being repaired as well.

We march on to Miami. Payton vs Peyton

I’ll be cheering for the Saints!  Who Dat?

Jojoami

Once again, you have each failed in achieving any worthwhile legislation.  Once again, you have failed, WE THE PEOPLE.  Instead, you have served your various political parties, your money backing lobbyists, and personal agendas.   You have served no one but yourselves. You have obstructed any meaningful legislation by digging in your heels, refusing to compromise for fear of looking weak to the other party.  You have done so at the peril of WE THE PEOPLE.

Instead of representing WE THE PEOPLE, you have chosen to jockey for airtime on television talk shows to get each of your parties talking points out ad nauseum, or stand on the Capitol steps hoping for the chance at camera time.  You have wasted valuable time.

You have made a mockery of the entire democratic process and become feckless puppets of your own creations.  Forgotten in the hallowed halls where you hold court, are WE THE PEOPLE.  Our nation in turmoil, our backs broken by the very same big companies lobbying your efforts to THEIR causes.  WE THE PEOPLE, forced to bail out these same greedy companies.  All we have gotten in return is the same sanctimonious bullshit shoveled from both sides of the aisle.  Finger pointing at one another to place blame.  The blame belongs to EACH of you.

I claim no allegiance to either party, I am simply an independent citizen of the United States of America, watching the circus that our legislative bodies have become.  Each of you are circus barkers, trying to convince WE THE PEOPLE that your rigged game is better than the other clown’s.

Meanwhile, WE THE PEOPLE look for work, pay expensive premiums for health insurance that in our time of need cancel us, and make us fight for the benefits they are supposed to cover, losing homes to banks ,who profit as we lose.  Some go hungry and homeless, as you ferry yourselves in limousines from television network to the golf course, flanked by Secret Service agents protecting you.  Paid for by WE THE PEOPLE.  You seem to forget that you do this by our grace, for WE THE PEOPLE elected you to serve US.

Have you forgotten the origins of how your office  was founded?  The Declaration of Independence was drafted and included our right to be represented.  You have not represented WE THE PEOPLE.  You represent your own ambitions, your own political parties, and your own political world.  Forgotten is the common man, struggling to make ends meet, in an economy that has blistered us. Yet, you do nothing but argue.  Our country has become the land of the haves and have-nots, where the wealthy few have the ear of power and WE THE PEOPLE have not.

Our nation stands at the precipice of a new day, a new time, a time, when, WE THE PEOPLE,  have grown weary of being taxed without any obvious representation.  Do not misconstrue that statement to mean that all taxes are evil, only, that taxes without legitimate representation is evil.  Point to yourselves when you look for fault.  E pluribus Unum.   Out of many one.  Perhaps, part of the blame belongs to each of us, for continually electing each of you.  Perhaps, the time has come that we clean our House and Senate and replace you with people whom take seriously the job of representation by the people, and for the people.  The aisle shall be free for those that choose to take action.

WE THE PEOPLE have waited for action long enough.  Election day will be a day of reckoning for both sides of the aisle.

Though I am a registered Democrat, it is in name only.  The laws of my state prevent me from casting a vote unless an Independent is running for office.  As I choose to vote in ALL elections, I was forced to choose between Democrat or Republican, I chose Democrat because D comes before R alphabetically.  I claim no political interest or party to any group.  I am totally independent.

I am one of the many citizens of this great nation waiting for any meaningful action.  We care not what side you sit on, we care that you begin acting as you were elected to do.

Some may ask how I dare speak to such esteemed bodies as I have done.  My answer is: How can I not?  I am not intimidated by anyone.  I will exercise my First Amendment rights.

Jojoami

Note:  This letter has been forwarded to my representatives and  President Barack Obama

I Have No Answers II

It confounds me that I live in the greatest country in the world: America.  I see the great citizens of this nation rushing to the aid of Haiti in a time of aching need.  I applaud their actions of pouring money and medical need to the Haitian people.  It is a laudable.  It is righteous.

Yet, here I sit in this great nation, and see first hand, many of our own citizens in dire need.  It seems that we can pour our hearts and money to other countries in need, yet we close our eyes, avert them down, to ignore our own.  Go ahead and squirm.

For now, I speak solely on health care;  not only the lack of health care for some, but the gross ineptitude of doling out the needs of those insured.  Do not mistake this for support for a new health care bill.  It is not that, but trying to open eyes. For, I will be the first to admit, I have no answers.  I know that what some people THINK they have for health insurance is in error.  The insured are simply a serious illness away from becoming uninsured.  It has become a fight to procure the services our insurance companies have promised.  We have become liabilities to their greed.

I have first hand knowledge on many fronts of our health care system.  My own cerebral aneurysm opened that can of worms.  It was the first I had heard the term UNINSURABLE.  Yet, I am fortunate to be one of the lucky ones, to have insurance that can never be canceled, through the military.  Otherwise, I would be like many others and uninsured, because as my numerous doctors explained to me then, a civilian insurance company would have dropped me.

I have watched my ailing parents fight for what they worked for in the form of Medicare, pinch pennies they no longer have to spare, their dignity gone, their hope for a better day, blighted by a system that no longer works, no longer serves.

I have held my cancer-ridden, supposedly insured brother’s hand, in a charity hospital that the insurance company suggested he go to, reducing the chemo-therapy treatments from $10,000 a treatment to $5,000.  Whom do you suppose is paying the extra $5,000?  Whom do you suppose is pocketing that same $5,000?  I watched in horror as the same insurance company fought covering his food, delaying that step seven days before finally doing what they were supposed to do.  The man that worked often 70 hours a week, payed his insurance, in the end has begged to be fed.

Another of my brothers, just recently laid off, unable to now afford insurance, now diagnosed with heart failure.  COBRA, you say?  Exactly how does an unemployed, sick person pay the impossible sum of $700 a month if he can not work?

I have walked the halls of many hospitals, and doctor’s offices in the last few months.  I hear the echoes of the same sad stories told over and over again.  It does not matter whether you have insurance.  The echo of footsteps retreating into the abyss.

You are simply a serious illness away.  These are but a few instances I have witnessed personally.  These are not isolated instances. It is happening. Now. Here. In America.

Again, I don’t know if public health care is the answer, perhaps one day, it will be the answer; but not in the current state of the entire health care system, too much is broken to sustain it.  Our lawmakers are out golfing now, it being the weekend, but that’s tomorrows post.

I wish you good health,

Jojoami

I’ve only seen my 82-year-old mother cry twice in my lifetime, and today was one of those times.  I write this through my own tears of ineptitude at giving her comfort.  Though I held her slight, 100 pound body in my arms, I could not relieve her anguish.  I had no answers to her pointed questions.  I had no hope this time to promise her.  All I could do was hold her and wipe the tears from her rheumy blue eyes.  Eyes she passed to me, her daughter.  Tears mirror in our eyes.

I have written before of my brother’s fight with cancer.  Now, only a few short weeks into his treatment of radiation and chemo-therapy, it is quickly taking its toll on his body and spirit.  It is difficult to watch as a sister.  It would be under even normal circumstances.  He can no longer feed himself, and needs to be tube-fed.  There-in lies the problem.  It’s been 7 days since he’s eaten a meal, though he has the port surgically implanted to receive the sustenance, he has of yet  not received the pump, the tubing, or the cans of liquid supplements to begin the feedings.  Though my brother supposedly has “good” insurance, it seems that even with this insurance, one must jump through hoops, red tape and sheer ignorance to receive what he needs.

Chemo-therapy alone is a staggering $10,000 a treatment.  His insurance will cover only half.    The insurance company, (which at this point I will not name because of legal considerations) suggested he go to the local “charity” hospital to get the chemo treatments and agreed to pay the entire amount there.  I’ll address this outrage at another time.  I don’t know the cost of the daily radiation treatments he receives.  I imagine its substantial.  There are the other costs as well, office visits lab work, and various prescription costs.  Even with “good” insurance it is mind boggling the out of pocket expenses being accrued.

Today my mission was to find a way to feed my brother.  I was not alone in my pursuit.  After hours of phone time my sister found a drugstore that carried this particular nutritional supplement my brother’s doctor wanted him to have, or so we thought.  All of this time we have waited for the insurance company to authorize the equipment, and supplement, to no avail.  We have hit roadblock after roadblock, saw finger pointing in every direction imaginable.  No answers.  I agreed to out of my own meager pocket to pay for the supplement, knowing that if I did not, he would not eat. I went to 5 drugstores, and 3 home medical care facilities.  Yet, even then, I could not get it.  This time it was that in order to buy it outright requires a prescription order.  Back to the phones we went.  My elderly parents hanging on every word, helpless to do anything about it, monetarily or otherwise.

As I stepped outside of my parents house, my mother’s tiny frail arm latched onto my own arm.  I looked at her face and saw her eyes bright with tears.  I helped her walk down the step her arthritic body too bent to do so alone.  “How can this happen?”  Her voice quavering in emotion. Tears running down her face.  I was without the necessary words.  I had no answers, just the comfort of my arms to hold her.

I realized as I looked into her eyes, the light that lit them before was gone.  I realized then, what I never wanted to see was there, it was the look of hopelessness in a mother I’d never seen without hope.

It has dawned on me now that this is the winter of her lifetime.  I see no spring thaw.  I fear that this shall be her last.

This is just a small vignette, there is much more going on.

So much more…..

Jojoami

UPDATE: Help has finally arrived he now has what he needs.

Jojoami

I will not sully this post with political diatribe, for regardless of any political opinion by myself, or anyone, we owe our support to the men and women who are in harms way.  Whether your beliefs are that they signed up for the job or not, remember that the flag they fly, is also your flag.  These men and women are someone’s son or daughter, someone’s father or mother, someone’s lover, someones brother or sister, friends or family.  Regardless of any connection, remember they are your countrymen doing a duty, few have the guts to do.  Support them.

Remember they are far from home under difficult circumstances that few of us could ever imagine, cut off from familial support systems they usually have.  Keep them in your hearts if not your prayers to return safely when it is time to return.

Remember that each of these men and women leave behind loved ones whom will also need our support.  Their job of waiting and worrying is not an easy task.  We owe them a debt of gratitude for putting forth their loved ones.

As we eat our dinners in our heated houses and later find our way to our cozy beds, remember there are men and women who have neither of those luxuries, who claim their home as The United States of America.

Remember them.

Godspeed,

Jojoami

(It was intentional that the above post contained 256 words in honor of the 256th Infantry Brigade deploying from my area)

Words are perhaps the most powerful thing we as humans have to wield.  Words can resonate in our souls, can live forever in our memories, and color our lives forever.  A well placed word holds the capacity to alter mood, thought, and life.  We can encourage another person, or break them, with one tiny word, or perhaps soothe an aching heart.  Too often we don’t think before we speak.

A smile, or saying hello to a stranger you pass, may make the day of someone lonely, or person troubled by personal problems.  We need not know one another personally for simple actions to matter to someone else. Though it is a simple thing to do, it is also very powerful.  A kind word or gesture, serves to lighten a heavy heart.  Looking someone in the eye acknowledges  a person as a vital human being with no word spoken.  Human touch reaches to the core of our beings.  We need not go out of our way for us to become simple, silent, heroes.

Unfortunately, whether we intend to harm someone or not, we also have the power to hurt others.  Callous words thrown in the heat of anger, singe spirits at deep levels.  Glaring looks chill hearts.  Hands lifted to strike another, bruise more than skin, for the unseen bruises on a psyche never heal.

We humans, hold power we never seem to realize we own.

Everything we do in life has an effect on those around us, good and bad, whatever our intentions.  So as we pass one another in this life, remember that the world is not as big as we may think.  Each of our actions effects each of us.  Seize the power.

JoJoami

My mind wanders back to a New Year’s Eve many years ago, a little more than 7 months into my pregnancy with my twin girls, when I first felt the twinges of labor that would herald the end of New year’s celebrations in the classical sense.  It was almost 9 PM, when I realized that I needed to get to the hospital. Even that wasn’t ordinary, as the Gulf Coast was under severe weather alerts.  A low pressure system had wrapped itself right off the Mississippi Gulf Coast, and, had it been during the warm summer months, it would have been classified as a hurricane.  The wind was howling,rain coming down in sheets, as I opened the front door for the trek to the hospital.

Every year there is a New Year’s celebration of fireworks and the usual revelry that occurs in South Mississippi, that under the best weather circumstances, chokes the coastal highway with traffic that crawls.  Add hurricane force winds and blinding rain to that scenario, it was no wonder my husband decided that he’d call for a police escort to help us travel to the hospital.  The police would only give a commitment of, “We’ll try,”  For even they were having trouble traversing the roads.

The hospital was approximately 10 miles up the road, after traveling for 45 minutes we had covered the first half.  By now labor pains were about 2 minutes apart, and we were getting very nervous about actually making it to the hospital.  We discussed various contingency plans of what we would do if necessary.  The police had our license plate numbers and a description of our car and cell phones were science fiction then.  Traffic was at a standstill at times, then we’d crawl a couple of car-lengths forward.  Somewhere in that time, my water broke, and my labor pains began coming even quicker.  We were about three quarters of the way after an hour and a half.  Things didn’t look promising that we’d make it.

We had made the decision that he would have to pull over and deliver the twins, when suddenly now only a mere mile from the hospital blue bubblegum lights popped up behind us.  A quick conversation with the officer led to him with lights and sirens clearing the path for the rest of our trip.  Alerted of our plight, hospital staff stood at the ready to receive us.

That was not the end.

As they placed me in the delivery room, and sent the expectant daddy to scrub and suit-up, they got the bright idea that even though I told them a baby was coming, to walk away from the delivery room.  Note to those who have never given birth:  If a woman in labor tells you the baby is coming, IT IS.  I delivered the first of my twin girls myself, after screaming HELP several times.  Finally someone came to my aid.   It was 12:33 AM. The second twin was breach, turned sideways and was not delivered until 1:07 AM.  New Year’s babies!

Thus began the celebrating of birthdays on New Year’s.  We sing Happy Birthday at midnight rather than “Auld Lang Syne.”

When my daughters were little, in their precious innocence, as the ball dropped and the countdown began, they assumed the world was celebrating their birthday with them..  I never took that sweet thought from them,  it was too precious a sentiment to ruin.  Eventually, they understood what the ball drop was for.  Yet, even now as the countdown begins we watch as the ball drops in Time’s Square and sing “Happy Birthday.”

So to my two precious daughters, Happy Birthday!

JoJoAmI

Several weeks ago, as a favor to a dear friend, I took on a room mate.  Even though I love living alone, I was willing to try.  I realized that I would have to be open to change and learn how to share space again.  As the weeks went by, the realization, that I could not do this began screaming through my pores.  My sudden tranquil life was uprooted.  Without the tranquil essence I could not clear my mind to write.  It was not a matter of sharing space and time, but the upheaval of  solitude.  Every way I tried to work it in my mind, I knew in my heart what the problem was.

In my new life, I have watched myself emerge as a much stronger person than I have been before.  It is the strength of self knowledge and meeting my own needs that I have discovered through this process.  While I’ve always written, it was always quashed by someone else’s needs and set aside.  I vowed to myself that it was my turn to get my needs met.  Writing is my need, my want, a calling of my soul.  It has kept me sane in times of great despair, when I dared not voice my thoughts.  Words to me, are a balm for all that ails.  My writing was finally at the center of my life, finally taking direction, not just through this blog, but through a web site that saw merit in it, enough merit to honor me with the chance to have a staff position.

All this was at stake when I tried taking in a friend.  It rendered me mute artistically speaking.  I knew I had to do something painful.  I also knew that with truly good friends, not speaking the truth, often leads to resentment.  Resentment leads to negativity.  Negativity leads to hurt feelings.  Hurt feelings end relationships.  I am not one for an indirect approach, nor am I one to play games around an issue.  I can ask for what I need with directness and tact.  I also knew that our friendship would survive me telling her I needed to live alone.  A friendship like ours comes around  once in a lifetime.  So though it was painful for me to do, I told her what I needed.  I still feel twinges of guilt, yet, I know that I need to take care of me.

For too long I have waited

To taste the words

Hidden

Within my soul.

Jojoami

Sometimes, things come into our lives that make us pause our normal activities.  We can control some of these things but others, we have no say so on.  What we do have control over is how we react to the situations.

A few weeks ago my brother was diagnosed with cancer.  While his prognosis is good, the emotional toll it has taken on my family is great.  As a sister, a daughter and an aunt, it is my duty to provide the emotional and sometimes physical support in any way possible, to help everyone through this.  As you know, I have a bit of knowledge in dealing with cancer, as I went through it with my ex-husband.  Yet, a cancer diagnosis is always shocking, and each person is impacted by it in different and very personal ways.  So there may be times when I hang up my writing pen, and don my nurses cap, or pull out a therapist’s couch during this journey.

My main concern is of course, my brother, and getting him through this physically and emotionally.  There are also the collateral concerns that I will need to address as well, like my elderly parents that will need plenty of help.  Sometimes I will have to tend to them as well, to free other siblings nurturing my brother.  It is a long and tedious road, fraught with chemo, radiation, pain and emotion.  It is a road I once traveled as a passenger, and though I have been there before, time and circumstances have changed the landmarks. Yet, the main road is still there, and we’ll find our way.

So in advance pardon my sporadic writing.  Sometimes need trumps want.  I’ll always want to write, but be needed elsewhere.  I will write when I am able,.  It simply may mean, I have to reorganize the hours I write, but I can’t know all of this until we know how things go.

Illness, like that of cancer, is one of those things we have no control over.  At times we may simply be spectators, unless we take it upon ourselves to either referee in the sport, or go full-throttle and jump into the sport and get ourselves dirty.  I am not a spectator.  I am on the team.  That is the way I have chosen to react to the situation.  We will be victorious.

Jojoami