Day 8 - Poughkeepsie

"A song from a band I think is under rated."

"Poughkeepsie"
by Over the Rhine

No more drowning in my sorrow,
no more drowning in my fright.

I thought I'd go up Poughkeepsie,
look out o'er the Hudson,
and I'd throw my body down on the river.
And I'd know no more sorrow,
I would fly like the sparrow
and I'd ride on the backs of the angels tonight.

I'd ride on the backs of the angels in flight.
I'd take to the skies with all my might.
No more drowning in my sorrow,
no more drowning in my fright,
I'd just ride on the backs of the angels tonight.

There are those who know sorrow
and those who must borrow
and those whose lot in life is sweet.
Well, I'm drunk on self-pity,
scorned all that's been given me,
I would drink from a bottle labeled Sure Defeat.

I'd ride on the backs of the angels in flight.

I'd take to the sky with all my might.
No more drowning in my sorrow,
no more drowning in my fright,
I'd just ride on the backs of the angels tonight.

Then the skies, they fell open
and my eyes were opened
to a world of hope falling at my feet.
Now I've no more or less
than anyone else has,
what I have is a gift of life I can't repeat.

So I go up Poughkeepsie,
look out o'er the Hudson
and I cast my worries, yeah, to the sky.
Now I still know sorrow,
but I can fly like the sparrow
'cause I ride on the backs of the angels tonight.

I ride on the backs of the angels in flight.
I take to the skies with all their might.
No more drowning in my sorrow,
no more drowning in my fright,
I'll just ride on the backs of the angels each night.

Daddy's Birthday

Happy birthday, Daddy. I know you've been a magnificent addition to God's Heavenly choir. Sing "How Great Thou Art" to Jesus for me today, okay? Someday we'll sing it to Him together.

Louis Franklin

August 30, 1933 - June 8, 2006

Daddy, your baby girl remembers you, and I'm living a life full of regrets. I hope you've forgiven me. I'm doing what I can in the fight against prostate cancer. I love you, Daddy.

Day 7 - Red Wing

"A song from a genre of music I listened to many years ago."

"Red Wing"
Copyrighted 1907 by F.A. Mills
Performed by Jack Marti

 

There once was an Indian maid,
A shy little prairie maid,
Who sang a lay, a love song gay,
As on the plain she'd while away the day;

She loved a warrior bold,
This shy little maid of old,
But brave and gay, he rode one day
To a battle far away.

Now, the moon shines tonight on pretty Red Wing
The breeze is sighing, the night bird's crying,
For afar 'neath his star her brave is sleeping,
While Red Wing's weeping her heart away.

She watched for him day and night,
And kept all the campfires bright,
And under the sky, each night she would lie,
And dream about his coming by and by;

But when all the braves returned,
The heart of Red Wing yearned,
For far, far away, her warrior gay,
Fell bravely in the fray.

Now, the moon shines tonight on pretty Red Wing
The breeze is sighing, the night bird's crying,
For afar 'neath his star her brave is sleeping,
While Red Wing's weeping her heart away.

August 29, 2010

Sunday, 11:18 am

My grocery delivery is supposed to be here between 11 and 3. Plus I'm hungry. I haven't been able to stop eating, no, binging, since the psychiatrist put me on Saphris. All I did yesterday was eat and eat and lay down. I already ate 2 Ding-Dongs today, so there are only 4 left.

I'm running the dishwasher again. I ran it on Friday (or yesterday, I don't know) with regular Cascade and there was powder left all over the dishes. Guess it's not a very good dishwasher and I just couldn't tell it with those little packets I use.

Called Sarah yesterday. Complained to her about my depression and this new med. She said she'd send me a 2nd-hand copy of the 1st Harry Potter book.

Got a call from Kathleen. She's still laid up in bed with that knee she fell on, hasn't bothered to call the knee specialist that the dr told her to get in to see ASAP. He's afraid of a blood clot forming from what he said. She knows that's nothing to mess around with! It's like I'm talking to a brick wall! Arrgh!

Can't think of anything else to say. I was all gung-ho about this Artist's Way book but I can't see how it's helping me. I am remembering my dreams more but since they're mostly bad dreams I can't see any good in that.

Tomorrow is Daddy's birthday. Hard to believe how fast time goes.

I'm bothered and mad at myself for spending so much money on eating out.

I'm upset about these facial tremors. My chin, mouth, cheeks, and jaw are all trembling and jerking way more than they were. So much for new medicine that doesn't have that side effect. My teeth are starting to chatter and grind, too.

I just feel lost. I know it's the depression, but that doesn't change my frustration or the emptiness.

Day 6 - Old Time Rock and Roll

"A song that makes me want to dance."

"Old Time Rock & Roll"
by Bob Seger


Just take those old records off the shelf
I'll sit and listen to 'em by myself
Today's music ain't got the same soul
I like that old time rock and roll

Don't try to take me to a Disco
You'll never even get me out on the floor
In 10 minutes I'll be late for the door
I like that old time rock and roll

Still like that old time rock and roll
That kinda music just soothes the soul
I reminisce about the days of old
With that old time rock and roll

Won't go to hear 'em play a Tango
I'd rather hear some blues or funky old soul
There's only one sure way to get me to go
Start playin' old time rock and roll

Call me a relic call me what'cha will
Say I'm old fashioned say I'm over the hill
Today's music ain't got the same soul
I like that old time rock and roll

Still like that old time rock and roll
That kinda music just soothes the soul
I reminisce about the days of old
With that old time rock and roll

Your Dash

I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning to the end.

He noted that first came the date of her birth
And spoke of the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own,
The cars, the house, the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard;
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
That can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect
And more often wear a smile,
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.

So when your eulogy is being read
With your life’s actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?

by Linda Elliot

Day 5 - 99 Luftballons

"A song by an artist born in the same decade I was."

"99 Luftballons"

by Nena

You and I, and a little toy shop
Buy a bag of balloons with the money we've got
Set them free at the break of dawn
'Til one by one, they were gone

Back at base, bugs in the software
Flash the message, "Somethin's out there"
Floating in the summer sky
Ninety-nine red balloons go by

Ninety-nine red balloons
Floating in the summer sky
Panic lads, it's a red alert
There's something here from somewhere else

The war machine springs to life
Opens up one eager eye
Focusing it on the sky
Ninety-nine red balloons go by

Ninety-nine Decision Street
Ninety-nine ministers meet
To worry, worry, super-scurry
Call the troops out in a hurry

This is what we've waited for
This is it boys, this is war
The President is on the line
As ninety-nine red balloons go by

Ninety-nine knights of the air
Ride super high-tech jet fighters
Everyone's a super hero
Everyone's a Captain Kirk

With orders to identify, to clarify and classify
Scrambling in the summer sky
As ninety-nine red balloons go by
Ninety-nine red balloons go by

Ninety-nine dreams I have had
Every one a red balloon
Now it's all over and I'm standin' pretty
In this dust that was a city

If I could find a souvenir
Just to prove the world was here
And here is a red balloon
I think of you and let it go

Recipe Help Needed!

I need recipes with few ingredients and short preparation times that I can do even on bad days. I've looked on the internet many times, but just end up exhausted. I'm finally asking for help with this.

Due primarily to my depression, I hardly eat because I'm no longer capable of any real cooking (and I used to be an adventurous and superb cook). I have occasional good days when I can put a salad together, but usually I eat things like cereal with milk, hominy with margarine and mesquite seasoning, rice with olive oil and salt, a lunchmeat sandwich (if I feel like putting the ingredients together), a piece of bread, granola with yogurt, or a glass of milk. Many times I've been known to open a can of, for example, green beans, eat them from the can, and not eat anything else the rest of the day. (I dislike tuna and peanut butter). I have the majority of my groceries delivered, both because of the depression and because of having no car (and no arm muscles or lung capacity to carry much!).

As a result of not eating much and of the inability to really exercise (although on some days I walk a lot), my metabolism has decreased. The 45 pounds I lost a year and a half ago has all come back, but it didn't come back in the places it left...it came back primarily in my middle, which puts me at a higher risk of heart disease (and makes me look much uglier -- I've always been overweight but I was always well-proportioned). Both my primary care physician and my psychiatrist have told me I have to lose weight...this is no longer an option, but rather a medical imperative. I'm currently about 213# and I'm only 5'6".

If anyone can help me with a recipe or two, I'd so appreciate it! You can either post it in a comment here or email me at reedmorgan.writer@gmail.com. I'm leaning toward more vegetarian dishes, but any recipe would be appreciated.

I posted this same request on Facebook a few weeks ago, and I received wonderful responses. But I still need more help; please help if you can! Thank you.

Day 4 - Only a Boy Named David

"A song from my first album or single."

"Only a Boy Named David"

by Arthur Arnott

Only a boy named David
Only a little sling
Only a boy named David
But he could pray and sing
Only a boy named David
Only a rippling brook
Only a boy named David
But five little stones he took.

And one little stone went in the sling
And the sling went round and round
And one little stone went in the sling
And the sling went round and round
And round and round
And round and round
And round and round and round
And one little stone went up in the air
And the giant came tumbling down.

Remembering Teresa

Teresa was a beautiful little girl, with dark black hair cut in a pageboy. She was a very light skinned Hispanic, but that meant nothing to me then. We were eight years old. We'd been friends since first grade and had grown closer after my best friend Cindy died of leukemia.

I remember playing on the monkey bars with Teresa and thinking that she really should wear shorts under her dress so no one could see her underpants. (We all had to wear dresses to school back then). I even remember telling my mommy that I saw Teresa's underpants.

I don't have even a hint of a memory of being told that Teresa was dead. I remember the facts, though. She was playing in her front yard and had run out into the street after her ball, from between two parked cars. The car that hit her was going fast for a shaded suburban street, especially in the 1960s era when children spent all their play time outside. When the car hit her, Teresa was thrown into the air and landed on her head about twenty yards down the street. She died instantly.

I do remember some hushed talk at my house, which was unusual. Then my mother took me to the funeral home one evening for Teresa's visitation. I remember every detail of that. (My mother hadn't taken me to see Cindy).

The room was narrow and it was lit with candles. The casket at the front was very small, and it was white with a satin cushioned interior. The opened portion of the casket was to my left as I walked slowly forward, my mother holding my hand. Teresa was wearing a frilly pink dress and on her head was a white doily. In her white-gloved hands she held a small white Bible and a string of beads with a strange-looking cross on it.

I silently cried and cried. I had never seen a dead person before. And Teresa didn't look asleep, like my parents had said she would. She looked gone.

After spending a few moments looking down at my friend, my mother pulled me back a little so others could approach. And then I stared at Teresa. She was breathing! I could see her breathing! This was all just a terrible mistake; I didn't know why she looked gone, but she had to be alive because she was breathing!

I got an idea. I took in the biggest, fullest breath I could, and I held it. I studied Teresa. She wasn't breathing. I gasped out the breath and tried the experiment again. When I was holding my own breath, Teresa wasn't breathing. Teresa was really dead. She was really gone, just like she looked.

In front of Teresa's casket was a satin padded kneeling bench, and women dressed in black kept kneeling to pray, all of them holding variations of the same beads that Teresa was holding. The beads had crosses on them, but Jesus was on the cross. That didn't make sense to me. I had asked Jesus into my heart at the age of four, and I knew that a critical aspect of salvation was believing that Jesus rose from the dead. Why would these people be holding necklaces with Jesus still on the cross?

I could hear some of the women praying for Teresa's soul, praying she'd be accepted into Heaven. Now I was really confused. A person accepted Jesus into their heart when they were alive, so they would go to Heaven when they died. But Teresa was already dead. If she hadn't accepted Jesus when she was alive, it was too late now.

I tearfully and quietly asked my mother a few questions, and she explained that Teresa and her family were Catholics and believed differently than we did. She briefly told me about rosaries and about purgatory. The rosaries made sense to me. Purgatory didn't.

When we got home, I have a vague memory of talking with my parents about how the beliefs of Catholics differed from ours. I remember telling my parents about how I tested whether or not Teresa was breathing. And I remember my mother saying, "I knew I never should have taken you there."

About six years ago, not long before my mother died, I talked to her about Teresa's visitation, and about her comment that she never should have taken me. She remembered that night, and she remembered her comment. My mother told me that she hadn't realized that I would be so upset, and she hadn't realized that I would absorb the Catholic rituals and become so confused.

I'm 51 years old now, and I have long since adopted my own religious beliefs, most of which are still based on that early training. I use prayer beads, although not in the same way that Catholics do. And my beads have an empty cross, because Jesus hasn't been on the cross for almost 2000 years.

And I have to say, praying for the soul of someone who is already dead still makes no sense to me. God gives us a choice, and we have to make that choice for ourselves; once we die, no one can make that choice for us, no one can pray us into Heaven.

So I don't know where you are, dear Teresa, but I remember you.