Easter Sunday 1961

There are no words to describe Easter Sunday of 1961. There were, and there shall be, but now there are no words. It was Sunday and mother got the crew together, bathed, fed, dressed, and into the ‘58 Olds we called the green monster. She was dying, but it wasn’t the green monster that would kill her. Maybe that’s why she lived every day as if it were her last.

The sun dripped from the Pacific before six this morning, dribbled across the beach, and made its way up and over the Cascades before I woke. The winds blow the clouds and spread the sweet and sour fragrance of wet evergreens. I had the bed to myself. My sisters abandoned me again early this morning when I wet our bed. My smart sister says I should sleep in the crib until I stop wetting our bed. My other sister says the boogey man will get me if I don’t stop. Dad’s not mad and mom loves me anyway. I love her, too. It’s easy to love someone who loves you first and loves you back.

Easter 1961

We had pancakes for breakfast. We always had pancakes for breakfast. My Dad always ate three with two fried eggs – one sandwiched in the middle of the stack and the other on top before he covered the tower with syrup. He made the coffee, too. It was from a 2-pound can and went into a percolator – the same one that existed before my beginning. The pancakes were great. The over-easy egg made me throw up. I made it to the bath tub but did not make extra points with Mom, Dad, my smart sister, or my other sister. Five people and one bathroom (especially when two are teenage girls) is a recipe for disaster. Mom worked it out. No one wanted to get on mom‘s bad side. That was a bad place to be for anyone. I knew. I learned the hard way, more than once!

Dad readied his Argus 35mm camera and loaded a roll of Kodachrome. Mom herded us out of the house, across the porch, down the steps, and to the curb. She straightened my bowtie. Dad gave his final instructions to the neighbor before allowing him to release the shutter. No one ever took a photograph the way he liked with his camera. His frown showed his concern.

CLICK

Domingo de Gloria 2019

The sun dripped from the Pacific just past six this morning, dribbled across la playa, and made its way up and over Loma El Macho before I woke. The winds blew the clouds and spread the sweet and sour fragrance of wet palm trees. I didn’t wet the bed, but I roncaba como loco!

Tortillas replaced the pancakes, palms took the place of the evergreens, and its hot here!

Mom wasn’t here to tie my tie. She died. Dad died, too. Soon, I’m gonna die. My smart sister is smarter than ever and my other sister is more beautiful than ever.

There are no words to describe Domingo de Gloria 2019. There were, and there shall be, but now there are no words.

I can’t wait to see the family all together again! Jesus did it!

Time & Space

The times have changed – so has this place and my face. Remaining stationary and being still are not the same. Time and space change but being still before my God, who WAS, IS, and shall always BE is a privilege on this day! He did it! I look forward to death, count on Him to make my progress worth it, and the trip bearable! I’m not in hurry, but I want to be ready whenever He IS. He did it!

You can listen to this podcast and others at my podcast on Anchor.FM