Christmas Memories

Christmas has always been a wistful and lugubrious holiday for me.  From a very young age I've been able to sense and feel the sadness and pain in others and I think that has contributed to it.  So many people hurt especially during the holiday seasons and I pick up on that which instinctively causes a deep, for lack of a better word, depression within me. I've learned to try to suppress that and surround myself with positive, happy energy rather than negative but sometimes that is impossible and so, I search out solitude to ground me.

Cruz reaching for the orb no one saw

Last Christmas I wasn't up to par to set up and trim my memory tree.  As a matter of fact, I didn't do any of the decorating last year because of illness nor did I don the Santa suit on Christmas Eve at the family celebration either.

 

The ornaments that adorn my remembrance tree represent a loved one who is no longer here. I put it up this year and as I placed each memorial ornament on its boughs I paused for a moment to remember them. It seems to be filling faster with each passing year.
I make each ornament myself. In the picture above, my daughter's tree is in front of it filled with her ornaments she receives each year, a tradition my older daughter started with her years ago. And at my families Christmas gathering I even donned the red suit like I had so many years in the past.





For the last few years Kenna has been questioning the existence of Santa Clause.


Eve the  elf made an appearance





It's been a difficult task, It's been harder and harder each year to continue the façade and keep the magic present. I even pulled out the old Elf on the Shelf and bought an elf ornament, adding a message on the back of it for her.

I encouraged her to write a letter to that Jolly Ol' man and she did.




Cruz not happy wearing the antlers


I suppose it has helped I keep reiterating to her
"You don't believe, you don't receive." And although two of the things on her wish list will take time to tell if they come to fruition, she did get the other two items and Santa even answered her questions. (Best I could)



I so dislike the fact she will one day tell me I'm full of reindeer poop and the magic of believing in an benevolent figure will be gone. And although she knows the true meaning of Christmas, isn't there something innocent and heartwarming to have your child wake Christmas morn with that gleaming sparkle in her eye thinking Saint Nick visited the night before?






This Christmas, I have had so much to be thankful for.  My health issues are currently being managed successfully and the biopsy I had to have last month came back as being benign, a far cry from where I was last year at this time.  But the most precious gift I cherish with all my heart, is a baby boy I affectionately call Bean.

Tucson News / Murder

Back in October I got a message from my niece in Tucson. Needless to say she was more than a little upset by the news. This young man is the half-brother of the young man serving 22 years for my brother's murder, he was also one of four involved in it. Released from prison in September he is believed to be the suspect in a double homicide in Phoenix, Arizona.

 

10.23.13

 

Man suspected in Phoenix double murder, served time for crimes in Tucson - KVOA.com

TUCSON - The search is on for a Tucson man suspected of killing a teenage girl, and her boyfriend Monday night in Phoenix.
24 year old Hector Taner Karaca was released from prison last month and is considered armed and dangerous.
Karaca is linked to the 2006 murder of a Quick Mart employee in Tucson.
While a murder charge was ultimately dropped, he served time for hindering prosecution. Loved ones of the man killed are both angry and terrified that Karaca is on the loose.
"It's very scary, I'm really upset," says a relative of Christopher Cottle who wants to remain anonymous.
Seven years ago Cottle was shot and killed during a robbery on July 15th 2006. He was 50 years old, a husband, father, grandfather, and military veteran.
"Fought for his country, came back and they took his life in his own backyard, that's really sad," says a family member.
Her grief now extends to the families of a young Phoenix couple Kristen Furgeri and Jose Villa
Police believe Karaca once a juvenile suspect in her loved one's murder, shot and killed the couple Monday, then took their car. It was found the next day torched.
"It's heartbreaking, they'll never be the same person anymore," she says, "Part of them has been taken away from them."
"I just pray for them, that's all I can say is I pray for them. And I hope they can get through this, because it was really hard for us," she adds.
Karaca, who's now on the run, was released from prison September 5, without parole, despite multiple disciplinary infractions behind bars.
He's described as six feet tall, 175 pounds with black hair and brown eyes. He has several tattoos 'Tucson" across his upper back and 'Chavez' across his stomach, likely for his friend Daniel Chavez the 27 year old convicted of murdering Cottle.
"I can't even talk, it's just so hard to know that he's out there again doing this, it's really really hard," says Cottle's family member.
Phoenix Police say since Karaca has strong ties to Tucson, they want everyone to be on the lookout.

~*~

Ex-con sought in Phoenix killings shoots himself | KVOA.com | Tucson, Arizona

12.13.13

PHX double murder suspect kills self after high speed chase in Tucson -KVOA.com

 

 

TUCSON- A murder suspect is dead, after leading Tucson Police on a high speed chase across the city's south side.
The chain of events started at 9:30am Thursday morning, when U.S. Marshals informed TPD that 24-year-old Hector Karaca was staying at La Quinta Inn at 7001 S. Tucson Boulevard.
Karaca was accused of killing a 25-year-old man and his 17-year-old girlfriend on October 21 up in Phoenix.
TPD Sgt. Chris Widmer says at around 1:15pm on Thursday, Karaca and a few other people left La Quinta Inn and got into a pickup truck.
They drove to the Spectrum Shopping Center at 1217 West Irvington Road.  They parked their car behind the Peter Piper's Pizza.  Karaca and one other individual got out of the truck and carjacked a red Camaro, after holding a gun to the driver's head.
Karaca started driving away in the Camaro at a high speed and TPD started chasing him by air and ground.
Near 5th Avenue and 22nd Street, Karaca collided with a pickup truck in front of Garcia's Cleaners.  The collision ended the chase, but Karaca got out of the car and began running through several residents' yards.  Sgt. Widmer says he then took out a handgun and shot himself in the head.  He was pronounced dead at the hospital.  The driver of the pickup truck tells News 4 Tucson he suffered only minor scrapes and bruises.
"It was like something out of the movies," says Eddie Escalante who works at Garcia's Cleaners.  "It was like the movie "The Fast and the Furious", just hauling butt.  The Camaro was at least four car lengths ahead of the cops."
Sgt. Widmer says TPD has two people in custody who were with Karaca when Thursday's incidents unfolded.
Digging deeper into Karaca's past, the News 4 Tucson Investigators learned Karaca was released from prison in September without parole.  He was the suspect in the 2006 murder of Christopher Cottle.  Cottle was working at a Quick Mart in Tucson, when he was killed during a robbery.
That murder charge was dropped, but Karaca served time for hindering the prosecution.

 

~*~

 

KVOA Tucson News Footage

Tucson News

Wrapped Up in Thoughts

 

I sat at the kitchen table yesterday afternoon looking out upon the vast emptiness of the field behind our home, I often do this when there is a lot on my mind. I had finished feeding the baby his lunch a half hour or so earlier and he was restless yet tired. His morning nap was a short intermission from his otherwise bustling self. He lounged comfortably on my lap off and on while I gazed outward through the dank glass door, him occasionally reaching up with his tiny perfect hand to touch my face. His tender caress on my skin soothing and I could sense his inquisitiveness.  He has been very clingy lately and is not happy unless he is being held, so I hold him, I rock and sing to him.  He actually does not mind my singing but rather enjoys it, I give him another four months before he takes cover and runs from my vocal warbling.  A light flurry of snow began to fall and it was magical. I am so looking forward to Christmas morning this year, whether it's due to this small babe who eventually found repose in my arms, his slumber there within them comforting to me or due to other reasons. I look at him and Mikenna and I see love, I see all that is good and I rejoice in the small miracles and celebrate the life we have.   

Blessings

This time last year I watched as my daughter and my husband assembled an artificial Christmas tree and decorated it without me. This year, I had already started pulling out the seasonal decor before the Thanksgiving season even hit. I'm dancing, singing and enjoying the season, anticipating the trimming of the boughs.

My daughter Mikenna and I sang Christmas songs as I prepared some of our Thanksgiving dishes for our family gathering, she gets a kick out of it when I improvise with the lyrics to our favorite carols. I pulled out my Christmas cd's and have been playing them while I rock my grandson to sleep. I enjoy having him here with me during the week. I'm usually dead tired by Friday but it's worth it and I'm glad I decided to go this route rather than stepping back out into the labor force taking the job I had been offered. And although it would have helped to have the extra income, taking care of him while my daughter works, watching him grow and him being a huge part of my life, I wouldn't have it any other way. I never realized how much I missed having a little one around.

There are so many things to be thankful for, especially this past year. Yes, we've had our share of setbacks and I go in for a biopsy tomorrow after my last doctor's appointment revealed an abnormality, but I'm not worried. I have been extremely blessed.

Rewind -- Originally posted in "Life With Baby....Mikki"

 

It's been over a month since I've posted in here and while I have a slew of posts in draft form I haven't had the time nor energy to revise them. I've been reminded, way too much lately, life is fleeting, so I decided to re-post an entry from "Life With Baby Mikki" on February 14, 2012 .

 

Rewind

In college, I remember an assignment for one of my journalism classes that I wasn't too thrilled about doing.  I had loved certain aspects associated with the course of study but others, not so much.  I loved writing the feel-good pieces but hated the "other" stuff. 
I enjoyed observing the people, watching their demeanor. I enjoyed listening to them, taking in every single word. I enjoyed taking notes and I'd add my own thoughts in the side column so I'd remember how I perceived the subjects comments and their reactions to my questions. My annotation at times vast - I even devised my own form of shorthand so I could get it all down on the paper. It worked out quite well.
 I always dreaded the personal one-on-one interviews and I think it showed. I was always told I was ingratiating and to use that to my favor but I forever was stumbling over my words, always nervous about speaking. That has not changed.
I just wanted to be the fly on the wall, to take it all in and yet not be seen, to be obscure. I'd become too involved in the story, too emotional. The separation of my feelings with the subject matter was hard for me and I wore it on my sleeve. That was the demise in furthering my ambitions in the field.  Heck, I cry at Hallmark commercials, even to attempt to kill a spider is hard for me and I'll often let it go its merry little way.

And then writing, it was never one of my stronger attributes.  I failed English miserably, which it has always shown but through the years I've kept it up anyway. I even have a manuscript I had started that I work on every once in awhile. When I get in one of my moods I pull it up and start writing. It sometimes helps take my mind off of things, things I don't want to think about.  I had it open the other night, it's words spread across the screen but I got distracted and left it while I took care of my diversion. That's kind of ludicrous when you think about it. It hadn't done what I had hoped anyway.

When I came back I found my 8 year old in front of my computer. Her eyes intently fixated on the screen and on the words I had typed. Thank goodness there was nothing written of impropriety on that one page.  When I asked her what she was doing, with her eyes still steadfast she raised her index finger to me as to say, give me a minute.  No one has ever laid eyes on this work, not even small segments of the prose that fill the ever growing script I get lost in sometimes for what seems like for hours. Not even a synopsis of it. Nothing.
I reached over and closed the screen down onto the keyboard.  When she looked up, the words that came out of her mouth I couldn't tell if they were an observation or a question, or maybe it was a combination of both. "Realistic fiction." 

She continued, saying it (realistic fiction) was something like a book she had read, "Out Of My Mind." I chuckled not only at her perception of the content on the screen but because that's exactly how I have been feeling lately - out of my mind. 
I asked what the book was about and she started to tell me she thought she remembered it was about a girl with a disability and the challenges she faced and how she thought it reminded her of me. She hesitated and said "I think it's fiction, but it could very well be true." I asked why it reminded her of me and who the author was.  She stopped for a moment and thought and then told me "Just Google it".  Google it? Really? So I did, but the only thing that came up were songs from Duran Duran, John Mayer, James Blunt and Colbie Caillat so I went into the Barnes and Noble website and read the editorial review and honestly, at that moment, after listening to the lyrical verses of the songs and then reading the review of the book, I wanted to pick up the computer and throw it across the room.

My assignment I had trouble with all those years back had entered my head. It wasn't a difficult task remembering, considering. I recall when the assignment was posted feeling the dread penetrate and pierce through my heart. It wasn't because I had to interview someone, if we had a choice between that or the given assignment I would have taken the interview.
Write two obituaries, one being your own.  It had to hold the truths of the individuals life. 

 

All my life I've had to deal with death in some form or another, as we all do. Whether it be a spectator on the sidelines, watching the spirit drain from its bodily home in both those I cared about or strangers I hardly knew, or experiencing it firsthand, even coming too close to the inevitable myself more than I care to remember.  The most difficult time for me was watching a child take his last breath and me only a child myself watching it unfold before my eyes. No, this was not an assignment I cared to even think about.

I had scrolled through my phone to my downloaded game apps earlier. Hanging with Friends staring up at me and I opened it. The home screen popped up, I immediately saw -- Your Turn: Hanging with Player 2, and I tapped on it. A little speech balloon then popped up and read  'Tap play to guess player 2's mystery word .'  

I had friended this little old man at my treatments, both of us there for the same reason and since there was not much to do as we sat there we had started playing this downloaded game on my phone.

I hesitated knowing even if I solved the secret word he would no longer be sitting next to me to guess mine. I continued anyway, I needed to know what his last word to me was. On the screen in front of me it showed - " ? A ? ? ? ". 
One by one the letters appeared, F-A-I-T-H and all I could think of was his words to me every time we exchanged our pleasantries, "Everything will work out the way it should, the way God has planned it."

And I remembered how difficult it was to write those obituaries back in college, but his, the man who sat by my side rubbing my arm when I'd feel the sting and nauseousness, it would be effortless.
And if I could pass my phone to him one more time, use whatever letters I wanted, it would spell out, F-R-I-E-N-D.

Subtle coincidental occurrences?  Maybe I do think too much, but then, maybe we should all stop and listen.

Rolling with the Punches

 

Sometimes you just have to bow your head, say a prayer, and weather the storm.

 

Sometimes things don't work out the way you'd like them to. 

We are more than a little disappointed this week due to a slight setback; Looks like our plans have changed.
Kenna and I had hoped to meet her father Thursday night, he is out of town on business and we had planned on meeting up with him. We have enjoyed our road trips this past summer and hoped it would continue, traveling to wherever he may be at the time. 
Life can be an amazing adventure, it can also be disappointing and dark.....and at times, down right exhausting but you learn to roll with the punches and enjoy the felicities and the contented moments it brings. And so, I look ahead to better times because...

unexpected results and problems are part of life. Never loose hope in any condition, because darkness of night always finishes with light of the day.

 

 

 

Thinking Positive

Another summer has come to an end.  It has been a full one, a busy, somewhat hectic one but an enjoyable one nonetheless.  I am extremely grateful for the opportunities I have been given and the hope that has arisen from the obstacles that have been set before me.  I have been very fortunate.

Every so often my husband is approached about relocating for his job. There have been numerous opportunities throughout the years to start anew somewhere else.  For years he has always dismissed the idea of moving out of state, saying I would not survive away from my family even though I had always been up to the challenge and willing for the adventure. It was only recently he admitted he was the one who didn't relish the idea of starting over somewhere else and not having family around, this revealed to me after an out of state job interview. I have to admit, I am grateful we never took that path and I often wonder if things happens for a reason. 

He is gone more than he is home due to his work, nothing new about that, although September was an exception, not because the out of state work has dwindled, on the contrary, but rather, due to him wanting to be here because of some personal issues and concerns of mine.  I have a round of tests later today which I am not looking forward to but needless to say, hoping for favorable results.  And if everything looks good, Kenna and I will be planning for a road trip next week. I so enjoy it when she's off from school.

Mending

I'm back. After a short pause, which was in no way easy in any aspect, I find myself a little stronger, a scant more aware and a bit more determined. It included a great deal of discomfort, turmoil and uncertainty along with the lack of energy to even open and attempt to write in here.

I made it through the first phase flawlessly. The second phase was a little more difficult, it at times being unbearable and the third, well, that's yet to be determined.  And although I will carry the scars it has left I would not change any of it even if the outcome is not what we hope for.

New York City - Kenna's and My Road Trip

 

I had never been to New York City. I've always wanted to see it and even made plans once to go but it never came about, an unknown blessing at the time. 
I'd often hear the stories of my grandparents immigrating here from Italy and arriving in New York City, my grandfather a young man and my grandmother a mere child, and I was always fascinated with the narratives. I think those anecdotal tales helped spark my interest.

 

Kenna and I drove to Albany, pronounced  awl-buh-nee, to meet my husband at his now ex employer's office and from there we drove to "The Big Apple." His new company has him traveling more frequently and for longer periods of time along with expanding his territory, and as long as he doesn't have to board a plane, he's fine with it, for the moment.  He's been traveling the whole Northeast coast, a few Southern states and now they have added some Midwestern states.  Kenna and I have made the best of it, meeting him and spending a few days here and there with him.  I'm not one to spend long periods of time in a car driving but I have to admit, I have enjoyed our excursions. It is a little more difficult to plan due to me watching Cruz daily along with scheduling in my appointments but it's worked out pretty good so far. 

I mentioned in the last post I have tried to make our peregrinations fun for Kenna, stopping every once in awhile to find a letterbox on our journey. We've stopped at some interesting places to say the least but we always seem to find our way to at least one cemetery in our letterboxing endeavors. It's getting kind of eerie.

 

Call me odd, but I love walking through these burial grounds, especially the churchyards and paying homage to those who have come before us stopping and reading the old headstones and imagining what their life and existence was like. I often walk out of these sacred places with a head full of vociferous chatter scrambling for attention.  We actually stopped at three this trip, two of which were Revolutionary War cemeteries.

 

As we walked through the somber grounds, I came across a grave marker that caught my eye, the old worn stone façade lightly decorated with green algae. It brought me back to a moment in my childhood, back when I laid in a hospital bed my one companion open on my lap and I had found myself sketching my own headstone. That child-drawn headstone amazingly similar in shape and design to the one I now found myself standing in front of.  I remember thinking back then, if I had a bench as my headstone maybe those who loved me would come visit and talk to me.  I suppose that mindset has helped made me who I am today and is the reason why I find myself on occasion sitting at my father's last resting place talking to him.

 



On our long drives, Kenna and I make up games to occupy our time. She has quite the imagination and she comes up with some that makes me pause and think.  There's the old standby where you have to find the letters of the alphabet in order from the license plates as we drive by them, which she of course wins every single time only because it's a little difficult for me to spy the different letters because my main concern and attention has to be on my surroundings and the road.

 

 

When we finally arrived in Yonkers in Westchester County - In 1940 the first FM radio broadcast was transmitted from there, we unpacked and headed out for dinner. 

We found a beautiful waterfront establishment, Dolphin Restaurant-Bar-Lounge . The live music from the band playing by the waterfront made just the right atmosphere to sit, relax and enjoy the company, the food, and our surroundings.

 

 

And afterwards, we leisurely strolled along the waterfront taking in the gleaming lights of New York City and the view of the George Washington Bridge.

 



We spent the next day strolling the streets of New York City.  We searched for a couple letterboxes in Central Park and found another one on a busy New York City street using extreme stealthiness.(or should I have just used stealth there?)  And although I opted out of the bird poop facial - I've had my share of excrement thrown my way, the park benches looked marvelous!