I am writing to ya'll because my brother first wrote...
" Malignant Melanoma late stage 3 early stage 4. I can not tell you, unless you have been there, what you feel like when they say your name and cancer in the same sentence. Then they add that "Stage 4" thing. There is no stage 5, stage 4 ends it all. Well if you know me and have followed this far, you know that I now have 4 new sets of scars and Praise God, no active cancer cells. The reality is I will likely develop more."
Duane is a Pastor of a church in Az, married for almost 25 year and father of six. A couple of masters degrees...black belt (or some impressive color)...eagle scout ...you know your basic over achiever. I covet his baby blue eyes and wavy hair. I really wanted to be able to beat him at something. There are rumors that I beat him up regularly.
But he is my runt, my geeky baby brother and my friend. I was afraid and didn't know what to do....this is one of Duane's solutions

AZ TO DC BIKE TREK....
So across the country we go, trying to get people to understand how to check and protect themselves from this killer that is so easily stopped. 2500 miles and the goal will be to raise 10,000 dollars for awareness and research through sponsorships and donations. We want to meet and greet and inform people how to check their skin as we go. Contacting local news stations along the way, churches, schools. A middle aged preacher man, My nephew and his friend, a young lady soldier....and me (I am not riding a bike but a scooter instead!!!!)
Our training: We need to be able to ride 100 miles a day and then be able to sit on the seat the next day. * I have been training just as hard as Duane!
well, we have a start on the donations! Please help us get going.
This site: http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/AZ2DC/Grassroots-Fundraisers
is for tax deductible donation toward Melanoma research. If you want to help us offset the cost of the trip(Food, socks, airfare, gasoline water pop...you know stuff!!) (approx 3,000) you need to contact Duane (I'll give you the number) directly and that will NOT be tax deductible.

I will be Blogging the whole way....We leave late May and Duane assures me we will be back by the forth!
Dawn Marie

My father has cancer…

About six months ago my brother and I decided it was time to go to Florida and talk to our father about why he had decided to completely cut us from his life…It had been about six years since we had any contact with him. So we arrived unannounced at his front door…I was going to confront George Braswell The scariest man I have every known.

He had never physically hurt me…but he was a big man with a bad temper, he hurtful words over the years were still ringing in my ears (even as I stood there 43 years after I first called him Daddy). Really why was I so afraid of him?

The only question I wanted an answer to was “Do you love me?” His answer was “No.”

That was what I had always been afraid of, but hadn’t realized until that very moment. From the moment I heard him say “I will always love you, I will be your Daddy and you will be my princess”

Most likely that why I have had both silly and sensible fears of so very many things. Driving, mix masters, escalators, sewing machines…heights, caves, bats…”J” walking…men…

But in those few days I decided I refuse to never be afraid again.

Now I let the door shut when I go into the storage closet at work…I dreamed of riding in one of those little planes…I plan to sky drive and jump off a bridge…

I rode a Ferris wheel. I went to NY on a ferry and rode the subways…OK I felt like throwing up but I did it anyway.

I almost drove to Connecticut. Realized I need to work on that one but knew I could handle it one day…baby steps (maybe I will ride the Dominator before I go sky diving.)

I am not afraid of living and I am not afraid of dying.

But when my hero called me…

I wrapped myself in my blanket…I am afraid.

My hero has cancer. My father is not my hero.

A daughter is a gift of love.

There are so many moment in a persons life that seemed to forever vivid, forever clear. If you are over the age of 3 or 4 you all know this is true. So many that I could recount them for days (ask my boys they know this is very true.) But four of the sweetest memories are those that bonded me forever to my children.

My first born, Jason Scott, so amazing and beautiful. Perfect. A new love of my life.

Samantha Joy, A porcelain baby, the girl I always wanted. Such a sweet moment as I knew she would forever change the world with that beautiful face.

Obadiah David, running off that plane and jumping into my arms. The first word I heard him shout was “Mama”. This skinny child with the most amazing smile was so right, from that moment on I was his Mama.

Georgia Melody, she danced into my heart the moment a woman put her into my arms and told me ‘go ahead…she’s yours.’ She has been dancing ever since.

My Georgia Bean is the subject of my rambling prose today. Because today is her birthday! Sit still for a minite and she will tell you she has hit the double digits! Today was also the first day she wouldn’t let me kiss her in front of her friends (I knew it would happen eventually, but still I wished…)

Let us for just a moment go back to 1991… We had our little family (2 boys and a girl) when one day I was standing at the kitchen sink (that seems to be a place of revelation for me) I knew then that we would have one more child! I already knew that there would be no more homemade babies and I already had a heart made child. The next would be a child of prayer (and hopefully not a boy!) That night I told Garry that one day we would have four children…I was laughed at!!! Our hands were full and the bank account was empty. The next morning he looked at me and sighed…’Dawn we are going to end up with four children.’ (apparently the bedroom is his place of revelation)

At this point we had one 14 year old sleeping in the guest room, but we knew that would be temporary. For the next 10 years 17 more children of all ages would be in and out of our home and lives. We were not meant to keep any of them. About this time I was getting frustrated where was this little girl God had promised to me?

Georgia Melody, she danced into my heart the moment a woman put her into my arms and told me ‘go ahead…she’s yours.’ She has been dancing ever since. Ten years I waited for this beautiful girl and now I have had ten years of one great big party that never ends… I have learned that while I don’t understand girls it isn’t necessary to understand my daughter’s dance… just enjoy it!!!
Happy birthday George…let’s dance until my shoes wear out!


A daughter is a gift of love.

What happened?

This morning planned look over all the essays I have written over the last few months. I would make sure that I didn’t repeat any. I expected to see each one…with the run on sentences and photo art (matching each entry so as to draw my reader in). This morning I might read each over and decide what to submit for publication or to just leave to dwell in cyberspace. I was hoping to glance through the months of publishable thoughts and decide if today I would write of purple cows or what not to wear.

I expected to review essays about…
Bugs and babies
State of the union
State of the clan

What happened? Was my blog hacked? Was someone else going to receive those royalty checks?

My essays about…
A man hitting a quarter of a century
The rest of the Wedding.
Daddy Vs Daddy

When exactly did my computer crash?
Profound thoughts about…
True friends you can trust
Or you can cry on
Or just smile at knowing they can’t understand it all?

Could it be that I forgot to hit save?
Musings on…
Lunch with family
Dinner with family
Breakfast with family

Did my hard drive catch another cold?
Christmas lights in February
The perfect sandwiches
Becoming a mufti-millionaire virtual farmer

How can I possibility rewrite when new thoughts are pouring in faster than I could rethink the old?
Kelly and Julie
Now you’re older…elder
Jersey girls and gas!!
Scrap blankets
Vomiting in the morning
Diaper funerals

Can my reader faithful handle another bout of manic daily prose?
Bucket list
Be not afraid
The hair, the hugs, the look

Or is it like I knew in my heart…I once again have let my dreams be just those …dreams.

(Sigh)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY...A POEM WITH MUCH LOVE

A
WORK IN
PROGRESS…

For Den-Den
Love always and ever Dawn Marie

One child
Daughter
Mother – Sister

Storyteller

Lives in the make believe
World

Marries the make believe
Men

Ignore their pain
Magic – not there…
Ever suffering…

Ever loving

Giving and taking

Just one
Part…

A piece with
Missing pieces

First of the
Ten

She is a work in progress.


One child
Son
Uncle – Brother

Hand first

Never to be a father

Called and became a Father

Always to be a friend

Actor or Artful
Dodger

Linus without his
Blanket or
Adaptations

Does the dresser
Really speak up in
the end?

Just one
Part…

A piece with missing pieces

Second of the
Ten

He is a work in progress.


One child
Granddaughter
Daughter – Niece

Soho

The mother of the brother
Daughter of non-fathers

With the daughter
-not to be a mother

Her daughter is the sister of the brother
-not to be an uncle
With an uncle for a brother

Off beat poet

Fears growing
Old? Up?

Just one
Part…

A piece with
Missing pieces

Last of the
Ten

She is a work in progress.


She started all this
Then
--She left

Yet it continued
Diseased – Ulcerated
Fragmented

No longer One Holy Church

One family, One God

Strong, faith searching
Together

Forgiving, loving
Healing

Just one
Piece

A part of our missing pieces

The beginning
Of the
Ten.

We are a work
In
Progress.

It’s seven o’clock in the morning and as I sit in the quiet with my coffee and cigarette, I decide that it is Thanksgiving, a good time to have a thought or two.

Why do some people call today ‘Turkey Day’? OK yes most people do enjoy a meal of good ole’ Tom. And yes an abundance of the fixings and pie. (I personally don’t care for turkey or ham, but I am craving the Shop Rite canned cranberry sauce and mashed turnips). But today was never meant to be a celebration of food.

Thanksgiving was meant to be a day, set aside by man to not only remember to be thankful for our abundance of turkey, but of our abundance of blessings. It was meant to be a day of prayer and thankfulness for all we have been given. Abundance not only because of our hard work or choices, but because of the abundance God blessed us with each day. We need to remember how much we have been given.

I know who is on my list of ‘readers’. Some of you have forgotten, and some may wonder what have they to be thankful for. A few may even wonder what I have to be thankful for. I can’t answer this question for each of you, but I will tell you just a bit of what I am thankful for.

Garry, my true love, is a gift from God for me! He is healthy and strong. He blesses me by working so he can both provide and allow me to stay home...to take care of our kids, heal, and grow. He is a man of compassion, integrity, and humor! I am so thankful for the way he knows how to teach, play with and protect his family!
I am blessed, I am thankful.

Jason, my first born (homemade), is my gift from God. He is both my student and my teacher. I’m thankful not only because he is my beautiful baby, but because he has been my rock. He saw and understood my mood swings long before anyone else. I could not hide it from him. Yet he loves me despite both what I could and could not control. I am so thankful that I can now watch him grow into the man he was meant to be.
I am blessed, I am thankful.

Jaymie, not only my daughter marriage but daughter by choice, she teaches me so much more than I have hoped to teach her. She is my Tweety. (Tiny sweetie) Shy is both shy and spunky. I watch her stay strong as she embraces her new life with God and her husband by her side,
I am blessed. I am thankful.

Samantha (also homemade), is my greatest joy and my deepest sorrow. She blesses me daily with her strength, stubbornness, and humor. God blessed me with her more than anyone could understand. She made me ‘step up to the plate’. She showed me that I could be “more than a conqueror.” That I could not do everything on my own. That life isn’t fair, but it is good! That we will both be OK on our own. She continually blesses everyone she knows with her mixture of hope and laughter.
I am blessed, I am thankful.

Obadiah, (a child of prayer), blessing everyone he meets with his smile and sensitivity. He taught me to be humble. I learned I couldn’t fix everything if I just loved him enough. I learned from him that children are gifts that we need to give back to God (daily). I am thankful that Obie showed me that I was not in control. I am thankful that he has taught me all of this just by knowing and loving him.
I am blessed, I am thankful.

Georgia, (also a child of prayer not blood) because of her I have learned patience. I prayed so long for her. Being blessed to receive this I again needed some of that patience a necessary tool for a parent of a girly girl. I am thankful that she taught me cheerleaders aren’t what I taught they were. That she taught me that as I dreamed of sugar and spice, she also couldn’t be changed with a bit of love and perseverance. (She will always run screaming away from bugs no matter what I say!) I am blessed by both her outer and inner beauty. Thankful for bringing both giggles and ‘pretty ponies’ into our home. Mostly I am thankful that she doesn’t want to talk about wrestling at the dinner table.
I am blessed, I am thankful.

I could fill a book with all that I am thankful for....Family, friends, a home, washing machines and a diner that can cook a respectable dish of liver and onions!

But I need to stop now and make two vegetables and a desert while trying to remember that although I hate to cook...I can!

Dawn Marie

* Happy Thanksgiving! Most of this note was written two years ago. Much had not changed, much has changed. Yet still…I am blessed. I am thankful.

The wedding part one…

With just a few weeks before this blessed occasion I wanted to strangle my first born! There were none of the tears that I was expecting on a daily basis, but instead the sighs of exacerbation as to how could I have raised a child like this. I really didn’t need this.

With what I suspect was just sheer malice, my sweet and sticky child, my minister of God still refused to put his cereal bowel away! This has been a long running battle of at least 18+ years! You would think he was incapable, obsessed with the notion that cereal bowls belong on the floor next to the couch. I tried to remind him that if he was old enough to get married he was old enough to put the offending bowl in the sink (better yet dishwasher), but my words were in vain. Yes I know that in those early formative years I should have made him eat at the table, but I can’t resist his smile.

With just a few weeks to go his room was still uninhabitable. Most of his Stuff should have been packed away by now. The refrigerator unplugged for years now should have been carted off to the dump! (Three months latter it is in front of my craft supplies and everyone is still afraid to open it)

Only a few more weeks to go and still his is auguring with me as to the tackiness of the decorations that I planned for this special event …but that is for the wedding part two…