Going to be with God


My son has lost his wife, Sheila.  Their child has lost her mother.


After a long and complicated illness of uncertain origin, Sheila has passed and as in the image above, she has left this world for another.

As Roman Catholic, they held a funeral and mass, followed by cremation, with all members of the family attending.  My son, grieving, mourning.

I can’t be there – they are a long way from Crescent City.

Sheila was a Peruvian citizen, as is Lucia.

Strangely, Sheila lost her mother at an early age, and Lucia suffers the same fate.

 My son, a strong father and respected family member,

will continue parenting, loving, nurturing.

Together, they had hoped for a simple life in Cuzco.

The hope should not wane.

  Perhaps I am there, with them.

We are ONE, after all.


Disco Diva and Someone Else


Disco ball in blue

Disco ball in blue (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Yesterday, while my mom slept, I went out for a fast walk.  I can usually pass most anyone on the street with my healthy stride.  An hour later, I was back at Mom’s house.

When I opened the door, I heard disco tunes playing loudly, the tunes I’d danced and drank to, in my early twenties, another life.  I instantly recalled the people, events and situations which now, seem so far away, as to belong to someone else.

My mother was dancing playfully in the front room.  I took my sneakers off and joined her.

When she’d had enough, we sat, and my mother opened up with stories of her life, her father, mother and siblings.  She certainly felt as I do, the past seems so far away, so unlike what we may do today, as to belong to someone else.

I’m grateful for the stories, some of which I laughed heartily, some poignant, and some shocking.  Not shocking for me, personally, nothing ever surprises me about people.  Perhaps shocking in the sense of the audacity that people have in the acts and activities they involve themselves in.

So, it was another day of talking and listening.  It was my mother’s turn, and I have an understanding of how I came to be on earth.  Some might call me a mistake, but NO!  I don’t feel like a mistake, nor does my mother.  I feel certainly, my life is far from a mistake.

I’ve reached many, soothed hundreds, spoken kind words to uncountable people.  Conversed with strangers, entertained thousands, enlightened those who want to hear.  I’ve loved and provided for many living creatures, expecting nothing in return.

My life could not be a mistake.  Though my deceased birth father and grand mother must have thought it such, it was their loss not to know me.  Ah, but would they recognize such loss?  Perhaps not.

Today I’ll do a bit of second hand shopping, take some photographs and fill my nose with the blooming jasmine.  I’ll worry little about my animals, who are in my husband’s loving hands.

This is a most wonderful time of life.



I couldn’t stop it.


Here I am, in Southern California for a week.  Already, I feel the effects of the tree pollens and felt a little sick upon landing in a concrete jungle with a layer of smog around me.

Interestingly, I had little pain (trigeminal nerve) while at high altitudes.  I’ve also noted that if my mind  is intensely occupied, or my mind and mouth is going, I feel less pain.

Normally, I’m not a chatterbox, but when I got to talking to my Mother and her husband, it was like a faucet was turned on and there was no shut-off valve.

The research I’d done as a family historian, was pouring out of me.  I talked, I cried, I talked some more.

You see, I am quite empathic.  I feel for people.   I don’t have to know them, see them, feel or be with them.  I am with them already.

I shared with my mother – things she didn’t know about her own family.  I shared parts of the lives and deaths of people in the past.  Some of the deaths were terrible – my heart aches for the suffering of our ancestors.

We are connected, all of us. 

I feel my great grandfather, Dermot Cole, who came from Ireland to Quebec in the mid 1800’s with his sons and wife.  He arrived declaring a skill – carriage maker!  How beautiful to know!  And still, I seek his work, his death, his essence.  I call to him.

Today, I will enjoy a day with my Mother.  She looks so pretty and I’m proud of her accomplishments, and determination.  I like my mother, aside from loving her.  We have deep discussion and hearty laughs.

Last night, the word forgiveness came up.  We had plenty of time to determine what that means to each of us, who forgives, why anyone would forgive and if it was necessary to forgive.  It’s really a philosophical question – one I’ve been interested in and will perhaps add to my book of perspectives, in progress.

So, good day everyone.  Thinking of you and the words are coming fast.

Your comments and discussion quite welcome here.





If you are, I apologize – I’m not quite ready.

Leaving my beautiful Pacific Northwest and my precious family and animals to visit Mom and two more daughters. Not so keen on being in Southern California, with smog, zillions of cars and folks, lots of concrete and not sleeping in my own bed.

I have many blog posts titled and saved, funny stuff, philosophical stuff and my own unique point of view stuff.   I’ll be back soon.  Did I say that before?   I like to do what I say I’m going to, and believe it, I do remember my promises, even from months ago. Posts about barter, cribbage, awards, ukulele scores and more.

Happily, all the creatures here are very well.  I’m the only one with new troubles.

Have you ever met anyone who’s had say, ten colds in their entire life?  How about someone who’s had the flu, um, three or four times? When I had the chicken pox, I had three or four pox and my siblings were covered in them.

I have the greatest immune system, coupled with healthy thoughts and eating, not sitting around all day, and still strong at nearly 59 years old.  Wow.  Fifty nine.

Sadly, I have developed yet another neurological disorder, and it has kept me from focusing on my writing lately.  Trigeminal Neuralgia – horrendous thing…

So, with that, I work on getting the right medications, will seek out natural and homeopathic assistance, hoping to try acupuncture and some exercises that seem to have worked for others.  It’s not going to kill me, but it sure feels like it.

Stay with me, folks.  I have lots and lots to tell you.  See you in a week or so.

Your friend in life,




Tracing my ancestry, I uncover tidbits that make my eyebrows go  sky-high along with my signature “Hmmmmmm?” expressed in low to high notes.

I'm with ya!

I’m with ya!

Based on my amazing  powers of lateral thinking, logic and intuitive deduction, a recent discovery sets me wondering whether I should dig deeper or let it go.  So far, I have done nothing with my discovery, and will await the support and comments of my readers, which I value highly.


When seeking information or attempting to ‘locate’ an ancestor, I look at other family members, neighbors, events, or anything remotely related or questionable.  At times, I end up hopping down the bunny trail, so to speak, and then there are times like these –

About three months ago I noticed a record which had my grandfather’s name, (Henry Duato) his birth and death years, and the city in which he was buried.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t access any information or look at the record, as the family tree was ‘private.”  You see, folks on the ancestry site have the option to keep things to themselves or share what they have learned with others.  All my work is public, so anyone can view and take advantage of my research.

I sent a message to the person, and after months, I heard back.  He allowed me access to his family tree, and told me that he knew nothing of my grandfather – only that he had married his grandmother in later years.

After discovering where he’s buried, when he died, I didn’t think there was anything else to look at.  Al contrario!!

This applies perfectly.

This applies perfectly.

My grandfather, who is extremely elusive, had an unusual middle name and passed it down to his son, my birth father.  I discovered the death of my birth father through the ancestry site – and that’s another story.

Mrs. Henry Duato the second, had two children around the time she was with my grandfather.  Was she married to her first husband when the first of the two children, mentioned above, were born? I haven’t found source documentation yet.

One of the two sons wears the unusual middle name of my grandfather.  Delora.  This isn’t a name that you pull out of the air or even off of a list of baby names.  Delora?  Who names their son Delora?  It’s a woman’s name, the English equal to Delores.  The young man must have been teased incessantly.



You may know that in Hispanic culture, the mother’s name is often used as a middle name, and more likely it’s a surname. I’m guessing that Delora was my grandfather’s mother’s name. Many cultures honored and celebrated their parents, grandparents and other loved relatives, by carrying forward their names.  In large families, even given names were used repeatedly!  Perhaps that explains why so many folks ‘went by’ a nickname, either assigned or chosen.

So, the person who allowed me access to his private tree, appears to believe that his grandmother and  her first husband are his grandparents  and Delora is his father. Also, a second son born, was given the name Henry, this information gleaned from a couple of obituary records.  Does this seem a bit too coincidental to you?

I’m seeing a red flag and worms squiggling everywhere!

Which red flag should I ignore?

Which red flag should I ignore?

Need a clincher?  There is a personal notation in regard to Delora.  His Aunt and Uncle raised him for the first four years of his life, until his mother “came back” for him.  Yikes.  Where did she go?  Did she run off with my grandfather?  And why are these two offspring carrying names of my grandfather?  Were they having an affair?  Were they married?  Did someone get caught?  What?  And how do you leave and come back, to take a four-year old baby away from the only parents he’s ever known?  Ouch.

I haven’t asked the man anything yet.  I removed the middle names from my father and grandfather records on my family tree, leaving only the letter “D.”

If Delora was my grandfather’s son, then he would be my uncle. And the son of Delora would be my cousin. There may be other offspring from the couple, though  living people are completely private and difficult to track via internet.

I’ve thought for weeks about this.  I have no wish to hurt anyone.  Does a man have the right to know who his father was, if I am indeed correct?  Am I obligated to start spilling out the can of worms?  Conversely, do I ask or say nothing? Did Mrs. Henry Duato just happen to like the names Henry and Delora?

Agent Mulder

If I am correct, then the man who offered me a look on his private tree is a blood relative.

You may recall that my birth certificate lists a man’s name who is not my birth father, and if my mother hadn’t stopped me from seeking him out in my early thirties, and told me who my true father was, I would not have known.  My DNA test and family tree lineage proves my mother’s moment of truth.

With this knowledge, what would you do? A little something?  A big something?  Nothing? Ask a vague and leading question?


Is it selfish of me to want to know more, to know who I belong to? Will my wish for the truth be squashed to save the heart and feelings of another human being, related or not?  Finding the truth is a little cumbersome at times.



Beam me up, Scotty! Go where many have gone before!


English: Gaspard de Coligny by Gustave Crauck

Gaspard de Coligny by Gustave Crauck (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

For the past few weeks I’ve been researching my ancestors.  I’m delighted to find a few historical figures in my direct line, one being the Admiral.

The large monument of Admiral Gaspard II de Coligny, Nobleman of France, miniscule in comparison to the dedication and commitment to his cause, from commoners to nobility.  He eventually paid with his life, yet he never wavered.  The Massacre of Saint Bartholomew, ordered by Queen Mother Catherine de’ Medici ended his efforts, his cause unsuccessful. Gaspard de Coligny lives on as as a testament to courage and dedication in the face of oppression!

The Admiral, before his death, pleading for his cause.

Many people assist me by generously giving their time and effort translating old French documents, searching for information, offering guidance, and I, look for metaphorical crumbs of mortar on brick walls!  When I find the crumb, I use it to lead me to a line of people waiting to be discovered!

I doubt that a grandmother I never knew, who passed on in the 20th century, was aware that she was a direct line to French Nobility and the Old World. Do you know where  your ancestors are?  ♥

“Who am I?”  Even as a child, I wanted to know.  I didn’t look, think or behave like anyone around me.  Where did I come from, anyway?  In terms of nature versus nurture, I’m far more nature than nurture and I aim to find the links, if I can.

As I continue to grow my ancestral tree,  the trunk  joined by Ireland, Spain, France, Quebec, Nova Scotia, Cuba and of course, America!  With all my branches in place, buds, leaves and flowers grow.

The Transporter (Star Trek) exists through discovery – historical records, letters, paintings, photographs, newspapers, documents and word of mouth.

There are people living today who I’m ‘related’ to, who neither know or want to know me. Someday, they or their descendants will discover my ancestral tree and make it a part of their own.  From the Transporter Room –ENERGIZE!

Eugenie and Princess, loved and lost and found


Loved and lost.

When I found the above image, the detail and obvious love and respect the farmer had for his precious cows apparent. I’d guess that Eugenie and Princess are buried in the family’s plot.

Starlight, my Shetland pony, lived on a ranch in Ramona, California when I purchased her for $800.00.  Starlight is the offspring of a Class A miniature sire and a Shetland pony mare.  She is typically shaped as an American Shetland, and happens to sport flashy paint or pinto coloring.

Starlight, hoping for a handout, covered in dried mud.

At the ranch where Starlight was born, a pet cow lived (or may still live) the Life of Riley. Though I can’t recall her name, I can recall her size –  she was HUGE.  Precious cow could hardly maneuver a 10% grade to greet us, as her guardian called her name, offering her a treat.

My guardianship and love for the animals I’m committed to caring for leads me to thoughts of the nature of human beings. I’m fortunate to have Mark and my four offspring, my sister, who love me.  Then, there are others.

If you’re a part of a wonderful family, take care of, support, have consideration for and love one another – I am happy for you.  My happiness lies in the knowledge that human beings are capable of forming cohesive, respectful, loving relationships. That special, mutually beneficial bond enriches your life and in turn the lives of the family unit. Further, if you appreciate it, wisdom and kindness can transfer to the rest of humanity.  You must be consciously aware, however, or the benefit of your bond stays trapped within your own ‘walls’ and will have no meaningful effect on  ‘outside’  human beings.

This pondering leads to my ancestry and genealogy.  I’ve traced my grandfather’s roots to Spain, and my 8th great-grandfather, who came to Canada on a ship with a Regiment of men, in fine uniforms, to displace the Iroquois   in the late 1600’s.  At that time, I don’t believe the Iroquois had joined with other tribes to form  the Iroquois Confederacy.

The King’s daughter’s of France, come to meet the First Regiment of Soldiers from Spain, in Canada.

I found a historical drawing of the fort that the Spaniards built; it’s quite similar in design to the long houses the Iroquois built and I must wonder if the Indians didn’t do the Spaniards a kindness and build it for them!  This was a common occurrence between the Americans and Europeans – Native Americans were THE Americans!

In turn, I consider my life, and relating purpose and meaning. My obligation is to enrich the lives of others, with what I glean during my life, skills, experiences, talents, knowledge and wisdom.  I suggest that you, too,  have an identical obligation, particularly in regard to your benefit of family bonds and any life experiences.

While engrossed in genealogy research, I stumbled on a photograph of my grandmother’s brother.  Great Uncle Henry had lost his right leg in a farming accident in Maine.  His draft card proved his identity, as it states, “right leg off.”

Great Uncle Henry

Great Uncle Henry is part of many family trees and the further back in time, the more people share the human beings from the past on their own family trees.

As a young woman, I attended a weekend symposium on the status of women.  During the opening meet and greet, we were to name the women who had positive influence in our lives.  I left, as I knew immediately, I did not have the benefit that the other women had and further, would not be able to fully relate. I felt shame and embarrassment

I’m eager to learn of those who came before me, especially excited to learn of human beings with thoughts and skills similar to my own. A chance meeting with an ancestor!  What a glorious prize!  They existed, as do I.

My birth father denied me for nearly all of his life, never wanted me. I had two short meetings with him when I was in my 30’s. The first, in secret from most of his family, except for his wife. The second time, my oldest daughter was with me, and he never looked me in the eyes, but decided to insult my laughter, likening it to a “cackling hen.”  Never before, or since…

His obituary, a glowing tribute to a good and loved father.   How can a man be a good and loving father to some of his children, and adopt another child, and know I exist, and do nothing? Likely, I’ll never know.

So to you, who have so many, and to you, who have few or none, find meaning in your existence.  You’re obligated to share that meaning, wisdom, talent and examples of fine humanity, with other human beings, so that they, too, may make us all, more human.

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