UPDATE & Throwback Thursday. I took this photo on Friday, July 9, 2004, but that doesn't matter one bit because I'm using it today to show you my little Mama and me at the Bijou Cafe, eating our last meal in Portland on our first visit here to be with my sons. Now, she's gone, they're still here, I'm here, and the three of us are going to my chemotherapy appointment this afternoon.

If not for this woman, I'd be so scared at what I'm going to find out at 2:30 p.m. today.

As it is, knowing the smarts, the strength, and the determination housed in this sweetheart's little body all of her years--and because I am her daughter--I realize that I will come through the chemotherapy consultation  prepared to face what is next, not nearly as scared as I might have been.

My Mama (and my Daddy) taught my brother Howard and me to prepare ourselves mentally for what might be in our future, to rely on the love and support of our family, to see ourselves being successful, or, at the very least, coming out OK on the other side. My parents were not saints; they were hard-working people, trying to raise us the best that they could, by example in home life, work life, extended family life. Howard and I often speak about how we lucked out astronomically with the two of them as our Mama and Daddy. We'll tell that to anyone who will listen, smiling and feeling in awe as we speak, filled with great memories, loaded with impressions of strength and fortitude. Nowadays since he's still in Mississippi and I'm in Oregon, we talk on the phone very often, and I can see in my mind's eye the tilt of his head, the slight smile, the soft shrug of his shoulders, and the glow in his eyes when we're talking about Mama and Daddy, the blessings that they are our parents.

Because my husband LeRoy died when Lamont was seven and Leland was four, my Mama and Daddy and Howard played a huge role in helping to raise those two little boys into the men that they are today, not discounting one single iota of the influence of their Daddy's genes. He was the same kind of person as my parents. Able to see the humor and creativity and love in the people that the world sent our way, able to use inner strength and determination to get through what the world sent our way.

Lamont and Leland will be beside me at 2:30 p.m. today. There in spirit: Mama, Daddy, and LeRoy.

I love that I got to use one of Mama's favorite words in this post today, iota. She, who didn't get past the 9th grade, somehow discovered that iota fit perfectly when one wanted to discuss and extremely small amount. Thank you, Mama.

My home

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My home comforts me when I walk towards the front door and . . .



. . . when I turn to look out at the world one more time before I walk inside, turn right twice, and open my front door. 

I believe without doubt that my Mama, who passed away on January 7, 2011, approves of my new home, the place I found with the help of my two sons and to which I had moved by the end of January--with the help of my two sons, my brother who flew up from Mississippi, and numerous friends from work who helped pack, clean and move all of my stuff. She knew I couldn't stay in our apartment, not after she took an afternoon nap in her bedroom and did not wake up. She is happy that I found a studio apartment of a suitable size with a bonus room which works brilliantly as a bedroom and a closet large enough for 95% of my stuff--the rest is on display. And the fact that it's an apartment closer to my two sons which actually has nearby or right-out-the-front-door street parking for when they visit serves to increase the smile I know is on her sweet face. 

SP 4449 Steam Locomotive, No. 1

What can be more American that a vintage steam locomotive on the move? You, on the move to vote, that's what. Get out and vote!
 

On Friday, October 19, my brother Howard had flown into town from Mississippi for a visit. He's a game guy, so it didn't faze him one bit when I suggested that we get up very early on Saturday morning and catch mass transit in order to be at Union Station to watch the SP 4449 pull out with her train of vintage cars. Didn't faze him one bit!



The last car in the line of vintage rail cars. I took this photo at 7:28 a.m. We had arrived well before the scheduled departure time of the Deschutes Steam Special, took a quick and most-likely-not-allowed trek across the rail yard at its south end so that we could get on the other side the train, away from the station, and walk northward.
 

I zoomed in and quickly took this photo at 7:31 a.m. and began to concentrate on successfully following my brother's advice--look like you belong here and keep walking--until we could get away from where we really shouldn't have been, crossing the tracks in an operating railroad station. We looked and listened, then thankfully ended up on a regular sidewalk beside a building and even found somewhere to wait out of the rain.

In a few minutes, we saw people gathering to the north at an intersection between a street and the tracks. Then we decided that the SP 4449 must be on the other side of the line of cars from our vantage point, completely out of sight from our vantage point! By 8:07 a.m., we had hurried north to NW 9th and crossed the tracks heading west, just in time to see the locomotive steaming towards us so that it could make the change from the track it was on to the track it needed to be on in order to be connected with the line of vintage rail cars.

The sold out special excursion left Union Station in Portland, Oregon, went to Vancouver, Washington to pick up more passengers, and then headed east in Washington alongside the Columbia River until time to turn south at Wishram where it crossed the Columbia River so that it could go to Bend, Oregon, along the Deschutes River. Folks were transported from the station in Bend to various lodging sites, then returned to the train on Sunday for the return trip.

Here's the back story: I had contemplated buying myself a ticket, but by the time I made up my mind, the ticket selection I could splurge on had sold out. Still and all, getting to stand beside the tracks and see, hear and feel this locomotive that I love made up for not being aboard. Plus, I would have missed my brother's perfect visit--we had a blast, my sons, my brother and I.

Link to a post from someone on the excursion, with a fantastic photo of the train going over a trestle!

Rainy autumn in my neighborhood, No. 2

Friday a week ago, the day that my brother arrived in Portland for his visit, we walked from the bus to the apartment; we'd had a full afternoon out and about in Portland, either on mass transit--MAX, bus, and Portland Streetcar--or on foot. As you can tell from the amount of water trapped at this corner, it had been raining hard earlier. In fact, the two of us got soaked walking from the Oregon Rail Heritage Center to the Portland Streetcar stop. Everywhere we went, we managed to avoid puddles in our path.

As we approached and I noticed this man engaged in a regularly occurring autumn activity here in Portland, I grabbed my camera from inside my raincoat and took a few photos. I didn't realize I had the bicycle in the shot until I had downloaded them to the iMac. Yea!



The bicyclist made it through the puddle, while the man with the rake diligently continued his work. We crossed the street out of view to the left where there was good drainage, avoiding our final puddle of the day.

Two of the reasons why I have successfully made it through the last 365 days. My sons.

Saturday, January 7, was the one year anniversary of Mama's death. Naturally I wondered how I would feel, how I would act.

So, in order to insulate myself in what I consider to be a healthy manner, I stopped by The Circuit NE Tuesday after work. No, I did not join Lamont and Leland in bouldering. Instead I said to them, "Let's go to lunch on Saturday after you've finished bouldering. You know it has been one year on that day." "Yes," and "Yes," they both said.

They came and got me around 1 p.m. I pulled a Grandma on them and was waiting in my apartment when they came to the door, purse in hand, my coat already on! We went to Cha! Cha! Cha! on SE Hawthorne. Good, inexpensive food. Then we went to JaCiva’s, also on SE Hawthorne, for some handmade chocolates. While I believe Mexican food and chocolate go hand in hand and made me feel pretty good on Saturday, it was being with Lamont (left) and Leland (right) that made me feel best of all.

Don't get me wrong, having the thoughts and prayers and love from y'all all over the USA and over in England has helped me endure and heal and go forth, but being able to see these two young men on a regular basis, to hug them and get hugs from them, to see their sparkling eyes and smiles, to be able to tell them face to face, thank you so much for the big part you played in making Grandma's last years on earth so special for her (and for me with her)--those things have taken me over the top.

I woke up on Saturday, wondering how it would go. By the time I had spent time on the phone with Milton and Kay and Howard, had been with Lamont and Leland and with Casey (who came over for while late afternoon), then had watched the Saints take care of Detroit on TV while I ate the supper I had cooked, I went to bed knowing I had made it one whole year. I feel stronger and more at peace than I thought possible. Now I am on my way into the next 365 days. Thank you, everyone.

My brother flew into Portland to help with my move. His plane landed at Portland International Airport.

Here's the next plane he saw--the U DSP atop the HMS Uranus--a fine example of a quirky art car parked a block east of Killer Burger, just off NE Sandy Blvd., where Lamont and I took him for a hearty burger and fries lunch. All three of us got the Classic. Take a look at yesterday's post for a photo.



Another shot of the picture perfect intro for Howard's four days in Portland!