UPDATE on my cancer. I'm pleased to have this news for you and apologize for its length.

I took this photo on Memorial Day as I walked the path to the Benson Bridge at Multnomah Falls, on a quest to celebrate my new-found-self by making a steadfast effort to overcome my fear of heights. I had to get in enough steps to burn off those pancakes that I had for breakfast and knew that walking circles in the crowd of people trying to see the falls from that viewpoint wouldn’t cut it. The only way to get those steps was to take the two-tenths-of-a-mile paved path through the woods, switchbacks and all.

The photo illustrates how I see my life today. There on the right is a bridge, a pathway, that has been somewhat blocked--that's what my life was like while undergoing two surgeries, six rounds of chemo, and 28 radiation treatments with the fear of not getting rid of the cancer hanging over my head. I had a visible path in my life, but it was blocked by the cancer. Those medical procedures I listed opened up the block by doing away with the cancer in my body. Now I see my life as that wide-open bridge, a pathway, that you see on the left. I'm on my way to my future, one step at a time, one correct bite of food at a time, one sip of life-giving water at a time, one round of laughter mixed with smiles at a time, one out-and-about enjoying life at a time, one realization how much God loves me at a time, one heart full of joy at a time because my sons are so close by, and one warm feeling when I think of so many folks who love and care about me.

Monday morning I had an appointment with my oncology surgeon. She was pleased about my CT scan from May 2 with no abnormalities; pleased with my exercise, weight loss, and eating right efforts; pleased with my attitude and outlook; pleased that I had used my new-found-self in overcoming my fear of heights. She said something along the lines of what we hope for each of our patients is that they come to a point where they realize they’ve looked their mortality in the eye and have gone on to regain joy in their lives. She told me she knows that I’ve done that, a sweet smile all over her face.

I myself am pleased that she said she'd see me in three months, no CT scan scheduled prior to that appointment. The only thing I have to watch for is any change in my health, such as increasing fatigue. She knows that my level of fatigue will continue to fluctuate for some time to come, but if I go downhill, I'm to contact her then, not wait for the three-months-off appointment.

I don’t believe I’ll have to call ahead. I told her that over the three-day Memorial Day weekend, I went for a late evening walk on the Sunday, came in and sat down in the recliner, not out of breath, not tired, and this thought popped into my head: I feel younger. Shocked, I let myself say it out loud: I feel younger. Then I told her that I’d not mentioned this to anyone else, that I’d saved it to share with her. She smiled again. When Lamont came back into the exam room, I shared it with him and we all three smiled. Now I’m sharing it with y’all and know in my heart that as you read this, you’re smiling, too.

I'm pleased to be able to report this to y'all and to say again, thank you for your continued prayers, love, and concern.

Still excited, all these hours later. Can't wait for Tuesday night. Don't know where the game will be because the opponent has not yet been revealed. Those two teams are playing later on today, San Antonio and Dallas.

As I looked through the viewfinder at Nicolas Batum out of bounds, about the throw the ball into play, I calmly said to myself, "It is our turn." As you saw on yesterday's post, Damian Lillard, wearing the letter O, caught the pass beyond the three-point line, turned and let it fly. In a moment in time that none of us who know that We Are Rip City will ever forget, the ball passed through the net, causing it to fly sideways, sort of like all of us Blazers' fans felt, flying every which way with joy. There on the court, the players' motion of joy began with Wesley Matthews, No. 2 in the white uniform. You can't tell it in this version of the photo that I took from the opposite end of the court that LaMarcus Aldridge has turned his head to the left and is looking at Damian Lillard, a great big smile already on his face. (If you click on the photo, you'll go to my Flickr account and can then click on the photo to enlarge it and maybe see that great big ol' smile!) LaMarcus knew that buzzer beater had just sent the Portland Trail Blazers into the second round of the NBA playoffs for the first time in 14 years. He's been with the team since 2006-07. The motion of dejection started with everyone in a red uniform, stuck on the court, standing at the bench, a fan in the crowd wearing a team jersey stands behind the Rockets' bench, his hands dejectedly atop his head.



The motion of joy. All over the photo from the court to the stands--look at Damian, Wesley and LaMarcus! I love that it looks like the ball has stopped right in front of James Harden, No. 13 in the red uniform. I hope that he has dreamed about this shot repeatedly since Friday night. Not a nightmare, just a continuous, looping, hyper-slow-motion dream that starts when his teammate, No. 25, arrived too late to impact that shot. No. 25 who has disappeared from the area so that he's not in the photo. Seconds earlier, yes, seconds, that same No. 25 had made a basket that put the Rockets ahead by two, a big deal, An even bigger deal, No. 25 made a gigantic mistake leaving point nine seconds on the clock. I want that dream to end with the ball going through the basket and the Rockets frozen in dejection, right before it starts again with Batum inbounding the ball. You may think I'm going overboard here, but know that I'm not. This is a great big deal. How it will go in the second round? No one knows. But, right now, I plan to enjoy this point nine seconds in time over and over and over. And I fully realize that I may have to own the dejection of a different outcome at some point in the future. I will, but right now, I don't care.



Motion of joy, speeding up.



LaMarcus runs in high gear as Wesley skirts the frozen Patrick Beverley. I'm about to miss the action because I appear to have forgotten to turn the camera to the left. My mind, blown.



I'm still concentrating on Wesley and LaMarcus, so that is wasn't until I uploaded the photos that I did noticed No. 12 Dwight Howard begin to walk towards the corner. Later that night, I heard one of the Talkin' Ball local sports guys say on their TV show that not too long before this moment when Dwight had made a basket, he yelled at the crowd as he turned to run down court, "I'm the best player on the floor!" I saw him yelling from where I sit, but of course I'm way up high above the court, so hearing that guy repeat what the now vanquished Rocket had to say thrills me! Oh, look. The ball has bounced from the floor up into the air again, and James Harden still stands, dejected. I like that word. Makes me wonder what jected might mean--happy, joyous? So that when you're dejected, you are far from happy, joyous. See, I wasn't kidding about enjoying this second over and over.



The ball's about to settle there on the floor as the two refs begin to walk to the table to review the shot, to make certain what we Blazermanics already knew, that Damian got the shot off in time, that the Blazers had won the series 4-2. Oh, and see the guy on the Rockets' bench wearing No. 30, his hands cupped around his mouth? He's their rookie who made a last second shot to defeat the Blazers in game three, right here in our building exactly one week before. We lost that game, the first home game in this round one series, in overtime after winning games one and two in Houston. No. 30 was only in the game because the Rockets' No. 25 had fouled out, the same guy who had had no impact on Damian's game-winning three. I remember thinking when the crowd roared at this development, "What if this guy who takes his place does something?" I didn't have a clue who he was, didn't know that he was coming into his sixth-ever NBA game, I just knew that we shouldn't get too excited until the time was out on the clock and that the Blazers had won. So, I owned the dejection on Friday night, a week before I owned the joy.



By the way, No. 6 in the Rockets' uniform is from Portland. Terrance Jones, a Jefferson High School graduate whose team won three straight Oregon class 5A state championships between his sophomore and senior years. He played two years at the University of Kentucky before leaving early for the NBA Draft in 2012. He's been on the Rockets two seasons now. When he was sophomore at Kentucky, the Wildcats won the NCAA Final Four. He's going to be at least a "junior" on the Rockets before that team gets another chance to win the NBA championship.



Finally I moved the camera a bit and managed to get Nicolas Batum hugging Damian around the neck, and the impending arrival of Wesley and LaMarcus.



In the middle of this exuberant group, sort of buried by his joyous teammates, stands Damian Lillard.



There he is, Nicolas still holding on. Wesley holding on. LaMarcus, who said in an after-game interview that he held onto him for at least three minutes. Other Trail Blazers holding on, Earl in the white, Joel in the black and white stripes, Dorell in the gray, and CJ on the left in the same black and white stripes.



Then I quickly moved the camera to get a shot of the confetti. I love to see that stuff come flying out of the ceiling 'cause it means one thing, victory!



An exciting time for everyone, except the Rockets.



Once the refs reviewed the shot, Mark Mason announced that it stands: Blazers win! Blazers win!

This  Merriam-Webster definition applies only to the Rockets at this time:

de·ject·ed adjective - sad because of failure, loss, etc. / cast down in spirits / depressed

I will admit it, if and when I become dejected because a game doesn't go our way. However, not even the unknowingness of the upcoming series shall weaken my joy at being a season ticket holder and a fan of the Portland Trail Blazers.

First, an exuberant aside, then the Canby Cruise In Photos--1961 Volkswagen Deluxe Station Wagon with a plus at the end--please read/look to the end.

I'm feeling joyously unrestrained and enthusiastic and have to share the reasons with you.

After work today I boarded a bus and got a ride closer to a mailbox so that I could mail two things, then I boarded another bus and got off on the other side of the river and boarded a different, less crowded bus, then I got off at Fred Meyer and bought the groceries that Mama and I needed, then I boarded another bus with my rolling black bag, a tote bag bungee-corded to its handle and a smaller tote bag on the crook of my arm, then I got off and walked to Elephant's Deli where I bought a nice chunk of an affordable, scrumptious sheep's cheese, Sole di Sardegna, that they'd put back into stock because I requested it, and then I walked the rest of the block home. All of that had taken an hour and twenty-one minutes. How wonderful it is to live in the city!

After eating a really good supper that Mama had fixed, bless her sweet heart, and washing the dishes, I sat down to my little iBook, Honk, to look at e-mails and comments. Some were about a writers' group I've been invited to join, Write About Now. Lamont met a member, the mother of one of this friends, who sent me the invitation to post on their blog which I will do soon, and the group's founder sent a welcoming e-mail, with this quote beneath his salutation: "It's never too late to be what you might have been" George Elliot 1819-1880. I read that and felt buoyant with hope all through my 61-year-old self.

Then I went to Abraham Lincoln’s About Brookville where I read his latest thought-provoking, insightful, thrilling post, accompanied by the expected but always splendid photos. And I felt awe and a twinge of sadness that they just don’t make enough men (and women) like his Colonel Houser these days. Nevertheless, I felt hope that by sharing Mr. Lincoln's post, others would feel the strength of character he's written about, maybe being strengthened themselves in the reading and understanding. Like I commented to Mr. Lincoln, I cannot imagine my life without the chance to look at his numerous blogs where I learn untold amounts of wisdom and appreciation every time I click.

Then a few minutes after "Law and Order" started on NBC Wednesday night, I walked by the table and got another look at the two thumbnail value studies I had finished Tuesday night, for my watercolor class this coming Friday night. Rene Eisenbart, our teacher, asked us the first night to silence our critical voice, which is not easy to do. I've tried. When I put the paper down last night, I wasn't very happy with either one, saying it aloud to Mama. But now they've grown on me. In fact, what I thought was, "Enough time has passed that I've fallen in love with these two little watercolors." And I felt a great deal of joy at that quiet realization.

So, I couldn't help myself, as I so often tell you. I had to take photos of the two thumbnails to share with you. And as I took the photos, I knew I'd have to write all of this, too. It feels important to me to let you into my exuberant feelings. I want us all to find things like this in our lives to keep us sane and healthy and functioning. We have to do this, I firmly believe, or in the face of each day's news, we will suffer even more.

The thumbnails.





Now for the most fantastic VW bus I've seen since 1972. Be sure to look all the way to the bottom so that you can see what I'm talking about. Thanks!





















When my darling LeRoy and I planned our wedding on December 31, 1972, we were so thrilled that his friend and landlord Bob had given permission for us to wed in his wonderful home. My family came from Jackson, Mississippi, to Kansas City, Missouri, in my parents Champion motor home. For our rehearsal dinner, everyone climbed into the VW bus you see in the photo below and went to a spaghetti place, the name of which escapes me. I'm hoping Bob can remember. This is Bob's flower-covered jewel. When I look at it and think of my straight-laced, hippie-hating-probably-because-they-scared-him Daddy riding in this van, near my handsome husband-to-be whose hair was longer than mine, I get a great big grin on my face. Daddy's gone now, just like my darling LeRoy. Mama and my brother Howard, and my darling sons Lamont and Leland, and Daddy's sister Baker and her husband my uncle JL, and I miss the two of them, but we have some wonderful memories. Thanks, Bob, for sharing the photo.

Jump for joy with a red-headed boy!

Water, an irresistible force where boys are concerned. Standing there for several minutes, I snapped photo after photo, my mind flooded with memories of my own two sons and water play. And I can tell you that if Mama physically could jump like this red-headed boy, she'd be right there with him, in the fountain at the Rose Garden Arena. She's had another good day. Who knows--she might end up there with him, and is already there in spirit.

ABC Wednesday: J is for Joy

Picture this: Mama and me, in the Buick, driving west on SW Morrison. As I turn right onto SW 12th, I’m saying, “I’ve got to find something for Alphabet Wednesday for J.” Mama quips, “J is for joy” as the car straightens out and I notice a crowd of people on the left, at the steps of a church. Parked at the far corner is a turquoise-colored convertible, an Olds Delta 88, adorned with bunches of white balloons, blowing in the breeze. I say, “I’ll get a photo of the car—that could represent joy, the joy of the bride and groom!”

So I go around the block again, when lo and behold, as we straighten out on 12th, a man stops at the top of the church steps and introduces the bride and groom to everyone. They come down the steps and get into the convertible! In seconds, they pull out into the street, to our left. At a traffic signal, I lean out, camera in hand, and say, “Smile!” You see the result.

But.

I can't, in all conscience, use the photo for J without their permission. Last Friday, I call the church and explain all about my blog, ABC Wednesday, and J is for Joy. I ask the wedding lady if she could ask the couple for me, “Would it be OK to use the photo I took of them for my blog?” She says she will e-mail them for me. Later that evening, my phone rings. The new bride agrees to my from-out-of-left-field request.

To the happy couple I say, "Thank you for letting me share your joy with the City Daily Photo Blog."