A not so happy Thanksgiving...

The Thanksgiving Day parades were on the TV, the kids watching them and goofin' off as usual, he was out on our 40 acre farm deer hunting since daybreak and I was in the kitchen cooking all the fixins for a festive holiday dinner. I had worked hard at trying to make it nice for my young family. The bird was turning a golden brown, the potatoes all peeled and cut. The night before I made a tasty pumpkin pie and  a cranberry jello walnut side dish. The old oak dining room table had been set with my Grandma's best Nortake china, silverware and glasses. It looked like Martha Stewart had been here.  I am sure the kids made a turkey centerpiece for the table.

We were about an hour from dinner being served. I am sure I was feeling proud that I could do it all myself but at the same time was hurt that I had to do it all myself. You know, kind of wondering who made the rule that you get to go hunting most of the day while I slaved away in the kitchen to make sure that when you walk through the door, there will be a delicious meal for you to enjoy.

We have to go backwards a little here and explain that when I cooked there was rarely a compliment given by him. If he cooked, he asked on almost every bite if you thought it was a delicious as he did. I swear through the entire meal he keep saying, "This is so good, don't you think so too?" if he cooked.

Well, I heard the truck pull in the driveway. He came in the back door, as usual. Walks right up to the stove and started the "inspection" of dinner. He checked the tenderness of the potatoes that were boiling, the temp of the turkey and then took a small spoon and tasted the gravy that was bubbling on the stove. Threw the spoon down and it made a big splash in the gravy. I asked what the problem was. He said it was too salty or something. I am pretty sure I was offended by his inspection and criticism after not helping at all to prepare it. The details got foggy after that but I believe he threw the entire meal in the waist basket and then took it outside to dump it in the trash can.

What do you do?? I was at a complete loss on how to continue the day. We had very little else to eat in the house. How do you fix this horrible memory for the kids when all you were trying to do was make a great memory for them? How do you live in the same home with him after that action? What a horrible mess we have now. What makes a grown person do this?

I do remember going out to the trash can and lifting the lid and crying as I saw the dinner that I cooked with all the love that I had, sitting in the filthy trash can. That vision is clear to me. I don't remember how I solved the dinner thing. Seems like we went to McDonald's or had spaghetti or something.

Thanksgiving for me has rarely been about family tradition.  My Mother passed away 30 years ago and that pretty much ended any tradition that we, as a family, shared.  I remember one year right after my divorce when the kids were at his house for the day, I went to Denton's Den with my sister and had a turkey sandwich. For a few years I cooked a full meal and invited all the homeless or near homeless folks that I knew in the neighborhood. Sometimes those were the best.

If it was up to me I would cook like a fool and invite all of my relatives to share in the meal served on my Grandmother's best Nortake china. Sadly, it isn't up to me.

On this day of reflection and an opportunity to be thankful......I am thankful for my wonderful circle of friends. Many of whom invited me to share the day with them today. The ones that are there for you all the time. The ones I would do anything for. I am seriously thankful for them. They keep me sane.

Brad, Patrick and Tavis I wish you were at the table with me today. Love you!!

"She buries the dead guys in the basement, go check."

I am going to tell you about Sue Ann. She used to live across the street from me. I first noticed her when I was out front talking to my sister. This crazy looking woman walked past and we both thought, "What the heck was that? Did you see that?" Oh my, a little bit of a woman that was dressed quite colorfully. Like hot pink spandex pants and a crazy patterned top. A flaming red wig and a hat that looked like it belonged on a Las Vegas stage. I have photos somewhere. I will have to find them. 

Next thing we knew she moved in right next to both of us. This ought to be entertaining. Every day she would get dressed up in her finest and trot her little happy ass down to the party store to get her beer supply for the day. Different wigs, hats and other very colorful adornments. 

There was some odd behavior that went along with the wardrobe. My sister grew a garden on the side of her hill and Sue Ann would regularly help herself to green tomatoes. I would call my sister and let her know that the garden was raided again. She would tell me that she already figured it out because she could smell the green fried tomatoes cooking. 

Almost every time that I walked out my front door I would hear, "Honey, ya you. Do you have a cig that I can have?"

One Thanksgiving she saw my sons and I, gathering on my front porch to have a smoke while the turkey cooked. She trotted across the street and asked if we were having dinner together. I invited her to join us. She enjoyed a plate full of home cooked Thanksgiving dinner, said her thanks and left to go back home. On her way there she helped herself to some beers that were being stored on the front porch to stay cold. Oh well. 

I heard tell from one of her relatives that she used to "work" the turn at the train station a long time ago. She would pace the sidewalk at the West end of the station and flag down cars as the went around the bend. 

Frequently she would sell her dentures for money for drugs. Then she would send some guy from her family (nephew, cousin, son, etc) to go get them back. 

She would come to my front door at least once a week to ask me if I wanted to buy some Vicodin. I would always say no thanks Sue Ann. Maybe another time. One week I had a killer tooth ache and finally said yes, bring me some. She said she would be right back. She brought over some guy with her and he handed me a thin plastic bag that was rolled up with some pills in it. Now, I had never purchased drugs, so before she came back I looked up Vicodin on the www to see what it looked like. When he handed me the package I gave him the $20. They stood there while I opened it up to check it. It looked funny. Kind of squishy. A tinge of blueish/green. Smelled of mint.I wasn't sure but I mentioned that it didn't look like Vicodin. My tooth hurt bad. Matter of fact it looks and smells like soggy Tic Tacs. It was. I tried to hand it back and get my $20. The guy says, "A deal is a deal." Ok, lesson learned. I am never trying to buy drugs on the street again. Duh. I am not a tough guy. 

Most know that I own and listen to a police scanner. One day I was sitting her working and heard that Sue Ann was down at Log Cabin Party Store and called on the corner pay phone to respond to her house because there was something in the basement. I knew she stored her garbage in her basement so one could only imagine what it was. I see the officer arrive at her address. He walks in and talks to her for a few minutes. Then I hear, "I will be at 217 Third St. to further investigate. She says that the neighbor has buried men in her basement." I hear the doorbell. Ah shit, now what? I turned the scanner off. 

I go to the door and a uniformed officer asked me if he could look around in the basement a bit. I asked what he was looking for. He mumbled something. I was just being nice and had nothing to hide so I said follow me. At the bottom of the stairs he took his flashlight and aimed it under the stairs.....nothing but spider webs. Then to the next room. Kind of an empty staging room for the maintenance guys. Sink, storage, fuse boxes, etc. The next room was locked. It was a storage room of mine. I unlocked it and showed him a room full of garden tools and other assorted storage. Then the next room was more of the same. I unlocked that one also. The next room is locked by the landlord with supplies, paint and the like. I don't have the key to that room. So, I didn't open it. Then the boiler room and the laundry room. In the laundry room besides a washer and dryer there is a mounted old wooden storage cabinet. I had huge boxes of prom dress storage in front of it. You would have had to move them to open the doors. He asked me, "What is in that cupboard?" 
I looked him right in the eye and said, "That is the secret door to the locked room where I bury them."

He said he was done looking and proceeded to leave. 

I don't get why if you bothered to come investigate in the first place, why you wouldn't make me move the boxes and see what was behind the secret door. Oh well......


I have not seen Sue Ann in a couple of years since she moved. I was told tonight that she passed away on her birthday while visiting some "friends" at the Colonial Inn. She went there to get some drugs. A mix of a few different ones. She overdosed. The friends left her there to die. Someone found her later. 

She was the most colorful thread that ran through the fabric of this neighborhood. 

R.I.P. Sue Ann. 

Just a Working Girl in New Orleans.....

I spent a lot of time on the streets of the French Quarter of New Orleans....alone.

I went down to visit my Son a little bit after he moved there. He had just turned 18. I surprised him with my visit. Consequently he worked all day and rested at night. I would get up and find my way to the Quarter, then wander around all day. Around dinner time we would go somewhere for dinner and then he would drop me off near Bourbon St. so I could entertain myself till Midnight or so with all the live music offered there. He would come back around to get me and take me home. He could not go into the bar because they all had bouncers at the door and he was only 18. He just stood outside the open door around Midnight and I would see  him there.

After a few days I found my favorite spots. I returned to them frequently. There was one in particular that I still remember. It had a stage with a curved front edge. Not a very large stage either. They would jam about 8 musicians up there. The front row was a horn section. Loved that band. I also kept running into a nice guy from England that, one night asked me to dance. He didn't speak any English and I did not speak French. So we used hand signals to communicate with each other. We ran into each other a few times that week. I had told my son about meeting this guy and the language barrier that we had.

One night the guy from England was in that same bar with some friends. He asked me to dance again and was standing next to me talking. Well, not really talking but there was some form of communication. The band went on break and the bartender turned up the jukebox. It was a song that I had heard before. Yep, I knew the words....sort of. It was in French. Trying to find something to "talk" about, I turned to him and motioned something like a question (shrugging shoulders) and a listening thing (hand cupped up to ear) to the speaker in the ceiling above us. He knew what they were saying in the song but had no way to explain it to me. Remember, he spoke no English. Right then my son appeared at the front door. Mind you, he is 6'6" with dark features and buzz cut hair. I wanted the two to  meet. I asked the guy from England (by pulling on his arm) to come to the door to meet my son. To my surprise he sat down on the bar stool and hung on to it tight.

He was motioning to me that he wasn't going anywhere. Now, why would he be opposed to meeting my son? Oh well, nothing I could do. I think I gave him a brief hug and took off.

I got in the car for the short ride home and was telling the story to my son and his gal. In the part of the story about the song in the jukebox I kind of sang it (badly). She turned around and said that they were asking (in French) ...."If you want to go to bed with me."

As usual, what I did was innocent but if you look at it from his point of view.......

"voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir"

voulez=will 
vous=you 
coucher= to sleep 
avec=with 
moi=me 
ce=this 
soir=evening 

Watch what you say to certain folks.......

I know, it has been a while since I wrote. I have been kinda busy and a little uninspired. 

I first noticed her when she lived across the street from me. She would sit out on her large second floor balcony. Grand kids would come and go. She never bothered to wave or say hi. I tried to  soften her up, I had a friend take her a little kids bike that we found. She said thank you. 

One day she was sneaking around the back parking lot. I went out and asked if I could help her find whatever she was looking for. She said she had it under control. She was looking for a place to park her car. Appears she was moving in right next door to me. From the get go she had an attitude that seemed unfounded. 

The next weekend she moved in. There appeared to be a weekend long party. Lots of folks coming and going. My peaceful existence was shattered. 

There always seemed to be turmoil there. One by one more folks moved in. Or stayed the night a lot. Her daughter, her three kids, her daughters boyfriend and some teenage boys. I think at the peak there was 9-11 people staying there. 

It is a non smoking building and frequently the sweet smell of pot filled the air. They smoked out back, out front and inside. 

She took over the laundry room facilities while trying to keep up with dirty clothing for all of them. Every time I went down there she had the washer, dryer and folding table full. Never attending it. Left it there for days. I resorted to hauling my stuff to the laundromat  It was easier. 

Most nights there were 8 or more cars parked all over the place with "guests" that stayed all night. She was always kinda pissed that I had the driveway to park my truck. 

One cold winter day the police questioned her daughters man, right outside my living room window. He was being questioned for passing counterfeit bills to the pizza delivery guy. He had a gun on him and went to jail. 

After a long winter I went out to look at the 40ft garden that I tend to and things were starting to come up. There is hope for some beauty here. Couple of days later I noticed that some of the tulips were trampled. I kept my eye open and watched the 5 Grand children walking through the garden. I went out and explained to them what was coming out of the earth and that if you walk on them they will not have pretty flowers. I think we had an understanding. Well, I thought we did. I asked them every couple of days to not pull stuff up, knock it with sticks or peel the bark off the trees. Always talking to them like a teacher that just wanted them to know it was harmful and destructive. 

It failed to stop. I tried to figure out what it was that I could do to teach them. I went to the store and bought seeds for them to plant their own garden next door at an empty house. They were into it. Or so I thought. They dug it up and planted pumpkins, sunflowers and cosmos. But alas they trampled on that too. We watered them with buckets and tried to learn how to take care of a garden. 

To try and be cool with them I let them use my ring toss game, balls, paint, etc. Every day I would offer something else to give them something to do besides destroy stuff. I even went to the dollar store and bought them jump ropes and yo yos. They just held them by one end and swung them around. Never trying to learn how to use them properly. I got them paper and set up an art table. I supplied them with paint and sidewalk chalk. They would just paint and paint until the paper had holes from the water and too many brush strokes. 

A good friend felt for my issues and showed up at the front door with a toy lawn mower, a baby stroller and some trike like things. Hot wheels and the like. One for each of them. They played well with them for weeks. Every day riding around the house 100 times or more. Until one day some cousins came to visit and as I was trying to take an afternoon nap I heard them smashing all of them with bricks, right outside my window. Like a feeding frenzy. Three or four boys would stand around the toy and all throw bricks at the same time to break it to pieces. Oh well......

This struggle went on for a couple of months. It was very frustrating. There had to be 5 adults over there and every day they would just let the kids out the back door to run around and break stuff. They were actually taking a plastic baseball bat and picking up rocks and hitting them towards the windows in the garage to see how many they could break. No one every watched them when they were outside. They would get in my car, throw rocks at passing cars, etc. 

After all this, I went out to look at the garden  one day and found all the flowers stripped off my larkspur plants. They had just bloomed. I was kinda pissed. I gathered up the petals that were all over the sidewalk and took them to her front door. I had not previously said anything to her. Just tried to deal with the kids in a nice way. I rang the doorbell. All of the kids answered it and when they saw me they went back in and closed the door. I rang it again. This time I said I wanted to talk to their Mom. They said that Mom was in the shower. Then where is your Grandma? They opened the door and pointed to her. She was sitting in the chair in the corner. I showed her the petals and said that something has to change. The destruction of the garden had to stop. She real matter of fact like just told the kids that it looks like you might have just lost a good friend. 

They next couple of weeks she just did not let them outside. That had to drive all of the above crazy. Then one day she came to me on the front porch and started getting in my face. I was giving away flats of vegetables that I had gotten for free from Becks. Two neighbors were on the front porch. She went off in front of them. She asked me to move some plants off the stoop by the driveway. I asked why she needed them moved. She said if she lets the kids out and they happen to knock them off them I would do "what I do" and start bitchin' at them again. She then threatened me that, "If I continued to do what I do then certain folks might do certain things to me" that I would not like. I asked her if she was threatening me and her answer was, "No, I am just warning you."

When she went back in the two gals on the front porch asked me what did I think she was going to do. I said, "Either destroy the gardens or mess with my truck."

A week or so later I pulled out of the driveway in the morning to take a friend to Walmart so she could shop with her monthly food stamps and help her haul them home. We did this once a month. When I got to the end of the street my brakes felt kinda different. I think the pedal went down further than I was used to. I was going to drop her off at Walmart and go right to the oil change place and have them check the fluid level. I had all green lights on the way there. They felt even worse as I dropped her off. I said I would be back in an hour to get her. 

As I pulled out of the parking lot it became apparent that I had a bigger problem than I thought. It would not stop at all. I down shifted to slow down some but it didn't work. I rolled into Michigan Ave right through a red light and when I looked to my left I knew then that there was going to be a BIG problem. Coming right at me was a huge cherry picker semi truck that was dragging a big commercial pick up truck behind it. Yep, it hit me going about 40. It twisted me around and took me with it. Smashed most of the front end of the truck. It pushed me up onto the grassy area and there it landed.

Now, I have no proof of what happened to my brakes but the events that followed gave me somewhat of a clue. 

I came home with no truck. 

She started to park in the driveway. When I told her that I was going to need the driveway she slammed the door on me right after she said, "No, you won't."

The teenage Grandson moved out that next day. 

The rest of the lot of them moved out a week later. 

R.I.P.

I didn't have much. 

I was driving the 1965 retired Summit Township Rescue Squad, for a car. I washed the clothing for 5 and diapers, in a ringer washer and hung it all on the line.

 Even in the winter. I called it Freeze Dried. I barely went shopping for myself. Mostly just cleaned and cooked and watched three young sons all the time. I rarely let them out alone. They all had wheels of various kinds and we lived at the bottom of a hill. Cars came around the curve so fast, that they would never see a kid on a Hot Wheels.

 I could not tell you how many hours that I sat on those front steps watching the kids play. A lot. I read books there, cross stitched, wrote stuff, talked on the phone, etc. 

My view of the world included a 4 ft. patch of grass between the front sidewalk and the parking lot. One day I had this brainy idea that I was going to buy some flats of bright flowers and change my view. I went to Beck's and picked out exactly what I wanted. It took a while to make all those decisions. I wanted a border and some herbs. I even got a Citronella Geranium. Lemon too, if I remember correctly. 

I brought it home and proceeded to take a spade to the grass to lift it off. It was warm out. I was working up a sweat. The mail man walked by and politely asked me what I was going to put there. I proudly told him my plan. He said something like, "That will look nice."

I spent all afternoon implementing the plan. I dug deep so the roots would have room. I placed the border and then artistically planted the rest of the plants so it would be pleasing to my eye. I was the one that had to sit there for hours a day. Then when all done you stand back and admire the days work. Check it out from many angles. Yep, it looks good. Gave it a good watering and went in to cook dinner. 

About an hour later I heard a strange noise out front. Like an engine running, or stuck. Tires spinning. I went out to see what the noise was to find my husband had backed up into the garden that I had just planted and was aggressively spinning his back wheels in the garden. They were all chewed up and spewed all over the front of the house. The tires were still spitting out dirt clumps and tore up flowers. It made no sense to me. Why the hell would any one do that? 

I am not sure I know why he did it but I think he said something about me spending his money on plants. 

Things were not to peaceful around my home that night. 

He went to work the next morning and after I got up I went out and looked at the disaster that was my little place of Peace. I thought about the mailman that would see it that day. How horrible. I thought about cleaning it all up so it didn't look so bad. I went back inside and got some cardboard. I cut it into the shape of headstones. I wrote "R.I.P. David" on them and planted them in the newly spewed earth. 

Just imagine what you want......

She held my right hand in hers and very quietly she said, "Just imagine what you want and he will appear."
I had not dated in so long I was at least going to try it. I pictured a tall man with brown wavy hair, a fu manchu mustache, eyes with emotion, gentle hands, hairy chest, looks good in jeans, somewhat fit, passionate, not too rich and not to poor, a hard worker and treats me good. Someone to connect with. It seemed kinda crazy at the time but I guess you never know. What could it hurt? 

That night.....
I went to the Flight Deck to hear a band play. They had every seat filled. I sat at a table with friends in the middle of it all. I wanted a higher perch. I kept my eye open for somewhere at the bar to sit. Finally a seat opened up. This one guy left. I got up, squeezed my way to the open seat at the bar and made myself comfortable. Now I can see better. A few minutes later (maybe 10) I feel a tap on my shoulder. "Excuse me, that was my seat." he said. "Not now it isn't." I answered back. He said, "Oh, never mind. You can stay. I wanted to talk to you anyway." "Oh really, about what?", I asked. He said something like....I think you are cute and I would like to get to know you. "Ok, I'll stay but you really should walk away now because I am not going to birth you any children. I can tell you are younger and I don't want to get all tangled up in love with you, only to break up when I don't want any more children. " He said, "I did not ask you to have any kids and I won't." 

I took inventory and this was what I visioned earlier as I held the hand of the psychic. All the details were there. How could that happen? Could it be? No way!! Before the night was over he pressed me up against the wall and kissed me with passion. Maybe this was him. He asked for my phone number (before cell phones) and I said, "My name is Jana Jamieson and if you really want to call me you will figure out how to find my number, goodnight."

He called the next night and asked me out to the races at Butler Speedway. On the way to the track we were getting to know each other and I asked him what his last name was. He told me. I said hmmmmm I went to school with a gal with the same last name. He said, "Who?" I told him and he said, "You couldn't have she is 15 years older than me." That is when we figured out the age difference. You really could not tell by looking at us. I looked way younger than my age and he looked older than his. It balanced out so we both looked to be the same age. 

We dated for the next three years. He was real cool with my sons. They all got along. During the week I needed to take them to activities and help them with homework. He worked out of town all week and came back on the weekends. When he pulled into my driveway on Friday nights I always felt a flutter. I loved the smell of him, his voice, the way he walked ....well everything actually. I was in love. So much that while he was out of town all week I would lay in bed at night and talk to him and I really felt that he could hear me. We always got along very well. We only saw each other on the weekends so there was no time to fight. Most weekends we would go to the Flight Deck and dance all night then end up at Denny's for a late breakfast. 

Without bothering you with any details.....making love to him was always a treat. He would ask me if I wanted to have "a session." I could not get enough of this man. Loved, loved, loved him. If I so much as snuggled up next to him and got a whif of his scent, it was go time. 

He was exactly what I ordered. Most folks thought we were married. 

Once in a while I noticed the way he looked at babies when they were in the same room. He didn't think I saw it but I did. Not in the first couple years but that third year he was. He would look at them with a child like curiosity. He wanted to know more. One day I sat him down and asked him to tell me the truth, did he want a child now? Well, the answer was a solid yes. Shit!! I had full custody of three sons already. That wasn't easy. It was quite a task to work full time and make sure they had something to eat, decent clothing and help them with massive amounts of homework. They were in scouts, church, t-ball, etc. They were about 10, 12 and 14. He worked out of town all week and did not want to leave the employment of that company. He was a construction foreman. I just could not see taking on a baby in addition to everything else. I drew the line. I said no. He let me know that the feeling in him was so strong that he would have to move on. We talked for hours to see if we could come to a compromise but it wasn't going to happen. I did not want to birth a child and he wanted one. We parted ways while crying in each others arms. We held each other tight for what seemed like the longest time and then eventually he walked out the door....never to return. That was the last I saw of him. 18 years ago.   

It took him 10 years but he found her. They had a son 8 years ago. A little handsome guy. I am happy for him. 

I ran into him a while back. He said hi. I went across the room to talk with him for a minute. I told him that I thought it was cool that he still hung out with my son once in a while. That I liked that they were still friends. All my sons went into construction jobs. I really think they looked up to him. I think he was a great influence. 

Before I walked away he asked me if I remembered the photo of myself that I had given him 18 years ago. I did. He said, "I still carry it with me and look at it often." He then said that he thought he had misplaced it a week or so ago and he was none to happy about it. He then found it and felt better. 

I should have told him that if he ever did lose it for real that I would get him another. Instead I looked at him sincerely and asked him to run away with me. "Let's just go," I said. The look in his eyes told it all. There was no way he could leave his son. I understood. 

He looked down at me and with those really sincere eyes he said, "We really did have something, didn't we?" 

Yes, we did. 

Men wearing evening gowns.....

Don't underestimate me. Ever. I have connections.

One day a man came to my front door to ask me if I could make a gown for him. He was a drag queen, on weekends. His regular seamstress could not figure out the instructions to the difficult Vogue pattern. Someone at the fabric store sent him to me. He was told that I could get it. I took on the challenge. He went into the changing room and put on his padded hips and boobs. I took measurements. We made a deal. $200 to make the gown.

I studied the pattern. It was like a Rubik's Cube. It was not easy, but I figured it out in an hour or so. I made the gown then called him up to say I was done. He needed to come back in for a fitting. I was quite proud of myself for figuring out this complicated pattern. He tried it on and it needed a little tweak.

I tweaked it .

Then called him back to try on the finished gown and pay me. He failed to return. No email, phone call or text got him to respond to me.

A year went by. He owed me $200.

An old friend of mine got let go from his job at the car lot and he showed up at my front door. He walked in and said he wanted something to do, was there anything that I needed done? I knew he could sell ice cubes to Eskimos, so I thought for a minute and asked him if he could collect on this past due payment on the gown.

He asked me a few questions on who, what, where, when and how. I gave him the information. He called the department store where he was a manager and asked to speak to him. They said he was not available and could they take a message. He said yes, he had won a 60" flat screen and wanted to know where they could deliver it.

He called right back to the number provided. My number.

I answered the phone and he said was someone looking for him, something about a new TV. I handed the phone to Jimmy.

Jimmy proceeded to ask him if he hired a seamstress named Jana to make him a gown. Yep. Was he happy with the said gown. Yep. Is there a reason that he had not come to pick it up and pay her? Well, he just had not gotten around to it. Jimmy asked him if he could be here in just under an hour with the $200 cash. He said no way, he was in Dearborn and could not get there that fast. He said it would be a few days. Jimmy was determined to get this cleared up that day. So, he said that he was OK with that and clarified that he was indeed the store manager of a Kohls and was still in the closet. Yep. He said keep an eye out because he was going to deliver the gown to him at Kohls, while wearing it.

The dude was at my front door in just under an hour with payment. It kinda surprised me. I had been trying for a year and all it took was to "out" him. Jimmy knew what buttons to push.

He did however ask him if he would consider taking a check and wait a day or so before cashing it. Jimmy said no. He was going right to Super Liquor to cash it, as soon as he left. He said it was his problem if it bounced.

Then he asked him if I would consider ever sewing for him again. The answer was NO.

A few years later he was part of the Drag show at the old B-1 bar. I went in to take photos of them. I had no money on me. Maybe just enough for a beer. I sat on a bar stool trying to take photos of the entertainers. None of them would sit still long enough for me to take a decent shot. An old guy sitting next to me admitted to me that he was a cross dresser and saw the frustration that my camera and I were having. He kept handing me dollar bills to tip the dancers so they would stand still for a second. I was handing them cash and they still would not stop moving.

On the mid show break I went up to one entertainer that was sitting at the bar and took a real close shot of his facial make up. He covered his face and said, "Don't take any photos of me." I asked him why. He said that so and so in the dressing room had told him that I had tried to ruin his career over the non payment of a gown and he did not want to give me any good photos.

I told him that he had only heard one side of the story and maybe he should hear both sides. He listened for a minute. No one was ever going to "out" anyone. There was just a threat made, to collect a debt faster. It worked and I never should have had to go there in the first place.

If the man would have respected me and my talent and paid me for the work done, there would never have been a problem.

Slipped a Mickey

I have always taken precautions so my drink isn't contaminated or enhanced. It doesn't leave my hands. Ever!! If I get up it goes with me. I take it to the bathroom. No one is slipping something in my drink. I just feel safer that way. Until......

I don't recall where I met him. Keys bar? I mostly remember him coming up to me. I might recall him asking me if I would like to go for a ride on his motorcycle. 

I vaguely remember that I agreed and sometime in the next week, we went for a ride. He was nice enough. I had fun. I was attracted. At the end of the ride he asked me if I would like to spend Saturday at the lake. He lived in a small cottage at Gilletts Lake. Otney St. I think. Who wouldn't want to spend a day at the lake?

I arrived with two bottles of Piesporter wine. That was my normal limit. I typically don't drink any more than that but if I only had one bottle (4 glasses), then I might find myself wanting a little more. Don't want to run out. He offered to cook lunch. I uncorked the first one and poured myself a glass. He was very nice and accommodating. We went out to the beach and sat to talk for a bit in the sun. One of his neighbors waved and said hi and asked him if he could come down to look at her boat lift. It was not working right and she wondered if he could see what it was doing wrong. We wandered down there and I sat on the dock talking to her. We got along well. Time went by and my glass was empty. He was so nice he offered to let us keep talking and get me a refill. I handed him my glass and he went back to his cottage.

He returned a bit later with my glass filled with more wine. A few minutes later another neighbor came down the road and asked if we would like to see his house. The renovation was done. They did a very nice job. We got the whole tour. I sipped on my wine and chatted in the front yard, down the way from his cottage. We wandered back. We were getting hungry. We got to his yard and he fired up the grill. That is about when it started getting fuzzy.

He was cooking burgers. Since we were outside and I could no longer stand or sit up, I chose to lay down in the shade of the picnic table by the grill. I was hungry. He got on the phone and called up some next door neighbors and invited them to come down and have a burger. Some of them brought passing dishes. Mind you it is VERY out of character for me to lay down in the shade of the picnic table and two glasses of wine do not affect me. At all. I am very talkative and social. I could not get up. I remember focusing on the waves on the lake. I could see all the legs of whoever came to eat at the picnic table. I could hear them talking. No one really seemed concerned that I was laying on the ground and could not get up, if I tried. I was not sleeping. I could not really talk either.

After he cleaned up and they all went home he asked me if I would like to go in and lay down. He said I must be really tired to not join them in eating burgers. Fucker!! I still had no clue what happened. I felt kinda like a sloth for not being able to get up. I followed him into his bedroom. I flopped on the bed like a wet rag doll. I did not move for an hour or so. I might have fallen asleep there. Couldn't help it. I do recall him trying to approach me sexually. In my opinion it wasn't the time to ask me to make out. Obviously something wasn't right. Not sure what but I am going to say NO and fall back asleep. I recall some sort of struggle. Like get the fuck off me.

A couple hours later I managed to wake up. I wandered out of his room to sit in the first thing I could find in the same room as him. A living room chair, I think. I just sat there. Massive headache. I never have headaches, unless I have the flu or something. An unbearable headache. I wanted out of there but was not sure I could or should drive. He was watching the Simpson's Marathon on TV. That pretty much pissed me off. Not only do I hate all cartoons, the Simpsons are just stupid. I see no redeeming quality to that show. I think I sat through three of them. Maybe 5. I really could not get up. It was also very awkward there with him. I told him I had a massive headache, like my head had been hit with a brick. He called one of the gals down the street, that brought a pharmacy in a purse.   She opened one bottle of pills and gave me a couple. "Here, take these and you will feel better." I took them. I still had no clue what happened to me. I just wanted the headache gone. Looking back.....how did she know what the antidote was? I think she knew what caused it.

I had enough of the Simpsons, the day and him. I got up to find my way home. I made it.

I could not take a drink of anything with alcohol in it for about a week. It make me feel instantly like puking.

I am not sure what happened to me that day. Later when I put it all together that he filled my glass, it did not seem abnormal to him that I laid under the picnic table, that he tried to have sex with me while I slept, that he knew what would fix my headache and that something was messed up with my system that I could not drink for a week. I am pretty sure I was drugged.

He used to be a cook at the prison and later got a job at the Greystone Tavern cooking. He worked there for a few years. I don't recall his name. I would see him working there. He kept trying to come up to me to say hi. I really had nothing to say to him. Seems like I finally told him off to get rid of him, not sure.

His neighbor that brought me the remedy to my headache was seen next door to me, a couple years later, buying drugs from the dealer that lived there. 

Jealousy, Love, Sentiment and Joy.....The meaning of rings

Apparently the first ring I ever received was a simple gold band. A baby ring. I don't remember wearing it. I found it in my Mother's jewelry box and asked her what it was and she told me it was my baby ring. I really didn't get a story with that. Just your baby ring. Not sure if it was connected to baptism or when it was placed on my finger. For all I know the hospital might have given them away to every newborn.

Then there was the two or more rings that were given to my sister by my Aunt and Grandmother. The story I was told, was that the rings were won back in the early 1900's when they  (sisters) sold soap door to door as teens. They were very petite Opal rings. The Opal being very delicate. A ring with three stones. They were given to my sister because she was born in October and therefore her birthstone was Opal.  I was experiencing some pretty strong jealousy. Why would they give one sister all the rings and the other one none? It all made no sense to me. It was all done on the sly too. I had no clue until I saw them on her finger. Where did you get that? I was none too happy. It was almost like she was crowned the princess of the family. This is what I was thinking..."Because she is so perfect, she can have all the jewelry." It didn't help my teenage self esteem any.

At 16 I dated and fell in love. To profess our love for each other I wore his Rolling Stone Hot Licks enamel necklace with pride and he was presented my baby ring on a necklace.

 I still remember the moment, on Christmas at the kitchen table I was sitting in his lap and he presented me with a single blue star sapphire. It was a great moment. I wore that ring with love in my heart. It meant so much to me. When we broke up we made an exchange of the necklaces but I got to keep the ring. It spent years in my jewelry box and I looked at it often. It is the only ring in my life that was given to me as a symbol of his love, without me having prior knowledge of it. I loved that little sweet ring that so symbolized my first love. I let a friend of my sons stay with us for a while and he was into stealing things that he never thought I would miss. He got into my jewelry box and stole the star sapphire ring. I heard that he gave it to his girlfriend. I went over and pounded on their trailer and demanded that I get to go through her room to find the ring. I did too. I wanted that ring back. No luck in finding it.

When I was about 22 I was seeing a man and got pregnant. We decided to get married. Mutual agreement, I think. Anyway, I went with him to the jewelry store and we picked out two simple gold bands and I paid for them. That wasn't too romantic.

After 10 years of a not so good marriage, we went to marital counseling. In the numerous discussions I kept bringing up that I bought the rings and he bought a tractor. All vacation time that he took from work was used to go deer hunting. He professed to love me but had ceased to buy me any gifts of any kind, except vacuum cleaners or pots and pans. Maybe an iron. So, he agreed to get me a ring. A diamond ring. We went shopping and what I got was a 1/3 k diamond solitare. $1,200. Presented to me at my 10th anniversary. It really held no meaning. It was not given in love. We divorced within the next year. It was almost like, "OK, here is the stupid ring that you wanted." We divorced 20 years ago. It sat in my jewelry box all that time. I sold it this year on ebay for $200.

I always looked at the birthstone display and wondered why I got stuck with the ugly color. Peridot. Until one Christmas I was given a beautiful Peridot ring by my sons. They had gotten together with a friend that knew someone in the jewelry business and surprised me. Peridot was now the most beautiful of all the birthstones. That was so special. Years later when Montgomery Wards went out of business I went there to the jewelry counter and bought all the remaining Peridot. Rings, necklace and earrings. I have quite a few now.

I was dating a guy a few years ago. It appeared to be getting serious. He said he would like to buy me a ring. Not a $10,000 ring. Nothing over priced at the mall. He encouraged me to go find an affordable ring that I liked. I went to the antique store that is downtown. In the front jewelry counter I found a nice blue opal ring. I told him about it and he went to purchase it. I still have that one. I wear it most of the time. I rarely associate it with him. I know that he bought it but I just see it as my ring now. I don't look at it and think of him. It is just comfortable and I like the stone.

My favorite ring that I wear now is my Mother's JHS class ring. It is gold, silver and copper with the JHS tower. 1948. It is one of the few things of hers that I have.

I Gots da BLUES!!!

Ed was there when I first met her, he was standing right next to me. He can verify what breed she is. We went to go see her band to write a feature article about them for The Buzz News, our live music newsletter that we published back in 1999-2000. We watched a set or two then went up to introduce ourselves. The minute we said, "Hi, we are here to write about your band for a feature story for The Buzz News," she responded, "NO THANKS!! I want nothing to do with you or your newspaper."  "Really, why would you feel that way?", thinking what did we do? She apparently did not like one of our advertisers because she thinks he had done her wrong and stated that he must be my little buddy or something. If I recall we did not write the article or feature them. That was 14 years ago.

I still supported her and her band.

Mark Arshak and I at the first Jackson Blues Fest 2001

A few years later (2001)she started up a music festival. It was held at the Kuhl's Bell Tower Market. There was 4 bands and I knew all of them, personally. Let me see if I can remember Mark Arshak Band, Automatic Blues Band, Johnny Reed and the Houserockers and that other band.  I was sitting in the front row and had a blast. Talked to a lot of folks that I knew. Had a hot dog and an ice cream cone. If anyone wanted an adult beverage, they just walked up to the Red Moose. One part of the event planning that I liked was that the audience got a little taste of each band and then later they were all booked in downtown bars or restaurants. Great idea. There was great electricity in the air. It was a fun urban event. I think she tolerated my presence there but I am thinking she wasn't thrilled. There was a dispute with the Kuhl's and the next year the festival (I say that loosely) moved to the Jackson County Fairgrounds.

The next year at the Fairgrounds property (owned by Jackson County) the festival went on. There was a nice line up of blues musicians. Most of them I knew or had met through The Buzz News. I chatted backstage with some of them. If you wanted an adult beverage you just walked across the street to the bar. The traffic to and from the bar was heavy. I left when "that other band" played. Had a couple beers and wandered back. I met a man over there that invited me to enjoy a cold one at the festival. He had a cooler full. It was now dark out. We cracked one open and soon after that we decided (slightly drunk) to break open the dance floor. A great band was up and no one had danced all evening. They all just sat there listening. Well, I carried the freshly opened beer up to the dance floor. I set it down next to a trash can and proceeded to dance. It worked, a lot of people got up out of their seats and filled the dance floor. It only takes one brave fool. I thought I was helping her and was feeling good about myself. Then a tap came on my shoulder. It was her. She saw me set the beer down at the trash can earlier. She asked me to leave because I was seen drinking. There was no alcohol allowed on the premises. I was heading towards my seat. I had no beer in my hand. Prove that I had a beer. I was having so much fun I didn't want to leave. She knows I just opened her dance floor and started the party. I was given a reprieve. She allowed me to stay. I had no more beers out of the cooler, I just went across the street if I wanted another.

The following year went well. Don't really recall. There was a beer trailer on the grounds. It was authorized to drink there. All was well. But alas, there was a dispute with the Fairgrounds so they looked for another location.

She found the airport grounds. Owned by the County but beer could be served via the liquor license at the airport restaurant. I fully supported her festival and the growth of it. I was thrilled for Jackson that Blues music was offered to the masses.

I remember enjoying a couple of good years there. Just music, friends, beer, sunshine.

Years ago I dated for a while on Match.com and one of my dates was a harmonica player from the Detroit area. A tall drink of whiskey. Mark Robinson. He played in a band called The Motor City Sheiks. The Sheiks were scheduled to open the festival at 4 or 5 pm. I really wanted to see them and catch up with Mark. I had to work. By the time I got to the festival, they were just getting off the stage. He saw me and was coming straight towards me, she intercepted. I backed off. They hugged, she thanked him and then pointed him in the direction of the tent where he had to sell his CDs for an hour. He then came up to me and gave me a big hug and invited me to go chat in the CD tent. We sat down to talk old times and new stuff and he offered me a sip of his whiskey, that he carried in his inside jacket pocket. He really paid more attention to me than he did the CD sales. I was the one that sold the CDs. I would see someone that looked curious about them and I would get up and make the sale, then go back to sippin' whiskey and talking.

Mark Robinson, Motor City Sheiks is the handsome man, on on the right. 

I had taken a friend that knew most of the bikers in town and he was sweet enough to stand just outside the tent area and let me have time with an old friend. He kind of stood guard, so to speak. I sort of noticed the "goons" approach the tent area. I didn't really pay attention. Wesley was chatting with them. I figured they were all friends. Nothing happening here. Well, the hour was up and Mark and I hugged and parted ways. I went back to hang with Wesley and he then told me that the goons were sent over by her to remove me from the CD tent. He stopped them and told them that it was a personal issue and that I was doing nothing wrong and it would be best to stay out of it. They did. Good thing too but now I was kinda pissed. I really can get in that much trouble without trying?

Wesley

I went kinda upset to the beer tent to get me an adult beverage. It was kinda obvious that I was displeased. A friend approached me to ask me if I was OK. I said NO, I am not OK. I am pissed. He asked me if I would like to go hang out in her dressing room/motor home. I said, "Right, how are we going to do that?" He then said it was his motor home and he can invite anyone in it. I said, "Well, then let's go!"

The following year (the last time I will ever go there) I missed most of the festival. I did however promise Laurie that I would go see her. She was in the closing band on the final night. They were from Flint area. I had never met Laurie but we had talked a few times on the internet. My day started out at Noon. I had a graduation party to attend. I wasn't going to drink there so I could make it to the 10 pm band, at the festival. When I arrived the host had purchased me a bottle of Piesporter, my favorite wine. How could I let him down and refuse it? It was good.

Then the Red Wings were in the playoffs and the game was long and went into overtime. The fellas that I was watching the game with, passed around a bottle of Schnapps and every time the Redwings scored everyone in the room had to take a sip...for good luck. I think the score was 15-10. I don't recall the score but we were pretty drunk. The game was finally over and we were thinking our day was over.....until I remembered that I promised to be there to see the last band at 10pm. Shit. We have to go. We did. Three guys and myself piled into a little sports car and off we went. We all paid out $5 to get in and went front row. It was the last band of the last night and it was raining at a pretty good clip. I was so drunk I took a folding chair to sit in. I was determined to see this band. The vendors were all packing up, the audience was gone. There was no one there except us. Jimmy parked my chair in the center front of the stage. I parked my drunk ass in the chair. He went and got me a beer. Like I needed that!!! I propped my feet up on the edge of the stage and was just in music Heaven listening to the Rusty Wright Band. Live music is my drug.

 I was just getting into it and a little squeaky guy that was dressed like a biker, kicked my ankles. Hard. Above the music I asked him if I knew him. I thought someone was messing with me. You know, like a long forgotten friend tapping you on the wrong shoulder, to be funny. He said, "NO! Get 6 ft. back. You are not allowed to have your feet on the stage." I looked around and except for the three guys that came with me, I was the only one there. Is this really an issue? Remember I was pretty drunk. I am not an angry drunk. I am a hugging drunk. I just get happier. I wanted to comply with the unposted rule of "Stay 6 ft. BACK", so I got up out of the chair and went about 12 ft. back (just to be sure) and stood there with my hands behind my back. Peacefully. He then picked up the cloth chair by the back and threw it towards me. Beer in the cup holder and all. Now, there is beer spilled all over the chair and I can't sit down. Well I could I guess because if you remember it also was raining. I just straightened the chair up so it didn't look like a crime scene and backed off, peacefully.

The next thing I know there is three goons standing between me and the stage with their arms crossed. The average height was 5'1" so it wasn't really an issue because I could easily see right over them but it was kind of irritating like a fly that keeps hovering around your lunch. I did not confront them, I acted like they were not there. It was kind of foolish really. They treated me like I had tried to rush the stage or something. Whatever!!

Then Laurie left the stage with her cordless mic and guitar and walked over to me and stood about an inch from me. Nose to nose. The goons walked off. Their job was done. Laurie played for me and when the song was over she wandered back up to her position on the stage. She told me the next morning (via Instant Message) that she saw me walk in, sit down, get kicked, chair thrown and then surrounded by them and she figured she could solve all of it if it appeared that we were good friends. Game OVER. Thanks Laurie.

I took a program home with me. The goons were on the back page. I showed a biker friend of mine. She went to talk to them to find out the truth. She asked how it went at the festival. They said there was no issues except for this one woman on the last night. She asked what happened and they told her that they were instructed to go get in my face. Hmmmmm. So that is how it goes?

I decided that day to not return. I want to. I love the music. I know most of the bands. Most of my friends will be there. I am not a simple fan. I am connected to this music. I was on the board of the Capital Area Blues Society for 4 years. I would like to continue to support her. I can't. I won't play her little immature game of cat and mouse. Not any more. I am done.

I think I will clean my closet out this weekend. All of them.

I totally forgot about the day she came to the CABS board meeting in Lansing. I was voted in as President of the Capital Area Blues Society and presented my thoughts of holding a blues show at the Michigan Theatre in Jackson. One of the board members let her know. She called me at home and said, "Let's forget all the issues of the past and work together, for once. We can help each other." said the spider to the fly. A couple of weeks later she shows up to the board meeting and asked if she could have a couple of minutes on the agenda. She "acted" peaceful but you could see it in her face. We went through some items that needed to be done first then I looked at her and said, "It is your time now. What can we do for you?" She stood up and turned evil. She addressed the board members and said, "It appears that your President is thinking of throwing a blues show in Jackson at the Michigan Theatre. I am here to tell you that this is wrong and it crosses territorial lines. She has no business throwing a blues show in Jackson. This is the Capital Area Blues Society. I am here to ask you for your support in this matter. I would like a vote to see who is with me on this."

That is working together? Wow!! Turns out that her actions were motivated by money. She did not want me tapping Jackson businesses for sponsors for the show. 

My brain was still trying to figure out where the territorial lines were. Three out of the last four years, a Jackson area band had won the Blues Brawl that they have at the Green Door, to determine who they send to Memphis for the IBC competition. This year another Jackson area band won. So, our bands can come up there and win but we can't throw a blues show in her territory. I can't believe they voted against me. Well, I can because they didn't want to leave their comfort zone.....but still. I was their President. 

She also complained to the board that I had tried to take over the reigns of the Jackson Area Blues Society. She was the founder and President of JABS. I had no interest or intention of having anything to do with them. It was her gig. What happened was..... some of her board members had come to me and asked me if I would step into that position so they could remove her. I laughed and said Hell No. By the time the story got to her she heard that I had tried to de-throne her. Nope!!