Monday, December 31, 2012

A Day with the Evans Family

    My son Manny,  who recently took his oath for the United States Air Force reserve,  and I spent the day hanging out together yesterday.  He has been living with his Dad for a few years since we moved from a very large duplex I shared with a co-worker in Millbrae.  In between spending a year and a half in Oahu,  Hawaii attending the Waimanalo Job Corps and receiving his GED and helping his Uncle Ben with his boat building business in Kapolei,  Manny has grown into a fine young man.
     Searching at the Sprint Store for smart phones is a daunting task let alone the prices on these pieces of electronics makes you want to walk back out.  My son's phone is in need of repair and we were advised to call the insurance people which we'll do at another time.  By this time,  hunger got the best of us and we drove through Inn-n-Out burger.  At this time,  I received a phone call from my good friend and co-worker   Carmen,  who had just landed at San Francisco International Airport with her young 14 year old son Maurice.  They're here to visit her mother,  Diane,  who I affectionately refer to her as " mama ".  We made arrangements to meet at Daly City Bart so that we could all visit with mama at her new Studio apartment in San Francisco.  Driving into "The City" is always adventurous and not for the faint of heart.  I love driving there and have been asked to do so numerous times to do so.
     Visiting Mama's apartment,  she lives in the heart of the Tenderloin District,  rich, vibrant, loud, colorful and all of which is characteristic of a lively neighborhood.  Mama loves it there and it shows,  she is flourishing!  Her Senior Studio apartment is very spacious, bright and in her words, "I can watch the parade from my window"!  Mama has all that she wants and needs within minutes from her doorstep,  corner grocery store, fruit stands,  numerous ethnic restaurants, BART, Muni, Taxi's and of course walking.  Manny and Maurice walk to Glide Memorial Church then onto Maurice's Uncle Kwame's Apartment a few blocks down. We all gather at Mama's apartment and walk to a local Middle Eastern Restaurant that they've frequented before and highly recommend.  Food was plentiful and spicy,  conversation was endless and the complimentary Chai Tea flowed freely to the point of us drinking it all.  Nightfall started to cloak the area and it was time to leave and goodbye's to Mama and Kwame and her new apartment.  Manny and I drove Carmen and Maurice to the San Francisco International Airport for Maurice's flight to San Diego to visit more family for the Holidays.  After some conversation of our own,  it was time for me to say good-night to my son.  On my drive home,  I realize how Adult our conversations have become and how I will miss the little boy that he once was and embrace the young man he has become.  

Sunday, December 30, 2012

Balboa High School



Hit and Run?  Fleeing the scene?  Run and Hide?  This is what happened to me on Dec 14th while my son was getting his haircut a few blocks away in the city of San Francisco.  School had just let out for the afternoon and this young man was trying to get out of his parallel parking across the street.  I was sitting in my parked big green truck, unseat belted and I glanced up for a short time and saw him backing up.  Thinking nothing of it,  I looked back down as I was listening to the Sandy Hook Tragedy on my truck radio when out of the corner of my eye and hearing him Rev his engine,  I saw him drive at an angle into the front of my truck,  crashing into it and then he preceded to drive through a fence and into an apartment building as the car was now stuck and wedged tight between the fence and a block of wood.  He tried to reverse and back up but to no avail.  He was stuck.  By this time,  the High School kids were surrounding us and taking pictures of him,  the vehicles, me and the area.  I saw him climb out of the driver seat and through the drivers window and on top of the hood of the car.  My phone, which is usually somewhere within reach,  was at my side on the truck command center and I reached for it and prayed to the Good Lord to let me take a good picture of this guy.  As he jumped down from the roof,  I clicked my camera phone and got a shot of him.  His friends were chatty and playing with him like he had won a gold medal at the Olympics!  He seemed oblivious that I was even in the truck.  He grabbed his backpack and ran away. What the heck??  I was in shock and amazement that this was going on.  It was like a 3-D movie and I was in the front row of the movie theater!  I made sure my truck doors were still locked, my daddy's teachings and immediately called 911 for the police on my cell phone.  I did not dare to venture outside to access any type of damage because the mob of school kids that surrounded me.  They obviously knew the young man and I wasn't about to become a heroine/victim and take on these young adults who may have weapons on themselves as well.  The San Francisco Police, Ingleside,  arrived quickly and the Teens scattered.  An ambulance was there to see if I needed to be taken to the hospital as I complained of pain when the truck steering wheel hit me just below the collarbone.  I declined.  The owner of the apartment building also arrived to the scene to access the property damage.  My son arrived from his haircut to see what was going on and was worried to see his me surrounded by the police and ambulance.  Statements were made, a police report, tow truck and a rental car later as it started to rain,  my son and I continued on our way to Travis Air Force Base for his 1st weekend of drills.  Thank you for good car insurance.  Several lessons were learned that day by my son and I as we talked all the way to Fairfield,  driving in the rain,  in the traffic and priceless.

Friday, December 28, 2012

Remembering mom

Friday, December 28, 2007 This was written a few years ago and thought i'd share my memory of her: Remembering my mother as an awe-inspiring, beautiful and sometimes fearsome woman as I look back on my sweet memories of her spirit. She passed away on this day in the year 2003 on the island of Oahu with my son and daughter by her side, crying, stroking her hair and kissing her head wishing that she were still here with us and letting her know how well loved she was and will always be. I couldn't wait to whisk her away from the stark coldness of the hospital, invading steeliness of her unfamiliar platform on which she silently drifted off to infinite sleep and the inaudible, unfriendly environment of her confines. Waiting for her on the island of Molokai is the fresh fragrant scent of the lush verdant mountains, the trade winds tenderly anticipating her spirit and the warm gentle lull of the ocean waiting with open arms for my mother's arrival.Being the eldest, I was responsible to take care of her in a way that she has taken care of me all of my years. I had her cremated to be buried atop of her mother's grave on the island of Molokai. I was bringing her home. With my Uncle Ben carving an elaborate Urn made of the finest Hawaiian wood, she would be carried by the love of the families in this way to her birthplace. Friends and families gathered at the Mormon Church to wish her well and we drove the long red dusty road of Molokai to her final resting place. Gathering under the warmth of the hot sun and the tropical breeze bringing the scent of fresh Pikake and white Ginger flowers, scents that she loved, Bishop Keanini offered words of sympathy and strength to all in our own journey and to remember the life and times of my mother. With the braveness and soul of a ten year old, my son at that time asked me if he could lay his grandmother into the ground. I was speechless and offered an affirming nod of approval to him. With my daughter by my side holding me as if to keep me from falling, we watched as my son carefully picked his grandmother's urn up, walked steadily to her resting area and gently placed her into the belly of her mother. His small sullen face watching her as she was unhurriedly descending into her entombment and through his veins flowed her strength and life. She was proud of her grandson and granddaughters. As an offering, native flowers were buried with her to carry into her afterlife, the scent of her homeland. My cousin Lani strummed the ukulele and sang "Aloha Oe". Everyone sang in unison bidding farewell to a wonderful woman and mother. My memories are vivid today as if the event happened only a moment ago. The sun on my face, the tropical breeze dancing through my hair and the scent of flowers converged all around us making it a day to remember my mother. I think of her often around this time and the life that she has given me. I love you and miss you very much, mom.

Better late than never

       Many birthdays, funerals, events of my life and changes have happened since I had last posted.  I still have the stiffness and aches of Rheumatoid Arthritis which will be with me until my last breath.  Luckily,  I have a great  Rheumatologist who is very happy with my results and where I am today versus where I was in 2007 at my first diagnosis.  I still have a wonderful support system of God, friends, family and the all mighty Internet!
     The daily living of my life is now wanting me to write, type and say what is on my mind.  With the advancement of picture phones causes me to react to what I see,  most of the time beautiful visions and sometimes,  it pauses me to question.
      This year, turning 50 was uneventful and with little celebration.  Not wanting the "hoopla" that goes along with a unique event was my choice.   Doc Stevens, my Rheumatologist,  has been consistent in mixing and tweaking my medicinal cocktail of Methotrexate, Prednisone and Folic Acid.  In addition to that,  I was on Humira for approximately one year and self-injecting my poor thigh every two weeks with this hugely expensive liquid gold that would take away the inflammation that has turned against me waging a horrific war on my joints and bones.  Friends thought I was heroic to subject myself to that torture when in reality,  I did not want to sit in an office for three hours on an I.V. every week  listening to other patients and their talk of combat with this dreadful disease.  Call me selfish,  uncaring and self-centered.  I was battling my own depressing feelings of fright, fear, loneliness and heaviness that weighted me down.    
     My Rheumatologist seems to think my disease is in remission but can rear its ugly head at any time.  I do thank Heavenly Father along with my dilligance to take my medication to help me along for as long as I can.