run on sentences

Two mornings ago I woke up at 5 am to run. I let Jack out to pee and when he came in, he was covered with snow. After I dried him a bit, he looked at me and went back to the bedroom. He's never done that before. I decided to be a wimp too. So I sat down with my coffee and turned on the tree lights. I decided to sip and ponder the remains of this Christmas. The camera was sitting beside me so I took this picture of the tree too. Not much left under the tree - well except my Bosu ball given to me by the boys and Scarlett. How cool is it that at 56 I get a balance ball to develop my core and improve my running? They haven't given up on me yet so I guess I won't either and it will become one of my New Year's resolutions to work out on it at least twice a week...along with weights. The tree will come down on January 2nd. It is losing some needles but not too badly. I will savor it until the very end when it is awaiting pickup to be turned into mulch and give back to the lan...

Yup, I have neglected my writings. I am surprised at the people, few that they may be, that noticed. I am sitting here thinking a bunch of things in no particular order. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I didn't have to buy any gifts for my departed mom (or my dad) who comes to me silently in dreams - like last night when I heard her cry out and I ran in to see what was wrong and she was lying on the floor with her shirt open, waiting for me to start CPR. I woke up before I even checked for a pulse. I guess she came down a few days ago to get one of her good friends and escort her to the place she is...hopefully it is a good place but none of us know even though many people think they know. The tree is up. The kids are home - or at least two of them. Billy is at a family reunion with Scarlett which is where he should be. How lucky I am to have had my kids home with me every Christmas. Kseniya missed one and this is Bill's first missed one. Some Christmas cards have been sent - and s...

Not only was this World run day but it was also the day before my birthday. The picture is of Tom, Me (looking good one day before I turn 56 I must say before I go on to say anything else - and the hair color is real, dammit - my friend Enid says "you don't get that color out of a bottle" and she should know, being 83 and a stylist in her younger days") and Suzanne - who might make me look short and stubby when you see the rest of me standing next to the rest of her. I am inspired by my friends on this day. I got up to run at 6:30 with my 84 year old friend Sid. We walk most of the three miles, me with Jack the dog and he with his dog, Curly. He needs a new knee and at 84, instead of hanging it up, he has made an appointment in January with an orthopedic surgeon so he can run again. Instead of saying "I'm 84 - I better quit", he is making plans to fix it and also wants to lose ten pounds. That's inspiration for you. He has some great stories...

" When you're turning on the sun.... Turn it on with Johnson's" This was a lyric from a commercial about the benefits of using Johnson's baby oil as a tanning adjunct. My sister and I, while watching the NY Yankees tromp on the LA Angels, and drinking crabby with Siggie, in their cozy home in the UP, were discussing how we both got burned (literally) by believing this. She, while on the shores of Gitche Gumme, by the shining big sea waters ( From the land of sky blue waters...Hamms the beer refreshing - another jingle from a commercial of the 60's) or Lake Superior, as it is more commonly known, slathered her already freckled legs with baby oil and lay on the sand, sometime in the 60's, probably listening to Janis Joplin on her transistor. While she was listening and drinking beers, her legs fried to a frightening crimson, and then got swollen enough that she had to go to the doctor and was hospitalized for a few days. "Keep your pants on" t...

The night before the St. George marathon, after eating a big glob of angel hair pasta and shrimp in buttery garlic sauce, we were riding back to my friends house. I had a missed phone call in the restaurant and checked my voice mail. Of course, with caller ID and all, I knew who the call was from and expected a message from that person. Instead, the message I got said (in a still recognizable slur made possible by progressing Lou Gehrig's disease): "Hi Donna. This is Bob. I won't get to visit with you tomorrow because we are going to Park City. Have a good run and I will catch up with you later". It was my friend and running buddy, Bob, who had died a year ago from Lou Gehrig's disease, which is supposed to be rare, but if it is, why do I know so many people who know someone who has it? Bob qualified for Boston in St. George about 3 years ago, just before he found out he would lose his voice and just about everything else, to LG, which in this case does not mean ...

Two days before my 15th St. George marathon (and 32nd marathon), and I have the usual and some unusual, aches and pains. Like the weird butt pain that I believe is from the water bottle I usually carry - the bottle sits on a diagnonal on my back and bounces into my left butt cheek, leaving a weird sort of pain. It doesn't hurt when I run though. I think it is all in my head. Also what is in my head is how lucky I am to be able to do this. I don't get anxiety because I want to finish before anyone else in my dwindling age group, or even because I worry about not finishing. It's more because part of me can't believe that I can keep doing this. The premarathon days put me in a sort of reflective mood as I ponder who I should do my miles for and feel a little closer to the "other side" - meaning I feel my mortality and the fleeting time we all have and that I am taxing my body and how amazing it is that our bodies withstand such abuse (Yeah that was a long sentenc...

Today at work I saw two young medical students, eagerly waiting outside a patients room. As part of a class, they were required to do focused examinations on a number of patients in our ED. I was not happy when I heard about this ...one more thing to delay our patients length of stay. Something about their blond, scrubbed faced eagerness, and their new stiff white lab coats, maybe being worn for the first time, made me stop and inquire "Are you the med students who are here to do some patient assessments?" I tried not to sound like a bitchy old nurse. They nodded and seemed happy to have someone friendly and non-threatening to talk to. They hadn't gotten to the class yet that seems to teach arrogance. "We're first years" one said apologetically. They told me their names and that they were from Idaho. I told them who I was and about my son Dan, who is in medical school in Illinois - freshly scrubbed but yet to get that lab coat. We talked a bit about anatomy ...

Having a daughter is a great thing. Having a grown daughter is like having a friend who is part of your soul. My mom, pictured to the left with Kseniya, also thought having a grand daughter was the best. This is probably the last picture of my mom and her favorite grand daughter. My mom is somewhere now, maybe in Venice with those people who kidnapped her from the hospital because they needed a grandma, wishing her grand daughter, my baby girl, a happy birthday. Sorry sis, I was my mom's baby girl till the day she died (or got kidnapped), as you will be mine even when you are 65. Being 31 is pretty prime. You still have that nice pretty skin with no wrinkles, and no hint of an apron in site -and those cute running legs that you inherited from me, of course, although your dad has nice legs too. I know it can never be that we appreciate how good we look when we look that good - we just can't because we are more programmed, unfortunately to notice that which is wrong with us rath...

I never went on trips with my mom or my dad for that matter. My family was too poor when I was a kid to go to Disneyland or places like that. I don't think I ever realized that a lot of families took vacations so I didn't feel too bad about it. Besides, I did some pretty fun things with my mom that I bet a lot of daughters never got to do. I didn't even know I was poor till I grew up. I worked in three different restaurants with my mom - we were waitresses. At one time my sister worked with us too. I got fired from the first restaurant because I asked for a raise from the 75 cents per hour I was making to a dollar/hour. "You are just like your mother", Anna, the owner told me. I went on to get a job in the kitchen of a hospital where I made $1.60. After a while, Anna begged me to come back but I never did. I remember one time in the third restaurant, mom and I were working midnights. We went to the bar next door and bought beer and then had to close early. Yes we ...

I guess I was a little grumpy this am. I didn't run cause I was sore from my 20 miler on Saturday. I didn't get my clothes ready the night before so I suppose that is what set them off. It started when I looked in the closet and said "All right, who's coming to work with me today?" "You don't want to wear me." a summery skirt from Ann Taylor Loft said. "You know I was just an impulse buy to wear to a wedding. Besides, you should have gotten a size 6!", the skirt taunted. "Your apron shows unless you want to wear a long shirt and then you will look frumpy. How about a girdle? Or some of those spanxx things?" "They didn't have a size 6!" I retorted back angrily, but knowing that the skirt was right. I really needed a 6. It was a cheap panic buy cause I thought I needed something new. "Don't look at me" said a pair of gray Gap pants. "I make you feel like your butt looks big!". "Not me"...

Most mornings when my friend Becky, Jack the dog, and I are coming back from our run, we see a man hunched over his walker, making his way down the street. The tag is still attached to the walker and it has a seat on it in case he gets tired. He usually goes a block or so and then turns around and comes back. We say "hi" and he always turns, brightens up his somewhat sallow (cancer or congestive heart failure, is my diagnosis) face with a smile and either hellos us or comments on the weather. Just a summer or so ago I would see this same man, about 4 miles away from his home, walking at a determined fast clip. He was thin and wirey with a hairless skinny chest. He seemed to walk every morning and I ran into him on several of my routes or passed him as I drove to work. He always had a stained white shirt either on, or slung over his skinny shoulders, his hairless chest not yet hunched over with disease. He wore white pants too - they were stained and must have been his ...

OK so I have written enough sob stories about dead parents, and grandparents. Here's one for my cousin Bonnie! Yesterday I ran 14 or so miles with my friend Suzanne. It about wiped me out but it was a perfect day and we ran a different route, just for fun. In the process, we almost got hit by a car, whose driver had the nerve to swear at us! But we didn't get hit and get broken femurs and hips and I live to write about it. Actually I am not going to write about the run...it was a good one and no one got hurt and we will do 18 miles next weekend. I got home from running and was perspiring more than usual. I looked in the mirror and saw a red faced but with undertones of pale (I have been looking at too many Sephora makeup recommendations), sweaty, old lady with a high forehead and no eyebrows - haven't had them colored or shaped in a while. There was no "glistening" at all going on with me. My imaginary friend Jennifer - she looks beautiful after a run....

This is a picture of grandma and grandpa Ojanen (Clara and Simon) my dad's parents. They lived on a farm and we visited them every Sunday for roast beef and red jello with real whipped cream. We also always had raw milk straight from the cow. Clara and Simon worked hard on their farm. There wasn't much time for fun or for fooling with silly grandchildren. I don't remember grandma Ojanen ever touching me except to put my hair in braids so tight that my eyes got slanted. She always thought she was dying and argued with her neighbor over who was the fattest. She wanted to be the fattest! She also spoiled my dad rotten - he was the baby of the family and never had to lift a finger to do anything, much to my mother's dismay. My grandma Ojanen never liked my mom cause she thought my dad should have married a good Finnish girl. My mom, in her later years, talked about how much this had hurt her. Grandpa Ojanen was a little more affectionate and positive. Grandma and her Finni...

This is a picture of my grandma and grandpa Maxfield - my mom's parents. Grandma was probably in her late 50's at this time. Grandpa was sitting there looking at her with such love in his eyes - he with his quart of beer and she with her coffee - always served with a saucer. We could go to the bar and get beer for grandpa when we were kids with no questions asked. They knew it was for him. It cost 50 cents for a quart. If anyone came to visit him, he would place the bottle on the floor by his chair so he didn't have to share it. Grandma and Grandpa had a hard life. Their first child - a baby boy died at about 11 months of age. He had a bad heart, my mom said. Grandma said he ate well that morning and she put him to sleep and he died. She went on to have 7 more kids - giving birth to all of them at home except for the last one - born in a hospital. Only her firstborn died before she did. Grandpa was a heavy drinker. He worked in the mines and I guess he wasn't always ni...

For the rest of my life? Happy Birthday to my "soul mate" that I didn't even have to go hiking in the Appalachians (or Argentina) to find. All I had to do was go for a long bike ride with you on a Saturday morning in May, 32 years ago, on a balloon tired bomber that I borrowed from a friend, and the deal was set. Where did the time go and how did it go so fast? How can we be this old when we are this young inside? Whatever it is, it is good, and I will grow old(er) with you cause when I met you, you knew about "The Point" by Harry Neilson, you didn't care about fancy things and I am pretty sure you will still love me if I get an apron. Besides, I know all the words! Happy Birthday my love!

One of my favorite Dan stories happened when he was around 7 or 8. He told me in a rather matter of fact way that he was going to jump off the roof. It is a lucky thing I was listening because I might have just said "That's nice, dear" - and he probably would have gone ahead and jumped. Instead I said "Why would you want to do that?" His answer was, "I want to have a near death experience. I want to find out what happens when you die. I think it would be pretty boring to just be buried in the ground and lie there and heaven might be boring too". He had heard about near death experiences, apparently. He also was getting pressure from the Mormon kids in the neighborhood because we didn't go to church. Just like when I was a kid and the Catholic kids told me I was going to go to this place called Limbo when I died because I wasn't baptized and wasn't Catholic. Maybe Limbo is what Dan was worried about too. I am sure glad the Catholics decided ...

This catchy title came from something my sister Barbara Jean said in a dream, to a cook in the restaurant where she, my mom and I used to work years ago. My sister, my mom and I always had weird dreams, and we always shared them with each other. Since my mom's death, Barb and I have been waiting to hear from my mom in our dreams. So far, Barb has not, but a sparrow keeps coming into her yard and letting her pet it, so that must be some sort of a sign. My sister's weird dreams differ from mine in that she often has phrases that make no sense in the dream and she remembers them. My favorite one, which is written in magic marker on my old bedroom wall back in the caving in and dying old house. It says "Did you step in my reffing jet needle service?" We have never figured that one out and I don't think we ever will. I have had dreams of my mom, but she mostly doesn't talk to me. The most recent dream involved both my parents. My dad was sitting with his head on th...

.... and Ferris wheels, the dizzy-dancing way you feel. When every fairy tale come real, I've looked at life that way..... I love the month of June. It is the hump month of the season, just like Wednesday is the hump day of the week - but not like Wednesday's child ,who is full of woe. June is still spring, and not yet summer. The days are still getting lighter and the air smells allergy good and the flowers are blossoming. We can keep the windows open at night and hear the somewhat irritating chimes that were given to me to remember my mom by every time they jangled. June is the lull before summer kicks in with it's heat and the celebrations of July and the back to school preparations of August. On June 21st, the first day of summer and also my third fatherless father's day, the days will be begin getting seconds, then minutes shorter. But for now, Jack and I can get up at 5:05 to wait for Becky and I can wear T-shirts and shorts instead of jackets and tights. It is l...

Last weekend, Dan graduated from Tulane for a second time- this time from grad school. We are getting to be old hands at this! And since Billy will be going there this fall for his graduate degree, we will get another family trip - hopefully everyone, as scattered around the country as they are, will be able to make it. Ellen Degeneres spoke at the graduation. She is probably more comfortable with herself then anyone I know. The graduation ceremony was as they should be....a celebration complete with a New Orleans Jazz band, and fireworks. We never went on any formal vacations when the kids were little. Maybe because Bruce and I didn't as kids either. More likely cause we couldn't afford it. Everyone grew up fine without the trips to Disneyland, or wherever else people seem to think their kids need to go to be well rounded. Our kids didn't even get to go to daycare, the poor things! An acquaintance of mine once commented to me (she isn't really gifted in the art of ta...

Last night I had a dream that I got a tattoo on my right thigh. It was just the word "unpredictable". The word had a funny symbol above one of the letters, which my daughter was concerned about. She said the symbol was in the wrong place. She didn't seemed alarmed or curious about the tattoo or what it meant. I have no idea what it meant. I have no idea why I dream the things I dream either. Like the tattoo, it is all unpredictable, which is maybe what it meant after all.

I dialed my mom's old phone number just for old times sake. I heard the usual message that one hears when a phone has been disconnected. I thought it would be cool to hear a message that said "The mother you have called is no longer in service. If you believe you have dialed the right mother, please hang up and call again". It would have been funny if it happened but more funny and miraculous if my mom had answered and said "Hi Donna Raye, how's my sweet baby girl?". Today when we were running at 6 AM and it was so nice and light outside and we were both sneezing because of the good pollen smells and we saw a fawn, we talked about dead friends we remembered from high school. I thought of Peter, the guy who sat next to me in chemistry. I had asthma really bad in high school and at that time they used isuprel inhalers until they found out that people dropped dead unexpectedly from them. The inhaler had an alcohol propellant. I tried to hide the fact ...

Every spring when I put on some article of clothing not worn since the previous summer, I have a feeling of fear that it will no longer fit. A moment where, until the skirt (running shorts, shirt, sports bra, socks - well OK - I don't panic about socks) zips up over my potential apron without any problem, I hold my breath. This is related to the moment of truth when I try on something that I ordered online only to realize that I am not 28 years old, 5'7'' and 115 pounds and it doesn't look nearly as nice as it did on the girl wearing it in the picture. Why is this, when I work so hard running my butt off at 5:45 am, do a few marathons a year, lift weights, and watch what I eat, that my self esteem is such that I fear I have ballooned into a size 12 over the winter? I think it is because the main reason I run isn't to lose weight or even maintain it. I really run to save my sanity from the things that try to sabotage it....like life in general and work and the w...

Some of the unique residents that have lived in my little home town are not even human, and are long remembered after they are gone. One such resident, appropriately known as Nomad, took on the job as being the town dog. Nomad was a big husky – big mostly because she ate meals at home and at many of the neighbors’ homes. My daughter called her a couch dog – not because she spent time on a couch but because she was couch sized. She was a big, round love seat sort of a dog. Nomad made it her business to check on everyone in the neighborhood but she had his favorites – my brother was one of them. Nomad worshiped my brother Ray and visited him several times each day hoping to get a puppy cookie in exchange for a dog kiss. She saw the good in Ray and didn’t try to make him quit drinking or smoking. She was a good listener and was satisfied to go for a walk in the woods where she would roll around in every mud puddle she could find. Nomad thought she was the guard dog and sat on the porch of...

This is the last picture of my mom, taken by my sister just 6 days before she died, and after she had a perm. She doesn't look like someone who was going to die in less than a week. But I guess that is a good thing. Barbara send me this picture with the following words from Thomas Hardy's Moments of Vision I am the family face, Flesh perishes, I live on, Protecting trait and trace Through time to times and on And leaping from place to place Over oblivion Saturday my friend Tom and I ran in the Salt Lake 1/2 marathon. We devoted the run to my mom, our friend Bob, and his dad...all of them gone this past year, leaving an emptiness that not even a good run could ever replace. But we remembered them and ran, thinking of them sitting "up there" watching us and being proud. We thought of them and talked of them until the last two miles. We silently ran our own race then, alone with our memories and our losses. I came in third in my age group. Ma would have been proud eve...

"When are you going to quit running marathons?" I am frequently asked. My own mother used to say "You are getting too old to run like that!" My answer is "Only when I can't". My friend Suzanne and I talked about this on Friday morning when I went in to work late and we ran 13 miles - about 1/2 of it uphill. She shares my fear that, if you quit, or even take a while off, you might never be able to do it again. The longer runs take more out of you, the older you get and the recovery is longer. It would be easy to give it up and take up something less taxing on the knees - like bicycling or maybe aerobics (yuck). I think sometimes old people get old because they think they should. "I am getting too old for that", they tell themselves. And then, all of a sudden, they are. I don't want to be like that. I want to have goals that I work towards. Maybe the goal will be doing a 1/2 marathon, or a 10k, instead of a marathon , but it probably will b...

I wrote about my friend Sid in my first blog entry a few years back. I am lucky to still get to run with him on Sunday mornings. Sid is a veteran runner and marathoner. He is now 84 years old and has a lot of wisdom in his years. Although his pace has slowed, he still has goals and works towards them. He cares for his wife who has health problems and is active in volunteering, and keeps busy. He competes each year in the senior olympics. He has adjusted his running goals based on his age and pace but he has no plans to give it up. I have learned a lot about living in the moment from him. I have also learned to appreciate elderly folks and what they can teach me. On Saturday, I ran a 5K with Sid. Sure I could have placed in my age group but I chose to go at his pace. There will, I hope, be other races for me where I can run faster if I want to. I won’t always get to run with Sid though and listen to his stories. It was a wet, snowy day, but Sid was so excited when I picked him...

I have learned a lot about grief that I thought I already knew. It's stuff I tell people who are grieving - stuff like "There is no right way...everyone does it differently" and "Yes, it is normal to think you are going crazy". I read all this stuff in books and now for the second time in two years, I am facing it myself. I am an orphan. My grief over my mom didn't result in what most people might consider "normal grief"....a lot of crying, for example. Of course I cried but mostly I felt numb and like I was packed in cotton and sort of segregated from the rest of the world. I am sure my sister and brother experienced it differently too. I was okay with staying at my mom's house and getting rid of all her clothes right away. I was okay with speaking at the funeral. I went through the "what ifs" and "I should haves". What if we would have gotten her to a place that could provide more advanced care? I should have said more to ...

The first day I woke up at my mom's empty house without her, the cat was sitting there staring at me so I got up. When I looked at the half and half in the fridge I noted that it had expired the same day she did - March 10th. I poured it in my coffee anyway and did not see any clumps so I drank it and so far am okay. This small town is covered with snow - more than I have seen in a while, but not as much as there was a few weeks ago, according to the town folk. Today though, it is sunny and has warmed up to 40 degrees and some of it promises to melt. I went for a run this am and there is still snow and ice on many of the streets. But the air smells so good it is almost painful. Siggie made me scrambled eggs for breakfast and pepper bacon. It hasn't been bad staying alone at my mom's house with the cat, named simply "kitty". Poor kitty - she was my dad's cat and missed him when he died, but got to know my mom the last few years. She sleeps in mom's chair al...

The following comments came from my mom's brother Jim, and his wife, Gaby. I will read these all at the funeral. When I think of your mother, my sister I can always remember a kind and loving person who would always think of others before herself. She was always willing to give to help others and was always there for everyone who needed her. I remember her working at the old Elmer Pantti's store and earning so little but always gave me a little change. I will always love her and never forget her. Love Jim I have something to say: Georgetta was always there for me when I married Jab and had my first born son (Ike). She always helped me with his first bath and other things. I never forgot the time when Ike had blood all over his crib sheet. I got so scared and called her. She came right over, I thought the blood was coming out of his ears, but she calmed down and let me know it was just a bloody nose. Another time , we were looking for Jab, so we went thru a high weed field, ...

Our mother, grandmother, sister, aunt and friend Georgetta Bernice Maxfield Ojanen “shut ‘er down” one last time on Tuesday morning March 10th. She was 80 years old on the outside, but on the inside, she was still dancing. Georgetta was born in Rockland on October 19th, 1928, to James and Grace Maxfield, the third of 8 children. She graduated from Roger Clark High School with the class of 1946. She married Raymond S. Ojanen in 1948 instead of becoming a beautician and taking a trip to Venice as she had planned. Her main job was raising her kids until Ray got into an accident and she began working at Wager’s restaurant. She also worked at the Eagles club for many years. George had a lot of good friends and was a friend to everyone. She would have given anyone the shirt off her back. She often fed people who might have gone without if it wasn’t for her generosity. Once someone stole her TV set. She knew who had done it, but said “Well they must need it more than I do”. Many people have b...

HI Donna, Just finished talking with you on the phone, and would like to add more good things about your Mom, When I was in high school, your Mom and Dad gave me the job of carrying in their firewood and dumping the ashes so I would have some spending money, Barb was just a babe at that time; As mentioned, they were good to Eliane and I when we first came back to the state, and Eliane live with them for while when I had to finish out my enlistment. It was a critical time in our life as we were just about broke and expecting a baby and I just got a job with Uppco and didn't have a house. Also in my early years in the Navy, she would allow me to call her collect, just to talk, as I never had enough money. There are so many good things to say, but to sum it all up, she was just a basically good person, and would share what she had with other, You three were fortunate to have her as your mother And yes, I broke down and cried when I hung up the phone after you called Boo

Dear Barbara, Donna, and Raymond, I am so sorry not to be with you at this sad time of the loss of your mother and my sister, but I know Georgetta and you understand. Georgetta was like a second mother to me, and when, I was growing up, sometimes I would pretend she was my mother because she was young like the mothers of my friends. On the first day of kindergarten, I had a rude awakening. I thought all the toys were for me, and I did not want to share. I guess I was suspended, for the teacher called my sister, who lived just across the street from the school. She had to come to take me home because I was unable to adjust. Thankfully, I was a fast learner, and that did not happen again. Even then, she was there for me. She was easy to talk with as I was growing up, and she understood me. I recall how happy I was to go to her house for lunch from school because she always had the best food. And on the way there, I would pick fights with Barbara the way Sandy and Gail used to fig...

My mom died yesterday morning. She had a massive stroke in the cerebral cortex of her brain. She went quickly without complaint and I reluctantly joined the group of adult children without parents. I have felt pretty numb the last few days but feel good that she did not suffer. The beauty of a small town hospital is that you can die around people who know you or you knew their parents. You don't have to die surrounded by people doing stuff to you that will yield more information but in the end you will still die but with a bigger hospital bill. The nurses asked us what we wanted to do. "Make her comfortable" we said. And they did. My sister and brother were there for most of that night and I was out here thinking about them. In the morning my sister held her cell phone to my unresponsive mom's ear. "I love you mom. You can go if you want to. You don't have to wait for me" I told her. She died peacefully a few hours later. A few weeks ago, we ...