REASONS

There are reasons why I'm behaving unreasonably these past few months. I have been pulverized with so many unbearable negative obstacles that I can hardly function. I'm nearly emotionally (and physically) destroyed. Depression has penetrated the root of my existence.

Writing about it has become impossible. Maybe.....maybe.....some day.

I am not exaggerating. I've become only a shadow of whom I used to be. I don't give a rat's ass about any aspect of existence. I hate the entire  world....and I envy the every day of freedom that you are blessed to enjoy.

I suspect that the kind....and courageous.....readers of my blog are weary of my  old photos that they've seen many times. In this hospital bed I only have the photos stored on my phone.

This time photos of past autumns.

It is autumn now, isn't it?

Jon 🍁 unreasonably clueless

Autumnal photography, with commentary! This should enchant you. I think I corrected the typos.

When I lived in the Missouri Ozarks, I was only two miles from Wilsons Creek - which was the site a major battle in the Civil War, August 1861. It took place in the corn field behind me sitting on the fence. Over 2,500 soldiers were killed or missing. I went there every autumn. Very haunting and atmospheric  place.

Me at Wilsons Creek. Unfortunately my best photos are filed in my laptop....at.....home

Maple tree in my back yard in the Ozarks.

Me by the same tree. The color is way off, it's a lousy Polaroid.

Every autumn I took endless walks in Maple Park Cemetery in Springfield. It is haunted. This statue marks the grave of a young woman, Melissa Turner. 24 yrs. old 1884. The statue always holds fresh flowers.

When I lived in West Texas (I lived in several towns) I had a house in a very small town on the high plains. I grew these pumpkins in my garden. Difficult to do, with dry dusty soil.  The town Floydada was about 50 miles away. They have pumpkin festivals every autumn.

My TX pumpkins in the back yard.

Taken in Texas but I didn't grow this one.

Kitzee, about four months old. I adopted her from the animal shelter in Odessa TX

ECHOES OF DISTANT SUMMERS

    Note:

I re-post this at the end of every summer.
Why?
Because I like it.   Jon

 Dwelling continuously in the past is for idle dreamers. Occasionally visiting the past can be nourishment for a hungry soul.

 

There are times when I can close my eyes and make the distance of years melt away......

..... and suddenly I'm on the beach again, young and exuberant, immersed in the drowsy haze of a summer afternoon where the silver glare of sky and water mingle as one, where the soft sand burns my bare feet, and the salty scent of the ocean intoxicates my senses. The soothing, eternal roar of the waves seem to echo like the song of a shell pressed against my ear.

 I cherish those summers of distant memories, because now - - in the present purgatory of a different time and place, in the subtle shadows of my rapidly dwindling existence - - I fully appreciate their value. 

Memories often tend to assume halcyon proportions and our distant pasts sometimes seem better than they really were. Careful scrutiny of my past, however, confirms the fact that it did indeed harbor the best times of my life.

There is a fierce pang of sadness wedged in the heart of my memories, because what I miss most is the innocence and the optimism - - two precious things that I will never have again.

I was fortunate enough to have divided my youthful summers between the west coast and the east coast. 

I lived in Southern California which, in my biased opinion, was the greatest place on earth. I also spent summers on the east coast, the Jersey shore, where most of my relatives were. I was particularly partial to the Pacific Ocean, because it was my territory - - but the Atlantic had its own mesmeric powers. The Pacific - always blue, placid, inviting. The Atlantic - greenish gray, remote, moody.

 West Coast

In California, in Orange County, we lived less than five miles from the beach and it was an integral part of my life. I was well-acquainted with all the beach communities up the coast:
Laguna, Newport, Huntington, Bolsa Chica, Sunset, Seal Beach. 

(Seal Beach was my secret favorite).

Huntington Beach was the closest. Sometimes I'd ride my bike there. Occasionally I'd hitch a ride. All the kids hitched on Beach Boulevard and Pacific Coast Highway.....long ago when things seemed safe.

 The Huntington Beach Pier

Long, hot summer days languishing in the sand at Huntington, absorbing the perpetual sunshine. Eating corn dogs & "strips" (fried tortilla strips with a mild hot sauce). Drinking Cactus Coolers (an orange-pineapple soft drink that I think still exists). Always swimming. Sometimes surfing. Enduring sunburns and jellyfish stings. 

Collecting shells. Sand Dollars were always the greatest treasures.

Midnight bonfires, moonlit walks on the beach when the Grunion were running. Haunting the deserted pier at Seal Beach after midnight. Sailing with friends at Newport Beach on languid, carefree afternoons. Visiting Balboa Island and Catalina Island.

Later, when I had wheels, I'd drive to the beach or go with friends. Day or night, it was my most sacred refuge. 


Sudden flashback:
Driving with my best friend Mike in his red convertible Mustang along Pacific Coast Highway at sunset on the 4th of July. Stereo blaring, the evening alive with magic. Dazzling explosions of fireworks igniting every mile of the shore. The air warm and salty, heavy with the pungent sulfuric smell of  smoke.

  Years later I was best man at Mike's wedding. Marriage inevitably has a way of severing friendships and expunging the exuberance of youth. We lost contact long ago. The carefree days linger like taunting ghosts at the edge of our memories....

The Jersey Shore

East Coast

The east coast was always a blessed escape from unrelenting family problems and my father's insane violence.

I loved the colorful, comforting chaos of being alone in New York City: walking barefooted in Central Park, discovering museums, visiting Lincoln Center. Getting drunk in a sleazy Staten Island bar with my cousin Nancy and her husband Jim. Drinking was a new novelty to me then ( Nancy wasn't fond of drinking, but Jim and I got smashed).

Now, Nancy is a widow.......Jim is gone.......

Horseback riding with my cousin Nancy on early August evenings in the balmy New Jersey countryside. Boating along the Jersey coast and into New York Harbor (several of my relatives had boats). Watching the moon rise from the water in a sultry surrealistic haze. Long walks on the beach at Sandy Hook. Exploring the boardwalks at Asbury Park and Seaside Heights.

Asbury Park, New Jersey
 

Our once-large family has now dwindled drastically. The relatives are all deceased, except for my cousins. Friends have vanished. And lovers. All those whom I truly cherished only remain in faded ghost memories, where distant voices still echo with warmth and laughter......

....and those golden summers linger tenderly in the recesses of my mind:  carefree times when the invincibility of youth deceived us into believing that life is eternal - -

- - where distant memories echo like the taunting pulse of a delicate whisper in a seashell pressed to my ear.

Jon V.        2018

WICKEDLY TIMELESS

Okay, every one - - let's all hold hands and think negative thoughts.....which, if we succeed, might expunge the positive thoughts I offered in my previous post.

After all, nobody wants to hear anything optimistic that might have occurred in my dreadfully drastic existence.

As a start, I will consider removing the photo of the Jeep (where the hell did I get that vehicle, anyway?).

I'm talking nonsense.

I might be wounding you with sarcasm.

My enigmatical blog posts often leave recipients speechless. Other more courageous recipients kindly take time to read between lines - desperately trying extract a semblance of logic and reason.

Logic? Reason?

Only I know what and why I write.

Taking detours far away from tedious, depressing, joyless, foul, endless medical updates would be a unique break.....a  breath of fresh (?) air....

he assumes......

I still brashly (and erroneously) believe that I'm the most interesting person I know.

With several exceptions.

AND NOW

I'll give you what you're waiting for.

A DELICIOUS MEDICAL UPDATE!

Last Friday (August 14th) my followup dr. appt.

I was nervous beyond belief, as to what the ctscan would reveal. My recent petscan yielded so many dire and dismal things, that even  Doctor Johnson was speechless.

On Friday, I was so scared waiting for the doctor that I nearly passed out. The nurse took my blood pressure and said it was completely normal.

The results for my scans were not as bad as expected. I was positive that bone cancer was in my right arm. The pain is INTENSE. The dr. said it is coming from nerve pain. It seems to be bursitis. I'll get treatments for that.

The doctor's biggest concern is my liver and left lung. Since he only deals with radiation, I was transferred to a new oncologist who specializes in chemo, Dr. Penny Heinrich.

I got an appt. with her on Sept 1st.

I had seven weeks of chemo and radiation three years ago.

.....and so it goes....

If this post annoys you, I would gladly put you in my shoes and let you go through the absolute medical HELL that I endured these past three years. Every minute was agony. I held up incredibly well - -

During the past few weeks I'm completely losing strength and sanity. I never knew a depression could be so ravaging. I'm bearly hanging on to a very thin thread.

Jon

NIGHTMARE IN SLO MO

 That's exactly how to describe it. My existence. A nightmare in slow motion. 

A never-ending surrealistic dream - - unfolding like the haunting backdrops of the 1920 German film, "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari".

Expressionism supreme.

More about that later.

I had my appointment last Tuesday. My oncologist Dr. Johnson in Cookeville Medical Center.

It went exactly as I thought - - nothing new to tell, a vast waste of time. I don't like my new oncologist. Dr. Sydris (now retired) always strived to get things done.

Dr. Johnson gives the attitude that he doesn't give a crap. He listens to my major concerns. Then says I'll need further tests ( he already has my recent horrifying PETscan). He has no appointment schedule. A nurse said it will be "weeks, not sure when."

So......I'll waste precious time, waiting forever. I know I need treatments right now. I'm holding back on this blog post, not telling everything. I don't want to be an alarmist.

Things are worse than can be imagined.

Rainy day on my appointment. I loved seeing the dramatic sky, with occasional sunlight. My only connection to the outside world.

Here, in Signature, it is my prison. I'm existing on nothing but faded memories. Lifeless. Seriously dejected.

A nightmare in slow motion.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari

A masterpiece of German horror/expressionism, 1920. Directed by Robert Wiene. 

Starring Conrad Veidt (remember him in "Casablanca" ?)

I won't go into the twisted plot. The sinister Caligari, and the somnambulist Cesare who predicts and commits murders.

When I was ten years old, I had a horror magazine that had photos from the 1920 Caligari film. I was mesmerized by the photos, but knew very little about the film.

When I was 20 years old, I finally saw the film in a silent movie theater in L.A.

The informative years when I explored everything.

This post didn't interest you, and I certainly don't blame you. It's crap.

I have absolutely NO desire to write, but I currently have an Internet connection. So I forced myself.

Jon, 💚

wondering if I'm still.... alive

P.S.

The Silent Movie Theater still exists on Fairfax in Los Angeles. It opened in 1942 and through the years had different names (The Old Time Movie Theater, The Movie Theater) and different owners.

In 1997, owner Lawrence Austin was murdered in the theater when there was a robbery.

I'VE READ ALL YOUR COMMENTS BUT DIDN'T REPLY BECAUSE I KEEP LOSING MY CONNECTION.

HEART OF THE LOST

 

By some technological miracle, I have an Internet connection so I'm writing a new post. Nothing interesting nor important. Just confirming the fact of my existence. Probably typos, because my right arm hurts so much that I can hardly type.

Before I go into updates, I want to turn back the clock - to the 1st of June, 2023. Now, over three years ago. That was the horrible day when my long medical journey began. I knew at least a year previously that I was seriously ill. A tumor on my pelvis, directly on the main artery, which caused massive hemorrhages. At the time I didn't have medical insurance and was too frightened to get help.

The things I went through were so terrifying that I wouldn't want to describe it on this (public) blog.

Incredibly, during that time I still managed to blog - but my posts were strange, disjointed, depressing. Nobody knew how I was suffering. I hinted....but hints mean nothing.

During this time, I made the video "Heart of the Lost" (the title is from the music, written by Ean Grimm). I posted the video...and no one knew what it meant.

I never revealed my desperate plan. I went into the forest by my house. A final walk. I found a perfect spot nestled in the busom of the trees. I sat there for hours, clutching the ample bottle of pills. 

I yearned for the final sleep, which would come gently....... soon the wild, free spirit of a white wolf would roam forever freely in the peaceful place I loved.

It was as simple as that.

I didn't go through my plan. It was night when I got home.

The 1st of June

I had lost so much blood that I started having mild heart attacks. I could no longer walk. I stumbled to the front porch, called 911, and passed out on the porch.

A long journey....the doctors at Centennial in Nashville told me there was no hope. I was sent back to Cookeville, where I had seven weeks of chemo and radiation.

A guardian angel had mercy.

That's the past. What about now?

Medically, I'm having more problems. I don't want to exhaust myself (or you) with tedious details. After six long weeks, I finally have an appointment with my oncologist in Cookeville (July 14th). Good news.....but I'm apprehensive.

I wish it could have been sooner.

I wish this post wasn't so gloomy. I'm exhausted mentally and physically. My sense of humor has vanished.

Jon ❤️ valiently...hanging.....on

I'll try to post more often, if I still have an Internet connection. Thanks for being there. I know you are.

INDEPENDENCE DAY

 After nearly two weeks without an Internet connection, I finally got a connection this morning. Miracle! I'll try to write this post quickly, in case the Gods of Technology heard me and take it away.

Also, I have such severe pain in my right arm that I can hardly type. I don't want to give a medical update, because it is dismal and my depression is profound. No need for alarm. I'm hanging on by a thin thread, but I'll be damned if I let go.

I'm still at Signature in Jamestown.

Well, with Internet I can order some food from Walmart this week. The highlite (light?) of my dreary existence.

I have a lot to say, but I'll drastically condense. July has arrived. It's in the 90s here, between endless thunderstorms. There was a tornado warning and power outage a few nights ago. No damage.

I hope everyone has a joyous holiday weekend. Be thankful for the positive things you have. They are precious.

I had this doggie for many years. He had an outfit for every month. When I moved to Tennessee, the outfits were there...but the dog was missing.

Jon, patriotic in Texas

Another piano video. These are 

my variations on "When Johnny Comes Marching Home". The photos are not AI, they're original from the Civil War.

Lousy audio  but it's an old tape.

Jon  💙

Just received some bad news from insurance....just what I need to destroy my weekend.

P.S.It's Friday night and another severe storm is here. So much lightning, no need for fireworks.

P.S AGAIN

I think I finally have a much-needed appt. with my oncologist  next week (after nearly two months).

MOONLIGHT AND WATER

I'm not in the mood to blog or write about medical updates. Instead, I'm going to inflict you with my piano videos.

I heard those sighs of disgust.

 For some uncanny reason, my piano videos are unpopular. I'm probably too good (he says with absolute sincerity).

Moonlight and water?

First video:

Claire de lune, from the Suite bergamasque by Debussy.

Truth to tell, I dislike this composition. It's definitely over-played. Every pianist who can crawl to a keyboard attempts to play it.

This video was recorded in my studio in San Angelo. Bad video quality.

Second Video:

The Warsaw Concerto by British composer Richard Addinsell. 

Technically, this isn't a concerto.....but neither is my blog.

The Warsaw Concerto was my personal war horse - - I probably performed this more times than anything else in my piano repertoire.

BTW this is my own arrangement.

I made three or four different videos of Warsaw Concerto. This one - for some unplausible reason - I incorporated the ocean in this video. Heaven knows why.

The first page of my arrangement of the Warsaw Concerto

Jon, yearning for my long ago piano performances, when I was appreciated.....

💚💚

P.S.

I know my medical updates are more important than my music. First of all, things are going so badly that I don't want to horrify you. I'm absolutely miserable. Second, my Internet connection is so sporadic that I don't have time to elaborate.

I'll try to post more often.

Don't forget me.

AT LONG LAST

 

During the past two months, I think I only wrote two blog posts. This is extremely unusual, since blogging is my addiction. I can't stop, even when my posts are crappy ad nauseam.

Despite my flaws....

Wait a moment, Jon. You only have maybe one flaw. You're nearly perfect.

Despite my few flaws, my faithful blog readers never abandon me. They are the sole reason I blog. I would never intentionally abandon my blog......if so, there would have to be a very good reason.

Here's the good reason.

I like my room here in Signature - - but it has one flaw (much like myself).

I can't get a connection to the Internet in this room. I tried everything posssible. Even members of the administration here have worked at it, but couldn't get a connection, either.

Ever since the past few years - when I spent so much time in hospitals and rehab - the Internet has been my only connection to the outside world. I blog, text, email, do online banking, pay my monthly bills, watch endless videos on YouTube, buy food from Walmart, purchase stuff I don't need. I couldn't exist without the Internet.

Cut the endless crap, Jon. Condense. Get to the point!

Hey, amigo, verbosity is part of my charm.

SO...........

the good members of the administration got some kind of technical thingie on Amazon that connects errant phones to the Internet. I truly don't know what it's called or how it works.

Today  it worked!!! I finally have Internet access.

Today was filled with some positive things. I got the Internet, got an air mattress for this uncomfortable bed, and I sat in a chair to get my legs circulating.....

MY NEW AIR MATTRESS

I know you're waiting anxiously for a new medical update.

Unfortunately, it's not positive news.

So much has happened lately that my weary mind is muddled. I completed three weeks of radiation therapy last week. 15 days, instead of the intended 20. 

It helped somewhat. They had to radiate six cancerous "wounds" and/or lumps. Afterwards, I noticed that four are not exactly healing as they should. And I presently have severe soreness in my arm, where some of the largest lumps are. A very bad indication that ......things aren't going well. I also have some other problems that show up on my PETscan. 

I really don't feel like delving into unpleasant things right now.

On my last day of radiation, the oncologist said if I feel like I need further treatments, I should contact them again.

Yesterday I had the head nurse contact them, and an appointment will be schedualed.

As usual, I still have lots more to say, but I'll cut it short for now. It's always an uphill struggle. Always. But I'm willing to climb.....

Jon, exhausted but not ready to surrender. ❤️

Top picture is one of my old AIs. The clouds are parting, perhaps there's a home somewhere on the horizon. 

Somewhere.

P.S.

Many thanks to

Jane from Strawberry Plains

and

Dorothy from NH

💚💚 your thoughtfulness is appreciated.

THE WINDS OF CHANGE

For the past two weeks I have been safely ensconced here at Signature Health Care in Jamestown.

Generally, all has been going well. I have a wonderful room, good care, decent food. Incredibly, dozens of people who work here came to see me and said they're glad I'm back - - it's really overwhelming.

Sheila, the lady who works here, still checks my house and brought my mail.

I have a large, clean room with a large window. The view isn't spectacular but it provides light, which I love.

Best of all, I no longer have a thin curtain seperating me from a dangerous, psychotic roommate - - who physically attacked me when I was in Gainesboro.

Here in this room, I have these cabinets seperating me from my roommate.

Incidentally, my current roommate is a paraplegic. He is pleasant with a good attitude and a sense of humor. Definitely not psychotic. His only visitor is his mother - - and his sister works here, so he sees her often.

Incredibly, all the things I bought when I was here last year are stored in this room. And they dragged in all the things I had in Gainesboro - - my room looks like a museum.

Oh, before I forget - - on Easter Sunday our lunch here consisted of baked ham, sweet potatos, green beans, stuffing with rosemary and thyme....and cherry cheesecake.

But (all good things have a downside)

I've known this for quite awhile but didn't dare mention it. So many of you precious people wrote kind comments on my previous post.

In this sordid life, you can change your environment but you can't change physical ailments.

The cancer on my right arm was healing nicely after radiation, but recently it suddenly enlarged and bleeds slightly. Worst of all, several other lumps appeared on my arm.

I was sent to Cookeville Medical Center last Monday (13th). Unfortunately, my oncologist retired (Dr. Sydris). My new doctor, Dr. Johnson, is East Indian. Nothing wrong with that, but he's not very congenial.

I'll cut to the chase.

I'll need about twenty more radiation treatments (two years ago I had 35 radiation treatments for another cancer). This will take forever. I don't even want to think about it.

I'll finally say my opinion.

Life is a bitch....and I've been kicked in the ass for too long.

I have a lot more things to say, but I'm too weary to continue writing.

Jon ❤️

Grateful for your company

P.S.

My AI pictures are now reruns. My annual account with Freepik closed last February and I don't have the cash to renew it.

I know some of you are applauding. Shame on you!!

TRANSFER POSITIVE

Well, I'm finally here. Signature Health Care in Jamestown.

Yesterday (Good Friday) was one heckuva long day. Everything was chaotic (as usual) and I knew nothing of what was going on (as usual).

I got up very early and was told "they" were picking me up at 9:00 a.m. Who were "they"? They were taking me...where?

I thought I had a doctor appointment. I disgarded the hospital gown and put on clothes. A new shirt. And a pair of sweatpants 20X my size.

I always buy medium sweatpants. These were a probable good fit for Jumbo the elephant.

When I was ready, the social worker Jennifer told me they'd pick me up at noon.

Who?

The transport from Signature in Jamestown.

Silent "Yay!" Couldn't believe my ears.

Problem arises. Being in bed far too long, my knees locked. Couldn't bend them at all. I was like a three week corpse. How the hell could I get in a wheel chair? About half an hour later they brought in another chair. Had a place for my stiff legs. Real cute.

I was wheeled down hallways and brought to a room I've never seen before. There was a huge wide screen TV and they put me smack dab in front of it - - so close that I could see everything without glasses.

Two things wrong with the room.

One

Everyone in the room had dementia. Except for me, of course, but that's a matter of debate. They were shouting, peeing on the floor......and vile things I won't mention.

Two

The TV was tuned to the reruns of Little House on the Prairie.

Let me kindly interject here.

I absolutely love Laura Ingalls Wilder and her books. She's an American icon.

BUT

The TV series has NOTHING to do with her books. The network frogs simply stole her name, raped her image, and made a shit TV series (oops, sorry). She must be revolving in her grave.

OK, let's continue

If you were ever in a room filled with dementia victims and was forced to watch rerun after rerun after rerun of Little House dangerously close up - - you'd be crying and praying fervently for death. That's what I was doing.

My stiff legs were sticking up like I was on an ironing board. I couldn't go anywhere. Hour dragged on upon hour.

Finally, finally a worker came by. I asked for the time, she said it was 1:30. She also said Signature Transport was here! I couldn't believe it!

They transfered me into another chair (where my legs were down) and took me to the lobby.

There was Anthony the Signature driver I knew so well and Martha - - the 80-year-old-something nurse who accompanied me on so many journeys.

I was so relieved!!!

The long trip back to Jamestown was wonderful.

Warm partly cloudy afternoon, green rolling hills, dormant trees coming to life, blossoms everywhere. A perfect Good Friday.

Here at Signature they gave me a very good room, everyone remembers me. I'm treated like a king (so far).

Me - - still have many problems, but breathing a big sigh of relief.

Jon, smiling like Bugs Bunny

💜🐰🐣🐥🐤🐇🐰🐥🐤🐇🐰

When I was very young, my parents used to say "Smile like Bugs Bunny" whenever they took my picture.

GOOD FRIDAY

I'm posting this early, because it might be the only time I have to do it.

I made this video several years ago and have a habit of rehashing it on Good Friday.

Since I am notoriously dissatisfied with everything I do, I would like to drastically edit this video but it's too much trouble.

 My main purpose was to create something with a soothing effect - a sort of respite capturing the essence of Good Friday.

The music from Parsifal by Richard Wagner is absolutely perfect for this.

Whatever.

I'm not certain, but I might have an important update this Easter weekend. I've heard several conflicting rumors, and also things from fairly reliable sources.

Who knows?

Anyway, have a peaceful weekend, immersed in the glorious embrace of spring.

Jon 💜 🐰🐣🐤🐇🐥🐰

(Keep the volume up on the video)

 P.S. 

Yes, an Easter surprise, but I don't know details yet.

FRENCH FRIES AND OTHER THINGS

I'll get to the French Fries later.

I'm still unnerved over the ugly encounter I had with my psychotic roommate last Saturday night. I knew he was crazy, but I never thought he'd get physical - - in an unromantic way.

(I'm trying to be funny.....in case you didn't notice).

Today I reported the incident to my Jamestown Signature Health Care social worker, Tira (not her real name).

She gave me a number to call for help concerning my roommate.

She also said that my transfer is being held up solely because my Gainesboro social worker never sent my papers. Tira's going to contact the administration about this.

I knew the dolts here in Gainesboro would screw this up.

To be continued.

French Fries, anyone?

I was furious at the appalling lunch we were subjected to today.

Three ice cold "chicken" nuggets (it might have been chicken).

An old disgusting dinner roll.

And cold French fries, so rock hard that I couldn't eat them.

I got so disgusted that I jabbed the fries into the dinner roll.

Here's the result:

I told the young lady who took the tray to make the cook eat it. She thought it was funny.

Perhaps I'm getting deranged.

Naw. Not a possibility.

Two books that were delivered here last Thursday, were finally brought to me today.

I have been faithfully reading the Farmer's Almanac since I was about sixteen. In recent years I forgot it. I decided to order it. No longer $2.95. It was over $8.00. I love the fact that the Almanac never changed......except for the price.

I have all of Laura Ingalls Wilder's books. And a 500 page book of her letters. She was an extraordinary lady. This book is a compilation of the journals and letters that she wrote when she traveled.

Few people know that she lived in the Missouri Ozarks for 64 years. She and her husband Almanzo built a wonderful house all by themselves. It's now a museum and is kept exactly as it was when she lived there (in Mansfield, MO). I visited there numerous times, when I lived in the Ozarks (with my errant lover.....which is another long story that you wouldn't want to hear).

Okay, you've all seen these, but I took new photos (which didn't turn out very well).

Some of my artifacts from ancient Egypt.  Purchased from an archaeologist and Egyptologist in Canada. These items were excavated near Luxor, Egypt, and the date is approximately 14 AD or 13 AD. From a private collection.

I have two Holly Owl amulets, symbols of wisdom.These are all made of stone with traces of the typical Egyptian faience glaze.

My favorite, the cat Bastet, Goddess of Pleasure

An ancient scarab - - mounted on copper in the 1920s. I put it on a black chain.

I have several more, but I'll spare you.

Why the heck do I purchase these things? I love ancient artifacts. I like to hold them, gaze at them. They give positive vibes.....which is what I need.

Jon, escaped to Cairo🐪🐪🐪

❤️ why do I always use these hearts? 

When I think of you, I feel love ❤️