Thoughts on July 2nd

July 2, 2019

“Inoperable Adenocarcinoma.”  The most common type of cancer.  “Advanced” is what doctor Hopkins said this afternoon.  We heard NOTHING all day Monday.  The day was a nightmare.  I was furious.  By the time I was angry enough to pick up the telephone, all of the medical people were gone for the day.  The doctor told me today this was an extremely rapidly spreading disease that that it should be addressed immediately.  For days my thoughts have been racing.  Unable to sleep.  Unable to think rationally.  Unable to plan.  “Are we still going to be able to go camping in September?  Should I get Takota into the trainer NOW?   Should I sell my tools?  What exact disease do I have?”  Now we know.

It has been maddening.  Finally this afternoon we got the call.  “Take a deep breath…” I told myself, and then I laughed. “THAT is what brought on my initial doctors visit.  Coughing up spoon-fulls of blood and unable to catch my breath!”  Today we received some answers.  Don’t make long term plans.  Instead, I began another mental inventory of everything that needs to be accomplished in order to prepare for the inevitable.  We have been referred to an  excellent Oncologist.  Dr. Tarantolo.  The appointment begins at 3:00 p.m. tomorrow.

Casselmans River Bridge

Someone, I don’t remember WHO, asked specifically for this piece. Once completed, they backed out on the commitment and so it sits…

I see bridges, all kinds of bridges as a sort of metaphor to life..  I’ve written about it in prior posts, but not tonight.  THIS project come to mind when we concluded the telephone call.  No matter the obstacle, mankind has developed, designed and implemented a means to overcome….  I keep telling Sherry AND myself…  This is just a big bump in the road..

Late tonight/VERY early morning sitting out on the deck again, it began to rain…. A warm, gentle rain.  I didn’t scurry to put up the umbrella.  I didn’t panic and run inside the house.  I sat there in the rain, feeling a certain cleansing taking place.  I know it won’t wash away the cancer.   I know it won’t relieve the massive amount  of work to be done.   When it did finally quit, the air was crisp and clear before the humidity set back in.  My breathing once again labored.   I did feel a bit revived and able to think a little more clearly though…


As always, thank you for listening AND thank you for your thoughts and prayers…

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Warning: Lengthy & Wandering

Wednesday, July 24, 2019. 3:00 A.M.

July 15 1813

In a Letter From John Adams to Thomas Jefferson

“You and I ought not to die before we have explained ourselves to each other…”


Perhaps THAT’S what this is all about.  To reconcile.  Another attempt to explain myself.  I’d rather not discuss spaghetti sauce, lawnmowers or construction jobs today.  Not camping or the mountains of Montana.  Not health insurance or the overwhelming heat wave.  Instead, recent activities and the feelings/emotions connected to them is what I’d prefer to share.

It’s 3:00 a.m. and I am too tired to cry.  The last time I  REALLY slept was with a doctor-ordered drug-induced nap during my first chemo-therapy. I was too wired to go forward until the doctor ordered a sedative. Previously on social media I posted our schedule for the week. It was more maddening than I expected.

I am already weary of “abstination diets” as they decide which scans I need, which labs to prep for.  I’m tired of being tired.  And remembering to eat five or six times a day.

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The Pause That Refreshes 

I’ve always been intrigued with speed.  As a kid I liked fast bicycles.  Long as I can remember I’ve liked fast, lively horses at the Derby, grew up watching record-setting race cars on TV. Fast trucks, fast airplanes, anything with speed.  The trill of acceleration gave me a natural high no drug could have ever done. Through the years, I owned three different ’65 GTO’s all coming in at 3600 pounds from the factory. Always my first goal was to lighten these old cars and increase the horsepower to gain a few more miles an hour. I’ve owned stock cars,  supercharged nitro burning, hemi-powered dragsters.  IMSA cars, enduros.  Cars that burned airplane fuel.     A twin-turbo Thunderbird that my attorney nicknamed “Arrest Me Red”! I always teased Phil, “THAT car paid for your Canadian hunting trip last year!”  Even a couple of pretty fast motorcycles.  I’ve driven a hundred and twenty mile hour semi truck and flown small 200 mile an hour airplanes (which is really NOTHING now).  I often thought that if I had concentrated on just one of them I may have been pretty good. We never won much of anything racing.  Even managed to wreck a few!  No money.  No championships.  Few trophies. Perhaps a few top fives and tens in my travels around the country seeking speed.


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Prepare For Thunder

One of the engine shops I dealt with had a sign above the door of the machine shop, “Speed costs money.  How fast do you want to go?”  Lord knows I wish I had the money and hours spent on this adrenaline seeking addiction I’ve always had.  Crap!  The other day I got pulled over for doing 60 in a 35 with Sherry in the car.  The officer was kind enough when I explained that lately, “I’m in a hurry everywhere I go. To accomplish all I can.”  He shook my hand and let me off with an admonishment and said he’d keep us in his prayers. Nonetheless it’s all been fun and I cherish every memory. Every friendship, every minute I spent going faster every day.

There is a point to this and I promise to get there soon.

It seems every thing with this cancer has been at a maddening pace. Monday the 15th, meetings with radiation and more labs. Tuesday. Meeting with the chemo tech and port installation in my chest that afternoon.  We put Takota in day care for that appointment.  Wednesday a scan they couldn’t do before.  The radiation doctor insisted it be done. Thursday they did more lab work in the morning. I met with the chief oncologist and began my chemotherapy regime. As I said earlier the anxiety, the adrenaline, my uncontrolled racing thoughts demanded that they sedate me in order to proceed. I laugh. It was the best nap I’ve had for a while. Friday we attended to a recall letter I’d received on our camper/ photography truck in the morning.  Back and forth to the house with the truck for that. Then over to Bergen Mercy Hospital for the day and two more lengthy tests. Saturday was errands day.  That’s the day I got pulled over with Sherry in the car. We had Cabelas, Menards, the Locksmith, Walmart, the grocery, TWO Ace Hardware stores, the pharmacy, the dry cleaners. God bless my wife. I drove. She provided the footwork in and out of each store, attending to the lists I made while I waited in the car. Engine running and air-conditioner on high. We managed to accomplish everything including organizing every key to everything we own.  The house, the cars, the shed, the yard gates, the camper and even those little safety keys for the freezer. That was on my list of things to do.

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Indy Car Pilot

The day care for Takota is working out okay but it’s not perfect for us. Their hours conflict with ours and we find ourselves rushing from leaving him at the door to being on time for yet another medical appointment.  And so Sunday after visiting a couple of hours with a former neighbor, his wife and children, we spent some time with a man named Paul here at home introducing him to our dogs.  We arranged for him to come here on a moments notice. We met Paul through another friend who I need to remember to call and thank for the referral.  We still have a block of credit at doggy daycare which I’m sure we will eventually use.

Monday begin radiation which included a series of x-rays. Again God bless Sherry. We’re walking out the door of the Cancer Center I said to Sherry, “Let’s go get something to eat..”  As we approached the car and she asked, “Aren’t you supposed to do labs after this treatment?” I swear if I don’t have it written down I don’t remember. The speed with which things are happening is faster than anything I’ve ever driven. Ever ridden.  Perhaps even, ever seen. I thanked Sherry over and over again for remembering the labs and saving us a return trip later in the day.

Yesterday I met with Dr. Allen for two hours. He’s my family man and was scheduled for sort of a consolidated review. In addition they wanted to discuss my blood pressure medicine because it’s been running extremely low since this began.   80 over something this morning. It’s the first time I’ve seen Dr. Allen since the diagnosis and the mood was rather somber. Everything was fine until he asked, “Have you had such-and-such heart test?  It’s stressless to your heart and I think you may consider having it done.” I exploded. “You’re the goddamn doctor, and I’ll do it if you think I need it!  Just tell me where to be and what time!” I immediately started crying and apologizing for my outburst, saying over and over again “I’m sorry.  I’m just a wreck.  I’m sorry, I’m a wreck…” He patted me on the shoulder and said he’d call the rest of my team when we parted, to discuss the test and perhaps his concerns over my uncontrolled emotions. “We will help you  through this” he said.  “You have to trust us.”

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Start Your Engines

From there to the house for another meet and greet with Paul and the dogs, then off for my daily dose of radiation. Yes I had a list. We had time after, to hit the grocery store for ginger ale and cleaning supplies, Walmart for pajamas, air freshener and ice cream, the home furnishing store for a candy jar.  Again I sit in the car while Sherry does the footwork. I know that it exhausts her.  She’s never had the stamina that I once did. But I can’t help it.  It’s all I can do to walk 40 or 50 feet when the fatigue hits. My day today begins at 9 AM back at the Cancer Center for a consultation. There’s a three hour break where I have to be home to meet the oxygen supply company. Yes. That’s been ordered now. Following that appointment I’ll return to the Cancer Center for an appointment with the radiation doctor and daily dose of what I laughingly call my “glow-in-the-dark” medicine.

Quickness and speed used to be fun. I enjoyed the adrenaline rush. I savored the challenges associated with velocity, rapidness and preparing myself for the acceleration that was about to take place when the accelerator was firmly pressed.  Now my energy comes in waves. Not by the event, the week, the day not even the hour. In an instant my mind will race through my “List of things to do:” Call the lawn guy, have the car washed, clean the fish tank, fill the bird feeders, water Sherrys flowers, forgot something at the grocery, pick up the dry cleaning, doctor at 11, lab at 4.  Check the bank balance, don’t forget to eat, what time is Paul coming for the dogs? Did Sherry eat this afternoon? I need the vaccination papers for Takota, need to organize the garage sale two weeks from now. I have to shower before I leave. There’s a stack of two-weeks mail on my desk I need to address.  The pharmacy called: another refill to pick up. I need to get Sherry’s 20 gallon fish tank moved upstairs. My studio is a mess.  Did I charged the new camera battery.   And sleep. My god it’s 5 AM and I haven’t slept yet.

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Flower & Bee

Going fast used to be fun.  Now, the rapidity of things taking place, the haste in which appointments are set and completed, the rush to take advantage of every give moment has been exhausting.  I KNOW I need to slow down.  At the very least, my racing mind.

I’m just done for today.  Thanks for listening.


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Saturday, July 6 2019

Wednesday July 3, 2019

Began the day meeting up with the foreman of a crew I often use for my construction work to finish up a job while the customer is out of town.  I called another friend also involved in construction about cleaning out my shop.  The tools I’ve accumulated.  The oak, walnut and cherry lumber I’d intended for my projects.  An overwhelming list.  Paint sprayers, texture guns, concrete nailers, 5 or 6 different kinds of saws, tarps, sanders, band saw, table saw, three routers, bits, blades, portable air compressor.  Portable fans.  Chainsaws.    Lord knows how many feet of commercial grade extension cords!  The list goes on.  I told Mark my preference would be to sell the entire lot in one fell swoop.  There was no time today for much else.

Rediculous I know, but decided now would be the time to make that spaghetti sauce I’ve been thinking about.  “Note to self:  Blender.  Pick up a blender.”  I’ll make a few gallons and freeze it in individual containers as I usually do, so that we simply have to toss one in the microwave…. Ran to the department store for two curtain panels for the living room, AND I found the blender that I wanted!  Teased Sherry when I returned that I’d found my Christmas gift.  Doesn’t take a lot to cheer me up.  A new blender!

Our appointment with the head Oncologist was this afternoon.  After the paperwork was completed my eyes began to well with tears again as I thought, “This is just the beginning….  Don’t cry again.  Dammit!  Don’t cry.”  Dr. Tarantolo and his team were very kind.  Cautious, but kind.  Four more tests have been ordered to discover the progress of the cancer, A molecular test of the biopsy which takes 10 days to complete.  A PET scan, separate brain MRI, and heart echo. An appointment will be set with a radiology-oncologist.  It’s all I have for today.  And for me.  This was enough.

Screen Shot 2019-07-17 at 4.22.32 AM.png“Bridge: A passage between two other passages, in which the destination is of greater importance.” As I review my life I wonder, have I simply served, as “The Bridge”? “Bridges” is dedicated to those who cross them, and those who built them for the purposes of “getting us where we want to go”. Lastly, to express my appreciation to the countless bridges I have experienced in my own life’s travels. This was inspired along I-84 in Oregon, along the Columbia river, in Sherman County…

Saturday July 6, 2019

We were invited out to Sherrys’ aunts place on the lake west of town for the 4th.  I know how Sherry enjoys meeting up with her cousins, their children….  Always wished we lived closer to my own.  I warned her though, given the weather/humidity, we couldn’t stay very long….  And we can’t leave the dogs alone for more than a couple of hours at a time.  Sure enough after an hour out on the deck I was wiped out….  It was nice to see everyone but…

Kick a guy while he’s down.  Received a letter on Sherrys health insurance  in Fridays mail.  $600.00 per month rate increase starting in August!  Made some panic calls to several agencies and have an appointment Monday with a guy who seems rather intelligent in the industry.  I noticed though that it takes a REAL effort for me to talk.  It wears me out and increases my difficulty breathing.

Still coughing up blood rather regularly.  And with “chunks” that look to be gristle or some other soft body part,..   Dr. Tarantolo said anything more than a couple of tablespoons worth at a time, head to the ER.  So far, its maybe a teaspoon at a time.  Gross I know, but factual!

I started out to mow today.  For years I’ve referred to mowing as my “therapy”. Usually, I “trim” with the push-mower along the fences, retaining walls and such.  Then hop on the rider to finish out….  I didn’t make it halfway down the first chunck of fence and I was out of breath with chest pain.  Came in and asked Sherry if she could help.  She gladly managed the trimming while I rode the Craftsman.  BUT, after a couple of hours out there I could hardly get in the house.  I cannot describe the exhaustion I experience, and how frustrating it is to be unable to roll up a garden hose.  To weed the roses.  I’ve gone to being an extremely active individual to literally crawling up the stairs, sitting on the couch in front of the fan, sucking in all of the cool air my lungs will allow.  Frustrating…. Going to get rid of the temptation and sell the mowers.  Have a guy up the street with a lawn service to do the work for me.…

In closing tonight,  Ashley Rice wrote:  “In a lifetime you only get a few friends.  You know them by heart alone.  You always grow a little bit taller in your soul.  And you know you’ve been blessed just to know them.”  I am humbled by the response to my “announcement” in my blog and social media. It will come to a point where I just am unable to thank each person individually.  Some comments make me smile.  Others bring tears.  Not of sadness but appreciation for the kind words being expressed.  I truly cherish every word.  Every friend.

Thanks for listening…. ‘Till next time.

Posted in Blank Greeting Cards | 1 Comment

An Update An Explanation An Airing of the Soul

June 30, 2019

It’s 4:00 a.m. Sunday morning.  For the last week it has been on my mind that I should “get this done”.  Author Thomas Cirignano, in “The Constant Outsider”, wrote “Each of us is a book waiting to be written, and that book, if written, results in a person explained.”

Once again I’ve REALLY fallen down when it comes to entries here.  As ‘ole Grandma Bowman used to say, “Gonna never did anything…”.  God willing I have the energy I will make every effort to bring this up to date…  I’m gonna write until I no longer have the energy…

  I didn’t know where to begin.  Sitting on the deck with a cup of coffee and Takota this morning, listening to the birds loudly greeting another day, I finally broke down.  Uncontrollably crying. I mean REALLY crying.  I have fought and tried to hold back my tears to make room for those Sherry has been shedding.  I KNOW she is devastated and consumed by her own anguish right now.   I can see the pain in her eyes.  It is the first time I’ve completely broken down since I received the initial  call from Doctor Hopkins 4:45 Friday.   “Inoperable Adenocarcinoma.  The most common type of cancer.  Advanced and very quickly growing…”  is what he said.  Resting on my heart, the grapefruit-sized tumor is between my lungs, and cannot be operated on.  

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Saying Goodbye

 We are to receive another call tomorrow (Monday), to verify the diagnosis.  The Oncology referral is in place for July 3rd.   It is  with him that we will create a “plan of action”.  It has been a VERY long and stressful few days waiting for the call.  I laughed.  When people complain about their weekends not being long enough.  Monday cannot come fast enough for me…..

So many memories in 64 years.  I KNOW I am different.  Gregory always told me I was overly nostalgic.   Some people when they are dying are thinking about missing their flashy cars, which thousand-dollar suit to be buried in.  Who is gong to get the good china.   Which designer to hire for their headstone…  Me? I’m sitting here remembering the German Shepherd I grew up with.  Lifelong relationships established back in High School.  Grandma Bowmans gentle hands. Grandma Buckmans rabbit-stew! Getting lost in Chicago while delivering a load.  Renewed relationships with my “girl cousins”.  The pure joy of witnessing the sunrise over every state in the union and thankful for the 3 million miles I’ve traveled from coast to coast.  The greatest English Pointers a bird-hunter could ever ask for.   Ironically, as the disease progresses, I  experience massive spurts of energy and have never felt more alive.  An uncontrollable urge to “get things done”.  Then, fatigue hits me with an upper-cut.  I feel myself sliding face-first down the brick wall I just ran into.

This “news” has constricted my ability to think rationally.  It has also filled me with, or should I say it has entirely erased any degree of patience I may have had.  In seconds I can go from being focused on a task to lashing out at whoever is at hand. I have yelled at the grocery clerk.  Flew off the handle at the cable company.  Poor Sherry has endured my cutting criticism.  I am so very sorry for that.  In the past I’ve had little patience for laziness, half-assed work, poor quality…  THOSE feelings have been amplified a thousand percent.   I vowed to myself this morning to be ever mindful of that emotion coming out of me and fight hard to not give in to the emptiness filling my heart.

Everyone wants their side of the story to be heard in order to keep the facts straight.   To leave a legacy.  A final word.  I still lean that way, but slowly my attitude has evolved into the feeling of not caring which story about me you choose to believe.  The FACT is, my story is full of terrible, impulsive choices, broken pieces, often uninformed decisions.  All of those “bad behaviors” didn’t mean I was a bad person.  I never intentionally set out to hurt,  alienate or distance anyone (unless of course they deserved being disowned!).  On the other hand, I have been blessed with major comebacks, a calm in my heart and soul.  Grace and blessings in my life that could only have come from “Man Above”.  With him, I know that throughout time, what is inside me has been well meaning, beautiful, generous,  pure and honest.  As I “review” on the deck this morning, as the end grows near, every memory, every moment will be the only possession that really matters to me.  

There is a prayer I remember seeing somewhere: “Let me not die while I am still alive.”  I understand that prayer now.


As always…  Thank you for listening…..

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Thank You All

I am writing this in the silence and solitude of the Badlands in South Dakota… I needed it. As she had done every day of her life, Skip left me with another gift as she took her last breath in my arms a month ago.   Her death…She’s forced me to slow down again. To think about the important things in our lives. To cherish life. Though previously planned, we spent 3 weeks on the road without Skip. This journey has allowed me to clear my mind and slow down my thought process… To think about what is important in our short time here. I owe much of that to Skip…

It has been a VERY long month or more… Skip came home from the Vet for her final trip with me, on August 14th. I’ve remained silent since then, as I attempted to gather my thoughts and muster the energy to put my mental wanderings to paper. My absence has NOT been for lack of gratitude for all of the kind words and notes I’ve received since Skips passing. I will always cherish the sympathies extended from each and every one of you… consider this writing my “thank you” for all of your kind words. Most all of you know that Skip was more than “just a dog” to me. She was my family. My friend. My traveling companion. My co-pilot.

Robert Frost is credited with the quote: “In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.” Yet I knew long ago, death is part of life. Life does not go on forever and death cannot be avoided. Not us. Not our pets. Skip taught me that. They don’t live long enough. Our pets.

Another thing I’ve learned in my 63 years, the period from birth to old age is much more brief in dogs than in people. Not nearly long enough for us or our pets we grow to love. I harbor fond memories of Sugar the white German Shepard. Sugar, with whom I shared the same birthday, was credited with countless trophies and ribbons in AKC Obedience trials as I was growing up. Sugar is the dog by which future pets would be measured by me.

There was Tammy, a beautiful traditional German Shepard who also earned her share of awards in AKC Confirmation. She left us when I was very young. Bing, a tireless rabbit-hunting Beagle who like Snoopy, preferred to sleep on top of his dog house my step-dad built from a whiskey barrel. Trooper, a Beagle, who never grew into his oversized ears, was quite clumsy in his rabbit hunting skills, but definitely the family dog. Red, my Irish Setter enjoyed nothing more than a spot in front of the fireplace after a weekend of chasing Pheasants. Skeeter was a bit anti-social. She was a no-nonsense, bird-hunting English Pointer who always amazed my Brittany-owning hunting partners with her performances in the field. Trooper, fairly large for an English Pointer, was far more sociable and less head-strong than her breed is known for. Trooper came down with cancer, Inoperable cancer. We made her comfortable for as long as we could. I vowed after the loss of Trooper: “No more dogs. I can’t handle the pain…”.

Until I met Skip in April, 2005.

The relationship I shared with Skip was special from the day she came into my life. I owned a 1999 Western Star when she was introduced to me. She began her life as a trucking dog, traveling well over a million miles across the US in two different trucks. She has been to the coast of Maine, the Southern tip of Florida, the California/Mexico border, the Northern-most tip of Washington and every state in between. She’s shared blizzards in Wyoming, floods in Illinois,, tornados in Oklahoma, scorching heat in Utah, magnificent sunsets across Montana and indescribable sunrises from coast to coast.

Like most pet owners, books could be written about the experiences Skip and I shared during our twelve years on the road and here at home. Remembering the pleasure of those times, the companionship she provided, makes me feel this prolonged gut wrenching grief I’m enduring, as justified. I deserve to be sad. How how long, I don’t know.

As I came to accept that our time together was growing short, the memories came flooding back. Strolling the beaches in California, her excitement at the sight of cows or horses in the country, hanging out of the window as we cruised this countrys’ Interstate systems. Strolling on the Salt Flats, and watching freighters dock in the New Jersey ports… Like me, Skip endured serious physical issues in her life. Her first major eye surgery in November, 2012. The second, October 2013. A specialist from Iowa State came to Omaha to perform both operations. A diabetic condition that became difficult to control came about not long ago. In the end, between blindness, a heart condition and crippling arthritis, it was time to decide for her… Never in her years with me did I accept anything but the best care for Skip, and it was heart wrenching to accept that nothing could have been changed or done differently in Skips final days. I prayed nightly for nature to take away the decision I was about to make, but in the end, I had to choose…

We are ultimately responsible for our pets care and welfare. It was becoming more and more obvious that Skip could no longer do the things she enjoyed. She couldn’t handle the stairs off of the deck. She could only maneuver around the house by memory and her failing “radar”. She was experiencing more pain than pleasure during our strolls around the yard or the park. She preferred to lay in the front seat of the car on our trips around town instead of hanging out the window with the wind laying back her ears…

The last few months, she’d lay in my lap at three and four in the morning, while tears ran down my cheeks, knowing full well I was going to have to make the life and death decision for Skip. It was obvious that nature was not going to extend any kindness to relieve me of the most difficult decision I had to make with regard to Skip. “Quality of life…” is the term the Vet used during one of our last visits when I was begging the doctor for a miracle. I watched Skip struggling to breathe at night and prayed that we would both be blessed if she’d simply pass quietly before dawn. Choosing euthanasia left me feeling as if I was murdering my closest friend. For months, no matter how much I justified that it was “the right thing to do” there were knots in my stomach and tears in my eyes. I have been drained of emotional energy, and my own daily tasks were becoming impossible as she required hourly attention.

Euthansia is the master of guilt. No matter how certain I was that I was choosing what was best for Skip, I couldn’t convince myself that my decision was what was best.. Is it too early, too premature? Should we try harder? Another drug, additional treatment? She’s only 12 years old… In the end, I made the appointment with the Vets office to put Skip down. The clinic I have used since the beginning… The Vet who has cared for Skip since April 2005… Dr. Simone demanded that she be the one who met up with us on her day off. And I wanted it to be that way. I was appreciative of her commitment to Skip and I… She knew Skips history, she knew my attachment… She knew my concern that Skips final breath be painless and peaceful….

Skip died in my arms as the chemicals took affect… She looked up at me just as the injection began, almost with a thankful, understanding expression… Then, she laid her head across my forearm as she has done for years when we sat in the recliner…. And she took her last breath… “She is gone…” whispered her Vet… “Whatever time you need with her” as she left the room.

I don’t know how much time it will take to accept all of it. Our trip to the west has been much needed to refresh, regroup and to remind myself that in the grand scheme of things, ALL of our lives are short. What matters is what we do with it between life and death. And that includes the pets we love. What THEY have contributed to us between their life an death.


Here I am. A month after Skips passing. I’ve missed a lot, I’ve done a lot. Sherry told me the other day that there were over 200 birthday greetings on my Facebook page and I WILL go back to express my appreciation. Meanwhile, I’m back… Partially. A piece of me is missing. And she will be missed…

Thank you all…

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Violet Show 2017

This year, the Omaha African Violet and Gesneriad Society Show and Sale was held at Mulhall’s greenhouse March 11th.  At this event, society members presented their finest floral specimens. A panel of judges awarded ribbons in a number of categories, including “Best in Show”.

Violet Show 2017 Mug
Violet Show 2017 Mug

I had a little difficulty getting up close and personal with the violets, and intend an equipment-change before the next visit.

Violet Show 2017 Card
Violet Show 2017 Card

Some years ago, I had a client near Exeter, Nebraska who raised violets,.  She sent one home with me. As with most other live indoor plants, the gift didn’t last long in my care! With my prints, cards, postage and other products featuring these violets, YOUR investment will last for years to come!

Thank you again, for listening!

Posted in Blank Greeting Cards | Leave a comment

White Orchids

PPPFFFTTT!   They say growing  orchids is quite easy for home gardeners. AND I read white orchids are one of the types which can be grown if proper care is taken. If they are grown properly, they will play an important role in beautifying a garden or indoor room.  The white orchid stands for innocence, beauty and elegance.  Unfortunately, I have never been successful in growing them.  Instead, I gather my material, like THIS one, at the local floral shows.  This whole orchid project began at the Lauritzen Gardens orchid exhibition .  I am proud to say my submission for First Class US Postage was accepted.  Not only is this piece available on high quality greeting cards, prints and more, but these postage stamps are truly outstanding!

White Orchid Postage
White Orchid Postage
by dbuckman

“>White Orchid Postage

Orchid plants and flowers range in size and shape. Many grow in the understory of tropical forests, producing delicate blooms in a wide array of colors. While some are tiny plants, only a few inches tall, others like the Vanilla orchid grow on towering vines.  We collected A LOT of material for my art work at the recent show.  There will be many more to follow!  These pieces are available at both my Zazzle site AND, my FAA site!

When ordering postage, BE SURE to check the rate of the stamp you desire.  The most common orders are for “First Class Letter”.

White Orchid Elegant Coffee Cups
White Orchid Elegant Coffee Cups
by dbuckman

“>High Quality Coffee Mugs

White Orchid Greeting Cards
White Orchid Greeting Cards
by dbuckman