Saturday, April 12, 2014

In This Moment - Laugh

This afternoon I give you this.

Finding these bits of humor in my daily travels helps.

A lot.

For some reason, these scene strikes me as particularly funny.
Maybe I just need the laugh right now.

I pass this corner, twice a day, on my work commute.
I smile each time.
You gotta find it where you can, right?

Closed...ya think?!!!

Photo by Nancy A. Erisman ©2014

Sunday, April 6, 2014

Unrelated, But Not Really

Some things that may appear unrelated,
are really strung together by one thread.
They are my life.
The look of my days.
People and places woven together over time.

For that reason only,
I present them here today.

I've added stitching to the earth section of the cloth.
I'm currently in the trees section of the same cloth.

I can't wait to be done with this, so I can share the whole of it!

I've been wearing these each day.
I've loved adding this beautiful gift to my word "flow" and my 'namaste' ring.
They are the the creation of Rachel over at Hands Free Mama.
If you've not read any of her work, you may want to.  She makes sense.

While I do whatever it is that I do...
He's been doing this.
Making an electric guitar out of an 
old cruddy computer desk and other scrappy stuff.
It's already much further along.
He can play it now!

Together, we joined friends and family in the celebration
of our dear friends 90th birthday!

My sister and I with our "Ladies" 
Dear friends of my parents for more years than I can whole life really.
Family really.
My Mama was there in spirit, part of the poster board of friends!
Everyone missed her being there to celebrate along with us.

Happy Birthday!

Photos by Nancy A. Erisman ©2014

Monday, March 24, 2014

Another Day, Another Doctor PLUS MORE

It's not really about the doctor again today.
Just a little.

My turn (again) today.
Test results: All Clear!!

Brain results: Confusion.

The tests are fine, but there is no explanation for symptoms.
End of story.

But today, the story is about my dad.

As it hung for many years

Since I had time today, I finally was able to donate
this piece of art to a local VFW Post.

It's my daddy's ship.
World War II.

I will never know when or how my parents came into possession of it.
I don't remember it from my childhood at all.
But, I do know that it hung in my son's room for much of his childhood.
When he was done with his turn, it went back to me...then back to my mom...
then back to me again!

It is not a piece family members wanted any longer.
So, when we went to see the visiting Vietnam Memorial Wall
last fall, I spoke to someone about making a donation.

They were thrilled, as many at this local post are "Navy People".
So, good.
I felt comfortable with this choice.

My daddy didn't have any connection to this place or people.
But, if you knew my would know how OK that is.
I think he would be OK hanging out in my neighborhood.

When I lived in Northern Nevada and now, here in this valley...
my dad (and mom too) always learned about where I was living and jumped on board with local eateries, stores and activities.
He came to my Valley for all of my children's events.
He took shortcuts as the "locals" would and announced it every time!

My dad was a tease, a provider, and women's clothing manufacturer.
He was a family man,
a lover of dogs, especially my Sonny and the best BBQ burger maker ever.

He had a big heart and sometimes a big temper.
We loved him and he adored us right back.

My Daddy, WWII (he is on the far left)
My dad was a man of the same few jokes...the same few stories...
and the same few life-long friends.

One of his stories was of his Navy buddies who sang
MacNamara's Band aboard the ship.
I knew this song as a very little girl.  My son sang this song as a two year old.  When I searched the song out today and discovered that there were verses I never knew fit my dad's story perfectly.
Of course he didn't remember/sing all the verses.
He did it his way...for all those years.

Because he made up words, intentionally mispronounced words and completely butchered the English language (that my mother so lovingly taught to Jr. High students!)
"1...2...3...4...who do we appreciate!" ~ my dad.

I researched this artist and learned that service men could purchase these prints dockside when returning home.  There would be someone there selling them (I presume) and they would add the appropriate ship number to it.  So, my understanding is that they looked very similar, except for the number.  Also, they would add the service member's name on it.  I didn't even know my dad's name was on there until the owner of our local "Fast Frame" shop cleaned it up it for me!  He was kind enough to donate his services and totally refurbished it. The old mat had covered his name for all of these years!

Even that feels fitting for my daddy.

My funny dad, who lied about his age to get into the service early.
My dad who joined the Navy, but never did learn how to swim.
My dad, who played cards with his buddies aboard ship.
My dad, who was trapped below deck during a battle, resulting in him coming home a far different man than the one who had signed up.
My dad, who thought the Navy would give in and fix him food he liked better,
just like his grandma did!
They didn't, he ate.

Now, this artwork that speaks of my daddy, is all cleaned up and will be
displayed in some way at a local
VFW post in a dusty canyon, in the valley I've lived in since 1984.

I do hope I did well by him.
Honored him well.

He deserves that.

Love you Daddy.

Photos by Nancy A. Erisman ©2014

More information if you are so inclined  (or so I can find 'em again!!)

The ship 


Discussion board on artist 

Friday, March 21, 2014

In Another's Hands

Today it was his turn at the doctor's office.
Not mine.
But, as I was able, I went along.
I ask questions and take notes.

I'm better at that than he is.

After a brief visit with assistants for vitals, blood work and updating,
and after a cruise around the facility while waiting for the doc...

We finally sit in the hall outside of his office for 40 minutes to wait.

I try to read, but mostly stare at the paper name on the closed door and doze in my chair.

It's been an emotional few days.  I'm tired.

 Then the doctor arrives.

And my wondering begins.

He is a tad disheveled.
An older gentleman with wild white hair.

This is the man who's hands hold the guy's health?

Oh my!

We enter his office and after a few minutes of confusion over chairs, 
we settle in, he on his found desk chair, the guy on a rickety desk chair and me on a medical rolling stool, pushed up against the sink in the corner.

The next 10 minutes are spent waiting as he checks the guy's records 
in the computer system.

Click clack go the computer keys under his sausage-like fingers.
It's quiet.

The office is long, narrow and cluttered.
The walls are covered with at least 13 diplomas, certificates and 
degrees of some kind or another, along with one framed photograph of a lone tree on the bluffs looking over an ocean.
I sense it is not a local ocean.

The very tall shelving units are crammed with books, magazines, and periodicals...
and a few scattered framed family photographs, a stone carving 
and one empty basket with a tall handle, Easter basket style.

The floor has stacks of more written materials.  Everywhere.
And some paper trash.

I keep looking.
I keep thinking that I hope this guy knows his stuff.

The guy feels confident.  He's met the doc before.

As the doctor is reading his computer screen,
he announces, "I am your doctor as well as a researcher.  
I will fix up everything, including your future".

OK then.

I listen to his accent and add that to the impression of his environment.

His desk is as disheveled as he is.
Covered in more written materials, 
a mug, two over-sized empty paper Coke cups 
and a large empty water bottle.

There's a basket which holds a wood mask in one corner.

In the other corner of the desk sits and open Chinese Take-Out food style gift box.
It's green glittered with red & white peppermint candies on it.

Has that been here since Christmas I wonder?

And then, as if this is all super normal...
I hear an instrumental version of "Oh Christmas Tree" 
float in the open door.

Is this some episode of The Twilight Zone???

At the far side of his desk stands a tall 4 drawer file cabinet.

I can only wonder, what is in there?

On top of it sits scattered artifacts:
A doll with beaded hair
Another, bigger doll...a woman figure with a beaded bodice.
Wood animals, a cup and  twisted candlestick holder.
There is a thumb piano.
There's some wooden stick with its end beaded...
beads cascading down and dangling mid-air.

 I want to get up, move behind him and pick up that beaded wood stick.
But, I don't.

Finally, he asks for the door to be shut
and shares his understandings with us.

Things are not perfect.
But, they are far from anything to worry about.

In fact they are darn good!

Next appointment January 2015.

On our way out, I ask to photograph the wood mask in the basket on the desk.

Sometimes, this is what going to the doctor looks like.

There is really nothing more to say.

Photos by Nancy A. Erisman ©2014

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Saying Goodbye to Christopher

This morning, at 9:30 am

Young Christopher passed on.

May he forever rest in peace.

His pain, now eased.
This warrior, held in love by so many.
His family cared for in the arms of  his armies.

The ripple he has left has already been felt by so many.

His impact in his short 12 years, has been huge.

His presence will continue to shine.

As the ripples expand,
we will all join hands and journey on 

Rest well sweet Christopher,

Photos by Nancy A. Erisman ©2010

Wednesday, March 19, 2014


The light is changing.


Everlasting Light.

Photos by Nancy A. Erisman ©2014

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Christopher is Home

Young Christopher came home on Sunday.
Neighbors, friends, family worked to make this a grand WELCOME HOME for him.
 They succeeded!

A whole team came together to work on his beloved trains.

Take a few minutes to watch the transformation of his backyard train environment.
It's amazing.

 If you are so inclined, here is a link for fundraising efforts on behalf of the family;


Please keep this beautiful family in your thoughts, hearts and prayers.

Thank you.

With Love,