Monday, January 30, 2012

"Revenge" - Prologue


Scotland:  April 16, 1746

            The stench of the fires still smoldering clung to Ian’s nostrils.  There were bodies scattered, each telling its tale of the violence that had occurred while he was away fighting for the prince of Scotland and for peace.  Peace that seemed to be just out of reach.  Had he known what he would come home to, the death and destruction of the people he loved, and the land he cherished, he would never have left.  He would have stayed and defeated this enemy; whoever they, the merciless cowards that killed innocent women and children, were.  As he walked further into the mass of dead lying in the blood soaked grass, he stopped abruptly. The scene before him had caused his legs to freeze as his heart beat wildly out of control.  His mind and then his voice yelled a gut wrenching “NO!” at the sight of beautiful red hair now matted with blood.  Even in death, even in the carnage surrounding her, she was still beautiful.  He fell to his knees and pulled Isabelle, his betrothed into his arms.

“Wrought the bastards who could slaughter the innocent.”  Donald, Ian’s second in command bellowed angrily.  Ian effortlessly scooped up the lifeless form of his beautiful Isabelle and held her close to his chest.  His men watched as Ian carried the love of his life into the ruin that had once been his keep. A keep that now resembled more a pile of misplaced stones. 

            He gently placed Isabelle on a hard wood table that sat near the hearth that would burn no more.  His men watched in silence as he wiped in vain at the blood left on Isabelle’s temple. He brushed the hair from her face with a gentleness usually hidden.  He folded her arms across her breast and carefully opened her clutched fingers.  From one hand something fell.  Ian recovered the dropped pendant; a silver pendant which held the image of a fist grasping the hilt of a sword.  The name “Hawthorne” inscribed above it.  Ian held it so tightly, the cold metal dug into the flesh of his palm.

            Minutes passed, but to Ian’s loyal followers, it felt more like days.  Finally he stood. The man that had been seen leaning over his future wife, caressing her almost reverently looked nothing like the man who stood before them now.  Hands fisted at his sides, the look in Ian’s eyes alone could down any worthy adversary, and within their icy depth, the message was clear…..Revenge!!

            The old crone sitting in the near distance heard the cry born out of love and hate.  She opened the bundle that lay near her and removing herbs and secrets known only to her, tossed them into the fire before her. The fire spurted flames of blues and reds and colors one could not quite put a name to.   Her mouth whispered words only she could hear as her hands painted signs into the air.  It had begun…..justice.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

I Listen

I listen to the wind blow against my window
as I watch the hands of time keep slipping by.
The dark of night is only interrupted
by the moon as it sneaks across the sky.

I listen to the sounds that fill the night time
the sound of quiet yells against my ears.
I miss the sound of your sleeping right beside me.
My eyes are burning from my unshed tears.

I listen, oh how carefully I listen
hoping your voice will whisp across my face.
I listen but I only hear the night sounds
while the fleeting memories I chase.

I'll sleep my love and leave behind the darkness
and in my slumber I will hope it brings
to see your smile, to feel your arms around me;
I'll settle just to have you in my dreams.

Susie Whiting - January 2012

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Mama's Talk with God

It was in the 1950's that Mom was diagnosed with uterine cancer.  The options back then were few.  She was sent to the LDS Hospital in Salt Lake for radium treatments since she refused "to go under the knife".  The treatments however proved ineffective as my brother Henry was called to come to the hospital.

The doctors told Henry that they had done all possible for Mom, but it had not been enough.  They told Henry to take Mom home and make her as comfortable as possible that she would not live much longer.

But there was one thing the doctors didn't know.  The night before they called Henry, Mom said she had a dream....or she thought she had a dream.  In it, she was surrounded by a beautiful light, more glorious than anything she had ever seen and she heard the most wonderful music.  She said she knew she was in the presense of God.  She asked God to let her live long enough to see her children raised.  At that time there was Mary, Emeline, Jearldine, Francis, Lola and I at home.  Then she awoke from her dream.

Henry did as the doctors had instructed.  He took Mom home to our little house on 500 South and 500 West (better known by our family as the McCord house.)  He and our sister-in-law Lue went to B&H Pharmacy to pick up the prescriptions Mom would need.  When they came back, they went to the bedroom to find Mom missing.  Then they heard a pounding on the roof.  Mom was up there fixing her broken chimney.

Mom did not die then.  She lived a long life and watched her children grow into adults and grandchildren bless her life. 

I cannot doubt my God.  He has shown His love to me and my siblings personally. 

Friday, January 13, 2012


Yesterday's breeze no longer blows against my face.
I no longer feel the warmth of the past's sun.
Last years autumn leaves have fallen to the ground.
Rain that hit the desert can't be found.

Time is causing clouds to cover memories
that once were so vibrant yesterday.
Emotions creating acts of love or hate,
in the mist of the past now slip away.

The door to yesterday has now been closed and locked.
The lock on the outside has no key.
I watched as you closed the door behind you
and felt as you slipped away from me.

But the one thiing that cannot be barred by yestedays
that slips through the portals of all time,
that connects the two of us as by a golden cord
that keeps you here today and being mine.

"Love" transcends the past, today, tomorrow
and stetches on into eternity
This precious gift I tuck so tightly in my heart
as it enables you to stay with me.

Copyright Pending
Susie Whiting - 2012

Sunday, January 8, 2012

A Sparrow in a Hurricane

A Sparrow in a Hurricane

I’ve been caught up like a sparrow in a hurricane
Trying to find my wings
Falling through air, unable to breathe
from the pain losing you could bring.

But this sparrow’s finding a sandy beach
Build a nest in the warmth of the sun.
Go on living while the living’s good,
instead of trying to rebuild the undone.

I’m gonna point my face t’wards tomorrow
And leave the pain of the past all behind.
This sparrow’s gonna find her a sandy beach,
if it’s only in my mind.

I’m gonna fly, feel the wind beneath my wings
I’m gonna try, to find what life without you brings
I’m gonna dance, ‘til I no longer hear the song
I’m gonna heal what’s been broken for so long.

I’m gonna fly, gonna feel, gonna dance, gonna heal
Gonna leave all the pain behind.
This sparrow’s gonna learn how to soar again;
If it’s only in my mind.

The dreams, you and I once called our own
Now are mine, to dream them all alone
Think of me… every now and then
I’ll think of you and love you once again.

I’m gonna fly, feel the wind beneath my wings.
I’m gonna try, to find what life without you brings.
I’m gonna dance, ‘til I no longer hear the song.
I’m gonna heal what’s been broken for so long.
I’m gonna fly, gonna feel, gonna dance, gonna heal
Gonna leave all the pain behind.
This sparrow’s gonna learn how to soar again;
If it’s only in my mind.

Susie Whiting
Copyright 2012

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

My Last Letter to Danny - January 4, 2012

Hello Honey:

I left Sheree's yesterday and drove back home to Mark's.  My heart was so heavy with missing you that several times I had to pull over because my tears wouldn't let me see the road.  Everything I saw, everything I heard, the feel of the breeze reminded me of times spent with you. 

It was then I realized that my writing my letters to you was a two-edged knife.  I keep opening the wounds that I am trying to heal.  It's not that I am going to forget our time together.  Honey I never will.  All of the details of the last 47 years are embedded in my mind and in my heart, but I need to tuck them away.  I need to do it for my self preservation.  I can't bring them out and pour over them everyday or I'm not going to be able to function.

I have written my life's story and I will go back and update the last two years we have spent in Alaska.  In that story, I have included our life together and the same memories that I have shared here on this blog.  They and others will be there for our children, grandchildren and whomever happens to read it.  Our time will be written for history.

I know that you don't need my letters for you to remember.  I'm certain that wherever you are, you have the ability to look back over this earthly life we have shared together.  I'm sure you can see it with much brighter and better prospective than I can.  So I know the letters are not important to you and I know that you know what is in my heart.  I don't need to put it all in print.

Instead of my letters to you, I am going to continue to write, but I will use my imagination instead of my memories to write.  In doing that I think it will help me to heal..

I love you Honey.  Time will never take that away and I will forever do so Beyond the 12th of Never.  But for right now Honey, under these circumstances this letter will be Good-bye. 

Wait for me.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

A Letter to Danny - January 3, 2012

Hi Honey:
I've spent the weekend with Sheree.  I am going back down to Mark's today.  As I look out Sheree's front room window, I see the sheep-herder wagon that we stayed in a few years back.  How you loved sleeping in it.  It reminded me of our second hunting trip together.  I was pregnant with Susan at the time and morning sickness was my enemy. We had gone hunting with Carl Schemensky and his wife Linda.

When we got to our camp site, you set up your big wall tent complete with a gypsy bed and a barrel stove and a piece of old carpet for the floor.  I sat in the truck while you got it all set up and in a short time you had it all put together.  It was a cold October night up on that mountain but when I walked into the tent, the warmth embraced me.  You had the bed made and a fire going and it was wonderful.

During the night a storm moved in setting down several inches of snow.  The nylon tent Carl and Linda had didn't hold up under it and so they moved into the wall tent.  Early the next morning you walked down over the hill and in just a few moments I heard a shot and knew you had your buck.  That would have been October of 1964; we had been married just over four months.

You never did forget our first hunting trip.  You were hunting antelope down at Wah- Wah Indian Springs in southern Utah.  It was in September of 1964 and we had put a mattress in the back of your little Dodge truck for our bed.  You had your camping supplies to cook over the open fire.  I had been morning sick from day one with Susan and it was relentless.  You thought it would help if you fixed me a little bowl of Dinty Moore Beef Stew.  You opened the can and sat it over the fire and within seconds the scent of that stew filled the air; and the minute I smelled it, I started heaving again.  You would laugh several times over the next 47 years with the fact that I was Never able to eat Dinty Moore Beef Stew.

On our way home, you threw your cigarette butt out the window and the wind caught it and it landed in the bed of the truck.  Soon our mattress was on fire.  You jumped out and pulled it out as we watched it burn.

During the summer of 1965, you decided we needed something to go camping in.  We had a baby girl with another on the way.  (I gave birth to two babies when I was 19 years old and they weren't twins.)  Since we could not afford to buy any camping unit, you decided you would build us a camper to fit on the back of your little Dodge truck.  You built one out of plywood and it was so cute.   It had a cupboard for a broom and mop and a little cabinet where we could set our cooler down into.  It had a counter top where our Coleman stove sat and to the side there was a counter space for a dish washing area.  Above the stove you had put hooks to hang a lantern.  The table dropped down and we were able to slide the two seats together to make us a small bed.  We had found an old mattress that we re-covered and cut it in two.  It served as our bench cushions and when we pulled them together they were our mattress.  Under the benches you had made storage room for our supplies .  You had scalloped the edges of the trim and I had made curtains.  It was just what we needed. We went on a trip out through the Book Cliffs with your mom and dad.  Our little Susan sat in her little seat while I worked around inside.

We outgrew our little camper in short time however.  I love you for building that for us.  For loving us enough to want us to come with you and for wanting us to be as comfortable as you could afford to make us.  I know had it been just you, you would have thrown your bedroll under the stars and been content.

I am thankful for the memories Honey, even though with them comes the pain of wanting to build more with you.  Keep your campfire burning honey.  I will be home shortly.......but still no Dinty Moore Beef Stew....okay?

I love you

Far Beyond the 12th of Never.

Sunday, January 1, 2012

A Letter to Danny - January 1, 2012

Hello Honey:

You know how I am sometimes.  I set and pick at life trying to understand but usually come up with about as much as when I started.

I'm entering a new year without you honey.  I haven't done that since 1961.  Of course I start feeling sorry for myself but then I have to stop and think.  I have had fifty years of loving you and being with you.  What a wonderful gift that has been.  Our life together has never been an easy one.  But through it all we stuck it out.  I think the success of our marriage was the fact that we never gave up on each other at the same time.  Thank you Honey for not giving up on me.  Thank you for hanging onto me when I was even losing myself.  Thank you for forgiving me and trusting me and believing in me.  Thank you for your sound advise and input.

As I lay last night, wrapped up in your flannel jacket, I though of how I wished you wouldn't have died.  But then I thought that perhaps life is so precious because it has no guarantees.  If we could live forever, perhaps we would never learn the importance or cherishing each and every moment of the day.  What makes life so good and matter so much is the knowledge that someday we will not have it so it is important to cherish it as it is......flaws and all.

Oh my gosh Honey we have had a bumpy ride of it haven't we.  But you know me honey.  There's nothing I like more than taking off on a dirt road with all its bumps, turns and  dead ends just so I can see where the road went.  Well Babe.  I took off on a dirt road with you forty-seven years ago.  We definitely ran into our share of obstacles didn't we.  But for each obstacle that we overcame, we became stronger, as a couple, as an individual and as a family.  I will go on a bumpy road with you any day of the year, in any dimension.  So if you happen to see one that you want to scope out, wait for me honey.  I want to go with you.

Happy New Year Darling

I love you

Far Beyond the 12th of Never.

The Flannel Jacket

It had seen its better days,
that old jacket that he wore
With outside made of flannel,
 there was still use left in store.
He had worn it felling pine trees. 
He had worn it when he carved,
worn it mowing lawns,
and fixing broken cars. 
In the summer it kept rain at bay,
and in winter falling snow.
He’d turn the collar up as
the cold north winds would blow.
He wore it when he fished. 
He wore it when he played.
He wore it when he left the house
or wore it when he stayed.
He was getting kind of tired. 
He was getting kind of old.
He couldn’t remember in younger days
 being bothered by the cold.
But many years can change a man
but he took it all in stride
As he kept that jacket handy
waiting by his side.
I found his old worn jacket,
lying amid his stuff.
With trembling hands I stooped
and gently picked it up.
When my spirit starts to chill,
I put his jacket on.
I wrap its arms around me
to try and get me warm.
At night I hold it in my arms
 as my days come to an end
And pick it up and hold it tight
when a new day starts again.
I feel the jacket’s comfort,
around me as I write
I can feel my husband’s words
telling me that all is right.
Its breast has muffled my crying sobs
and caught my falling tears
I hold it oh so tightly trying
to hold on to long lost years.
It’s just a flannel jacket;
not all it used to be.
But as I hold it tight,
it’s everything to me.