12-31-2021
Tonight we say goodbye to 2001/welcome 2022
I don't know if this year will be better, I hope so, if I had one wish, I would turn back the hands of time, and change things, I would stop you from leaving this world so soon. I ask myself why? why did you go,? who is responsible? the reason, ? I have no Answers, will I ever? I hope someday someone honest, true and good, with morals and upstanding views will read all this, and make use of it in a good way. The world has gone mad, and I find myself looking for the decent , the good and the nice people to talk to. So hard to find. I wonder if those jerks in Iowa will remember you 5,10,20,30 years from now, I don't think they remember you now, sorry to say, but if they cared a stitch, you would be still here, :(

A Candle for you Zachary, Remembering you at Christmas
December 25th 2021
Your first Christmas in Heaven
Love
Mom, and Everyone that loves You

If I could have one wish in life,
That wish would have to be
That God would take away my pain
And send you back to me.

Your birthday's here today, my son,
And I just wanted you to know
How much I deeply love you
And that I miss you so.

On days like this we should celebrate,
But for me that now proves hard,
For unlike other mothers, I cannot send
A simple birthday card.

No kisses can I give you
Or birthday gifts to buy.
Only flowers I now can give you,
Which I place down where you lie.

Two other things I send you
Are my thoughts and all my love,
So hold them close and keep them safe
In Heaven up above.

And please wait for me, my darling
Until my days are through,
And then I'll come and spend all time
In Heaven just with you.

Remembering you, Zachary, On Day of the dead, November 2, 2021
Love and Miss you, Love MOM

Halloween
Robert Burns - 1759-1796

Upon that night, when fairies light
On Cassilis Downans dance,
Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze,
On sprightly coursers prance;
Or for Colean the route is ta'en,
Beneath the moon's pale beams;
There, up the cove, to stray and rove,
Among the rocks and streams
To sport that night.

Among the bonny winding banks,
Where Doon rins, wimplin' clear,
Where Bruce ance ruled the martial ranks,
And shook his Carrick spear,
Some merry, friendly, country-folks,
Together did convene,
To burn their nits, and pou their stocks,
And haud their Halloween
Fu' blithe that night.

The lasses feat, and cleanly neat,
Mair braw than when they're fine;
Their faces blithe, fu' sweetly kythe,
Hearts leal, and warm, and kin';
The lads sae trig, wi' wooer-babs,
Weel knotted on their garten,
Some unco blate, and some wi' gabs,
Gar lasses' hearts gang startin'
Whiles fast at night.

Then, first and foremost, through the kail,
Their stocks maun a' be sought ance;
They steek their een, and graip and wale,
For muckle anes and straught anes.
Poor hav'rel Will fell aff the drift,
And wander'd through the bow-kail,
And pou't, for want o' better shift,
A runt was like a sow-tail,
Sae bow't that night.

Then, staught or crooked, yird or nane,
They roar and cry a' throu'ther;
The very wee things, todlin', rin,
Wi' stocks out owre their shouther;
And gif the custoc's sweet or sour.
Wi' joctelegs they taste them;
Syne cozily, aboon the door,
Wi cannie care, they've placed them
To lie that night.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door—
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door—
        Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
        Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
        This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"—here I opened wide the door;—
        Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"—
        Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
        'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
        Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
        Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
        With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
        Then the bird said "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
        Of 'Never—nevermore.'"

But the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
        Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
        She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
        Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!"
        Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
        Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting—
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
        Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
        Shall be lifted—nevermore!

A Mother's Love
St Jude

There are times when only a Mother's Love
can understand our tears, can sooth our sadness and calm all our fears.
There are times when only a Mother's love can share the joy we feel when something we have dreamed about quite suddenly is real.
There are times when only a mother's faith can help us on life's way and inspire in us the confidence we need each day.
For a mother's heart and Mother's faith and a Mother's steadfast love were fashioned by the Angels and sent from God above.

St Jude Pray for My Son and shine a light upon his family
St Jude Shrine

A Mother’s love is something
that no one can explain,
It is made of deep devotion
and of sacrifice and pain,

It is endless and unselfish
and enduring come what may
For nothing can destroy it
or take that love away . . .

It is patient and forgiving
when all others are forsaking,
And it never fails or falters
even though the heart is breaking . . .

It believes beyond believing
when the world around condemns,
And it glows with all the beauty
of the rarest, brightest gems . . .

It is far beyond defining,
it defies all explanation,
And it still remains a secret
like the mysteries of creation . . .

A many splendored miracle
man cannot understand
And another wondrous evidence
of God’s tender guiding hand.

—HELEN STEINER RICE

Places you have been:
Downey, Wilderness park
House in Downey
Easter Lake ,Iowa,
Iowa State fair, Adventureland, The Ledges, Roseman Bride and other Bridges of Madison County, Iowa
Jester park
Laguna beach, Divers Cove, Fisherman's Cove(you learned how to snorkel and dive in 2005, went to see KISS in 2005 at Verizon Wireless Theatre
Went to Silverado Canyon, in 2005, Disneyland, Universal Studios in 2005 and before they closed down in Buena Park California went to Ripley's believe it or not museum and Movieland wax museum.
in 2007 went to the Labrea Tarpits, 
You helped put a new roof on Aunt Donna's House in 2007
You helped build walls and lay tile,
You used to go fishing at Irvine Lake, Ca
You baked me a cake for my birthday in garden Grove Ca, 2008
You loved building a campfire at Huntington Beach,
Unfortunately You went back to Iowa in 2009
*****************************************************
when you were little you like to help bake cookies, and build a snowman, collect pine cones, and snowboard, you went to Utah in 2005 and snowboarded at Sundance Ski Resort
********************************************************
In 2016 you came to Colorado with Rachel, Mom Lori and Rachels kids, we went to Helen Hunt Falls, you loved it, and Garden of the Gods, we had fun, we went swimming at the hotel, it was fun, you loved to swim, we used to go to your granny's in Garden Grove and use her pool, and you spent time with your cousins Kevin and Ethan and brother Stu, how you boys loved the pool.,
The first time I took you swimming, I took your floaties off, before I knew it, you jumped into the deep end, and took off swimming like a fish from then on, you were a swimmer, NO FEAR,
Even when you broke your arm playing football, you wanted to ride the rides at Knotts Berry Farm in Ca 2006m we couldn't ride Perilous Plunge, because of your arm, but we road Ghost Rider and Twister, and The Log Ride.
**********************************************************
We went To Las Vegas for your Aunts wedding in 2006
**********************************************************
You wore a Kilt to a Event once in 2007
**********************************************************
You Spent alot of time fishing In Iowa
you were a father to Rachels kids, Patties Kids, always there to help someone, fix a house, remove snow, yard work, you helped your dad, you put lights up, decorated for Halloween, you did so much, for everyone, be at peace, Love and Miss you, 

Of A Dear Son Something will remind me I never know just when – It might be something someone says and it all comes back again. The times we spent together the happiness and the fun – Once again I feel the pain of life without my Son. It’s said that time’s a healer I’m not sure this is true – There’s not a day goes by Son that I don’t cry for you.

By Alan G

The Fisherman
W. B. Yeats - 1865-1939

Although I can see him still,
The freckled man who goes
To a grey place on a hill
In grey Connemara clothes
At dawn to cast his flies,
It's long since I began
To call up to the eyes
This wise and simple man.
All day I'd looked in the face
What I had hoped 'twould be
To write for my own race
And the reality;
The living men that I hate,
The dead man that I loved,
The craven man in his seat,
The insolent unreproved,
And no knave brought to book
Who has won a drunken cheer,
The witty man and his joke
Aimed at the commonest ear,
The clever man who cries
The catch-cries of the clown,
The beating down of the wise
And great Art beaten down.

Maybe a twelvemonth since
Suddenly I began,
In scorn of this audience,
Imagining a man,
And his sun-freckled face,
And grey Connemara cloth,
Climbing up to a place
Where stone is dark under froth,
And the down-turn of his wrist
When the flies drop in the stream;
A man who does not exist,
A man who is but a dream;
And cried, 'Before I am old
I shall have written him one
Poem maybe as cold
And passionate as the dawn.'

Gone Fishing

I’ve finished life’s chores assigned to me,
So put me on a boat headed out to sea.
Please send along my fishing pole
For I’ve been invited to the fishin’ hole.

Where every day is a day to fish,
To fill your heart with every wish.
Don’t worry, or feel sad for me,
I’m fishin’ with the Master of the sea.

We will miss each other for awhile,
But you will come and bring your smile.
That won’t be long you will see,
Till we’re together you and me.

To all of those that think of me,
Be happy as I go out to sea.
If others wonder why I’m missin’
Just tell ’em I’ve gone fishin’

Dalmar Pepper

The Fisherman

The fisherman goes out at dawn
When every one's abed,
And from the bottom of the sea
Draws up his daily bread.

His life is strange; half on the shore
And half upon the sea --
Not quite a fish, and yet not quite
The same as you and me.

The fisherman has curious eyes;
They make you feel so queer,
As if they had seen many things
Of wonder and of fear.

They're like the sea on foggy days, --
Not gray, nor yet quite blue;
They 're like the wondrous tales he tells
Not quite -- yet maybe -- true.

He knows so much of boats and tides,
Of winds and clouds and sky!
But when I tell of city things,
He sniffs and shuts one eye!

by Abbie Farwell Brown

Zachary was Born
November 3, 1989
Officially died-March 30, 2021
He was Born in England, though his earthly remains are scattered to the winds, his soul walks with the angels,
In life he love to fish, he was good with his hands, liked carpenter work,
he love the outdoors, his grandmother taught him to ride a bike, I taught him to swim, we build a snowman together, shared rides at Disneyland and Knotts Berry farm, took him to his first KISS concert in 2005.
He learn little from his Dad, except to fish and hunt and drink(sadly)
Zach rest in peace, for I hope you find it, I love you and the family that cares about you love you. The people in Iowa never cared and its sad, because they are the ones responsible for your departure.

Wordsworth's "Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood


What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now forever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower?
I We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind
In the primal sympathy
Which, having been, must ever be.
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering,
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
And O ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves,
Think not of any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquished one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway.
I love ihe brooks which down their channels fret,
Even more than when I tripped lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born day
Tis lovely yet;
The clouds that gaiher round the setting sun
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality!

Thanks to its tenderness, its joys and fears;
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often He too deep for tears.

My Son
was take from me at the age of 31, he resided in Independence Iowa, at the time of his death. While in the middle of arrangements, as his legal next of kin, that too was robbed of me by a evil girl he lived with, a rotten stepsister, a crooked lawyer, a lying state medical examiner, and lying cheating funeral home, The Iowa cremation society of Iowa. All went against the law of Iowa. I am sorry my son, these people in Iowa is rotten, you deserved better,
and those you knew in Iowa called me and threatened me, harassed me to know end, I am sorry that those assholes that called themselves your friends and family never gave a shit/ Pattie is rotten, Rachel is rotten and your so called step sister is rotten to the core, i pitty them all, and may then be haunted by the wrongs they have done to you, and anyone else, that wronged you,  You leave behind your Mother, and step father, one brother, and Your Grandmother,. Aunt, Uncle and two cousins, may your Grandfather watch over you.That is your family you leave behind.

Nothing Gold Can Stay
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Robert Frost