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Posts Tagged ‘Texan

Long Lost Cousin Search

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by Samuel E. Warren Jr.

Johnny Leo Green, my cousin, was always a few years older than me. I spent most of my Life, “Hearing About”, rather, than having any time with my elusive older Texan cousin.

Around The Year 2000, I got a letter from Johnny telling me he had researched the Warren and Green family history. We exchanged some emails.

“The Move”

In 2011, I made “The Move” to Leyte, Republic of the Philippines. I didn’t figure the move would end email communications with my Texas relatives, after all, it is “The 21st Century” and the globe is “Wired” for “Global Communications” to the planet.

I was wrong.

“Remote Location”

There are places on Planet Earth where there is: No Broadband Signal, No Wifi Signal, and even an analog phone line, a Ham radio signal or a Morse Code key set is almost impossible to find.

There are places on Planet Earth in 2014 where “Electricity” is still more of an idea than a working reality. I have neighbors who use candles for light after dark or they simply go to bed early.

I had no idea that a barangay on the island of Leyte in the Republic of the Philippines would be a “Remote Location”; it can be.

Tanauan, Barangay Baras was “Remote” before Super Typhoon Yolanda, so the storm does not get the “Blame.”

In 2013, before Super Typhoon Yolanda, there were homes in Tanauan, Barangay Baras, which still did not have “electricity.” It was not uncommon to see a slender bamboo pole in the jungle propping up a power line. Nor, was it uncommon to see six to 10 electric meters on a wood or concrete pole.

Super Typhoon Yolanda only made the electricity and communications systems worse.

Yolanda tossed aside power poles like broken toothpicks or slung them out across the landscape. No doubt, some of the bamboo power poles are at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.

It was five months to the day that Yolanda struck before the electric company , responsible for our barangay, restored our “electricity.”

Yolanda totally “eliminated” the broadband service in my barangay. She took my broadband sensor on the long pole and slung it away. I still have some of the long useless cable.

“Wifi — The Only Game In Town.”

Like many people the “quick solution” is Wifi. I haven’t found Wifi to be that stable. I don’t like Wifi. Nonetheless, for now, I’m still doing the “Wifi” game because, literally, it is “The Only Game In Town.”

To date, I have searched the Internet and haven’t found a way to “Reconnect” with Cousin Johnny Leo.

I continue “The Long Lost Cousin Search.”

I am an October Scorpio. Scorpio is a Fixed Sign of the Western Zodiac. As a general rule, the “Fixed Signs” like to stay in touch with their families and relatives around the world. Genealogy, heraldry, family history and family ties are all important to most “Scorpios.”

My birthday and Halloween always makes me reflective to remember family and friends. Super Typhoon Yolanda, last year, emphasized the point that it is not wise to loose touch with family and friends.

If anyone knows my cousin, who worked in Port Arthur, Texas for several years, please, ask him to contact me on my “Samuel Warren” facebook page.

Look for the man in the photo in the blue United States Air Force uniform with The American Flag in the background.

Samuel E. Warren Jr. Oil Painting by FotoSketcher

Samuel E. Warren Jr. Oil Painting by FotoSketcher

I’d love to “Reconnect” with my Warren Family History and with my relatives in Texas.

Thank you.

Sam

“Sammy” The East Texas Country Boy Workaholic

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Parental Portrait for Christmas

 

  Sammy

The East Texas Country Boy

Workaholic

Sammy_resized

Sammy”

Samuel E. Warren, an east Texas country boy, had his own style in life. In appearance, this Capricorn man was meticulous about his dress. In the era before “Wash and Wear”, he had his dress shirts taken to the cleaners to be ironed and pressed. He wore a tie bar to keep the starched collar of his shirt down. He taught his son, Sam Junior, “how to tie a Windsor knot” to wear a neck tie. His dress shirts had French cuffs, which usually had a matching tie clasp in his personal jewelry box that contained his business jewelry. In his 40s and 50s, he usually wore a stockman’s Stetson hat. In his youth, like many men of his era, he wore a more traditional business fedora, like in this studio portrait. My father believed you should, “Dress For Success.”

 

 

by Samuel E.Warren Jr.

 

Samuel E. Warren had the blond crew cut and blue eyes. He stood six-feet and one inch. Middle age gave him a weigh in the area of around 200 pounds.

 

His pressed western shirts and creased denim jeans were the visual confirmations of military service – His civilian clothes had the appearance of a military uniform.

 

He earned two “Silver Stars” in World War II.

 

I never heard daddy speak of the war to anyone. Momma told me that through the years, he had talked to her about the things that happened in the war.

 

Black cowboy boots, the “Lady’s Head Liberty Silver Dollar” in the brown western belt and the diamond Masonic ring identified him as, “Sammy” to his friends and family.

 

He loved his Chevrolet and GMC pickups. Daddy’s traditional gray stockman’s Stetson hat, western shirt, boots and denim jeans, identified “Sammy” as a Texan through and through.

 

Sammy could be considered shy in social situations. He preferred to listen rather than speak. My Scorpio Uncle Leo, an oil company executive, usually led the conversations between the family men. Uncle Audrey will smile and interject humor into the discussions. Daddy would listen and might on occasion add a comment or two.

 

Papa” Warren loved to talk and tell stories. “Mama” Warren, had polio, which forced her to use a crutch. She was quiet natured and seldom raised her voice unless it was at something “Papa” Warren said. Daddy, obviously, inherited Mama Warren’s quiet side.

 

Aunt Bill, Daddy’s eldest sister had an award-winning smile. She had a big heart for kids and animals. Her laugh was loud, definite, and would echo throughout a room.

 

In Houston, or east Texas, Momma and Aunt Bill would go grocery shopping together and run household errands. They were more like sisters than sister-in-laws.

 

My Scorpio “Aunt Pet” always seemed distant to me. Aunt Bill and Uncle Audrey had no children of their own, but, “Aunt Bill” never missed an opportunity to spoil me and I always enjoyed the attention.

 

In Texas in the late 1950s and early 1960s, kids were still expected to be seen and not heard. In a room of adults you never knew if you were an extra end table or an unfinished robot.

 

Papa, Mama, Aunt Bill and Uncle Audrey always made me feel like a welcomed miniature adult. Uncle Leo liked to scowl and tease me, Daddy expected me to act like “daddy’s little man.”

 

Momma had briefed me on “Southern protocol” from an early age, so I could be a “kid”, but, I always had to be respectful and polite around my adult elders. I never had to worry because I was never off Momma’s “mother radar.”

 

Most definitely, “I am a Momma’s boy.”

 

Daddy was an East Texas country boy, who grew up on the farm. I heard stories that as a young boy he worked in the cotton fields and sugar cane fields of east Texas.

 

Momma said daddy worked as a short haul trucker making runs from Gilmer. Tyler, Kilgore, Gladewater and Mount Pleasant until Uncle Sam “drafted” him to fight in World War II.

 

Yellowed V-mail correspondence from east Texas revealed one girl back home in Thomas, Texas, during World War II, had an interest in my father. The attractive brunette, dressed in a navy blue sailors’ suit dress even posed for a photograph of her standing by an old Ford ton and a half stake truck.

 

Uncle Sam “drafted” Sammy and sent him to Fort Chaffee, Arkansas for “boot camp.” After basic, Uncle Sam shipped daddy out to the European Theater of Operations and later to the Pacific Theater of Operations for World War II.

 

Thanks to the United States Army Signal Corps, daddy put some of the first land line telephone lines in the Philippines and picked up the skills of an electrician, during the war.

 

After the War, Daddy got on out at Cameron Iron Works in Houston. He worked part-time, which meant, most nights for George Cook as a bartender or bouncer at “Cook’s Hoedown Club.”

 

Later, he worked part-time at the “Dome Shadow,” a club near Houston’s famous Astrodome.

 

Daddy liked to talk to people, but, he spoke low and sometimes didn’t finish his sentences as though he just got tired of talking and stopped.

 

Lodge work” excited Daddy. He would get excited about the humanitarian activities of the Reagan Masonic Lodge, his lodge. He looked forward to getting the monthly issue of the magazine in the mail. He kept his Masonic apron in the elegant locked glass bookcase in the living room.

 

Daddy proudly displayed framed photographs of himself and his lodge brethren on the furniture in the living room.

 

Besides the Masonic Lodge, daddy the reserved Texan, only showed emotion if he got mad. He cussed. Then, of course, his message was distinct and crystal clear. Daddy was not a skilled communicator and usually let momma do the talking in social situations.

 

He had the “hard work” ethics of Americans of his generation. A Capricorn, daddy definitely embodied his Zodiac sign because he worked hard all his life and everything he ever got he earn by elbow grease and the sweat of his brow.

 

Capricorn rules earth, real estate, agriculture and basically, anything to do with land. Daddy grew up on the farm. He served in a major global war of human history that changed the borders and infrastructures of nations for generations and his job at Cameron’s was to supervise an ore taken from the earth being turned into liquid to be poured into dies to create tools.

 

One factor astrologers point to about the sign of Capricorn is that people born under the sign usually have to work hard all their lives. Daddy did

 

Sammy loved to spend the money he earned. His philosophy of finances was,“You can’t take it with you.”

 

While daddy’s carefree financial philosophy has merit on the surface; it doesn’t work in the long haul. To live bold without a regard for cost means you have to be making a ridiculous amount of money each day or you will have to be a “workaholic” most of your life.

 

After World War II, Samuel E. Warren always had a “part-time” job, in addition to his regular job until his death in 1978.

 

Daddy worked too hard; he never took the time to enjoy his life. The true irony is he never made the opportunity or took the time to truly enjoy the money he earned.

Sam

 

 

Hat Links

 

Samuel E. Warren, my father, loved his hats. From the time I was a small boy, I remember my father wearing a Stetson. It was a gray western hat with a small brim that was called, “The Stockman.”

 

Stetson

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stetson

 

 

Samuel E. Warren, my father, and my uncles, Leo Greene and Audrey Irwin were “Texans”, who in the 1930s and 1940s usually wore a hat. There was the dress “Zoot Suit” style for Friday and Saturday evenings with a wide brim and there was the more traditional everyday business hat, which was known as a “Fedora.”

 

Fedora

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fedora

 

Opal M. DeLong Warren, my mother, worked as the chief waitress at the Cook’s Hoedown Club in Houston, Texas. The dress code for the club required the women to “dress western.” The white hat of momma’s uniform came from the American Hat Company.

 

Samuel E. Warren, my father, also had a white western hat and a black western hat from the company. Inside all the hats was a humorous name card the size of a post card. It listed the person’s name on the card. The words at the top of the card stated: “Like Hell, this is your hat ! This hat belongs to:”

 

The American Hat Company

http://www.americanhat.net/

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons license.

Momma’s Death Anniversary – Editorial – Opinion

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Momma’s Death Anniversary

by Samuel E. Warren Jr.

Friday, June 11, 2004 – The sun would come up. It did not matter to me.

The beautiful sunrise through the curtains of a waiting lounge at Cox South Hospital blanketed a new day on the world. I was numb. I had been shoved into my personal twilight zone. The hospital chaplain sat beside me at the table and tried to use words to comfort me. I have no doubt he believed them.

I wasn’t too concerned about my friend, God.

The most devastating event in my life had only happened a few minutes before.

Momma had died.

I had been at my mother’s beside and watched the gleam of life in her eyes disappear. The breath of life had been exhaled quietly for a final time.

I was truly alone.

The End Of The World meant nothing.

I had a front row seat at My Own Personal Chaos.

To me, The End Of The World happened Friday, June 11, 2004.

Floodlights didn’t flash on. News media vans didn’t roll up on scene and bust out their crews and cameras. Military helicopters didn’t land to secure the area and begin to set up a perimeter to get help to the suffering and hold back the looters. Humanitarian agencies didn’t respond in tractor trailer trucks and vans to set up portable soup kitchens to help the hungry and begin compiling lists of the missing.

Former President Ronald Reagan had died a few days before, thus, the American, Missouri and Springfield flags were still at half mast. I liked Reagan. Today, though, I decided the half-mast flags acknowledged Momma’s reassignment from The Real World.

Momma’s boy

My wife and cousin were at the hospital, by my side, but, at this moment, my body sat in a chair at a table and my emotions lashed out at the Universe to question and curse any entity that remotely resembled higher intelligence.

I am a Momma’s boy. I always have been. I still am.

The pain was my Ultimate Mentor had departed.

Higher Headquarters had issued the orders for her Eternal Permanent Change Of Station. She had no choice, but to comply.

Momma had earned her Earth Retirement Ceremony.

Death Anniversary

In the Republic of the Philippines, there is a custom that is not practiced in the United States.

On the Anniversary of the Death Of A Loved One. You prepare a plate of food and sit either at the table or on a family altar. You sit a favorite drink by the plate. If the person was a smoker you put an unlit cigarette in an ashtray. The place stays undisturbed until 6 pm Then, a person shows up to recite some vocal prayers to the Universe.

Once the Professional Pray Person (I don’t know the correct name) recites the vocal prayers, then, they leave. The family then decides to let someone eat the food on the plate or to let it remain until the next morning. (Naturally, in the United States, there would be all these health concerns of leaving the food out – but, the point is not necessarily to eat the food, but to make a spiritual offering and to allow the family to come together to remember the Loved One.)

Death Anniversary - A family observance to remember a Loved One on the anniversary of the day of their death in the Republic of the Philippines. I adopted and adapted the ceremony for an annual remembrance of my mother. Photo taken June 11, 2011 by Samuel E. Warren Jr.

If a family member is a smoker, then, he or she smokes the cigarette. If there are no smokers in the family, then, the unlit cigarette is lit and placed in the ash tray to naturally burn and someone watches to make sure no embers land outside the ashtray and start an unintentional fire.

The Death Anniversary Ceremony, I am told occurs repeatedly without fail every year for at least ten years.

Bus Stop In The Twilight Zone

Moments after my Mother’s Death, I stood alone in The Twilight Zone of my mind. My body knew that necessary and official tasks had to be completed, but when The World Ends, who cares about dotting an I or crossing a t ?

The Major Concerns Of Daily Life, in an instant, had become insignificant.

Since I was big enough to appreciate reality – my momma had always been here. She was The Beacon Against The Universal Injustices In The Nights Of Humankind. No issue had ever been too small or too big for momma to appear in her battle armor and beat back the insanity of daily life. To say, she was my Rock is to bestow the highest compliment on one of the most common elements of nature.

Naturally, I had to appear to function in the so-called Real World around me. An Emotional Zombie is simply a Robotic Mannequin that moves through the World Of Men And Women to carry out the expected functions and perhaps someday return to Life as a human. I became the Zombie, who could function enough to handle all the asinine legal matters at hand.

I stood in the bus station of my Twilight Zone.

None of the activities going on around me, concerned me in the least. If Charon, the River Styx Boatman, had been dressed in a bus driver’s uniform taking tickets I would not of cared.

Arrivals and Departures did not matter. I stood in the middle of my mental bus stop and let life go on around me. At some point, I would have to walk out one of the doors, but for now, I stood in my mind and let Riders Of The Real World catch their buses along their roads of Life.

The Longest Day Of My Entire Life seemed to last for millennium

American Grief Counseling

I’m sure the experts like to think they have answers for everything – they don’t.

Death is still The Universal Mystery That Is The Sole Property Of A Higher Realm.

I know the chaplain had his job to do. I did appreciate his sincere effort.

I had psychology classes in college, so I know all the educational gobbledygook, brouhaha, pig Latin jargon rhetoric and professional terms that go with A Major Life Changing Event.

What the Freud types don’t realize is sometimes in Life your Soul become intertwined with another human being and there is no way to acknowledge the person’s passing without realizing that a piece of your Soul is no longer in the Real World.

Obviously, the intent of Grief Counseling is to help keep Survivors in The Real World.

Naturally, bills still need to be paid, the real occupation has to be performed for anyone to keep their job and family members in the Real World have to know that some part of you is still attached to The Real World. It is all nice and logical. But, that day all of the nice logic meant nothing.

I have no doubt that Grief Counseling does work for some people. This article is not intended to Declare War on Medical Authorities and Psychiatrists. In the Legions Of Humanity, there are those of us, who seek more than a medical diagnosis, traditional cliches, and want a personal understanding that might defy the logic and rationale of The Real World.

When did Death ever sign a document to play by the rules of

The Real World Of Humankind ?

A Candle To Light Your Way

The intent of the article is to recognize that Death refuses to be trivialized and categorized. Death strands in front of you and demands that you look into his or her eyes and come to your own personal understanding.

Each reader Lost In Grief, should seek the help of family, friends, loved ones and if need be, the professional medical community. My article states the traditional approaches did not work for me. I had to find my own way through the darkness. If you feel as helpless as I did, then, perhaps, my article will be the candle you can use to light your way.

The Dumbest Grief Statement Of All Creation —

The Dumbest Of All Statements To Make To Someone In Grief Is: “You have to go on.”

Naturally, people are trying to comfort you, but, the old “You have to go on” is one of the dumbest statements of all time to fall out of the mouths of anyone. Forget the statement.

For me, it would have been better if someone would of just smiled at me, patted me on the shoulder, squeezed my hand or said, “There are no words at a time like this.”

There are no words at a time like this,” is a true statement, which maybe a cliche and states the obvious – but that statement does not insult your intelligence or belittle and trivialize the life of the lost love one.

Land Of The Living

Naturally, Psychiatrists Of The Universe should have been happy – because in time, I did appear to Return To The Land Of The Living. But, I did it without, “Letting Go.”

All the so-called “experts,” with their framed sheepskins and years of professional experience always seem to parrot “Let Go.”

All the psychiatrists like politicians always forget One Distinctive Quality Of Human Nature – Every Individual Is Just That An Individual – and Generic Sugar Pills For The Masses Never Works For The Individual. I didn’t need a Placebo. I needed an Answer.

My Mother was too significant a force in my personal life to ever “Let Go.”

My Own Path In The Grief

Christians would have cardiacs because you are suppose to realize that someday something about being with your loved ones at some far off time in the future comes about. It is nice that some people can find comfort in their religions.

But, I’ve always Dissected Religions and could only come up with my own Spiritual Beliefs, so the standard religious cliches fell on my deaf ears. I tried to be respectful to the hospital chaplain and nodded politely. I appreciated his efforts. But, I knew I had to find my own path in the grief.

Ancestor Worship

In the Pacific, some cultures have customs of Ancestor Worship, that respects and recognizes the sacrifices of family members who lived before.

My personal method of dealing with Being Left Behind is a combination of techniques that I have accumulated from my experiences in life, researching books and surfing the Internet. In a Life Changing Moment – all ideas were on the table in my mind.

Vision Quest

My personal understanding of a Vision Quest means that it is a journey only you, the individual can take. Only you can find the answers you seek. This would not be a Real World ritual sit out in the boondocks that required physical survival as well as spiritual insight. This would be a personal Vision Quest in The Real World that would reach inside my Mind and examine the needs of my Soul.

Critics And Skeptics Be Damned!

In dealing with my personal grief, I pulled out all the stops.

If I could of stood in a Great Marble Hall In The Depths Of The Universe and stood before God Almighty and Satan and asked, “Why?”

It would have been enough to have an answer and risk whatever punishment would of come from my personal audacity and arrogance to have the strength to ask such a face to face question of the two most powerful entities in the Universe.

I might not find the answer. But, I had to arrive at some level of understanding for Life to continue to make any sort of sense. All types of information would be looked at and examined. My Mind and Soul needed something other than cliches, fairy tales and wishful thinking.

I knew I would not find any detailed commentaries of dead people who had come back and done in depth interviews. I had to find some type of information that would speak to my Mind and Soul and say, “Relax. There is a Method to the Madness of Life.”

The issue was not a Quest For Self Discovery – I know Who I Am. The issue was not Fear Of My Own Mortality. The issue was Life Beyond The Personal Grief – I demanded a clue that Momma’s Life did not end in a hospital bed.

I had to find some type of information that would give me the peace of mind to understand and believe that Life is not just A Flashbulb Flash In A Universal Night.

All ideas were on the table. No idea was too ludicrous. Whatever works – works. Critics and Skeptics be damned!

Religion deals with The Supernatural, or as people in the late 20th Century preferred the more scientific sounding term, The Paranormal. I tried to find answers – not cliches – not theatrics – not theories: Answers.

Born a Scorpio, the Universe had hardwired my appetite for Mystery and The Unknown and programmed my Curiosity into my first breath.

No Concrete Answer.

Wake Up The Old Gods And Goddesses!

But, there were ideas and techniques that helped me.

The traditional interpretation of God, Jehovah, or Allah is a single supreme male entity, who sits high above humanity and looks down upon the industrious ant-like mortals. I have never believed that God was simply an Immortal Kid With An Ant Farm or An Immortal Scientist Obsessed By His Collections Of Lab Rats Locked In The Perpetual Maze.

I’ve been exposed enough to modern religions to know that they come up short. The only current religion that ever held any interest to me is the Buddhist. But, I was not on a quest of Self-Enlightenment. I wanted some tangible assurance that Momma was in an Afterlife.

I appreciate anthropologists.

Humankind has existed for Millennium. Current Society usually shrugs off the contributions of Ancient Humans like a cold, rain through a leaky umbrella. But, the people who lived before left us had a wealth of knowledge from science and mathematics to funeral customs and recopies for beer and pharmaceuticals.

Ancient Men and Ancient Women survived droughts, floods, wars, and plagues in their daily lives so they had to be doing something right. Did they have any insights into an Afterlife?

I’ve always admired Native American cultures and Ancient Egypt, so I did review their beliefs.

Magick is usually seen as an entertaining pastime for children. You take a kid to a local magic show or they watch a magic movie about beings wielding wands and searching for magic cups. Society likes to ignore that some icons of science had an interest in different approaches to knowledge and understanding.

Thus, I could flip through my magick books or surf the Internet and study up on Dion Fortune, Aleister Crowley, Samuel Mathers and others for indications of any revelations of an Afterlife.

Ancient scientists, philosophers, doctors, astrologers, mathematicians sought answers and guidance – these people might have been in their imaginations or maybe they did go beyond the traditional confines of the Real World, but they had ideas of Magick that reveals a Faith beyond The Real World.

In 2011, people usually snicker at The Old Gods And Goddesses Of Mythology. One distinct advantage of the Old Gods and Goddesses – they were “hands on” with mortals. They had Real World issues, even on Mount Olympus, in Valhalla, in Asgard or Shangri-La. They had dysfunctional families and they lived like mortals.

Wake Up The Old Gods And Goddesses !

If you take away their bath robes, give them shaves, haircuts and send them to tailors for business suits, denim jeans and cocktail dresses – then, some of the Ancient Greek, Roman, Norse mythology suggests that an entity can relate to us mere mortals of earth.

The concepts of Wicca as a Nature religion suggests, as I understand, looking outside oneself into the Universe. The rituals serve to focus the mind to seek guidance beyond the Real World.

I accepted some of the ideas and rejected a lot. My quest was not to find a personal religion. Nor, was it to adopt a Personal Dogma Of Spiritual Beliefs. I wanted more tangible evidence of an Afterlife.

Spiritual Research years before had suggested: I give God a partner – Goddess. No one – not even a God should ever be truly alone in any exsistence called Life.

Work The Grief – Find Your Answer

After the funeral, I had time to devote to this Afterlife Quest. Whenever it felt as though I was strolling into my Twilight Zone Bus Stop, I knew I should pick up a book or surf the Internet to find some information. Working The Grief in The Real World is a personal issue, that requires you to put one foot in front of the other.

On a day to day basis, If I’m walking down a city street or through a field and want to talk to Momma, then, I do.

If I want to put together some personal ritual to practice across the road in the pasture to attempt to enhance communication – I do.

I realize my mother’s physical presence is gone from The Real World.

Life Can’t Be Pointless !

Life can’t be pointless. I have always rejected the notion that people come into this life to work like work horses, raise children and then simply die and disappear.

Lucky people leave tales of their lives as authors of novels or can be found in history books. By the late 20th Century, most people were fortunate to be recognized with an Obituary in a newspaper.

But, I believe the overall intent of a Human Life does not end at a Cemetery Headstone or a Funeral Urn.

Find Your Own Path In Grief

Society teaches people to bury their deceased loved one and then to get back on The Gerbil Wheel Of Life. After all, your absence is bound to affect the economic output of the Universal Work Force.

Nonetheless, as a human, you need time to live in your grief. If Society’s theories work, then, use them.

If you have to find your own path – then, find your own path.

No matter how Society At Large attempt to generalize the individual human life – the Universe realizes each individual is unique and makes their contribution in their own way.

Loved Ones will try to help. But, you live in your skin. You have to find your answer.

If you look for information or a path outside of what Society At Large considers – “normal” – be careful about talking to people about it. We all have different experiences in Life and people who profess open minds will sometimes seem confused, dumbfounded, skeptical, or, “at a loss for words.”

Loved Ones can provide Emotional Support. But, Mental Support, my definition, means you climb inside your head and look around. Of course, if you believe in professional counselors or psychiatrists, then, seek them out.

If you feel it is a personal journey that only you can make, then, do so, but do not retreat from The Real World or Loved Ones.

In the Practical, Logical, Rationale Real World, no one really understands the individual who feels as though the Universe has turned against you and brought Death to someone you do not want to leave your life.

Thus, whether you decide to Let Go of your Loved One or wish to keep their presence within arm’s reach the rest of your life – it is your decision.

Your Own Afterlife Procedures

If you wish to keep the Spiritual Presence of your Loved One near, then, you will have to come up with your own procedures.

I did not find any guarantees of an Afterlife. But, my gut instinct tells me there is one. Religion would call the instinct: Faith.

The idea of stepping, “Into The Light,” is poetic and provides for easy special effects on television. I can believe we step or pass into another dimension, but, I need to believe that I can send thoughts and feelings to that dimension.

I need to believe Loved Ones in that dimension can sense, feel, watch and find a way to send back love and guidance.

“Rest In Peace” on headstones to me, means beyond the reach of politicians, bureaucrats, power companies, cell phone services, telemarketers, satellite carriers and others who complicated our daily lives. But, I also believe, RIP means I can be with my Loved Ones in whatever dimension of Time and Space.

I will stand at a Cemetery Headstone and talk.

I see the Cemetery Headstone as A Supernatural Computer Terminal In The Real World. You speak your mind and believe that your words are being saved into a Universal Email that goes to the Person’s Spirit.

My gut instinct tells me Human Life is more than A Match Flame That Dances Briefly Against A Universal Breeze – each life has meaning that transcends the physical body – and, I believe, lives on.

More importantly, I do not accept my Mother’s Spiritual Presence vanished without leaving a Universal Call Forwarding Procedure or a Universal Email Address to maintain surveillance, communication, or the oldest of all procedures: – A Mother’s Love.

My Death Anniversary Ceremony

Saturday, June 11, 2011 – This morning, Momma was not sitting at the kitchen table with her cup of coffee and her cigarette burning in the ash tray.

But, tonight at 6 pm, I can sit a cup of hot coffee on the table. I can light a cigarette and place in the ash tray. I can even light a candle and place in a holder by her coffee cup. I don’t have the Filipino Professional Pray Person to call on for guidance. I can sit look at the area and think my thoughts or open my mouth and speak.

Momma will not magickally step from the ethers and sit in the chair to talk, drink her coffee and smoke her cigarette.

But, I can sit across the table for a moment and look at the empty chair. I can smile and remember, the countless times she passed on her advice without me asking for it I can sense those numerous times in childhood and adulthood that Momma “came to my rescue” and saved me from myself or reminded me of ways to avoid similar traps in the future.

Pity The Poor Psychiatrist

Pity the Poor Psychiatrist, who “Lets Go.” Do psychiatrists really believe that cliche ? Do they parrot, “Let Go,” because it is part of the accepted training ?

In my country boy opinion, Only a Fool Lets Go A Loved One.

Who would undergo Open Heart Surgery and ask a surgeon to cut away half your heart to “let go” a loved one. You accept the Emotional Sword Slash Into Your Heart and realize that you must live with the wound.

I reject that “Time Heals All Wounds” – it is a tired cliche, best left with dinosaur bones.

You realize that you must “Solider On In Life.”

For me, I had to find a technique or belief that would allow me to get out of bed each morning and step back into the petty cares of the insanity of The Real World. For now, I remain engaged in The Flow Of Life In This World.

In the brief moments of the Annual Death Anniversary Observance for me, Momma is alive again in the Real World.

Momma’s presence may only be in my Mind’s Eye, but she is Wonder Woman, Super Girl, Mother Teresa and The Virgin Mary all enshrined in the vision of my mother. She may only speak through a sensation of emotions in my mind, but the awareness of her presence somewhere in the Universe is all I need to know that I am not alone.

The woman who always smiled at my accomplishments and reminded me, “Don’t brag son.Noonelikes a braggart.” I never had to – Momma always took pride in my accomplishments and told the details to friends, neighbors and family members.

Momma would “lecture” me on issues: How To Know If A Member Of The Opposite Sex Loves You, Find A Way To Set Aside Money For Emergencies. Learn To Save Money. Family Comes Before Anything In Life: You Can Always Find A Husband Or Wife – But, Family Is Family And Above All Else. While I didn’t always listen, when I should of; momma’s advice keeps coming back in The Trump Cards Of Live – She is still Aces And Spades. And, still holds The Winning Hand.

Today, Sunday June 11, 2011, is another of Momma’s Death Anniversaries. I don’t know if my experiences will help anyone in grief.

It is not my intent to “lock horns” with the American Medical Association or to fire an opening salvo into the Legions Of Global Psychiatrists.

My country boy intent is to recognize in our rationale world of expert answers: Death Stands In Front Of The Veil And Smiles You Have To Find Your Own Way To Understand Me. I would hope that my article will help someone standing at the brink of The End Of Their World – lost in grief, will find a way to step back and find a way to recognize the personal loss and develop a way to put one foot in front of the other each day to continue their life.

For me, I will observe Momma’s Death Anniversary by adapting the Republic Of The Philippines custom to work for me. I will remember the stories and the advice that I learned from my mother, Opal M. DeLong Warren.

I am the son of the six-foot-one, Missouri brunette, who spent her life sacrificing for me.

I am still a work in progress.

But, the hillbilly wife of a Texan, had stubbornness and determination hardwired into her Soul, so she still watches and finds a way to keep in touch beyond The Real World.

A little thing like Death, is a nuisance, but not even The Great Wall is nothing more than an annoying obstacle to a Mother’s Love.

Thanks, Momma.

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