<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870</id><updated>2012-02-16T03:01:20.901-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Remembering Mom</title><subtitle type='html'>Shared memories of our family and
friends of Mom.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>103</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-8070544859184643091</id><published>2010-03-12T01:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-12T01:14:21.947-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Aunt Felicia...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/S5oFaQn84SI/AAAAAAAADFI/j7-GfrFDLlM/s1600-h/Felicia-cat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/S5oFaQn84SI/AAAAAAAADFI/j7-GfrFDLlM/s640/Felicia-cat.jpg" width="467" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember Mom found Gramma, her biological mother, and Gramma had adopted another girl later on. This is my Aunt Felicia when she was 15. She is 11 months older than me, so I was about 14 when this pic was taken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-8070544859184643091?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/8070544859184643091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/8070544859184643091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2010_03_07_archive.html#8070544859184643091' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/S5oFaQn84SI/AAAAAAAADFI/j7-GfrFDLlM/s72-c/Felicia-cat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-1067147234341981289</id><published>2009-11-24T01:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T01:18:30.156-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Thinking of Mom tonight. &lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;It would've been her birthday yesterday. I think it would've been 66. She passed on in early 2003. It's hard to believe it's been almost seven years now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-1067147234341981289?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/1067147234341981289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/1067147234341981289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2009_11_22_archive.html#1067147234341981289' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-4379823267149012220</id><published>2009-01-21T23:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T23:41:47.798-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I wonder if Kat comes here often or at all any more. She was one of Mom's best friends online for a few years at the end. They were always in cahoots, cooking up some kind of social activism for the disabled online.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear from Kat every now and then on email, maybe I'll remind her of this site. *Ring, Ring*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something between the two of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miss ya Mom. We all think of you often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-4379823267149012220?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/4379823267149012220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/4379823267149012220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2009_01_18_archive.html#4379823267149012220' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-5108771810608741474</id><published>2009-01-17T02:31:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T02:35:38.919-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>As you can see, I'm re-publishing some of the poetry I wrote at the time of Mom's passing here to the blog. It's getting close to the anniversary of her death, and maybe that's what's brought me to this page for a freshening and updating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my way, I see this as keeping Mom's memory alive. It's also the only way I can talk to her now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all of you out there who lost a mother, sister, aunt, or other woman close to you through the evil of breast cancer, my condolences. Mom was only in her late 50's when the disease took her, just a few days after my birthday. That is just too young. It's not right, and it still pisses me off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-5108771810608741474?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/5108771810608741474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/5108771810608741474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2009_01_11_archive.html#5108771810608741474' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-1778072090345189351</id><published>2009-01-17T02:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T02:31:00.659-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h3&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Rainbows On The Wall:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sitting here watching,&lt;br /&gt;Rainbows dance on the wall,&lt;br /&gt;Is it an angel,&lt;br /&gt;What's making it,&lt;br /&gt;I can't see where from,&lt;br /&gt;All the words are said,&lt;br /&gt;Just waiting on the,&lt;br /&gt;Phenobarbital party,&lt;br /&gt;If the angels are spinning,&lt;br /&gt;'Round and round the ceiling,&lt;br /&gt;I wish I saw them clearly,&lt;br /&gt;There by the painting,&lt;br /&gt;Little Gypsy woman on the wall,&lt;br /&gt;There's rainbows all around you,&lt;br /&gt;Rainbows on the wall,&lt;br /&gt;You went through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 02/07/2003&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;h3&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Author's Comments&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Said good bye to Mom today,&lt;br /&gt;big hug, she wanted to go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;*************************&lt;br /&gt;Mom is gone. She chose complete sedation -&lt;br /&gt;unconsciousness until the end. I found a little angel pin&lt;br /&gt;in the doorway to her room, and I pegged it into the wall,&lt;br /&gt;over her doorway. Just a tiny thing. Maybe it was the&lt;br /&gt;answer to this poem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-1778072090345189351?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/1778072090345189351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/1778072090345189351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2009_01_11_archive.html#1778072090345189351' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-8510059459336485841</id><published>2009-01-15T23:22:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T23:22:14.362-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h3&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The Darkest Hour:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What are the words you say,&lt;br /&gt;When the one who shaped so much of your life,&lt;br /&gt;Lies hurting and you can not help,&lt;br /&gt;Have nothing but the arms of love to offer,&lt;br /&gt;There in the unseeable black face of good-bye?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know there will be no more words soon,&lt;br /&gt;And I wish I could put every word in the universe,&lt;br /&gt;Here, now, this minute,&lt;br /&gt;In perfect order with perfect heart,&lt;br /&gt;Just to make you know I love you,&lt;br /&gt;I and many more of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you step through the veil,&lt;br /&gt;Walk beyond all this broken dream,&lt;br /&gt;Sleep, rest, find comfort,&lt;br /&gt;Follow your heart's desires,&lt;br /&gt;Knowing we will love you all the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll stand by you,&lt;br /&gt;Just before the dawn,&lt;br /&gt;In the darkest hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When our own night falls,&lt;br /&gt;We shall find you no matter how far,&lt;br /&gt;Go without fear and without worry,&lt;br /&gt;Into the sunshine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You take all our love with you, Mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what you say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 02/03/2003&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-8510059459336485841?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/8510059459336485841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/8510059459336485841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2009_01_11_archive.html#8510059459336485841' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-1696980666543165859</id><published>2009-01-15T04:33:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T04:33:36.180-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So Now I Can e-mail Mom...</title><content type='html'>This makes it better on certain days. Christmas. Her birthday. Mother&amp;#39;s Day. Nono&amp;#39;s b-rthday. The anniversary of one of them passing.&lt;p&gt;Dan&lt;p&gt;&lt;br&gt;Words are the mind&amp;#39;s bridge - its connection to all the universe.&lt;br&gt;Love is the heart&amp;#39;s bridge - its connection to all other souls.&lt;br&gt;Loving words can work miracles.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-1696980666543165859?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/1696980666543165859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/1696980666543165859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2009_01_11_archive.html#1696980666543165859' title='So Now I Can e-mail Mom...'/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-5141474037137100506</id><published>2009-01-15T04:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T04:25:54.727-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Quite a bit of re-work here, but at least now she's got an up-to-date template that I can easily add items to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going to send a link to Sis 'n Kat so they can post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-5141474037137100506?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/5141474037137100506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/5141474037137100506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2009_01_11_archive.html#5141474037137100506' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-435884889546492905</id><published>2009-01-15T04:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T04:15:13.967-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I was just thinking, "It's coming up on six years." (Since Mom passed away.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can hardly believe it. She was always such a force and presence in my life, it's like she's never really gone. Except when I feel like picking up the phone to call. I have a pretty good idea of what she'd say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miss ya, Mom. Always will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-435884889546492905?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/435884889546492905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/435884889546492905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2009_01_11_archive.html#435884889546492905' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-111120277430415986</id><published>2005-03-18T19:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-18T19:27:48.410-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>-------- Original Message -------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Subject:  Getting to know you&lt;br /&gt;Date:   Sun, 07 Jan 2001 20:36:12 -0000&lt;br /&gt;From:   judy o&lt;br /&gt;To:     Dan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, here's what you're supposed to do.  Copy, not forward this entire&lt;br /&gt;email, and paste it onto a new e-mail that you will send. Change all of&lt;br /&gt;answers so that they apply to you. Then, send this to a  whole bunch of&lt;br /&gt;people you know INCLUDING the person who sent it to you. The theory is that&lt;br /&gt;you will learn a lot of little known facts about your friends. Remember to&lt;br /&gt;send it&lt;br /&gt;back to the person who sent it to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Person whom answered below:  Judy Oberbruner&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LIVING ARRANGEMENT? Apartment, 2 bedrooms, like it so so&lt;br /&gt;with dog Jordan, so so dog lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? Don't Sweat the Small Stuff...and it's all&lt;br /&gt;small stuff&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?  No mouse pad, got old. threw it out, table works&lt;br /&gt;ok&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE BOARD GAME?  Backgammon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE MAGAZINE? PC Computing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE SMELLS?  Italian Grocery Store&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE SOUNDS? Quarters in the slot machines when winning, Native American&lt;br /&gt;music&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD?  Future unknown because of disability&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING?   Will&lt;br /&gt;I be able to walk well today and where's the coffee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROLLER COASTER, SCARY OR EXCITING? SCARY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW MANY RINGS BEFORE YOU ANSWER THE PHONE?  Get to it when I can, and how&lt;br /&gt;can I afford to get my computer and phone separated&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE FOODS?  Fresh fruits and yummy salads, guacamole, ice cream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA?  Vanilla&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU LIKE TO DRIVE FAST?   No, hate paying tickets to the state, terrible&lt;br /&gt;waste of money&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL?  No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;STORMS - COOL OR SCARY?  Cool&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT TYPE WAS YOUR FIRST CAR?  1956 Olds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If YOU COULD MEET ONE PERSON DEAD OR ALIVE? Bill Gates&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK?  Gin and tonic w/lime slice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS YOUR ZODIAC SIGN? On the cusp for Scorpio and Sagittarius&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU EAT THE STEMS OF BROCCOLI?  Yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY JOB YOU WANTED, WHAT WOULD IT BE?  Professional Golfer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DYE HAIR ANY COLOR? Yes, blond and most of the rest as mood hits me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVER BEEN IN LOVE? Yes, some very serious some not so much&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVER HATED ANYONE?? Yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IS THE GLASS HALF EMPTY OR HALF FULL?  Half full&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE MOVIES:  Not a movie fan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARE YOU A LEFTY OR A RIGHTY? Righty&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU TYPE WITH YOUR FINGERS ON THE RIGHT KEYS? No not any more, used to&lt;br /&gt;but now soon need to be able to dictate to my computer soon as I can afford&lt;br /&gt;Dragon Dictate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S UNDER YOUR BED? Slippers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NUMBER? 1000&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE SPORT TO WATCH? Football&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SAY ONE NICE THING ABOUT THE PERSON WHO SENT YOU&lt;br /&gt;THIS:  New on line friend, Dawn, that I worked with on a great project for&lt;br /&gt;awhile. Has a great mind like mine, lol, only much better memory and typing,&lt;br /&gt;very capable nice person, into social justice like I am, especially for&lt;br /&gt;disabled kids in school, and I prefer adults.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND?  I have no idea because I have very diverse friends&lt;br /&gt;and family. But first guess, my son Dan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOST LIKELY NOT TO RESPOND? Will be interesting to find out. Will keep&lt;br /&gt;statistics ha ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Judy O&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-111120277430415986?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/111120277430415986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/111120277430415986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2005_03_13_archive.html#111120277430415986' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-110453529475402673</id><published>2004-12-31T15:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-31T15:21:34.756-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;HAPPY NEW YEAR 2005!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-110453529475402673?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/110453529475402673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/110453529475402673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2004_12_26_archive.html#110453529475402673' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-109491613842239691</id><published>2004-09-11T08:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-11T08:22:18.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;On this day, September 11th, of all days:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Turn Away Cold Voices...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Close your ears,&lt;br /&gt;Listen to the heartbeat of Earth,&lt;br /&gt;Close your ears,&lt;br /&gt;Feel the touch of love and all it's dear worth,&lt;br /&gt;Close your ears and see clear and clean,&lt;br /&gt;Close your heart,&lt;br /&gt;To the siren of the war machine,&lt;br /&gt;Turn away cold voices,&lt;br /&gt;Leave heartache far away in the dark,&lt;br /&gt;Turn away cold voices,&lt;br /&gt;Forget to fan the spark,&lt;br /&gt;Let not the liars tell you,&lt;br /&gt;That death becomes them,&lt;br /&gt;For no heart that beats,&lt;br /&gt;Should by any man's hand end,&lt;br /&gt;Turn away cold voices,&lt;br /&gt;Cause not any river of tears,&lt;br /&gt;Turn away cold voices,&lt;br /&gt;Full of hatred, lies, and unjust fears,&lt;br /&gt;Hold out your hand in kindness,&lt;br /&gt;Together love this Earth,&lt;br /&gt;Turn away cold voices,&lt;br /&gt;And remember the measure of your worth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 04/24/2002&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Thorn Of Crowns:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One doesn't need to be crucified to die on the inside,&lt;br /&gt;Heavy responsibility is not always easy to bear,&lt;br /&gt;Temptation can blind you at times,&lt;br /&gt;And losing you objectivity can be worse than being blind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sepia tones of old photographs can't hold you at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never forget those times you cried,&lt;br /&gt;And how they came about,&lt;br /&gt;Remember the times you smiled,&lt;br /&gt;And what gave those smiles birth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone has those moments in greater or lesser degree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if you are King of the World,&lt;br /&gt;You can't eat diamonds and emeralds,&lt;br /&gt;And fast cars and jets can carry away,&lt;br /&gt;Just as easily as to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You could be haunted even on yacht at sea under forever stars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think about it,&lt;br /&gt;Will the world truly have been better for you having walked it,&lt;br /&gt;Even just one little bit,&lt;br /&gt;The sum answers of that question alone are set in stone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The true bits of gold carried by men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When power comes upon you,&lt;br /&gt;And you've walked the the halls of rulers,&lt;br /&gt;Lying with a rattle in your throat,&lt;br /&gt;As the angels gather round you,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was the life you wore torn useless by the Thorn of Crowns?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 03/15/2004&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author's Comments:&lt;br /&gt;I think most people will understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Return My Colors:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw them waving in the breeze,&lt;br /&gt;Those threads and dyes of freedom,&lt;br /&gt;Pursuit of life, of liberty, of happiness,&lt;br /&gt;Red of courage,&lt;br /&gt;White of purity,&lt;br /&gt;Blue of truth,&lt;br /&gt;They stand for freedom,&lt;br /&gt;They do not belong,&lt;br /&gt;Upon the collars of intolerance,&lt;br /&gt;Upon the poles where heads hang,&lt;br /&gt;In the circle of a lake of tears,&lt;br /&gt;In the halls where our lives are pried open,&lt;br /&gt;Like a clamshell overfed on statute pages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want my colors back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want those colors to bring tears,&lt;br /&gt;Because they mean a home where one is soveriegn,&lt;br /&gt;Upon the lands we've worked to earn,&lt;br /&gt;Where spies are some dark shadows across oceans,&lt;br /&gt;Or figments in story books,&lt;br /&gt;And no one is disappeared without a trace,&lt;br /&gt;Just upon the say-so of fear's hounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want my colors back,&lt;br /&gt;To wear with pride,&lt;br /&gt;Because they represent a place of good hearts,&lt;br /&gt;And live as you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 08/28/2003&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author's Comments:&lt;br /&gt;Our rights and liberties are critical to the character and identity of this country. There is no place on Earth like this place was just two and a half years ago. I want that place back, and the colors that go with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Walking The Needle:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all must face a darkness today,&lt;br /&gt;As a world and as a nation,&lt;br /&gt;For the man-made shadow cast yesterday,&lt;br /&gt;And that just a cumulation of many all over the world,&lt;br /&gt;And as our hearts are torn with rage and grief,&lt;br /&gt;We must remember that we are moral beings,&lt;br /&gt;And that wanton retaliation is no such thing as moral,&lt;br /&gt;And we must remember that violence only breeds violence,&lt;br /&gt;And insanity does not bring death to life,&lt;br /&gt;For how many bombs have been thrown in truth by whom?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all must face a darkness today,&lt;br /&gt;As a person and as a human being,&lt;br /&gt;For the manmade shadow we contemplate casting today,&lt;br /&gt;And that just an addition to those all over the world,&lt;br /&gt;And as our hearts are torn with rage and grief,&lt;br /&gt;We must remember that we are moral beings,&lt;br /&gt;And that much of what races in our minds is not,&lt;br /&gt;For long after we extend our hands in violence,&lt;br /&gt;We will remember that we were amoral beings,&lt;br /&gt;And ultimately the cost is a ticker tape of blood spots,&lt;br /&gt;And shadows upon more souls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all must face a darkness today,&lt;br /&gt;And wonder how to bring back the Sun,&lt;br /&gt;And in no way can I poor poet that I am,&lt;br /&gt;Give out the definitive answer,&lt;br /&gt;For I must face a darkness today,&lt;br /&gt;Staring at the fires within my own heart,&lt;br /&gt;And perhaps that is a good place for each of us to start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 09/12/2001&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;By Candle Lit Tears:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see a soft yellow glow everywhere now,&lt;br /&gt;Millions of points of gentle light at night,&lt;br /&gt;All over this vast land with a common heartbeat,&lt;br /&gt;And the faces may change but not so the tears,&lt;br /&gt;You will know if you look and see,&lt;br /&gt;Down from up above where you are now,&lt;br /&gt;Your gift is remembered well,&lt;br /&gt;The one you didn't know you would give,&lt;br /&gt;As you left for your work and errands on that fateful day,&lt;br /&gt;But you will know it if you look,&lt;br /&gt;Not by the words of angels or historians,&lt;br /&gt;Though those may come your way,&lt;br /&gt;No, you will know it if you look,&lt;br /&gt;By the rivers of candle lit tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 09/17/2001&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to all the universe.&lt;br /&gt;Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.&lt;br /&gt;Loving words can work miracles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;There will be no further posts today in remembrance of the people and cherished intangible treasures that were damaged on this day in 2001.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-109491613842239691?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/109491613842239691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/109491613842239691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2004_09_05_archive.html#109491613842239691' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-109431144038999181</id><published>2004-09-04T08:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-04T08:24:00.390-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We were thinking of you today...</title><content type='html'>Mom,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kat went and found your old Yahoo! profile - still online after these &lt;br /&gt;near two years. Amazing, isn't it? Anyway, we all love and miss you. &lt;br /&gt;Justin has started high school this week. Bet you'd be proud. Good news &lt;br /&gt;from Tiff, too. New job, EMT &amp; nursing training in the works, all great &lt;br /&gt;stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-109431144038999181?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/109431144038999181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/109431144038999181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2004_08_29_archive.html#109431144038999181' title='We were thinking of you today...'/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-109264786336294933</id><published>2004-08-16T02:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-08-16T02:17:43.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;My Other Country:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you remember Mom?&lt;br /&gt;Do you remember how Nono and Noni were?&lt;br /&gt;They left home and went to a new country.&lt;br /&gt;They married there in that other country.&lt;br /&gt;They found someone to trust as much as they loved,&lt;br /&gt;Loyalty was as high on their list as love,&lt;br /&gt;And they found their other country.&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't Tuscany or Sicily,&lt;br /&gt;Not Quarratta or Messina,&lt;br /&gt;Just Beloit Wisconsin USA,&lt;br /&gt;That little church of the angels,&lt;br /&gt;Saint Paul's church where they said those vows,&lt;br /&gt;Where you were baptized and had first communion,&lt;br /&gt;Where you and Dad were married,&lt;br /&gt;Where Lori and I were baptized,&lt;br /&gt;Where there were angels on the ceiling.&lt;br /&gt;I walked my Baby down the street tonight,&lt;br /&gt;Around the block wobbly,&lt;br /&gt;Too much wine for her and just enough for me,&lt;br /&gt;I made her feel loved and safe like she deserves,&lt;br /&gt;Saw her off to bed after she was ready for the room to stop spinning,&lt;br /&gt;And realized I was in my other country.&lt;br /&gt;You knew because you gave us your bed back in our early days.&lt;br /&gt;Could you have picked any other way to wake us up and blow our minds?&lt;br /&gt;I think Nono and Lori were mad at each other back when,&lt;br /&gt;Neither realizing they were angry because of love,&lt;br /&gt;Because they were moving over territory no one understands,&lt;br /&gt;Each loving the other and thinking they were wrong,&lt;br /&gt;But underneath the anger was the roots of love.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe they'll know when both are in Heaven some day.&lt;br /&gt;I smoked a cigar out in the garage tonight,&lt;br /&gt;Sent the incense up to Heaven where Nono would smell it,&lt;br /&gt;Hoping he would bring all of you down to visit,&lt;br /&gt;My Quarratta and Messina and Beloit,&lt;br /&gt;The country I knew and grew up in,&lt;br /&gt;My Yates Avenue crowd.&lt;br /&gt;Noni went off in '70,&lt;br /&gt;Nono while I was away in boot camp in '79,&lt;br /&gt;And you Mom,&lt;br /&gt;It's going to be two years this February 11th,&lt;br /&gt;Just three days after my birthday.&lt;br /&gt;I've found my other country and she's beautiful and loving and loyal,&lt;br /&gt;But I can't go home and visit my mother like Nono did,&lt;br /&gt;So I picked three stars up in Heaven,&lt;br /&gt;One for each of you and glorious,&lt;br /&gt;You're at the center of Casseopia the Princess,&lt;br /&gt;Noni and Nono are at the center of Cygnus the Swan,&lt;br /&gt;And I can look up at night in the Summer,&lt;br /&gt;Even though cigar smoke will never float that high,&lt;br /&gt;I can feel you there like the undertone of my Universe,&lt;br /&gt;You in bobby socks popping bubble gum and bold,&lt;br /&gt;Noni reading the paper while the sugu simmers on the stove,&lt;br /&gt;Nono having a cigar there with me,&lt;br /&gt;Lori and Jeff and I,&lt;br /&gt;We're in our other country now,&lt;br /&gt;Even though it was the one we were born in,&lt;br /&gt;In the end all that ever made anywhere home,&lt;br /&gt;That was simply the love we've always known.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 08/16/2004&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author's Comments:&lt;br /&gt;Some place somewhere in between night and home and Heaven. It doesn't matter where that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-109264786336294933?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/109264786336294933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/109264786336294933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2004_08_15_archive.html#109264786336294933' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-109047895499586081</id><published>2004-07-21T23:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-21T23:49:15.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mom - in a place and time and dimension where you can feel this, know that Gabryella will need the whispers of your strong spirit. I wish you were here on this Earth to help her along, I pray that you will guide her in her dreams. It still shocks me when I go to pick up the phone, I can't bring myself to delete you from speed dial, I still think to call you and falter when I realize I can't. I hope and pray that you have broken through the barriers that you knew with Noni &amp; Nono - every day I sit out by our garage with my cigar and feel the three of you there, Nono has a cigar by my side, Noni reads the paper shaking her head but smiling, you sitting on the side of my pickup popping bubble gum with a pony tail and bobby socks popping bubble gum. Some times I long for four year old days watching Elvis and eating spinache. That's what hits me every time he sings, that or Ed sullivan in Noni &amp; Nono's living room. I'm not sure if Lori &amp; Jeff remember but I go back there every time. Love always to all of you,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-109047895499586081?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/109047895499586081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/109047895499586081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2004_07_18_archive.html#109047895499586081' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-109045087329324706</id><published>2004-07-21T16:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-21T16:02:25.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hope you know your a great grandma now. I know your watching. We sure miss you. Love you mom &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-109045087329324706?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/109045087329324706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/109045087329324706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2004_07_18_archive.html#109045087329324706' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-106620452188675450</id><published>2003-10-15T00:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-15T01:09:10.946-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Nono used to let me help fill the humidifier behind the furnace and change the filters. Funny how they had a showerhead coming out of the unfinished ceiling down there so the bathtub would stay nice. I remember there was a meat grinder on Nono's work bench too down there, the kind you crank by hand, and that Noni would sometimes use it to grind beef for meatballs or chicken livers for the sugu. Bet you thought I'd forgot, hmm? And all the canning we used to do in that house when we lived there with Noni later? Remember that, Mom? Noni used to have a garden back there too, I think. I know she used a clothesline out there and that ringer washer forever. Clothespins were fascinating, especially when she started getting the ones with springs. Noni also had the old Singer sewing machine. She was great at sewing. I remember she told me one time she used to work at the old Freeman Shoe plant - not the one out in the industrial park along the interstate, the one before that that was a smaller brick place down Yates a few blocks. I think that was the same place your storage unit was when you had the construction company. I remember a zillion times watching the flywheel spin on that old treadle powered sewing machine. It was a really nice one, too, in great condition. Noni kept it perfect. Do you know if she made Johnny for me? I can't remember. She used to make those funny turtles that the bath soap went into, too. Those were neat. They were usually red or green and made out of some thin sponge material. Lots of times if I was really a mess she would have me take a bath in that concrete wash basin down there in the basement. I remember that, too. I remember all the details of the furniture, like the red chair with Berber fabric on it that she sat in a lot that had the carved wood handles, and the round table with the drawer in it made out of wood they sat in front of the bay window. There was some kind of foot stool, too. It had a leather top and metal wire hoops for legs. Nono would always sit by the round table reading the newspaper in the mornings after his stroke, with the huge magnifying glass. I also remember when the crab apple tree he planted for Noni right in front of the bay window was planted. It seemed just like a little stick, but it grew taller than me by the time we finally moved away for the last time. I remember watching Felix the Cat at their house a zillion times, too, or playing with my friend Jimmy Wallace down the street until they would call me in. I bet you were at work then. I sure know you did enough of that in your life. You know, that memory about Nono'sd stroke just reminded me how they always drove Ford Falcons, and how Noni would have to drive because Nono's eye closed after his stroke. I remember the trips to Monroe and the steam locomotive in the park there, or out to Johnny's farm and the way Johnny's wife always gave us milk fresh from the cows, or picking strawberries in the springtime with Noni and sometimes you were off work and got to go too. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-106620452188675450?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/106620452188675450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/106620452188675450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_10_12_archive.html#106620452188675450' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-106620356092403057</id><published>2003-10-15T00:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-15T00:39:20.563-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Noni is behind my love of percolators, too. I watched her perk the coffee many an early morning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-106620356092403057?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/106620356092403057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/106620356092403057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_10_12_archive.html#106620356092403057' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-106620349609874277</id><published>2003-10-15T00:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-15T00:38:15.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mom, I just figured out that the birthday cake in that picture of Nono, Noni, and Jeff has two pink candles on it. Being dated September of 1966, that would make it Lori Ann's 2nd birthday party. Thought she might like to know that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-106620349609874277?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/106620349609874277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/106620349609874277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_10_12_archive.html#106620349609874277' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-106620213168385597</id><published>2003-10-15T00:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-15T00:15:31.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Some things I should mention:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nono is why I love sitting in front of my garage with the radio on smoking cigars in the summer.  He also is why I use a three head Norelco electric razor to this day to shave with. I was given one of his old ones when I was thirteen, started using it when I was 17, and used it until it fell apart when I was over thirty. I think it must have been nearly thirty itself. Because of Nono, I saw Muhammed Ali fight as it happened many times. Nono is why I respect a man who is a solid worker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noni is why it near brings tears to my eyes to cook pasta, why I can't look at a rolling pin without thinking of made completely from scratch ravioli, why ironing always makes me feel at peace when I do it, even though it's not often.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both of them are why I love listening to Elvis, why I think Christmas demands lights, why I know there is magic in the world. It's there because people have something called love. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite all the mistakes they made, Mom made, and WE made and make, that is one thing all of us know deep down. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-106620213168385597?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/106620213168385597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/106620213168385597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_10_12_archive.html#106620213168385597' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-106620120913373754</id><published>2003-10-15T00:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-15T00:04:10.513-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I put some of these pictures up at my desk at work so that I'd always remember my people.  Noni &amp; her mama were from Medina in Sicily, Nono was un Tuscano from Quarratta in Italia. Both emigrated to the United States in the 1920's and wound up settling in Beloit, WI as there was work and a large population of Italian Immigrants there. Noni's mother and her brother, Uncle Ross Gerizzo both came over as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noni's mother is buried in the cemetery out on Colley Road in Beloit,  and when I was very little we would go every week and trim the grass 'round her headstone and put out flowers. She died before I was born, at age 65 of leukemia. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noni &amp; Nono are buried side by side in the cemetery out on Shopier Road next to Our Lady of The Assumption Catholic school and church. So is Uncle Ross. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noni died of leukemia at 65 also. I was eight years old when she died. We were living in Nebraska, 500 miles away. Mom drove all the way back as fast as she could, but Noni was gone before we could get there. That was the first time I'd ever seen my mother cry. Noni &amp; Mom hasd often had a very antagonistic relationship, to put it mildly, but I think they had healed much of it after Mom was an adult. I know Noni was an AWESOME grandmother. She was absolutely incredible in the kitchen. I can not stress that one point enough,  cooking was her art and she was a master at it. Her spagetti sauce (Sugu in Italian) would go on the stove to simmer at 6:00 in the morning, and be there until it was time for dinner. Everything she ever touched in that kitchen at 1740 Yates Avenue turned to absolute gold.  Lori is the one who should post all the recipies, but no one could ever duplicate her craft. She spoiled us all rotten, too. There are so many things I remember about her, the way she would iron in the basement and listen to Mario Lanza on one of those old suitcase record players. The way she grew fresh spices under the kitchen window in the flower beds along the house. The way she would make biscotti, the big snowflake flat cookies in an iron like a press. She would always knit scarves and mittens and hats and afghans and baby booties for people. She loved the soap operas, and also the old Divorce Court. She was quite capable of giving a dose of razor sharp tongue to any adult she didn't agree with, but she treated us children wonderfully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uncle Ross is buried in the same cemetery as Nono &amp; Noni. He died before I was born. Mom and Nono both told me he had a heart attack watching the "Friday night fights" - boxing. The same thing happened to Nono in 1979 while I was away in basic training for the Air Force. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nono was always a worker when I was very little. He worked at Fairbanks Morse for 44 years. (Now owned by Colt Industries.) I remember how Noni would drive down in the afternoon to pick him up, and I would run down the sidewalk in front of Fairbanks and he would pick me up and whirl me around. Sometimes Noni would go to the Old Fashioned Bakery across the street from Fairbanks on Park Avenue before he got out of work, and she would buy Jelly Bismarcs, my favorite. The lady who ran the shop would always give me a free sugar cookie. Sometimes Nono and Noni would go to Frank the Tailor's place. He was an Italian tailor who made really nice clothes for gentlemen. (Frank moved back to Italy when I was  in my early teens.) Other times they would go to the Italian grocery store in Rockford and the delivery men would roll out huge wheels of Parmesian cheese. Italian grocery stores, the real thing, they are WONDERFUL places. The smells and all the foods... At any rate, Nono was a quiet man mostly, given his choice. He loved smoking cigars in the summer, outside with the garage door open and the baseball game on a little clock radio on the shelf. If you look at the full size picture of him and his mother here, he has a lit cigar in his left hand. He and I would watch all the westerns on Friday nights unless there was boxing on. Often Nono, Noni, and I would watch the Ed Sullivan show together. I saw Elvis's 1968 comeback special with them, and one of his appearances on Ed Sullivan. I also saw the Beatles on Ed Sullivan with them when the Beatles were a new phenomenon. I think I was three or four. We also watched Flip Wilson and Red Skelton, the old Dick VanDyke show, and the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. Nono had lots of neat old tools in the garage, and he would work on things and teach me little bits. He taught me how to ride a bike without training wheels. I used the same method to teach my son. Nono had a little tiny dog later in his life, long after Noni passed away. Her name was precious, and she was half Pekinese and half Poodle. The two of them were inseparable. Nono would also always have a glass of wine with dinner. Every night. Not several glasses, at most two. It was part of dinner. We would have hard salami and gallon jugs of Gallo red table wine down in the wine cellar, and we'd always have to go fill his little wine decanter before dinner. He had his moments, he would get mad at us as teenagers and say bad things to us, but it was always alright in the end. People just have limits and sometimes even when your really love someone alot they get to you and you have to vent, but we always knew in the end how it really was. I think Nono was Mom's favorite person on Earth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom, I know this place is supposed to be about you, but the memory of you is incomplete without the memory of these two. Ypour adopted parents and you had your difficulties, I know, but I remember you telling me that they made up for it as grandparents, and I know you meant Noni. Now that you are all together up there in Heaven, I hope that the two of you can share the love that transcends this place, this school we all came to. I may very well write of them in bits and pieces here, because they are a part of your story as much as any of us are. These are things that deserve not to be lost. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-106620120913373754?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/106620120913373754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/106620120913373754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_10_12_archive.html#106620120913373754' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-106619760004462027</id><published>2003-10-14T23:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-14T22:59:59.373-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I just added some more pictures, people that were dear to Mom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-106619760004462027?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/106619760004462027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/106619760004462027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_10_12_archive.html#106619760004462027' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-106527452041940264</id><published>2003-10-04T06:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-04T06:35:20.083-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mom, just wondering if I can still write you...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-106527452041940264?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/106527452041940264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/106527452041940264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_09_28_archive.html#106527452041940264' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-106150331019076297</id><published>2003-08-21T15:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-21T15:01:50.193-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>In Search Of Light:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the deep dark mejik I fell under tonight,&lt;br /&gt;There were ghosts and miseries,&lt;br /&gt;Plans I could never see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The windows all were closed,&lt;br /&gt;But a draft fell on my candle flame,&lt;br /&gt;Tears were never far,&lt;br /&gt;Angels on the window sill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny how the night is so deep in between my ears,&lt;br /&gt;But it's just a bit south and left where the hole lies,&lt;br /&gt;And nothing can ever quite fill it right again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I can't give you the crystal ball answers,&lt;br /&gt;No I can't open the blinds on life,&lt;br /&gt;All I can do is stand here looking for the lighthouse,&lt;br /&gt;Wondering where you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 08/21/2003&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author's Comments:&lt;br /&gt;Missing those who've passed beyond my world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-106150331019076297?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/106150331019076297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/106150331019076297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_08_17_archive.html#106150331019076297' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-106145635312721945</id><published>2003-08-21T01:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-21T02:03:53.096-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hi, Mom, I was just thinking of you today. Funny, I do that most days, thinking maybe you're peeking over my shoulder here at the switch, watching what I write, wondering at all the escapades we kids are pulling off. I guess no one ever comes here to Earth prepared to miss someone every day. You can't write about it as often as you think about. Spouses sure don't understand, they just think they've "cut the cord" as they like to call it. As if being close to your parents or siblings is something wrong. It's a funny, subtle thing I don't even think they recognize that they do. Anyway, I hope you are having long talks with Noni &amp; Nono. I hope you're up there telling E how cool his music STILL is. I sent Kat the two ringers for you. I think she thought that was pretty cool. Go knock 'em around once in awhile and let her know you remember...  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would really like it if you came and said hi through Saren some time soon. I'm sorry I couldn't do that the day you were leaving, it was just too much, silly as all that is. And I hope your angel is helping all those who need it so badly. I'll be reading in the chicago Poetry Fest this year. I think I might do one for you if I get that far...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-106145635312721945?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/106145635312721945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/106145635312721945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_08_17_archive.html#106145635312721945' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-105768529894321636</id><published>2003-07-08T10:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-07-08T10:28:18.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mom, hope you were watching all those fireworks on the beach Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-105768529894321636?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/105768529894321636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/105768529894321636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_07_06_archive.html#105768529894321636' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-94780442</id><published>2003-05-23T04:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-23T04:10:33.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>By the way, be on the lookout for Gramma Varden - she's on her way up there if she hasn't arrived already. Tell her thank you for all the wonderful dinners when I was little,, and DON'T tell her that I think Noni busted the all-time record for out-cooking kitchen angels. They were both great at it, just different, Must be Gramma Magic. And tell Gramma Enid and Granpa Cecil I miss them and we are going to hang out some when I get up there because we didn't enough when they were here in school. I intend to be awhile yet, though. Lots to see down here in the classroom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-94780442?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/94780442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/94780442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_05_18_archive.html#94780442' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-94780344</id><published>2003-05-23T04:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-23T04:06:03.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I think that's OK for now. I'm going to do my best to come up with at least one memory a week. That would be good, and It will give me a set goal to reflect on Mom's life. I guess   that in a way, this how I talk to her now. Some of the things I would say are, say hi to Noni &amp; Nono, tell them I miss them. Say hi to Uncle Ross whom I never got to meet. Say hi to Great Granpa Keeney, it was fun when I got to meet him, wish it had been earlier in life. Say hi to Elvis, 'cause I'm trying not to wreck his songs too bad when I sing 'em. Hope you take Samantha Joe out to play and go Bye-Bye every day, and don't forget her coffee in the morning! If you go camping, look up and spot a shooting star and remember I'd be doing that for hours while we swapped campfire stories if I were with you. Love you, Mom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-94780344?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/94780344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/94780344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_05_18_archive.html#94780344' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-94780214</id><published>2003-05-23T03:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-23T03:59:47.730-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I remember when I gave Mom an Un-Candle for Mother's day. I was in high school, I think it was the first time I'd bought her a gift with my own money from my part time job. That's the candle that uses a little oil with the wick floating on what looks like a glass of water. I think she liked it, but as usual I didn't know what to get her, so I picked something I liked. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-94780214?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/94780214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/94780214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_05_18_archive.html#94780214' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-94780158</id><published>2003-05-23T03:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-23T03:57:17.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It seems strange to me that it's been so long since I've been here. there are so many memories, but at times it's hard to pull them up. Let's see what I can find....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-94780158?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/94780158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/94780158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_05_18_archive.html#94780158' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-94780141</id><published>2003-05-23T03:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-23T03:56:14.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Missed Mom this past Mother's Day. Lori was too. She couldn't get here to post, but I talked to her and know it. I went to Sheboygan and did some good environmental work, in her memory. I'm going to spend time the rest of my life trying to help improve the region around me, that we all called home. That's in honor of her memory. Whatever little bits I can do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-94780141?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/94780141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/94780141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_05_18_archive.html#94780141' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-92868546</id><published>2003-04-18T19:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-04-18T19:34:14.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't know why it comes to mind now, but i remember when I was in first grade, I went to a friend's house after school without asking...we were playing hotwheels, and of course I couldn't resist. Mom got freaked when I didn't make it home on time, and started driving all over looking for me. She got in an accident and broke her ankle. I always felt so horrible about her being on crutches because of that. And silly enough, I missed the car that was wrecked, too. Mom used to call her Gertrude...and old sixties Ford Falcon, two tone powder blue and white if I remember right. My grand parents had driven falcons since some time before I was born, and this one was like Nono &amp; Noni's falcon that got totalled by a drunk when Mom brought Jeff home from the hospital right after he was born. I guess no matter if she got pissed at me at times, I never doubted where I stood with her. I'd remember that cast on her leg and know...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-92868546?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/92868546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/92868546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_04_13_archive.html#92868546' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-92868303</id><published>2003-04-18T19:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-04-18T19:25:32.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Funny, I can't seem to remember any specific Easter, just the way they were in general...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-92868303?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/92868303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/92868303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_04_13_archive.html#92868303' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-92868269</id><published>2003-04-18T19:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-04-18T19:24:42.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Just thinking of Mom this Easter weekend...remembering being little and we would go to Nono &amp; Noni's house, and they would do the egg and basket hunt in the house and yard, how magic that was. Of course, we never really appreciated the new clothes then, but looking back I have an adult's eye to that somewhat now. I remember how I always wanted white chocolate Easter bunnies..and of course Lori &amp; Jeff always wanted regular chocolate. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-92868269?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/92868269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/92868269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_04_13_archive.html#92868269' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-91972755</id><published>2003-04-04T01:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-04-04T01:35:33.763-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Another early memory is kind of foggy, but Mom took me to someplace out in the country and I got to ride on a pony or small horse. I don't think I was quite two yet. It was fun but kind of scary. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-91972755?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/91972755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/91972755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_03_30_archive.html#91972755' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-91972658</id><published>2003-04-04T01:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-04-04T01:32:11.310-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The earliest memory I have of Mom is from when I was one year old. She was ironing clothes in the basement, and the doorbell rang. I had gone down stairs and crawled under the ironing board. Mom went up to answer the door, she must have been talking to the person that came over. I was trying to unplug the iron to turn it off, the cords were draped over the board and I didn't think I could get out without pulling the iron down on me. I didn't grasp yet that the iron wouldn't cool off right away. So I kept unplugging one cord, ansd putting my hand up by the iron, feeling it's heat. I'd put that cord back together and unplug another. (There were a couple of extension cords.) On the third one, my pointer finger slipped between the prongs of the cord. Standing barefoot on wet concrete, needless to say I had my own "Ben Franklin Key On The Kite String" moment. I was standing there screaming and frying, when someone in uniform came downstairs followed closely by Mom. Mom reached to grab me, and whoever the guy was slammed her up against the wall and kicked the cord off my finger. It was not a forgettable experience. Mom carried me upstairs and ran my finger under cold water in the kitchen faucet. It had been seared to the bone. The scar is still there. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-91972658?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/91972658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/91972658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_03_30_archive.html#91972658' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-91972417</id><published>2003-04-04T01:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-04-04T01:23:04.060-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's been awhile since I've been here, I think I just needed to let myself grow used to that she's really gone. That the number in my cell phone memory goes to someone or something else. I keep thinking of her, and remembering. I guess it's time to share some of those memories, a little at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kat - to answer your question, Saren says she woke up on the other side. Saren tells me that when someone goes through a passage like that, they are "asleep" on the other side for awhile while the guides work on them. Not sure what that means, but I know Mom had a rough ride out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-91972417?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/91972417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/91972417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_03_30_archive.html#91972417' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-91281455</id><published>2003-03-24T06:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-03-24T06:57:18.593-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hello Everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has anyone "heard from" or "felt" Judy around here or there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am really MISSING her so much right now.  Don't know if I just haven't been open, or quiet enough to hear or feel her yet.... but I miss her soo much today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;purrs,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kat&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-91281455?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/91281455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/91281455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_03_23_archive.html#91281455' title=''/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17904856997686254485</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-90405951</id><published>2003-03-09T08:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-03-09T08:58:49.233-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hi Kids;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry that I missed your Mom's celebration of life. I didn't&lt;br /&gt;find out where it was to be held until I read her obituary just tonight.&lt;br /&gt;Your Mom loved life with a zest that very few others that I have met&lt;br /&gt;have had. Try to find that zest for life for yourselves. Your Mom was&lt;br /&gt;the leader in your family for all of these years. It's your turn now. I&lt;br /&gt;know that you will make her proud.&lt;br /&gt;                                                    &lt;br /&gt;I love you both,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-90405951?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/90405951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/90405951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_03_09_archive.html#90405951' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-90394367</id><published>2003-03-09T01:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-03-09T01:12:32.653-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hi Dan;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed your collection about the dunes. When we were young, your&lt;br /&gt;mother and I used to go to the shore of lake superior and it looked very&lt;br /&gt;much like the dunes, except that at the top of the cliffs, there was&lt;br /&gt;grass growing. Where we went was the mouth of a river. I think it was&lt;br /&gt;the bad river. It was in Wisconsin just a few miles south of the upper&lt;br /&gt;peninsula of Michigan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a power plant about a quarter of a mile up the river from&lt;br /&gt;where it emptied into lake Michigan. The water in the river was like&lt;br /&gt;bath water because it was heated from the power plant. one time we made&lt;br /&gt;a boat from a large tractor inner tube and paddled up the river. just&lt;br /&gt;after the power plant was a water fall. It was beautiful there and we&lt;br /&gt;had a very nice time swimming in the warm water just below the falls.&lt;br /&gt;So your love of the water and the beach comes naturally from both&lt;br /&gt;sides. It's your heritage. Tuck this in your memories of your mom. It's&lt;br /&gt;one of the best ones that I have of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-90394367?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/90394367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/90394367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_03_09_archive.html#90394367' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-90122523</id><published>2003-03-04T09:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-03-04T09:49:00.093-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A card I just received yesterday:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Sympathy -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Dan, Lori, Jeff - &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wishing you peace in your time of sorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Signed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With affection and good memories of your mother,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alberto &amp; Jean Jimenez&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;These are one of my best friend's parents. I have known Luis Jimenez since we were in 7th grade.&lt;br /&gt;Luis's father, Alberto, is also in the advanced stages of Parkinson's. These are folk I very highly respect.&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, Alberto &amp; Jean!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-90122523?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/90122523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/90122523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_03_02_archive.html#90122523' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-90113757</id><published>2003-03-04T06:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-03-04T06:59:22.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Professor" &lt;/center&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by Dawn Klein&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;posted by Kat for Dawn&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met Judy a little over 2 years ago while advocating.  We formed an incredible friendship that I will always cherish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Judy and I just talked more than anything.  She taught me so much that I eventually began to refer to her as &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt; Professor.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  We talked about advocacy, computers and empowerment.  LOL, there were even times when she gave me assigned books to read.  She was one of the few people in the world who understood the demands of dealing with my 8 year old son's disability.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we talked on instant messanger, I had to type while Judy talked.  If my sons heard me talking to Judy, they would come in, take control of the microphone and talk to Judy endlessly.  In order for me to talk to Judy, I told the boys my microphone was broken.  Many times while we were chatting, we would think the same thing.  She would say it while I was typing it.  I always said &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt; "we're like two peas in a pod." &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; Judy always responded with &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt; "great minds think alike."  &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Judy gave me strength that I didn't know I had.&lt;br /&gt;I had years of torment dealing with the school system.  Judy was always there to share her knowledge and support.  She's cried with me.  She's ranted and raved with me.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two years ago,  I walked into a school meeting about my son.   I alone faced off against 11 school officials all trying to label my son as mentally retarded and write him off.  Judy was one of the &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;first &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; people I contacted to share my pain with.  In her typical fashion, she cheerleaded me and got me past the pain and onto using the anger to fight vehemently for my son.  She also was ready to come to Ohio and go to the next meeting with me.  And since that couldn't be done, she wanted the school to set up a PC, mic and use voice conferencing to be there. &lt;P&gt; Unfortunately, I live in a very rural and backward area and just finding a VCR to play a videotape about my son's disorder was a challenge for them, let alone doing a conference via PC.  Just knowing that she was with me in &lt;i&gt;spirit,&lt;/i&gt; got me through the meeting and I was able to get my son into a regular kindergarten classroom.  &lt;P&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, no matter how much strength Judy gave me, the school system eventually wore me down.  So I'm now homeschoolling him and didn't  have the time to chat and visit with Judy very often.  But as always, the &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Professor &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; understood and anytime I had to voice chat with her, I did.  We always had such a fun time chatting.  We laughed till my sides hurt.  And each and everytime I talked with her, I learned something new. &lt;p&gt;  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Judy never missed a chance to send my son's cards. My sons, JJ and Adam, don't know many of those whom I've met on the internet but they knew Judy.  Anytime she found a funny card she thought they'd like, she'd send it to them.  She often sent video postcards telling us hello.  She wanted JJ and Adam to know what she looked like.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Judy was very proud of her &lt;i&gt; children and grandchildren.&lt;/i&gt;  Family seemed to be the center of so many of our discussions.  I can only hope that I'm half the mom and person she was! &lt;br /&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There just aren't enough words to express how much Judy means to me and how much I &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;valued her friendship.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  I miss the &lt;i&gt;Professor&lt;/i&gt; terribly.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dawn Klein&lt;br /&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kat's Note: Dawn, Judy and I have been best of friends and support to each other these last 2+ years.&lt;br&gt; Internet friendships come and go, mostly go. A person has to be careful &amp; smart when getting to know someone on the Net. &lt;br&gt;However it seemed the 3 of us hit it right off, and nothing but truth, support, sharing &amp; caring have been what I have known from both Judy &amp; Dawn.&lt;br&gt;  Something rare in 3-D life, and even more rare on the Net.&lt;br&gt; The Threee Muskteers are now Two Friends grateful for having known Judy, but really &lt;br&gt; MISSING HER SO!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;&lt;P&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-90113757?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/90113757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/90113757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_03_02_archive.html#90113757' title=''/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17904856997686254485</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89858437</id><published>2003-02-27T12:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-27T12:50:18.060-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>When Tomorrow Starts Without Me&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When tomorrow starts without me,&lt;br /&gt;And I'm not there to see,&lt;br /&gt;If the sun should rise and find your eyes&lt;br /&gt;All filled with tears for me;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish so much you wouldn't cry&lt;br /&gt;The way you did today,&lt;br /&gt;While thinking of the many things,&lt;br /&gt;We didn't get to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know how much you love me,&lt;br /&gt;As much as I love you,&lt;br /&gt;And each time that you think of me,&lt;br /&gt;I know you'll miss me too;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when tomorrow starts without me,&lt;br /&gt;Please try to understand,&lt;br /&gt;That an angel came and called my name,&lt;br /&gt;And took me by the hand,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And said my place was ready,&lt;br /&gt;In heaven far above,&lt;br /&gt;And that I'd have to leave behind&lt;br /&gt;All those I dearly love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as I turned to walk away,&lt;br /&gt;A tear fell from my eye&lt;br /&gt;For all my life, I'd always thought,&lt;br /&gt;I didn't want to die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had so much to live for,&lt;br /&gt;So much left yet to do,&lt;br /&gt;It almost seemed impossible&lt;br /&gt;That I was leaving you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought of all the yesterdays,&lt;br /&gt;The good ones and the bad,&lt;br /&gt;I thought of all the love we shared,&lt;br /&gt;And all the fun we had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I could relive yesterday,&lt;br /&gt;Just even for a while,&lt;br /&gt;I'd say good-bye and kiss you&lt;br /&gt;And maybe see you smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I fully realized,&lt;br /&gt;That this could never be,&lt;br /&gt;For emptiness and memories,&lt;br /&gt;Would take the place of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when I thought of worldly things,&lt;br /&gt;I might miss come tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt;I thought of you, and when I did,&lt;br /&gt;My heart was filled with sorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when I walked through heaven's gates,&lt;br /&gt;I felt so much at home.&lt;br /&gt;When God looked down and smiled at me,&lt;br /&gt;From His great golden throne,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, "This is eternity,&lt;br /&gt;And all I've promised you.&lt;br /&gt;Today your life on earth is past,&lt;br /&gt;But here life starts anew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise no tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt;But today will always last,&lt;br /&gt;And since each day's the same way&lt;br /&gt;There's no longing for the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have been so faithful,&lt;br /&gt;So trusting and so true.&lt;br /&gt;Though there were times you did some things&lt;br /&gt;You knew you shouldn't do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you have been forgiven&lt;br /&gt;And now at last you're free.&lt;br /&gt;So won't you come and take my hand&lt;br /&gt;And share my life with me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when tomorrow starts without me,&lt;br /&gt;Don't think we're far apart,&lt;br /&gt;For every time you think of me,&lt;br /&gt;I'm right here, in your heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I know mom would of loved this one too!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89858437?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89858437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89858437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_23_archive.html#89858437' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89858107</id><published>2003-02-27T12:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-27T12:47:01.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sometimes life seems hard to bear,&lt;br /&gt;Full of sorrow, trouble and woe&lt;br /&gt;It's then I have to remember&lt;br /&gt;That it's in the valleys I grow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I always stayed on the mountain top&lt;br /&gt;And never experienced pain,&lt;br /&gt;I would never appreciate God's love&lt;br /&gt;And would be living in vain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have so much to learn&lt;br /&gt;And my growth is very slow,&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I need the mountain tops,&lt;br /&gt;But it's in the valleys I grow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not always understand&lt;br /&gt;Why things happen as they do,&lt;br /&gt;But I am very sure of one thing.&lt;br /&gt;My Lord will see me through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My little valleys are nothing&lt;br /&gt;When I picture Christ on the cross&lt;br /&gt;He went through the valley of death;&lt;br /&gt;His victory was Satan's loss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forgive me Lord, for complaining&lt;br /&gt;When I'm feeling so very low.&lt;br /&gt;Just give me a gentle reminder&lt;br /&gt;That it's in the valleys I grow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Continue to strengthen me, Lord&lt;br /&gt;And use my life each day&lt;br /&gt;To share your love with others&lt;br /&gt;And help them find their way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for valleys, Lord&lt;br /&gt;For this one thing I know&lt;br /&gt;The mountain tops are glorious&lt;br /&gt;But it's in the valleys I grow!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a beautiful poem my sister-in-law sent me sometime ago. I save it for when I need a little reminder.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89858107?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89858107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89858107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_23_archive.html#89858107' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89593947</id><published>2003-02-23T03:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-23T03:04:33.153-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Bubble Mountain:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An eight year old attempting to learn something new,&lt;br /&gt;A mother teaching thought she'd had the job true,&lt;br /&gt;"Fill the little door there with dish soap, push the lever."&lt;br /&gt;"Push the button there and then you can leave 'er."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom says she's off to take a nap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me, I'm off playing hotwheels in a sixties Nebraska summer,&lt;br /&gt;Chargers and dragsters and hotrods, but nary a Hummer.&lt;br /&gt;The field behind the house is hot, and sand burrs in the yard,&lt;br /&gt;Long summer days in the middle of nothing are not hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually not, until you hear Mom scream!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran in the house, expecting a louse, or a monster's glare,&lt;br /&gt;But the sight that I saw I couldn't even draw, all I could do was stare!&lt;br /&gt;From the living room door they were coming out of the kitchen,&lt;br /&gt;A mountain of bubbles, suds taller than a skinny kid due for switchin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't believe my eyes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A myriad tiny rainbowed suds, filling a twenty foot room,&lt;br /&gt;And a screaming mother wading through with no broom.&lt;br /&gt;Trying to find the sink, or the dishwasher door,&lt;br /&gt;So that Ivory Liquid wouldn't make any more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bubble blob was eating our house!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twenty minutes more and the basement would be,&lt;br /&gt;Drowning in foamy white suds 'cause of me.&lt;br /&gt;We spent the rest of the day bailing with pans,&lt;br /&gt;And cold water running and filling our hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took hours to wash them all down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent the next two days washing everything five feet and under,&lt;br /&gt;And with a spinning head full of childish wonder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why hadn't she said Cascade?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 07/21/2000&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author's Comments:&lt;br /&gt;A real life tale of childhood. I know it sounds like Little Rick and Lucy,&lt;br /&gt;But it truly was me and my Mom. I've never seen anything like it since.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89593947?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89593947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89593947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_23_archive.html#89593947' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89593715</id><published>2003-02-23T02:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-23T02:52:43.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Boundaries Of Pictures:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A heart can be broken to look,&lt;br /&gt;Joy may fly into a face in remembrance,&lt;br /&gt;Cheeks may flush at the cringe,&lt;br /&gt;Reality even seem to bend,&lt;br /&gt;In the magic of artistic illusion,&lt;br /&gt;Time may stop and start like an engine,&lt;br /&gt;Racing into the great beyond,&lt;br /&gt;All these lanes we drive so hard,&lt;br /&gt;Yet you can twist the key 'til breaking,&lt;br /&gt;Shift every lever you find,&lt;br /&gt;But there is no reverse,&lt;br /&gt;Not even the slightest brakes,&lt;br /&gt;And that's what drives you to tears the most,&lt;br /&gt;The universal law of the boundaries of pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 02/23/2002&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author's Comments:&lt;br /&gt;A life lesson reinforced yesterday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89593715?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89593715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89593715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_23_archive.html#89593715' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89548667</id><published>2003-02-22T04:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-22T04:58:38.330-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>From Art Paul Schlosser, my high school friend and Madison Counter Culture / underground street music icon:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Dan&lt;br /&gt;You had a real nice Mom or I don't know how nice she was to you but she was real nice to me and I'll miss all her nice words.I'll also miss someone reading my poems.Well I hope Jesus fills some of the hole that you Mom has left.And hope she is up in Heaven dancing with Jesus-ART PAUL &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89548667?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89548667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89548667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89548667' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89547956</id><published>2003-02-22T04:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-22T04:21:21.223-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;04/05/2001 conversation regarding old Saint Pauls Church, Beloit, WI, now the Beloit Angel Museum, and where I and Lori were both baptized:&lt;br /&gt;(Poem is "The Angel's Church" at http://www.lightverse.com)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know that much about it, but I'm glad you told me. I just remember going there with Noni &amp; Nono &amp; that I liked it. I think I'm going to add a few excerpts from your note below as remarks to my poem, I think it's a great story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;judy oberbruner wrote:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi Dan,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;amazing you found a picture of that church.&lt;br /&gt;Noni and Nono were married in that church in 1927 I think.&lt;br /&gt;I received my first communion there. In a beautiful white dress with all the&lt;br /&gt;angels painted on the walls and ceiling. I was confirmed in that church too.&lt;br /&gt;Your dad and I were married there also.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the Italians met there for mass. The mass was in Italian for years.&lt;br /&gt;Father Perrardi. (sp?) An old Italian priest said mass there for many many&lt;br /&gt;years. I used to look at all the cherubs in gold and blue clouds. It was so&lt;br /&gt;beautiful. Then an American/Italian priest took it over Fr De Steffano. He&lt;br /&gt;obliterated all the angels and all the statues and turned it into a modern&lt;br /&gt;church stark black and white. It was awful. They used to have spagetti&lt;br /&gt;dinners there. Italian men cooked. the food was wonderful. I know you went&lt;br /&gt;to some when you were little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Easter all the women gossiped about each others hats and clothes. Who was&lt;br /&gt;too loud or who wore a different color other than black after their husbands&lt;br /&gt;died. Or who wore black too long after their husbands died. Who went to&lt;br /&gt;early mass or who went to late mass, What man was henpecked or what daughter&lt;br /&gt;brought her new boyfriend. Tons of gossip and fun for a little kid. Me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you&lt;br /&gt;Mom &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89547956?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89547956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89547956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89547956' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89547831</id><published>2003-02-22T04:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-22T04:14:31.856-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mom, 3/30/2001 about a poem remembering her Dad, our grandfather, Nono:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi Dan,&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe you find these pictures and remember&lt;br /&gt;such detail.  This poem takes me back in time too.&lt;br /&gt;Nono did this when I was little too. Awesome.&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;br /&gt;Mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;IMG SRC="http://www.southcom.com.au/~pauledgr/admiral.jpg" HEIGHT=175&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That Old Garage Radio:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plastic, white, AM, yellowed clear dial,&lt;br /&gt;Gold letters Admiral and a model, a style,&lt;br /&gt;Baseball, summer evenings and afternoons,&lt;br /&gt;Memories and stories and bits of music, too.&lt;br /&gt;Lawn chairs, cigar smoke, a smile and fun,&lt;br /&gt;Antique tools and bicycles, a faster run,&lt;br /&gt;Best friends and grandfathers, things you cannot see,&lt;br /&gt;I saw one in the broadcast museum, it brought back memory,&lt;br /&gt;A child's days, a child's ways, thoughts of summer Sun,&lt;br /&gt;Sparklers and lightning bugs, red scooter runs,&lt;br /&gt;An old Ford Falcon in green,&lt;br /&gt;Just another old machine,&lt;br /&gt;That radio that held the world of summer,&lt;br /&gt;There in a tiny plastic box,&lt;br /&gt;What I wouldn't give to watch Nono smoking in his chair,&lt;br /&gt;There when the Mets played the Sox.&lt;br /&gt;Take me, take me out to the ball game!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 2001&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author's Comments:&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes the finest memories are so simple.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89547831?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89547831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89547831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89547831' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89547380</id><published>2003-02-22T03:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-22T03:55:43.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mom, 2/25/2001, regarding a poem I wrote entitled "Retreating Into The Wind":&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi Dan, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is really beautiful. The picture looks so&lt;br /&gt;peaceful. wouldn't it be wonderful to live near the&lt;br /&gt;water. I hope you will one day soon. I always wanted&lt;br /&gt;to.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I love you,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;IMG SRC="http://www.whizzyrds.com/IN_Dunes.jpeg" HEIGHT=250&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Retreating Into The Wind:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brewer Sands, Dunes State Park.....&lt;br /&gt;My Sweetheart's cousin has a second house two blocks off the beach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lee &amp; Joseph were kind enough to lend us the key for the weekend.&lt;br /&gt;The October weather was chill &amp; windy, sun interspersed with fluffy white clouds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up in the morning, yawning &amp; loving. &lt;br /&gt;The ancient metal-spring queen frame with comforting little squeaks, soft, but crisp cotton sheets.&lt;br /&gt;Lounging late and relaxed, dreamy slow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The house is a white, two-story, fifties style American home, with a side deck.&lt;br /&gt;The little white garage stands alone, there on the alley end.&lt;br /&gt;We arrived late Friday night, or Saturday morning for the technical types, at 12:04 a.m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brewer Sands is down the street from the State Park, an old industrial area, suburb of a large city.&lt;br /&gt;The neighborhood reminds me of my hometown, Beloit, Wisconsin. &lt;br /&gt;It's slightly run down, older homes, a homey neighborhood and somewhat quaint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inside, the house is decorated in beachy decor &amp; pictures, sandy sunrise pastels,&lt;br /&gt;The aqua blues of water, lots of wood, &amp; hardwood floors.&lt;br /&gt;White chair rail separates the aqua below from the sandy, sunny upper walls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fireplace was lonely for firewood, but it would have to wait for another visit.&lt;br /&gt;Grinding morning coffee &amp; making Sweetheart tea, I looked out the kitchen window over the sink.&lt;br /&gt;I could see down to the neighbors' roof, mature trees, T.V. antenna, the house just down the hill. &lt;br /&gt;Squirrels and birds are the other neighbors here, running below my eyes, nesting in waving branch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love it here, the furniture covered in colorful pastel sheets, everything old and comfy.&lt;br /&gt;It was like your bedroom at home in the fall when you were a kid, &amp; work didn't exist yet.&lt;br /&gt;Even a bit like grandma &amp; grandpa's place, with old fixtures and cabinet trim.&lt;br /&gt;The sand &amp; the beach pull at your soul, beautiful &amp; restful, even though unseen from here.&lt;br /&gt;You can feel them out there, constant companions in the mental undercurrent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Running out into the wind in jackets and jeans, Saren &amp; I walk down to the sandy shore,&lt;br /&gt;Sweet yellow sand ripples, constant background roar of the white-capped emerald waves,&lt;br /&gt;Breaking endlessly on the beach. The wind is cold and steady, belittling the bright sunshine,&lt;br /&gt;Matching more the shadows of the numerous puffy white cumulus clouds moving by above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trees grow out of the dunes, grasses and creeping vines. The sea gulls swim and swoop in the air,&lt;br /&gt;Or waddle on spindly legs down the beach. The water has no end, this Great Lake shore on&lt;br /&gt;the edge of endless waves seems forever in it's own way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We come back &amp; pile into the car, near shivering.&lt;br /&gt;Driving off in my pale blue Buick, we head off for a day of exploring the little downtown.&lt;br /&gt;Little shops, artsy, a framing gallery, closed store fronts, lonely and sad, a beach house mural.&lt;br /&gt;It's like stepping back in time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breakfast at the local greasy spoon, a day of discussing, ideas &amp; wishes.&lt;br /&gt;I want out. out of the rat race, out of the stress, our own little piece of beach front, maybe.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe a little shop or something in town, time to live, to love, to draw, paint, write.&lt;br /&gt;I want to move closer to my love and closer to my soul so deeply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someday, oh someday, we'll own a place here amongst the sand grains, grasses, and waves.&lt;br /&gt;We'll have golden summers and fun, beauty all around us.&lt;br /&gt;We pick up little momentos to remind us, to put in the back of our minds ideas.&lt;br /&gt;Thoughts of how to do this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off to a local gourmet restaurant after exploring town.&lt;br /&gt;For now, gourmet dinner will be something special for we two....&lt;br /&gt;Wonderful food in a place tucked away, hidden secret in the back of the local bakery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now, we will dream and aspire, hoping for a way, scheming and dreaming of a way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A way to retreat into the wind.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 10/07/2000 (2k)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author's Comments...&lt;br /&gt;The place names are changed, but it exists.&lt;br /&gt;This weekend was one we lived,&lt;br /&gt;and hope to, dream to, have many more of.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89547380?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89547380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89547380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89547380' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89547015</id><published>2003-02-22T03:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-22T03:29:03.243-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mom, Feb 06, 2001&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi Dan,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked Art up on mp3.com and laughed so hard. I still can't&lt;br /&gt;believe it but I downloaded a clip of I Want To Be&lt;br /&gt;Madonna. It is so funny. That geeky kid became famous.&lt;br /&gt;Who would have thought. I am glad for him.&lt;br /&gt;Only in Madison could this happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also the Jane Fonda story was true. I remember it well. I&lt;br /&gt;don't know what went on in North Viet Nam but the&lt;br /&gt;country was in a huge uproar over anti war protests&lt;br /&gt;and those who fought over there. Remember stories of&lt;br /&gt;soldiers who came home and we treated like crap and&lt;br /&gt;called baby killers was pretty awful. Riots, protests,&lt;br /&gt;young people running to Canada and Sweden to avoid the&lt;br /&gt;draft. If you ever get a chance read some of the&lt;br /&gt;history. You were too little to remember. But putting&lt;br /&gt;Fonda in the Top 100 Women list is pretty shitty.&lt;br /&gt;Sure touched a nerve even after all these years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89547015?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89547015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89547015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89547015' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89546473</id><published>2003-02-22T02:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-22T02:58:57.880-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>From Mom 1/7/2001:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Subject:  Getting to know you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, here's what you're supposed to do.  Copy, not forward this entire&lt;br /&gt;email, and paste it onto a new e-mail that you will send. Change all of&lt;br /&gt;answers so that they apply to you. Then, send this to a  whole bunch of&lt;br /&gt;people you know INCLUDING the person who sent it to you. The theory is that&lt;br /&gt;you will learn a lot of little known facts about your friends. Remember to&lt;br /&gt;send it&lt;br /&gt;back to the person who sent it to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Person whom answered below:  Judy Oberbruner&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LIVING ARRANGEMENT? Apartment, 2 bedrooms, like it so so&lt;br /&gt;with dog Jordan, so so dog lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? Don't Sweat the Small Stuff...and it's all small stuff&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?  No mouse pad, got old. threw it out, table works ok&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE BOARD GAME?  Backgammon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE MAGAZINE? PC Computing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE SMELLS?  Italian Grocery Store&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE SOUNDS? Quarters in the slot machines when winning, Native American music&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD?  Future unknown because of disability&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING?   Will I be able to walk well today and where's the coffee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROLLER COASTER, SCARY OR EXCITING? SCARY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW MANY RINGS BEFORE YOU ANSWER THE PHONE?  Get to it when I can, and how can I afford to get my computer and phone separated&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE FOODS?  Fresh fruits and yummy salads, guacamole, ice cream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA?  Vanilla&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU LIKE TO DRIVE FAST?   No, hate paying tickets to the state, terrible waste of money&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL?  No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;STORMS - COOL OR SCARY?  Cool&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT TYPE WAS YOUR FIRST CAR?  1956 Olds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If YOU COULD MEET ONE PERSON DEAD OR ALIVE? Bill Gates&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK?  Gin and tonic w/lime slice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS YOUR ZODIAC SIGN? On the cusp for Scorpio and Sagittarius&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU EAT THE STEMS OF BROCCOLI?  Yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY JOB YOU WANTED, WHAT WOULD IT BE?  Professional Golfer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DYE HAIR ANY COLOR? Yes, blond and most of the rest as mood hits me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVER BEEN IN LOVE? Yes, some very serious some not so much&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVER HATED ANYONE?? Yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IS THE GLASS HALF EMPTY OR HALF FULL?  Half full&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE MOVIES:  Not a movie fan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARE YOU A LEFTY OR A RIGHTY? Righty&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU TYPE WITH YOUR FINGERS ON THE RIGHT KEYS? No not any more, used to but now soon need to be able to dictate to my computer soon as I can afford Dragon Dictate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S UNDER YOUR BED? Slippers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NUMBER? 1000&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE SPORT TO WATCH? Football&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SAY ONE NICE THING ABOUT THE PERSON WHO SENT YOU&lt;br /&gt;THIS:  New on line friend, Dawn, that I worked with on a great project for awhile. Has a great mind like mine, lol, only much better memory and typing, very capable nice person, into social justice like I am, especially for disabled kids in school, and I prefer adults.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND?  I have no idea because I have very diverse friends and family. But first guess, my son Dan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOST LIKELY NOT TO RESPOND? Will be interesting to find out. Will keep statistics ha ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Judy O &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89546473?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89546473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89546473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89546473' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89546409</id><published>2003-02-22T02:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-22T02:55:46.860-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>From Mom dated 2/15/2000:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi Dan,&lt;br /&gt;This poem is really neat. Your imagination is terrific, should be a Dec. winner&lt;br /&gt;And have been doing some geneology stuff&lt;br /&gt;I can't print this so sent to you to print.&lt;br /&gt;Gladys Rebecca Crumrine is my grandmother, grandma Enids mother and your greatgrandmother  (the big picture on my wall) great grandpa&lt;br /&gt;Keeney's first wife, the others are I believe brothers and sisters&lt;br /&gt;of Gladys, except for James Crumrine, need to compare to info I already have. All this is from Washington county PA where grandma Enid was from,&lt;br /&gt;Love you&lt;br /&gt;Mom&lt;br /&gt;Alice Crumrine September 23, 1905 December 1905&lt;br /&gt;Daniel James Crumrine July 11, 1909 May 01, 1937&lt;br /&gt;George Richards Crumrine October 29, 1898 April 07, 1913&lt;br /&gt;Gladry Rebecca Crumrine April 06, 1903&lt;br /&gt;Gladys Belle Crumrine August 14, 1905&lt;br /&gt;Harvey Crumrine&lt;br /&gt;Helen Irene Crumrine October 05, 1900&lt;br /&gt;James Crumrine June 30, 1872&lt;br /&gt;Lewis Albert Crumrine December 09, 1909&lt;br /&gt;Newton Crumrine January 02, 1877&lt;br /&gt;Ralph Speer Crumrine May 28, 1903&lt;br /&gt;Ray Burson Crumrine August 03, 1915&lt;br /&gt;Rebecca Lulu Crumrine April 20, 1912&lt;br /&gt;Stanley Boyd Crumrine January 01, 1906&lt;br /&gt;Thomas Vernon Crumrine February 06, 1904 &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89546409?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89546409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89546409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89546409' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89479937</id><published>2003-02-20T21:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-20T21:33:21.220-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Heres one mom sent me on Jan 1, 2003&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY NEW YEAR&lt;br /&gt;Subject: Valley Forge&lt;br /&gt;The following passage is from a sermon by John Hagee:&lt;br /&gt;I want you to close your eyes and picture in your mind the soldier at Valley Forge, as he holds his musket in his bloody hands. He stands barefoot in the snow, starved from lack of food, wounded from months of battle and emotionally scarred from the eternity away from his family surrounded by nothing but death and carnage of war. He stands though, with fire in his eyes and victory on his breath. He looks at us now in anger and disgust and tells us this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gave you a birthright of freedom born in the Constitution and now your children graduate too illiterate to read it. I fought in the snow barefoot to give you the freedom to vote and you stay at home because it rains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left my family destitute to give you the freedom of speech and you remain silent on critical issues, because it might be bad for business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I orphaned my children to give you a government to serve you and it has stolen democracy from the people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the soldier not the reporter who gives you the freedom of the press. It's the soldier not the poet who gives you the freedom of speech. It's the soldier not the campus organizer who allows you to demonstrate. It's the soldier who salutes the flag, serves the flag, whose coffin is draped with the flag that allows the protester to burn the flag!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More of her thoughts and wisdom. She didn't EVER send stuff like this unless she felt it in her heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89479937?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89479937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89479937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89479937' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89475380</id><published>2003-02-20T20:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-20T21:11:25.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is a letter I found in mom's drafts, to her granddaughter Jessica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi Sweetie&lt;br /&gt;I  know just how you feel.&lt;br /&gt;#1 is your education. Without it, your like a canoe with out paddles, you just go in circles&lt;br /&gt;#2 is money. You have to cut your work hours, going to school is putting up with being poor for the short haul. I will help when I can.&lt;br /&gt;Am sending the money you asked for with Mom. Apply for every grant you can find. Your grades are critical now. I did the school thing for a long time&lt;br /&gt;I was so tired I used to fall asleep on the steering wheel of my car.    lol   But, I never lost sight of my goal, do not lose site of yours.&lt;br /&gt;#3 UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES DO YOU HIT THAT GIRL, your going to be a probation/parole office and a battery on your record is forbidden, also you will lose where you live and if you think working and going to school is hard, try it homeless! Now is when you develop the guts that you will need to succeed in life. Self discipline is the hardest.&lt;br /&gt;You can do this! I know it. Never said it was easy. Did I?&lt;br /&gt;I tried to tell you to go directly to school after high school. But your choice was different, that was then this is now.&lt;br /&gt;Put one foot in front of the other and do what you know is right! You will be tired, hungry, frustrated, all those things BUT, SCHOOL IS NUMBER ONE&lt;br /&gt;REPEAT SCHOOL IS NUMBER ONE!!&lt;br /&gt;NOW GET TOUGH AND DO IT!!&lt;br /&gt;I love you with all my heart, but I can't do it for you.&lt;br /&gt;Remermber the book on self talk? Well develop strong positive self talk. Your thoughts cause your emotions,&lt;br /&gt;not emotions control thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;Every day I get up and make the choice to be happy, and some days it ain't easy!&lt;br /&gt;Everyday say to yourself, I am happy, I will do this, and I will be successful at school.&lt;br /&gt;A little nusance like that kid is of no importance what so ever.&lt;br /&gt;Your doing bigger and better things!&lt;br /&gt;Learn to control your temper, turn around and walk away.&lt;br /&gt;If I had kicked the shit out of everyone that annoyed me, I would be in jail now! Develop class!&lt;br /&gt;Your to damn good, and too damn smart to screw up the situation you have over some stupid brat!&lt;br /&gt;Go to the library and read some self-help books. Even just a page or two, to give yourself a boost.&lt;br /&gt;Look at your school. It is beautiful. Be proud. Look at the sky, enjoy Dallas&lt;br /&gt;Train your self to follow through. And you know all this already. We talked for years.&lt;br /&gt;I love you with all my heart and I know what kind of guts you have, cause you got it from me&lt;br /&gt;Be tough and proud but, dont smack that dumb kid because that is immature and threatens where you live.&lt;br /&gt;To those people where you live, she is family and blood is always tight no matter what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love&lt;br /&gt;Grandma&lt;br /&gt;Judy&lt;br /&gt;And I am still tough!!&lt;br /&gt;I had a hard fight this last year but I never accept defeat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope no one feels like I have betrayed any trust or privacy. These letters are so beautiful, and sooo MOM!!!!&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Listen to grammy Jess she had lots of knowledge!!! &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89475380?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89475380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89475380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89475380' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89473942</id><published>2003-02-20T19:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-20T21:15:22.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This was part of an e-mail Kat sent to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here's something that I found the other nite. and I dont remember if I sent it to Judy or if she sent to me.............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes we forget how instantly our lives can end and are often to embarrassed to say I love you.  We just assume our family and friends know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suppose one morning you never wake up, do all your friends know you love them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking...I could die today, tomorrow or next week and I wondered if I had any wounds needing to be healed, friendships that needed rekindling or three words needing to be said.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, "I love you" can heal &amp; bless. Let every one of your friends know you love them. Even if you think they don't love you back, you would be amazed at what those three little words and a smile can do.&lt;br /&gt;Just in case I die tomorrow.....I LOVE YOU!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Doesn't really matter who sent it first. It says it all !!!  &lt;br /&gt;I thank God for all the "I love yous mom and I shared in her last week!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89473942?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89473942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89473942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89473942' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89383820</id><published>2003-02-19T11:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-19T11:50:36.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Oberbruner, Judy J.&lt;br /&gt;MADISON - Judy J. Oberbruner, age 59, peacefully passed away on Tuesday, Feb. 11, 2003, at the Hospice Care Center. She was born on Nov. 23, 1943, in Milwaukee, Wis., the daughter of Gino and Sadie (Gerizzo) Nofri. Judy graduated from Beloit Memorial High School in 1961. She attended cosmetology school in Madison and received her Beauticians License in 1965. She continued her education at MATC, and was one of the first women to obtain an apprenticeship in carpentry, followed by her journeyman certification in Dallas, Texas. She went on to graduate from the University of Wisconsin in 1991 with a bachelors degree in Womans Studies and a bachelors degree in Social Work. She has been a crisis home provider/social worker for Dane County Mental Health for the past eight years. During this time, she housed, cared for, and counseled over 500 people in her home. She was awarded the Unsung Heroine Award in 2001 by NAMI (National Assoc. of Mental Illness). She was a dedicated advocate for the disabled as well as an active member of the Multiple Sclerosis Society. Other accomplishments she was most proud of include: Powder Puff Race Car Driver and one of Madisons first female bus drivers. Her hobbies include rubber stamping, gardening, surfing the Internet, and specializing in grand parenting. She is survived by her three children, Daniel A. Stafford of Plainfield, Ill., Lori A. Price of Madison, and Jeffrey M. Stafford of Beloit; six grandchildren, Jessica R. Garcia of Dallas, Texas, Kassia Garcia of Madison, Chad M. Leech of Madison, Justin J. Purdy-Stafford of Minocqua, and twins, Chase M. Stafford and Chancellor J. Stafford of Beloit; and also many wonderful friends. A Celebration of Life gathering will be held on Saturday, Feb. 22, 2003 at the EAGLES CLUB, 2109 Bartillion Dr., Madison, from 4 p.m. until 7 p.m. All friends and family will be welcome. In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to the family, 19 Morrow Ct., Madison, WI 53704. We would especially like to thank Hospice Care for their outstanding care and kindness. She will be sadly missed by so many, for so long, for giving so much! Schroeder-Cress Funeral Home Madison, WI&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89383820?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89383820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89383820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89383820' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89382624</id><published>2003-02-19T11:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-19T11:23:49.796-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dear Lori,&lt;br /&gt;  I am so sorry for your loss.  I will miss the invaluable advice and good words Judy shared with so many of us.  Your Mom and I spoke one or twice on the phone a couple of years ago while advocating for a young Oklahoman.  I so enjoyed knowing and working in some small way with your Mom.  My internet world is feeling empty just now.  I will miss her. &lt;br /&gt;  My sincerest condolences to you and your family on you great loss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very Best Regards,&lt;br /&gt;Laura Williams, President&lt;br /&gt;Californians for Disability Rights&lt;br /&gt;le3293@aol.com&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89382624?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89382624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89382624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89382624' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89381654</id><published>2003-02-19T10:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-19T10:59:34.110-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hi There&lt;br /&gt;You dont know me but I was a friend of your mother's for a very short time... and even tho it was short I enjoyed having known her for the courageous and wonderful person she was... i consider her a good friend with the strength and attitude of a person who knew what the outcome of her illness was and yet kept up her good thoughts and in that kept our spirits up as well... I am so glad i got to know her and that she was a part of my life even if only for a little while. I will never forget her.&lt;br /&gt;She knew me as Lynn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89381654?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89381654' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89381624</id><published>2003-02-19T10:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-19T10:58:32.860-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm sorry about OUR loss. thank you for telling me, at this moment I'm very upset . We knew that she was sick and something was wrong. She is a great woman a beautiful woman we are going to miss her very much she was my mentor for the cribbage club…&lt;br /&gt;Again I'm sorry I notified some people that have been asking me about her. Thank you for telling me again.. she will be missed big time..&lt;br /&gt;Thank You&lt;br /&gt;Roxy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89381624?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89381624' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89381564</id><published>2003-02-19T10:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-19T10:57:18.143-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Lori,&lt;br /&gt;Hi. It's Diane from crisis.  My heart is heavy today&lt;br /&gt;after learning of Judy's death.  She was a great woman&lt;br /&gt;who thru her words and actions changed my life. We had&lt;br /&gt;many heart-to-heart conversations over the yrs and I&lt;br /&gt;have the utmost respect and admiration for your mom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Judy was faced with many challenges and chose to&lt;br /&gt;overcome them with positive thinking, love, and&lt;br /&gt;sincerity.  She shared her peaceful heart and home&lt;br /&gt;with many. I feel blessed to be in her circle of&lt;br /&gt;women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me know if there is anything I can do to help you&lt;br /&gt;and your family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89381564?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89381564' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89381531</id><published>2003-02-19T10:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-19T10:56:32.123-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hi Lori, I am so sorry to hear about your Mom. She was such an inspiration to all of us with m.s. I just want you to know she will be deeply missed. My warmest sympathy to you and all your family and friends. Judy touched many hearts far and wide, even those she had notyet met. Hugs from Windsor, Ontario, Canada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Connie Richardson&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89381531?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89381531' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89381499</id><published>2003-02-19T10:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-19T10:55:46.983-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dear Lori,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you so much for writing to let me know of your Mom's passing away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met your Mom online about 3 years ago.  We "clicked" when we met.  So&lt;br /&gt;much in common besides the MS.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent many late nights talking for hours.  I will miss those gab&lt;br /&gt;sessions we had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your Mom is a beautiful lady and I will miss her alot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart goes out to you and your family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God Bless,   KathyV&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89381499?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89381499' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89381463</id><published>2003-02-19T10:54:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-19T10:54:50.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dear Lori: You have my deapest sympathy regarding the lose of your Mother.  I was devastated when I opened your e-mail.  I just sat staring at the computer and then began to pray for all of you as I know Judy is finally at peace with our Lord and those of us left behind are the ones that grieve.  I first "met" your mother in a MS chatroom as I had been recently diagnosed with MS and was feeling suicidal.  She helped me so much as I listened to her tell me about her life and how she stayed alive through the love for her family. She was truly an inspiration!  I was raised in Madison most of my life and moved to Stevens Point a few years ago and when we found out how close we were to each other we were going to meet but unfortunately that will not happen now. I'm sorry I didn't get the opportunity to meet such a wonderful woman.  You and your family are in my prayers.&lt;br /&gt;                                                        Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;                                                               Linda Scheer&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89381463?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89381463' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89381434</id><published>2003-02-19T10:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-19T10:54:03.793-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'll forever miss your Mom, such a kind woman. She helped me when I needed help most with my teenage son and school. Her advice was right on the money too.  :)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I'll do my best to pass her kindness on to other people if/when I can.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;~~Jan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89381434?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89381434' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89381411</id><published>2003-02-19T10:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-19T10:53:21.400-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm Judy's next door neighbor Leah (apt 1) if there is anything I can do to help, Please Do Not Hesitate, let me know.&lt;br /&gt;I'm so sorry to hear of your loss she is indeed a great lady, I will miss our informal chats in her backyard.&lt;br /&gt;Leah Ann Walker &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89381411?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89381411' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89381373</id><published>2003-02-19T10:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-19T10:52:32.713-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Lori,  I  was  so  proud  to have  known  Judy,  we  talked  a  lot  on  messenger.  Even  though  she  was  so  ill,  she  always  had  time  for  others.  She will  always  be  in  my  thoughts  and  prayers.  Is  there  any charity  or  something  we  can  do in her  memory?&lt;br /&gt;       I am  proud  to  have  been  chosen  by your  mom  to  be  her  friend.&lt;br /&gt;Margaret Vieira&lt;br /&gt;Ragdoll&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89381373?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89381373' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89381340</id><published>2003-02-19T10:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-19T10:51:54.230-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Thank you for notifying me. I knew her as a neat lady, passionate about&lt;br /&gt;life and her family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Terri Sorg&lt;br /&gt;Cornerstone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89381340?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89381340' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89381244</id><published>2003-02-19T10:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-19T10:49:43.510-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Lori,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you so much for the email. I am also one of the staff of the MS world website that she visited frequently. We all miss her so very much, she was a wonderful and caring person, with a vibrance that kept us all going each day we had the blessing to speak with her. I will certainly keep my prayers going for you and your family and of course for her! She was well loved and as you said it is a great loss, but she is with the best she can be now, God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take care, &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89381244?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89381244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89381244' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89022238</id><published>2003-02-13T00:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-13T00:19:53.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The last hour I was with Mom, before she went to sleep, she told me I was going to go to work for a doctor who was doing important research. I wonder now what she saw? She also wanted to be hugged one last time, and told me she thought I was a good person. Not a whole lot more was said, we were just there together while she made her final decision and then followed the yellow brick road she'd laid right into Oz. She clicked the Ruby slippers three times...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89022238?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89022238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89022238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#89022238' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89021968</id><published>2003-02-13T00:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-13T00:07:20.126-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The Bluest Angel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tiny Angel, wings so white,&lt;br /&gt;Watch over me as I pray goodnight,&lt;br /&gt;Let Mommy be safe and happy please,&lt;br /&gt;You in your robes so blue, me on my knees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watch you fly in God's grace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tiny angel, flit down upon my cupped palms,&lt;br /&gt;Smile up at me, singing, with no qualms.&lt;br /&gt;A voice so ethereal and uplifting,&lt;br /&gt;Carry my heart through a life that's shifting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for carrying my prayers to heaven so well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bluer than the skies, &lt;br /&gt;Angel with the bluest eyes,&lt;br /&gt;Singing and free,&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for loving me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fly always in beautiful childhood dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;© 08/14/2000&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author's Comments:&lt;br /&gt;A dream, from very early childhood in Madison, WI.&lt;br /&gt;This took place when I was four, in the time of the Dinosaur Safari.&lt;br /&gt;I think it may have been inspired by watching a show on&lt;br /&gt;TV about the Navy flying team, the Blue Angels.&lt;br /&gt;You see, to me as a child, airplanes were the grandest&lt;br /&gt;vision in the whole world. We lived off an Air Force base.&lt;br /&gt;I lived in a world of fast jets, heard sonic booms before they&lt;br /&gt;stopped supersonic flight over the continental USA.&lt;br /&gt;I woke up crying because the dream was gone.&lt;br /&gt;###############################################&lt;br /&gt;Published in the International Library of Poetry's anthology,&lt;br /&gt;"The Hush Of Moonlight", page 65, Library of Congress Number:&lt;br /&gt;ISBN 1-58235-558-4&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89021968?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89021968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89021968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#89021968' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89021937</id><published>2003-02-13T00:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-13T00:06:04.923-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The Last Earthly Adventure of the AmaZing Judy O.&lt;br /&gt;By Katrina Katz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was just less than 4 weeks ago, one of my very best friends I have met online Judy O. went into the hospital to have a MRI to find out why her left hand and arm wasn't working right, and she had a few times of very strange muscle spasms in the arm. I gave her a hard time until she finally called her Neurologist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day after the MRI and tons of other test Judy and her children received the most terrible news that her cancer had returned...... but this time was in her brain and lung.  She was kept in the hospital a total of a week, while all the Docs decided what options to present to Judy.  It was decided to start the radiation on her brain tumors then later the chemo for the tumor on her lung.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During this week, her mobility diminished daily.  By the time she was to be discharged from the hospital all she was able to control and move was her right arm. Her daughter that lives in Madison also had been by Judy's side 24/7.  Lori had been telling the people who make decisions about what amount of care a person on a Home &amp; Community Program will receive the level of care Judy needed at that point.  As all of us know about dealing with such...... they never listen until they HAVE to.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then from the hospital Judy went to a "wonderful assisted living center". It was a very short stay, less than 24 hours. As we all know what Judy will do when something is UNacceptable. It was a day &amp; nite from hell as I was told. I didn't ask for details,  and the parts I do know I won't repeat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the courageous daughter, who is much like her Mom did the only thing there was to do, she brought Judy back home. [where she belonged!]  Sent out an email asking for something, anything, but we had a week-end to figure out what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent the week-end almost day &amp; nite online searching sending info to two of her children Dan &amp; Lori.  I also decided  I was going to do for Judy what she had done for me only a few months ago when my prescription benefits where cut dramatically.  I wrote a letter to Her Governor!   Her son Dan wrote an excellent letter/ email  to the Wisconsin Partnership Program, and Lori had the necessary information to do her part by phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following is just a few things I told the Governor of Wisconsin about Judy:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She has been a social worker for most of her life, continuing to do so from her computer after the MS and Parkinson's caused her to be homebound. She has done such amazing advocate work for myself and others with her determined spirit, a phone and computer in the last 2 1/2 years I have known her. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"One year ago at an awards banquet, Judy Oberbruner was presented an award. It was presented by NAMI." National Alliance for the Mentally Ill." She was presented with what they call "The Unsung Heroine Award". "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Recently Judy met with Dane Co. Mental Health, for whom she is a crisis home provider. Last month she reached the 500 mark. 500 being the number of people she has taken in her home and counselled over the past 8 years. Even having a client staying with her up until one week of going to the hospital."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"During which time she was also dealing with full blown M.S. And Parkinson's. (note: her Neurologist has stated that "she is one of the first cases ever to be diagnosed with both in full swing) She loves being a social worker, helping others, and advocating. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Monday afternoon, the phone calls started and it was said whatever Judy needs she gets.  She taught all of us how to Advocate, and very well.  Sad to say she only was able to stay in her apartment about a week.  Then she was taken to a hospice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Judy did so many amazing things, helped so many people, I am honored to say I was one.  Many people didn't know how much Judy and I talked.  For over 2 years we sent emails, talked on the phone into the wee hours of the nite, chatted on IM many nites, did our wild research on the net, and she could fire info with the best of them. I have felt very lonely and lost these last weeks as I have had to let go and say good-bye.  But I also have continued to be amazed by her.  I think I know for the first time in my life how the circle of life flows &amp; changes in a loving healthy way.  Yes I do feel my grief, and feel there is a big whole left on this earth, but I also feel the peace that she is finally released from a body that tried to hold her back &amp; down.  It didn't until the very last few weeks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday February 11, 2003, Judy O gave the most amazing gift anyone can.  The doctors at the University of Wisconsin who knew her well, asked her if she would consider leaving her brain for research.  She did. That is where her body went from the hospice and she was pronounced dead @5:00pm.  But her spirit lives on, and in many hearts as long as we live. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Judy for all the friendship, support, teaching and love you shared with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[I may try to add a link or 2 this week-end of some photos Judy shared with me]  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89021937?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89021937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89021937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#89021937' title=''/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17904856997686254485</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89021097</id><published>2003-02-12T23:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-12T23:34:09.963-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The Mother Hubbard Date&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man is dressed sharp, too slick.&lt;br /&gt;The kids all suspect, it might be a trick.&lt;br /&gt;Something just doesn't feel right,&lt;br /&gt;And we don't want Mom going out tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy's not all that, Mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old farm house on the hill stands,&lt;br /&gt;Remodeled with the labor of family hands,&lt;br /&gt;Huge yard, apple tree blossoms and grape vines,&lt;br /&gt;Stronger and better than slick lines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sis's got a plan, to ditch this man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shhhhhhh......she's getting dressed!&lt;br /&gt;Ha Ha, boy, he'll be duly impressed!&lt;br /&gt;Call them all, each and every one,&lt;br /&gt;All of our friends, in on the fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wonder if he'll ever date again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scott in the second story window,&lt;br /&gt;I'll be on the roof, up the tree in front you three go!&lt;br /&gt;Four on the garage roof, three in the tree on the side,&lt;br /&gt;Another five or six on the porch roof ride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sis is climbing the TV antenna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each and every window of the old farm house,&lt;br /&gt;The whole roof, every tree, quiet as a mouse.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, my goodness! I can't wait to see,&lt;br /&gt;If he's got the gumption, what kind of dad would he be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shhhhh......she's getting in the car......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quick now, all together.....BYE MOM!!!! &lt;br /&gt;BYE MOM!!! WE'LL MISS YOU!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We gave him the 50 kid salute at the setting of the sun,&lt;br /&gt;And I do swear, I'd never seen a snake run!&lt;br /&gt;All of you might not think that's fair,&lt;br /&gt;But he's clearly not built to be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome home, Mom, we ALL love you!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;© 08/22/2000&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author's Comments:&lt;br /&gt;We never did see that guy again. Madison &amp; Mom were both&lt;br /&gt;better off for it. And it's one memory we ALL laugh over now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89021097?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89021097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89021097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#89021097' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89020417</id><published>2003-02-12T23:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-12T23:11:43.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>When Mom was in the hospital a couple of weeks ago, I brought her the gift I'd bought her for Mother's Day this year. It was a matched set of six rubber stamps like the ones she used to make her cards - they were international Christmas postage stamps like would have been issued back in the early 20th century, say the 30's-50's or so. I told her God moved Mother's Day up for her this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89020417?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89020417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89020417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#89020417' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89020337</id><published>2003-02-12T23:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-12T23:08:44.980-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mother's Day 2000 I gave this to mom framed on rose print paper:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunshine Mommy Mine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear sweet Mom, this is your day.&lt;br /&gt;Dear sweet Mom, in a spectacular way.&lt;br /&gt;Dear sweet Mom, you brought me.&lt;br /&gt;Dear sweet Mom, without you, what would I be?&lt;br /&gt;Dear sweet Mom, you bring me joy.&lt;br /&gt;Dear sweet Mom, you bought my first toy.&lt;br /&gt;Dear sweet Mom, you put up with this boy.&lt;br /&gt;Dear sweet Mom, you knew what to say.&lt;br /&gt;Dear sweet Mom, you're invited to stay.&lt;br /&gt;Dear sweet Mom, you know what to do.&lt;br /&gt;Dear sweet Mom, you taught me what's true.&lt;br /&gt;Dear sweet Mom, please accept flowers.&lt;br /&gt;Dear sweet Mom, you'd be rich if I had magic powers.&lt;br /&gt;Dear sweet Mom, Happy Mother's day!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;© 05/08/2000&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author's Comments:&lt;br /&gt;This one's for you, Mom!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89020337?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89020337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89020337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#89020337' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-89020242</id><published>2003-02-12T23:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-12T23:05:01.006-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mom wanted me to write about this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Granny Effect:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, &lt;br /&gt;It's wise to be a child,&lt;br /&gt;At Grandma's house,&lt;br /&gt;Poor parent don't you yet understand,&lt;br /&gt;You're stuck between your Mama &amp; the baby,&lt;br /&gt;And she's got no compunction,&lt;br /&gt;About who it is she gets to spoil,&lt;br /&gt;For while you as a child held the taint,&lt;br /&gt;Doused in tincture of Devil and responsibility,&lt;br /&gt;YOUR child goes home with you,&lt;br /&gt;And forget any words about little Johnny did this,&lt;br /&gt;What Mother Dear do I do,&lt;br /&gt;Oh no,&lt;br /&gt;Granny has already whipped up a pizza,&lt;br /&gt;Kissed Little Angel's booboo,&lt;br /&gt;And woe to the parent in her presence,&lt;br /&gt;That gets an angry head of steam,&lt;br /&gt;Don't you dare follow past examples,&lt;br /&gt;With Granny's Little Dream,&lt;br /&gt;Don't you get it,&lt;br /&gt;Dear sweet Mum &amp; Dad?&lt;br /&gt;At Granny's house,&lt;br /&gt;There's never a grandchild who could possibly,&lt;br /&gt;Be Bad?&lt;br /&gt;Are you crazy?&lt;br /&gt;My Little Angel couldn't possibly have...&lt;br /&gt;Here, Sweetie, have a sugar cookie,&lt;br /&gt;Stay up with Grandma and watch the movie,&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and, when it's time to leave?&lt;br /&gt;How CAN a child produce such HUGE,&lt;br /&gt;Alligator tears?&lt;br /&gt;Want to bring back that smile?&lt;br /&gt;Have yourself a peaceful night?&lt;br /&gt;Why, SURE you can stay with Grandma,&lt;br /&gt;Sweet dreams Honey,&lt;br /&gt;Don't let the bed bugs bite!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 04/24/2002&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author's Comments:&lt;br /&gt;Some things in life are entirely universal.&lt;br /&gt;I remember BEING the Little Angel...&lt;br /&gt;Now I have one! *L* But he really is a great kid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-89020242?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89020242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/89020242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#89020242' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88985938</id><published>2003-02-12T10:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-12T10:58:45.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'M FREE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't grieve for me,for now I'm free&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm following the path God laid for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took His hand when I heard Him call&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned my back and left it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could not stay another day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To laugh to love, to work, or play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tasks left undone must stay that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found that peace at close of day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If  my parting has left a void,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then fill it with remembered joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah yes, these things I will miss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be not burdened with times of sorrow;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish you sunshine of tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life's been full, I've savoured much;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good friends,good times, a loved one's touch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps my time seemed all too brief,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't lengthen it now with undue grief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life up your hearts and share with me-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God wanted me now-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He set me free....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love her friend Janet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks Janet! This is beautiful. It has helped me through much of my anger today. She would of said much of the same things. &lt;br /&gt;I Love You Mama!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88985938?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88985938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88985938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#88985938' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88939204</id><published>2003-02-11T15:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-11T15:36:18.676-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Outta School!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recess is on!&lt;br /&gt;The birds just flew up,&lt;br /&gt;Hats all in the air,&lt;br /&gt;Starship launched,&lt;br /&gt;Sails white have billowed full,&lt;br /&gt;The deep dark night,&lt;br /&gt;Where the stars all call,&lt;br /&gt;Anywhere,&lt;br /&gt;Everywhere,&lt;br /&gt;Anywhere at all,&lt;br /&gt;That's free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 02/11/2003&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author's Comments:&lt;br /&gt;Mom's body let her go fifteen minutes ago.&lt;br /&gt;School's out for her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88939204?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88939204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88939204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#88939204' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88813754</id><published>2003-02-09T13:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-09T13:35:26.140-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Lori's there with her now...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88813754?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88813754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88813754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#88813754' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88813570</id><published>2003-02-09T13:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-09T13:30:50.166-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dedicated to my Mother:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;CENTER&gt;&lt;IMG SRC="http://www.poetryclub.com/images/danpoetofthemonth1_03.jpg" HEIGHT=300&gt;&lt;/CENTER&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88813570?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88813570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88813570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#88813570' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88813432</id><published>2003-02-09T13:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-09T13:27:03.803-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Florentine Dream:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back of my head on the pillow,&lt;br /&gt;Ceiling so soft eggshell white,&lt;br /&gt;Behind my eyelids flowers,&lt;br /&gt;Blooming flames in the deep dark night,&lt;br /&gt;I love the marble columns of belief,&lt;br /&gt;They reach to touch the setting sun,&lt;br /&gt;The bird lifts into Heaven,&lt;br /&gt;And the free flight is God's gentle harsh love,&lt;br /&gt;Soaring over the gardens and seaside,&lt;br /&gt;Look down and wonder dearly at the sands,&lt;br /&gt;Trillions of grains of colored glass,&lt;br /&gt;Who'd expect cradled feet to find this soft,&lt;br /&gt;All just a dream as wind becomes your dance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See the fireflowers grow,&lt;br /&gt;See the stars cry crystal drops,&lt;br /&gt;See the moon upon your waters,&lt;br /&gt;See your gentleness wash rhythm upon the shore,&lt;br /&gt;See your footprints lead home,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fly free across the waves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 01/25/2003&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author's Comments:&lt;br /&gt;A wish meditation for someone dear.&lt;br /&gt;This was written for Mom, and took both&lt;br /&gt;poet of the week last week, and poet of the&lt;br /&gt;month today at www.poetryclub.com.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88813432?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88813432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88813432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#88813432' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88793808</id><published>2003-02-09T02:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-09T02:16:26.826-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"We can draw lessons from the past, but we cannot live in it."&lt;br /&gt;--Lyndon B. Johnson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To know the road ahead, ask those coming back."&lt;br /&gt;--Chinese Proverb&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When you were born, you cried and everybody else was happy.  The only question that matters is this: When you die, will YOU be happy when everybody else is crying?"&lt;br /&gt;--Tony Campolo &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When we are motivated by goals that have deep meaning, by dreams that need completion, by pure love that needs expressing, then we truly live life."&lt;br /&gt;--Greg Anderson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of us treat opportunity like sand.  We fill our hands with it, and then let it slip through our fingertips until it is gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, when we do not get what we want, we realize that what we got is what we would have wanted had we known what we would have gotten in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you stop to think, don't forget to get started again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do what you can today, you may not have the same opportunity tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards."&lt;br /&gt;--Johann Wolfgang von Goethe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing."&lt;br /&gt;--George Bernard Shaw&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You can achieve anything you want in life if you have the courage to dream it, the intelligence to make a realistic plan, and the will to see that plan through to the end."&lt;br /&gt;--Sidney A. Friedman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Live each day as if it were your last, because someday you will be right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do what you can, with what you have, where you are."&lt;br /&gt;--Theodore Roosevelt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us."&lt;br /&gt;--Helen Keller&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I think that we all have something in common in that we have dreams.  The thing about dreams is sometimes you get to live them out."&lt;br /&gt;--Payne Stewart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The greater the obstacles, the more glory in overcoming it."&lt;br /&gt;--Moliere&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you can go through life without experiencing pain, you probably haven't been born yet."&lt;br /&gt;--Neil Simon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You cannot make your dreams come true until you wake up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is far more important that you know where you are going than to get their with record speed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being satisfied with things the way they are is a sure way to stop progress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A great pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do."&lt;br /&gt;--Walter Bagehot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a few things I ran across while surfing. All mean so much. I have learned more in this week than my 39 yrs in this life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88793808?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88793808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88793808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#88793808' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88793140</id><published>2003-02-09T01:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-09T01:42:06.913-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Too often we don't realize&lt;br /&gt;what we have until it is gone;&lt;br /&gt;Too often we wait too late to say&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry - I was wrong."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes it seems we hurt the ones&lt;br /&gt;we hold dearest to our hearts;&lt;br /&gt;And we allow foolish things&lt;br /&gt;to tear our lives apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Far too many times we let&lt;br /&gt;unimportant things into our minds;&lt;br /&gt;And then it's usually too late&lt;br /&gt;to see what made us blind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So be sure that you let people know&lt;br /&gt;how much they mean to you;&lt;br /&gt;Take that time to say the words&lt;br /&gt;before your time is through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be sure that you appreciate&lt;br /&gt;everything you've got&lt;br /&gt;And be thankful for the&lt;br /&gt;Little things in life&lt;br /&gt;that mean a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88793140?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88793140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88793140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#88793140' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88792761</id><published>2003-02-09T01:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-09T01:23:03.656-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Rainbows On The Wall:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sitting here watching,&lt;br /&gt;Rainbows dance on the wall,&lt;br /&gt;Is it an angel,&lt;br /&gt;What's making it,&lt;br /&gt;I can't see where from,&lt;br /&gt;All the words are said,&lt;br /&gt;Just waiting on the,&lt;br /&gt;Phenobarbital party,&lt;br /&gt;If the angels are spinning,&lt;br /&gt;'Round and round the ceiling,&lt;br /&gt;I wish I saw them clearly,&lt;br /&gt;There by the painting,&lt;br /&gt;Little Gypsy woman on the wall,&lt;br /&gt;There's rainbows all around you,&lt;br /&gt;Rainbows on the wall,&lt;br /&gt;You went through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 02/07/2003&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author's Comments:&lt;br /&gt;Said good bye to Mom today,&lt;br /&gt;big hug, she wanted to go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;*************************&lt;br /&gt;Mom is gone. She chose complete sedation -&lt;br /&gt;unconsciousness until the end. I found a little angel pin&lt;br /&gt;in the doorway to her room, and I pegged it into the wall,&lt;br /&gt;over her doorway. Just a tiny thing. Maybe it was the&lt;br /&gt;answer to this poem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88792761?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88792761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88792761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#88792761' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88771413</id><published>2003-02-08T14:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-08T14:16:14.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The density of people in society is so thick that we&lt;br /&gt;forget that life will end one day. And we don't know when that one day will be.  &lt;br /&gt;So please, tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88771413?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88771413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88771413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_02_archive.html#88771413' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88696162</id><published>2003-02-07T00:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-07T00:45:45.406-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'> ~Judy the Advocate~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how well everyone knew of the Advocacy work Judy has done, but I have been a blessed recipient the last 2+ years.  She has helped me with several Government Agencies.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She has also made me feel very accepted about allot of things I get to deal with in my life.  I have kept them hidden best I can for many many years. Judy helped me to feel so accepted. I have been learning to not hid my true self. With her words of encouragement I actually begun to  feel self respect. To be proud of how I have coped, as well as dealt with numerous events that many others would just sit down and cry, waiting for another to come along and rescue them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been honored to be her side-kick in a Yahoo DisAbility Group she started about  2 years ago. Here is part of a post she made in  May of 2001. This has stuck with me and shows the amazing caring and acceptance she has shown many others for years.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tonight I can't use the "dis" word because I basically do not like that word. I was outside doing some raking from my jazzy and thinking. I have PD, Parkinson's (yes in addition to MS)."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Does any one know what that is? If you guessed it is a movement disorder from lack of dopamine production in the brain, good for you. Cells die off and no longer produce enough dopamine. It is a slow ride down hill."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Oh there's medication I can take, probably keep me going for a few more years, but effectiveness wears off in time and it won't work. Any how people feel sad for those individuals that have PD." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Guess what the opposite end of the &lt;br /&gt;dopamine spectrum is? Too much dopamine. That my friends is schizophrenia. Surprised, when I first read about it I was. Point is PD considered physical illness." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Schizophrenia is considered a mental illness. It does not bring out the same feelings of compassion in people. Was thinking about that today."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Judy... I am already missing you so unbelievable. I just hope you find peace soon, and leave that worn out body it just doesn't do your soul justice anymore.  I will love you until the end of my days. Thank you for being such a good friend and teacher of mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;purrs,&lt;br /&gt;Kat&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88696162?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88696162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88696162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_02_archive.html#88696162' title=''/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17904856997686254485</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88522635</id><published>2003-02-04T01:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-04T01:14:28.820-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mama sing me my petunia song forever! &lt;br /&gt;I'll hear you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88522635?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88522635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88522635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_02_archive.html#88522635' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88467538</id><published>2003-02-03T03:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-03T03:46:42.946-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My dear Judy O,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so lonely right now, my sadness is overwhelming. Yet I am so much stronger for having been your friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I can I will share of what an amazing advocate you have been for me and many others. How much I felt accepted and supported by you in some very dark and distressing times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you so much, you will always live on in my heart. I hope your pain is gone soon, as you are one of the bravest persons I have ever known. I feel honored to be called your friend. You are the older sister I never had. Sisters of the Heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;{remember ring, ring!}&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;br /&gt;Kat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88467538?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88467538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88467538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_02_archive.html#88467538' title=''/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17904856997686254485</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88465376</id><published>2003-02-03T02:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-03T02:13:27.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The Darkest Hour:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are the words you say,&lt;br /&gt;When the one who shaped so much of your life,&lt;br /&gt;Lies hurting and you can not help,&lt;br /&gt;Have nothing but the arms of love to offer,&lt;br /&gt;There in the black face of good-bye?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know there will be no more words soon,&lt;br /&gt;And I wish I could put every word in the universe,&lt;br /&gt;Here, now, this minute,&lt;br /&gt;In perfect order with perfect heart,&lt;br /&gt;Just to make you know I love you,&lt;br /&gt;I and many more of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you step through the veil,&lt;br /&gt;Walk beyond all this broken dream,&lt;br /&gt;Sleep, rest, find comfort,&lt;br /&gt;Follow your heart's desires,&lt;br /&gt;Knowing we will love you all the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll stand by you,&lt;br /&gt;Just before the dawn,&lt;br /&gt;In the darkest hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When our own night falls,&lt;br /&gt;We shall find you no matter how far,&lt;br /&gt;Go without fear and without worry,&lt;br /&gt;Into the sunshine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You take all our love with you, Mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what you say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 02/03/2003&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author's Comments:&lt;br /&gt;I'll be gone for a few days. It's close now.&lt;br /&gt;Time to make sure these words get heard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88465376?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88465376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88465376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_02_archive.html#88465376' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88465026</id><published>2003-02-03T01:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-03T01:57:10.150-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>There have been so many people expressing their condolences and sympathy and wanting me to pass that on to Mom that I'm afraid I won't remember everyone. I've heard that from Bobby, Luis, Luis' mother, Kat, Janet, my boss and co-workers, everyone. I love you Mom. I don't think every poem I could write would be able to come close. But I will try, anyway. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88465026?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88465026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88465026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_02_archive.html#88465026' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88459955</id><published>2003-02-02T22:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-02T22:50:05.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I LOVE YOU MAMA!!!! &lt;br /&gt;Have a safe trip home!!!&lt;br /&gt;Hellos to all, for me please!&lt;br /&gt;Will talk to you regularly!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88459955?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88459955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88459955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_02_archive.html#88459955' title=''/><author><name>Lori</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01716979582005910893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WhOmVjV61hc/SW9oQrQvOzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oBtHrTsgnwY/S220/l_90823882b8421695f2dec127c1550f9a.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88417428</id><published>2003-02-02T02:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-02T02:30:59.746-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Fish Story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Mom's younger days,&lt;br /&gt;She had some unusual ways,&lt;br /&gt;She was a fisherwoman extraordinaire,&lt;br /&gt;And in the chill spring Dallas air,&lt;br /&gt;She went out with the neighbor guys,&lt;br /&gt;Who's fish stories were some very grand lies,&lt;br /&gt;But around three a.m.,&lt;br /&gt;That's when the fish came in,&lt;br /&gt;You see, not a bite was had,&lt;br /&gt;It was really boring and really sad,&lt;br /&gt;All along the Lake ray Hubbard Pier,&lt;br /&gt;People stared in sony silence far and near,&lt;br /&gt;The water was as calm as glass,&lt;br /&gt;The fish harvest was a crash,&lt;br /&gt;Then Mom walked up to the rail,&lt;br /&gt;Began calling "Here, fishy, fishy",&lt;br /&gt;And just like wet shoes are squishy,&lt;br /&gt;She caught herself a little fishy,&lt;br /&gt;So she called once again,&lt;br /&gt;And quite without fail,&lt;br /&gt;Another little fishy went in the pail.&lt;br /&gt;Now these guys thought Mom was loopy,&lt;br /&gt;Maybe with gray matter just a little soupy,&lt;br /&gt;But she patiently explained the physics,&lt;br /&gt;Of voice vibration upon the water,&lt;br /&gt;Stating, "Look, that's how I caught her!"&lt;br /&gt;The evidence was in the pail,&lt;br /&gt;So the guys went to the rail,&lt;br /&gt;And with suspended disbelief began to hail,&lt;br /&gt;"Here, fishy,fishy, Here, fishy,fishy" in whispered voices,&lt;br /&gt;And there were but few choices,&lt;br /&gt;Mom cracked up at those masculine voices,&lt;br /&gt;So desperate to catch a fish,&lt;br /&gt;They went to give a verbal wish,&lt;br /&gt;But the greatest part was shortly after,&lt;br /&gt;A belly chuckle of mirth and laughter,&lt;br /&gt;And to this day this story stands,&lt;br /&gt;My Mom is the only person in these lands,&lt;br /&gt;That can tell her fish story with no hands!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AquarianM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Daniel A. Stafford&lt;br /&gt;(C) 2001&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author's Comments:&lt;br /&gt;A true story from the late 1970's......&lt;br /&gt;Guys, Mom knows who you are!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88417428?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88417428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88417428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_02_02_archive.html#88417428' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88394369</id><published>2003-02-01T14:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-01T22:57:28.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"If I had wings we'd never be apart,&lt;br /&gt;I'd keep you with me, always in my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I had wings you'd never know pain,&lt;br /&gt;I'd shelter you from the earth, the fire, and the rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm not an Angel as you can see&lt;br /&gt;and although I want to I may never be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So all I can do is pray for these things,&lt;br /&gt;these things that I would give you if only I had wings."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Written by and quoted from Terrence Moore&lt;br /&gt;Dedicated to Mom by Lori.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88394369?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88394369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88394369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_01_26_archive.html#88394369' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88248866</id><published>2003-01-29T20:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-01-29T20:33:40.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>When we were young, Judy loved to drive (very fast). I remember one day when we were in Milwaukee. Judy was driving and a car with some young guys pulled up along side of us. The driver gunned his engine, indicating that he wanted to drag. When the light changed, they both hit the gas. Our car was no slouch and we had a race going. The next thing that we knew the other car was falling behind. We started to laugh, until we looked around and saw that just ahead of us was an intersection full of cross traffic. Judy slammed on the brakes and we went into a skid. we ended up cross ways to the road in the cross walk. It was a moment to remember and smile about. Thank god that he watches over us when we are young and ignorant of our mortality.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88248866?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88248866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88248866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_01_26_archive.html#88248866' title=''/><author><name>Larry</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507374006106436354</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88184301</id><published>2003-01-28T16:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-01-28T16:17:25.923-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Something Mom told me about that I'm not sure she's told anyone else about. I'm not sure how it came up, but when she was little there weren't any ice cream trucks yet. You know, "The ice cream man is coming!" Back then, there were still horse-drawn ice trucks delivering ice cut from the river for people who had ice boxes as refridgerators were still a pretty new thing. When the ice man came, there were always ice chips in the summer that he would give to the kids...they would have a huge chunk of fresh ice in the hot summer sun and pet the horses...how cold it would be on the hands...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88184301?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88184301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88184301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_01_26_archive.html#88184301' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88184089</id><published>2003-01-28T16:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-01-28T16:12:53.950-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The story about Mom following Nono around, the part I hadn't mentioned yet, she told me when she was little, she stuck her arm in a gallon of paint while Nono was outside painting. He said 'You mother going to kill me!" and started cleaning her up with gasoline. Funny thing, Mom doesn't know it, but I did the exact same thing when I was little, I followed Nono around and stuck my arm in the bucket of paint he was using. What did he do? "You Noni gonna kill me!" Out came the gasoline...*LOL*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88184089?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88184089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88184089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_01_26_archive.html#88184089' title=''/><author><name>Daniel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14627216435587842196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zLa5vgk54U4/TApAfV-9nTI/AAAAAAAADGs/hgMFkryuK1U/S220/05192010.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88168933</id><published>2003-01-28T11:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-01-28T11:02:52.610-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'll never forget the summer with Judy and Lori and their house on the lake.  All of the tarow card readings, and the stories about the little fairy's up stairs who Judy thought would come into her room and help her at night when her legs were sore.  The view of the lake from those big bay windows was SO pretty.  Even though the pier was broken from Chad playing with Grandma's wheel chair, and the canoe had a hole in it and only shovels to paddle with... that place gave us quite a few good times together.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88168933?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88168933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88168933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_01_26_archive.html#88168933' title=''/><author><name>Candace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16650924568815257681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88168719</id><published>2003-01-28T10:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-01-28T10:57:54.273-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>If there's one thing I'll never forget someone for, it's this.  I want to say thank you to Judy and Lori both, for bringing me closer to a side of my own mother that I never really got the chance to know.  Both of them have sat down with me several times and told me stories about different times they had shared with her.  Since I was only 17 when she died, I never got the chance to know her as my friend.  With the help of Lori and Judy, I feel as though I &lt;br /&gt;DID get that chance in a way.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88168719?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88168719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88168719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_01_26_archive.html#88168719' title=''/><author><name>Candace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16650924568815257681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88166016</id><published>2003-01-28T10:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-01-28T10:00:02.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I can remember visiting Judy's house several times when I was little.  It was a red kind of ranch house in Beloit.(I think)  Anyway, there's so many memories I have of those visits.  Like this little kitten she had.  It was a siemese.  Not really such a "nice" kitty, but I loved him.  I built him a house out of a card board box one day in her front yard.  Or how I used to bring her pamphlets from Sunday school, because I wanted to show her about Jesus.  I even remember Dan, helping me with my math homework, and teaching me to make paper airplanes.  I can't remember a lot of what "the parents" were doing, except playing cards or cooking food.  Judy and Dad had a few of what they called "chili cook offs".  None of these memories are really any big deal, but still they exsist and never fade too far from memory.  I'm glad I have them.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88166016?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88166016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88166016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_01_26_archive.html#88166016' title=''/><author><name>Candace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16650924568815257681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150870.post-88165654</id><published>2003-01-28T09:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-01-28T09:52:16.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>For me, Judy is like another Mom.  I remember when I was little how she and my mother were SO facinating to me.  We stayed at this cabin once on lake Ripley.  For some reason, I always remembered one thing in particular.  It was my mom and Judy getting ready for the day.  Judy had on a black bikini and mom had a multi colored one.  There they stood sharing the mirror in the bathroom, and fixing there hair and make-up.  I remember thinking how pretty they were, and how one day, I wanted to look just like them.  I must have only been about 7yrs old.  Now that I'm 30, I sometimes find myself recalling that day from time to time when I'm getting ready to go out with my own friends and sharing the bathroom mirror.  Time really does repeat itself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4150870-88165654?l=rememberjudymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88165654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4150870/posts/default/88165654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rememberjudymom.blogspot.com/2003_01_26_archive.html#88165654' title=''/><author><name>Candace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16650924568815257681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
