Miami Whitewater Park, Harrison, Ohio

Today I walked the banks of The Great Miami River in the Miami Whitewater Park in Harrison, Ohio, just shy of the Ohio/Indiana border. The weather was warm with a soft, cooling breeze. I hoped to find an arrowhead but found fossil rocks and one stone that appears to have been worked by the Shawnee Indians into a tool for scraping hides.

This tree has a clear face with intense eyes.

Snaggle Puss

Marsha, Tammy, and I sat down to a hearty meal at Walt's, barbeque restaurant. I had ground beef barbeque, which was crispy and yummy; until I heard the pop and knew that yet another tooth had broken. That makes three in less than one year. The entire outer point of my right eye-tooth must have slid down my gullet. It is no longer in my mouth. Off to find a Cincinnati dentist today.

My daughter born through another woman

Her 9th birthday was the last time I saw Tishia. I had fallen in love with her the instant I saw her in her hospital basinette; she oozed old wisdom and peaceful countenance in her new body. After her birthday party, I'd sent photos of her with the football I gave her, and which she'd requested. The photos were returned by the P. O. as she and her mother had moved shortly after that day. I tried several times over the next 13 years to locate Tishia so I could give her the photos and once again see her, with no resolve. Last October I opened my e-mail to find a Facebook message from Tishia Lynn stating, "Fran, I think I've got the right person; I have so many fond memories of you. I'm sure it's you." My heart was filled with such pleasure. We made phone contact. Tishia remembers when as a toddler her mother brought her to my home in Yellow Springs, Ohio and we blew bubbles on my front porch. She remembers me carrying her on my shoulders in the Glen and teaching her to hug trees. On this trip to Ohio, Tishia and I reunited after all these years. It felt like we'd never been apart. Our connection seems important. Tishia grew to become a very wise and fine young woman, despite many harsh and difficult childhood challenges. She went on to graduate school, acquiring her MSW, masters' degree in Social Work, and works with challenged youth, exactly my professional path. Like my brother Sam once said because my nieces and nephews favored me in facial appearance as babies, ".....Fran your genes are strong." (I was so excited in spending time with Tishia that I forgot to get out my camera and photograph her. I will try to include one later.)

Women Drumming

Pam always treats me like a Goddess; holding "my room" for each visit, engaging me in community activites like in the old days when I lived in Yellow Springs, and cooking me nutritional and delectable meals such as the home-made chicken enchelada, pearl couscous, and broccoli salad, YUM!

An altar welcoming our women drummer ancestors.

Karen, Pam and Margaret.
Pam played drumming music, beats to which we all aspire, and we danced as though we'd never danced. Karen donned her monkey hat and struck a pose.

Karen calling in the ancient ones!

This was Karen's first time at our drumming sessions; she added wonderful tones with her Dirigidoo and her strong spiritual nature.

I, Pam, and Margaret began our Yellow Springs Women's Drumming Group in the early 1990s. They are still united and each time I visit my "girls" they arrange a drumming session. We've still got the beat!

Birth Family

My big Sis and her husband graciously put me up at their home for two nights. My sister quickly whipped up a tasty meal on the first night. On the second day I indulged in my first Oyster Pie at Emille's restaurant, formerly the East Rockhill Tavern. The broth was wonderful; just like mom's oyster stew. I enjoyed the chopped oyster mixed within the pie, but the stewed oysters on top I shifted onto Bernd's plate; not as tasty to me. My younger brother, Dennis, and I visited our now oldest brother, Linton and his wife, Nancy. Nancy was caring for four of their grandchildren; Maggie, Jonas, Eva, and baby Clayton. It was so fun being around grand nieces and nephews again. They always bring joy into my life. Linton was recovering from recent surgery to have a stone removed from his bladder - ouch! He was still somewhat stoned himself from anesthesia. I forgot to get out my camera to photograph all this fun!

Fond Reunions

St. Patty's Day - Cathie and Rick worked with me at Eagle Shirt Outlet Store in Quakertown, Penna, in the 1970s. She was 17 and he 19, as I recall. They were young sweeties madly in love. We had many good times at work and in Cathie's home. I sang John Denver's song, Sunshine on My Shoulders for their beautiful wedding on a hill above Lake Nockamixon. Until last week, I last saw them in the 1980's when their first daughter was an infant. Eva later welcomed a sister, Katie. When recently visiting Rick and Cathie, I got to meet Katie, a now lovely young woman who looks just like her Uncle Buster. Eva was a college on that day. Cathie baked a delicious quiche and rum cake, which we all devoured ravenously. She, Rick and I recalled all our good times and spoke about how thankful we are to still share friendship love. Cathie later wrote to me stating how important she believes our reunion was. I feel it too.

Casting For Recovery - Woods of Maine

On a brilliantly clear weekend in August, 2010 I attended a three day retreat for women who are thriving despite the harsh treatments for breast cancer. This retreat occurs in many states throughout America. They are called Casting For Recovery. The one I participated in was held in Lynchtown, Me. I hope the area was named for a person; not historically a place where people were hanged. At any rate, the camp, Bosebuck Camp lies in the depth of the Maine woods on the extreme western border of Maine. Our cabins are set very near the banks of Parmachenee Lake. Our hosts, the Bosebuck Camp owners, and retreat staff members treated us with love, respect, and honor. The food was scrumptious! We attended group meetings where we were able to share how having cancer has changed us and what we have learned from this scary yet, in some ways, Holy experience. We were taught two casting types and fly knot styles, about wet and dry flies, and stages of bug evolution. On Sunday morning, Maggie, our spiritual guide led us in a magical soul journey on the tip of the dock where loons sang and the morning mist shrouded us. We read poetry, picked up a stone that spoke to us, placing into it our fears, then tossing that fear, releasing it from us, into the lake. I felt honored when Maggie invited me to lead the women in singing an ancient spiritual created and sung by slaves in their own misery decades ago, My Lord What A Morning. And what a morning it was! That afternoon expert male fishing guides joined us. One sweet young man tied my fly on and even did the surgeon's knot I'd learned the night before. Some of our female staff are also expert fishing guides. They took us to a river where rapids spit through boulders and slid into pools where fish rested on their way to the spawning grounds in which they were born. This stretch of water is one of the few bodies of water not controlled by the Inland Waters Assoc. In fact, President Eisenhower fished here in 1954. I was ten then. Not wanting to hurt the fish, we used barbless hooks and caught and released the water Beings. Eight fish wanted my fly, only one was a Brook Trout, the others were Chub, a bottom-feeder. My guide, Sheri, a retired surgeon, cheered me on and taught me much about fly fishing. It is amazing how this experience helped me feel stronger and more self-assured. The act of casting a very long line above and behind one's head is a lesson in trust and paying attention to one's body, telling my arm to wait (even counting to three) as the line snapped behind my head, so I knew when to snap it forward again. I am ever grateful to the wonderful people who took the time and patience to make this retreat a powerful healing.