The Answer is.....

Geronimo

Goyathlay ("one who yawns")

Geronimo - His Own Story

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Quotes from Geronimo

"I was warmed by the sun, rocked by the winds and sheltered by the trees as other Indian babes. I was living peaceably when people began to speak bad of me. Now I can eat well, sleep well and be glad. I can go everywhere with a good feeling.

The soldiers never explained to the government when an Indian was wronged, but reported the misdeeds of the Indians. We took an oath not to do any wrong to each other or to scheme against each other.

I cannot think that we are useless or God would not have created us. There is one God looking down on us all. We are all the children of one God. The sun, the darkness, the winds are all listening to what we have to say.

When a child, my mother taught me to kneel and pray to Usen for strength, health, wisdom and protection. Sometimes we prayed in silence, sometimes each one prayed aloud; sometimes an aged person prayed for all of us... and to Usen.

I was born on the prairies where the wind blew free and there was nothing to break the light of the sun. I was born where there were no enclosures."

#1 reason Your Book will never be Published

You have not written it (yet).
from
" 78 reasons why your book may never be published and 14 reasons why it just might"
by Pat Walsh (Penguin books)

Get going people - let's publish something ! Frank

P.S. Write everyday and you just might write something
worthwhile.

Quotes from Paul Gauguin

Quotations by Paul Gauguin (from Wikipedia.com)

* "In order to do something new we must go back to the source,
to humanity in its infancy."

* "Art is either plagiarism or revolution."

* "I have tried to make everything breathe in this painting:
belief, passive suffering, religious and primitive style, and the
great nature with its scream."

* "How do you see this tree? Is it really green? Use green,
then, the most beautiful green on your palette. And that shadow,
rather blue? Don't be afraid to paint it as blue as possible."

* "To me, barbarism is a rejuvenation."

* "I shut my eyes in order to see."

* "Life being what it is, one dreams of revenge."

* "Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going?"

* "How long have I been here? Henceforward for? I shall not
know. For I have been traveling for too long. My bones too weary to
remember my age. Hence, how long have I been here? Thou shalt never
know."

* "It was Europe, the Europe which I had sought to shake
off....Was I to have made this journey, only to find the very thing
which I had fled?"

* "I must confess that I am myself a woman."

I do not know what you might do with these but feel free to write
something with them------Frank

[edit]

Paint, Primer, and Procrastination

Things I was thinking of instead of painting my bathroom:
1. Smooth walls and ceilings are underrated.
2. If you think a job will be an easy one, it won’t. It always costs more and takes more work than you ever imagined.
3. Sometimes, if you think a job will be a major one, it seldom is and you have the fun of saying “That was so much easier than I thought it would be! Why didn’t we do that years ago?” This does not happen very often, so enjoy the moment.
4. Engineers should not do home improvements. The previous owner jerry-rigged EVERYTHING.
5. Don’t let the cat in to help you paint. It’s not so funny when his painted tail is now painting the doorframe, the kid’s backpack, the rug, etc.
6. I find it very touching that my tadpole sprouted arms on Valentine’s Day. Nothing says “Be Mine” like growing a limb.
7. Paint takes a few washings to get out of your hair.
8. I couldn’t remember who said “My father couldn’t paint a damn, but that man could clean a brush!”, but it makes me laugh every single time I clean a paintbrush.
9. When I was younger and more agile, I had no money in which to do projects. Now I’ve got the money and the body is unwilling.
10. I should have married for money. Love doesn’t paint the walls.

New class assignment

I have an assignment for next week.

"I cannot think that we are useless or God would not have created us.
There is one God looking down on us all. We are all the children of one
God. The sun, the darkness, the winds are all listening to what we have
to say."

Who do you think said that. And what did this person mean. I will
reveal in class the answer but I would like to hear your ideas and
thoughts.

Mom/me

     Will my mother be sitting beside me when she's dead?  Like she is now while I'm driving and she says I made that turn too quick and should have waited for that car to pass by?  I hear her voice so often when I least expect it.  Don't buy that roast; it's too expensive.  That dress is much too revealing for you to wear to the reunion.  What have you done to your hair?  You look like a boy!  Aren't you going to call your aunt Marcella soon?  What about all those thank you notes?  Shouldn't you be losing a little weight--you could be pregnant with that stomach of yours.  Sometimes I can't remember the difference between what she actually said and what I think she said.  It doesn't matter.  Her voice cuts through all the same.  How old do you have to be before it stops?  I'm _______.  Wouldn't you think that it would stop by then?  When do you get to be your own person?  When she dies?  She's ninety and doesn't show any signs of letting up with the judgements.  Does she really need to do that--sit next to me while I drive?  She has a life of her own; now I want mine.  Let me drive ninety miles an hour if I want.  Divorce my husband if I want.  Love my neighbor if I want.  Cut my kids out of my will if I want.  Run naked through the woods if I want.  Yell "shit" and "damn" and "I hate you" if I want.  I may not choose to, but I just want the option. I want to make the choices; let me be free; let me. Me,me,me.

Grief

There is a woman I know, not well, but enough to know her story. She is one of those people I try to avoid, and secretly, I think she avoids me too. She’s kind of pushy, opinionated, and way over the top with her kids. She’s one of those moms who know everything about family and kids. She was always there at everything her kids did, front row, dead center. She always had her children dressed just so, bought them the most current toy, and overall just held them as the best. Having been labeled the same type of mom, I wince when someone attacks her behind her back. Knowing her story, I have always given her the benefit of doubt and I think on some level we are very much alike. Maybe that is why I avoid her.

We met in a Mom and Tot class when the boys were 2, maybe 3 years old. On the very first day of class, we would introduce ourselves and our children and then share an activity. There were play stations throughout the room and the idea was to meet the other moms and kids by sharing some fun. She somehow found the mom, who at the moment was alone, corner her, and drop her bomb. As each of us stood there in uncomfortable silence, she would go on about how her daughter had recently died and now she needed to find friends for her son. Her daughter was only 4 years old when she contracted a weird viral infection and died suddenly. Apparently this was very recent and she was still not only grieving for herself, but she also knew her son was grieving as well, and joined the class to find a companion for the boy who was too young to understand why his sister was no longer there. Most of us didn’t know quite how to handle this strange confrontation. She was met with awkward compassion, and after a few “I’m sorry’s”, nearly all of the women hurried away to tend to their children. It wasn’t the time or the place to talk about her loss, but I could remember asking myself what I would do. Could I possibly be “normal” again if I ever lost a child? I cannot imagine the pain, the complete loss that comes from the death of a child. I think something snapped in that woman the day her daughter died. Something snapped, a part of her died and she was never normal again. I cannot judge this mom because I’m not sure I could get out of bed more or less join to a Mom and Tot class if something happened to one of my children.

I have been thinking of the parents of the NIU students that were killed this week. How do they go on? How do you explain the loss of such young people with their futures ahead of them? How do you say goodbye, kiss them one last time and shut the casket? How do you ever return to a normal life or any semblance of one? I cannot imagine the pain, the loss, the” what if’s” after such a crime. The idea that I could not protect my child or that I could not spare them from pain or fear in their last moments would haunt me forever. The thought that they died alone or terrified is incomprehensible.

I lost my father when I was 7 years old. I know that this jolt in my life has formed me, made me who I am and what I fear. I walk with trepidation through this life; knowing how fragile it is and how quickly loved ones can one day be gone forever. I control my fears of being separated from the kids, but I do admit they are there. There isn’t a time when I get in the car with my husband, conscience that the kids are alone, and they could be parentless in one fell swoop. I push these fears from my mind and go on with life, but they are there. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t consciously think of death more than the average person. It is who I am. I grew up wondering if my mom would be taken from me too. Loss. That’s a tough one at seven years of age. Maybe for any age.

So, 13 years later, I watch this mom from across the room, and I wonder—I wonder if she ever got over the loss of her daughter. Is she “normal” again? Does she still bring her daughter into every conversation? Maybe not, but I bet not a day doesn’t go by that she doesn’t think about it and how painful it is to be a survivor.