The history of a painter...

Since writing the last blog, I found out more to the puzzle. 

The painter's name was Robert Faust.

  In the symbol of his mark to sign the photo, it is a R and a F in a circle.

  The man I got this from happens to be the brother to the painter. 

He just lost his brother 2 years ago to cancer.  

Robert was a teacher.

He did many portraits in the near by communities that have long since been painted over. 

He was an art teacher in San Diego once upon a time, before he finally gave it up one day to paint full time.

  Robert's brother works for NASA in their graphics department.  

A bond of brothers, with an appreciative eye.  

Robert's brother delighted in the idea of one of his brother's paintings still being out there.  So did I.  He has kept quite a many of his brother's pieces of artwork, lovingly set aside for his family.  I was right, he was a local, raised as a child in these parts...born roughly in the 60's I assume.  So much raced in my mind during that short conversation... so many things I dared not ask.  Like how old was he when he passed, what year was he born, did he have children, or do you think he could have taught me how to paint?  What did his students think of him?  His co-workers?  His wife? His children?  Did he have pets?  When did he first start to paint? Is their mother still living? Where is he buried? What is your favorite memory of him? Your hardest?

For some reason it did not sadden  me that he was gone.  Instead it invigorated me and excited me greatly that the artist had left a wondrous legacy behind. A piece of art even the family had forgotten about. And now they were going to go back and recapture what was lost, and glean from it the very essence of the artist that I had felt.  It made perfect sense to me then why it touched me so deeply, why I wanted to know who the painter was so fiercely. It was not for me.  It was for a brother already passed who wanted to see his living brother again.  A sort of calling card, and I got to be the messenger.  How I would delight in being a fly upon the wall when the brother from NASA arrives, and what he has to say both spoken aloud, and in the silence of his mind to Robert.  And I know Robert will undoubtedly be listening.  I find it interesting that I did not think I could love the painting anymore then I already did, until now. How the pieces of the puzzle are still in motion...a ripple effect going out.  Where will the momentum go? I will never know.  Maybe the brother will start a blog of Robert's art in memory of his brother.  Maybe the blog will be made into a book.  Maybe the book will awe and inspire a nation.  A man gone from this earth, but not hardly forgotten.  We all walk this road, and I have to wonder... what will I leave behind?

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I want to write a book. Something someone else would delight in reading.  If only for one person, and never to be published.  I want to leave a love of words in the hearts of all who read it.

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An Idea Is Born...

NASA's Prolific Past....

At 35 years old, few things come as a surprise to me anymore. However, not so long ago I found a remarkable piece of NASA's prolific past in a most remarkable spot.  But for all of this, I must back up.  And start with an introduction. 

There is a seemingly dilapidated little old town in the middle of the desert.  Its buildings and structures once new and brightly painted have long since lost their love and care for them, and they now sit slowly decaying and falling apart.  This small town, at your first glance, is sinking into the desert, ever so slowly being eroded away by the harsh wind storms of pebbles and rocks prevalent to this area.  A town routinely over looked and continuously overloaded with sand, sage brush, and family ties. A place where the only store for 20 miles holds not much more then 2 gallons of milk, and few choices of soda, 5 loaves of bread, and a plethora of alcoholic beverages. A small forgotten town on the side of the highway... an off ramp to nowhere. Even car trouble in these desolate conditions might give cause for some to worry and rightfully so.  The closest gas station is 30 miles away in your choice of 2 directions only.  Hidden and remote, the little town of North Edwards, on a quiet little stretch of Highway 58, barely makes a footprint in the sand on the vast Mojave desert floor.  A town slowly dying and receding from a more productive interstate change.

It is there, ...there in that blink of an eye, on a quiet frontage road where this story takes shape and begins to unfold before us.  Like a old woolen blanket... itchy, protective, and warm.  I grapple with the words to describe what it is exactly that I found there.

A piece of America's history is lost. A mural lays hidden on a concrete wall shielded from the suns damaging rays by an awning of rotting wood. A magnificent and splendid forgotten piece of our collective history.  An artist long lost.  It sits as it has for century's on the side of a busy highway that many have past... and few ever realized were traveling on. On the corridor to sin city, Las Vegas, and on the shirt tails of Edwards Air Force Base... it sits alone.

Its only friends are the sounds of the finches from the nearby bird sanctuary, the hum of the tires rolling off the autos and big rigs racing past this stretch of yesterday's past, or the contrasting sound of an occasional thunderous sonic boom of a low flying F-18. Here is where I want to take your hand and have you walk with me.  I have a secret to show you, a story to whisper.  I found something...

It is remarkable, and moving.  It makes my heart sing, and cry all at the same time. It has engraved its image onto the tablet of my soul, and in the deepest recesses of my heart.  It is a forgotten mural in an abandoned shack.  The little Red Barn use to be a lively bar a lifetime ago.  And now it sits empty and open only to transients, and rebellious teens.  The ceiling is blackened with mold, and the linoleum has long since been pulled back, and now houses an illegal fire pit with charred up wood. The windows lay shattered just beyond boards, and the bar still stands welcoming its next customer.  It is a forgotten relic with a hidden jewel.

An artist, presumably local, drew a painting. And captured a moment of time, more perfect then a photo, more transcendental then a time machine.  It looks at first glance to be chalk, but it is not. Its colors blend so well, partly by the painters skillful hand and aided undoubtedly by the rays of time and the repeated soft gentle kiss of the setting sun.  It's amazing.  The happiness of the two little prop job planes flying with the aeronautic masterpiece of them all, the beloved shuttle.  Her safely returning to home after a mission in space. It is a story of coming home, of celebration.... a moment of greatness and accomplishment etched into eternity... a timeless snapshot of true Americana pride, and innovation.  Much like the Paleolithic art "The Crossed Bison" of the Lacaux in southwestern France, this artwork is soon to be a fossil of a promotable era in our nation's history.  A segway to the past. A virtual wrinkle in time.

As I sit here and gaze upon it, I conjure up pictures of promitable painters such as, one of my favorite of all time artists, Dr. Robert T. McCall who passed away earlier this year.  McCall's works are more precise, and detailed in color, scale, and depth... but that is precisely what I love about this painting. It is not a McCall. It is soft. It leaves me room to dream.  It is gentle and more welcoming, and I can almost imagine myself standing at the sidelines of this great day.  The painting is dated the Fourth of July, 1982.  It is the date that takes the painting to a new level of American pride, and deep seeded patriotism for me.  Independence Day.  The perfect day to welcome her home... her crew.  STS-4, Columbia's big day in the sun.  The most remembered most prolific of all the shuttles... at least to me.  Even President Ronald Regan was here himself that day to welcome her home. With a nation watching and all the pomp and circumstance Edwards Air Force Base or the restricted Air Space R-2508 had ever seen prior.  Even the space shuttle Challenger was there that day. Ferried in on the back of one of our two specially modified 747's. God Bless America rings hollow in my ears of the sounds and songs from the hearts of the American public on that day... it makes me want to sing in chorus.

God Bless America.

Land that I LOVE.

Stand Beside Her and Guide Her

Through the Night With A Light From Above.

From the Mountains to the Prairies,

To the Oceans White With Foam

God Bless America, MY HOME SWEET HOME

I can feel the heat of the summer sun, and the dry desert breeze blowing like a hair dryer across my shoulders.  Clad in red, white, and blue clothing, flimsy flip flop shoes upon my feet, sun glasses in my hair, and a camera in my hand,.  A fun and glorious day.  I wish I could have been there.  A prideful propaganda queen, and patriot... waving a flag, and singing triumphantly off key.

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And yet...  

It brings to my heart such sweet sorrow as well.  Tears of a day in her unbeknownst future.  A day of tragedy awaits her.  And standing in the midst of a feeling in her grandeur and most glorious moment... I am sadly reminded, as most Americans, of her legacy.  Columbia on a day much like this one on the fourth of July in 1982, only a few short years later... February 1st, 2003... coming home yet again from a glorious mission in space to a grateful and excited nation...But this time tragically stricken... broken up on reentry over our beloved Texas. A nation in mourning, watching in stunned disbelief.  The loss of seven hard working, talented astronauts. The shock waves of a nation, crashing down upon us. We held the burden of her pain, ourselves shattered. Our ideas, and advancements bruised, our hearts torn asunder.  A tragic loss of life, Columbia's horrific fall from grace.  How we as a nation collectively loved the Shuttle Columbia, and her crew.  How I love them still. 

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The ironic contrast of such a wondrous day with two of our nation's finest spacecrafts on that 4th of July in 1982, and how they are the same two shuttles that we later lost tragically in 1998, and 2003, is not lost on me.  Challenger on January 28,1998, and Columbia on February 1, 2003.  From terrific grandeur to tragedy. My heart feels heavy. 

The soft cool breeze of an early spring nips at my ears and nose.  Standing here in 2010, looking into a painting, transported.  The birds are still chirping. The automobiles still racing by.  The sound of gravel shifting below my weight in the sand.  I turn my eyes to the sky.  Crisp, clear, limitless...  The stories this place could tell.  The marvels this sky has seen.  I breathe it all in, slowly.  Deep into my lungs letting it fill me, and recharge my battery levels.  The sun is softly setting in the west.  The kiss of amber light leaving the sky. It is time for me to be heading home as well.

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I could stay here for hours... to play and ponder. I love this painting.  I wish there were more like it.  Like the best art in the Louvre it moves me.  It makes me think and feel in great depth.  It makes me wonder.  Maybe it is the dilapidated building? The art? The history? The story?  I can not tell you... but this place is blissfully magical, and it delights my soul.  A hidden jewel, a treasured secret, a remarkable piece of NASA's prolific past.  I just simply... love it.

Thank you Faust.  Whomever you are.

The project.... Blog 101

Well as fate would have it the blog at work is still struggling to see light, and take its first deep breath of life.  I was tasked to begin a mock entry for the blog to provide an idea of what a blog entry should look like.  We have others who will be doing the same. Monday we are suppose to come together and put our ideas on a table.  I took a wild stab at it, and what follows comes from my heart.  I still do not believe it is worthy of a NASA publication site, but I do know that when I write for me it turns out much better then if I write for someone else.  I was asked merely IF you were going to write a blog about this organization... what would you say. 

I wanted to keep it positive, and forward thinking.  I wanted it to inspire, and be upliftingly hopeful.  I wanted it to convey who we are and what we do.  I wanted it to state our commitment from a one on one level, to a global connection.  I wanted it to have passion.  I also wanted to keep it short, so as not to bore the reader to death with long drawn out winded speeches.  What I came up with is below.  Not that I expect it to go much further then right here on my blog...but it was fun to let the creative passion flow, and pour out a little bit of me. I am thrilled that I get to have a place in kicking off the people who will be making the first real entries for the NASA Dryden blog.  I believe in this being nothing but good for the center. I look forward to the blog getting off the ground.  I look forward to our first of many informative and exciting entries from our center.  But for now... read and see what you think.

OCIO Code MI Blog Fist Draft…

NASA Dryden’s Mission Information and Test Technology Systems branch (Code MI) is a diverse, and highly skilled workforce that not only exemplifies our institutional capabilities, but it also permeates our eminent overall commitment to our primary customers, our center, our agency, our nation, and our global community. We strive to ensure our altitudinous level of quality within the most cost effective and efficient ways possible.  We, being the I.T. Infrastructure, are excited to be an integral part of this center and its global contributing missions to aeronautics, airborne science, research and so much more.  Through cutting edge advanced technologies we are finding better ways to provide vital cornerstone support to all areas of the center.  We take our contribution to each mission supported at DFRC very seriously. 

Code MI looks forward to our collective future with anticipation, and excitement towards the limitless possibilities set before us.  With great change happening within the entire agency we are invigorated with the new directions we will soon be branching out, and supporting.  With one foot firmly planted in the amazingly rich history, and marvelous feats, of both NACA and NASA’s prolific past, we put our best foot forward, in an inspiring leap of excitement and faith, towards a more proactive, and innovative time in our nation’s collective history.  With a new vision of tomorrow where we are looking less in a single focus, and more in an atomic explosion of possibilities and advancements. Working as a team in tandem with our nations brightest engineers,  most critical thinking scientists, and detailed mathematicians, we will soon be supporting longer, more in depth data recovering flight missions than ever before.  Information that we never knew, we did not know, will soon be discovered, captured, and analyzed to foster a new era of radical and revolutionary change for the US. This new information will undoubtedly spin off into unfathomable gains that will be felt and in a global ripple effect. We are confident the up and coming advancements will profoundly shape all that is yet to come; and that the best part of our history books is still yet to be written. This is truly the best aspect of being part of this organization.  It is truly a magical time.

The extraordinary bottom line is it all starts here, with us in Information Technology Systems. Far from the days of slide rules, college ruled paper, and wooden pencils, we have evolved into the proverbial hub of the center.  I.T. is the very backbone on which the greatest achievements at Dryden are derived. From I.T.’s desktop support, the center operator, reproduction services, and the help desk to assist with one on one personal care to our immediate customer base. To the ground support of the men and women who provide us with miles and miles of skillfully and artistically ran plethora of all varieties of network, telephone, and communications cables. To a more quiet and behind the scenes supportive network of dedicated I.T. Security officers, COMSEC specialists, physical I.T. security, network engineers, and system administrators who provide for us a technology based infrastructure which ensures the availability of transfer, storage, back up, safety, and flow of sensitive and critical data to those that need it, when they need it. We have specialists that are educated and up to date in the latest and greatest in VoIP, and Video conferencing which allows for us a cheaper, more effective, diverse way of open communication amongst colleagues whose missions span from many different locations. We are directly responsible for the truly inspirational videos that would put the best aviation movies, and air shows to shame.  As well as we get to capture some of the best moments in the nations successes on film with some of the world’s best, most skilled, and detailed photographers and technicians.  Our videos, photos and graphics are routinely published in history books, pamphlets, flyers, and even such esteemed publications as National Geographic, Scientific America, and Modern Aviation. We are the vocal cords for the voice of Dryden. Providing, creating, and maintaining all forms of web applications, and databases, and designs that communicate just what we do here at Dryden’s Flight Research Center to our nation’s public, and assist in the conveyance of the overall importance of every spoke in the wheel of this great center.

We, as Code MI, have, arguably, the best jobs in the center. Often quiet and unassuming in nature, our staff is an exceptional workforce that embraces our role in the big picture.  We are proud to be a part of the missions, and we are proud to be here for you. 

Loyalty...

I have always known that by the nature of the beast, I am, by birth date, a Gemini.  A duality sign of the zodiac, with polar opposite sides of the spectrum all encapsulated within one neat little package.  While I do not hold much stock in the supernatural, palm reading, or in hocus pocus of the outer realm mystical gypsy's soothsaying, I do know that some, while vague, parts of their characteristics do ring true.  So it should not come to such a shock to myself that I would be grappling with seemingly trivial issues, and yet feel as if I am in the eye of a torrential storm.

I suppose I should first layout the issue at hand before I sound like a total crack pot. And yet someone once said about me "Just let the crazy out a little out at a time."  But alas, to that I say, no.  That is not me.  I am expressionistic, and vocal, and while I may not paint as beautifully as my boyfriend, or capture such breath of depth in a photo as my friends Alice or Jaimie, I am still an artist.  I paint with my words, as well as with my corny little, often random, works of happiness.  The totally over the top displays of passion are uniquely, genuinely, me. In an often frustrating, and mildly embarrassing fashion.  That is who I am.  I feel deeply, and I will show the world what I feel as I feel it... if only it might, but take a single moment to stop, listen, and care.

So the issue is the pull of two passions.  I am as American as apple pie. I am as loyal, and a defender of this nation, our civil liberties, and our environment as Captain Planet himself.  I am known by many as the NASA cheerleader, and by some an uber geek. And if you have ever read this blog, then you would know that my passions run a funny gambit from military toys, to space, to nature, to glitter, to all things girly, and everything in between.  I am more square then I am round morally, and I am more round then I am square physically.

My problem is loyalty.  Never have I encountered an issue with it.  Loyalty is better then black and white... it is Red, White, and Blue.  I drink it, I eat it, I breathe it, I bleed it.  I am the most loyal of all creatures out there to a fault at times.  Loyal to my children, my lovers, my nation, my job, my friends, my military, my faith, my dreams, my passions... So if nothing else is left on my death marker I would hope it would be, but the one lone word...Loyal. For unlike something as intimate as my name, my sense of loyalty has never changed... it has never wavered. Yet, all encounters with my loyalty before now just happened like nature taking her course within me. An uprising of instinct, and very little thought.  You just do it.  It just happens.  It just is.  Like Half Dome in Yosemite it just always has been, and always will be... a cornerstone the the very foundation to the fiber of who I am.  And now... now I am 35 years old, and the rules of engagement have changed... torn asunder under some seemingly tyrannical twist of fate.

NASA is my job.  I would NEVER do ANYTHING to jeopardize, or create undo stress to that family.  NASA is as much an icon of American greatness and technical prowess as the stars and stripes itself.  Synonymous with innovation, and growth.  NASA was a shooting star I did not dare to even dream as high for, and yet by some magical mix of sheer luck, and bountiful Celestial blessings I made it here. My heart dances at the sound of her jets, and the sight of her shuttle.  She is as noble and as loved as lady liberty herself.  And yet, it is still in all its regal sparkle, a government agency.  And all that I do, all that I say, all that I am is a representation of her and our Dryden family.  Usually this is not a problem to me.  Usually...

Boron, and North Edwards is my home. I love this town and these people. It is the home of the American.  The quiet "Leave it to Beaver" town in the middle of an unusual movie lot...the desert.  The people know their neighbors and really do come out at sunset to talk to one another on the street. A community where non family members pick your kids at the bus stop because it is raining and bring them home because no one should have to walk in the rain. A small intimate town rich in history and family roots.  Like so many communities around this great nation... dwindling beyond repair, and a shadow of the glory days that once were. An elderly community, not by years of the residence, but by the dilapidation of the town.  Some towns thrive, and some simply, by no fault of their own, wither away.  North Edwards, and Boron, Ca are very much the latter.  Those that are left are tough, rugged, and mainly family... if not by blood, by sweat and tears.  And when you move into our little towns, unlike in the rest of the nation, here you are family too.

These people mainly work at a local Boron mine, and many have for generations, and generations, and generations of families that have worked out there. Right now they in the gripping battle of being locked out of the mine by the owners. A foreign company which has a less then stellar history of not treating their workers right.  Their tactics are well documented. And in the struggle the entire town is being brought down to its knees. Almost 600 families in a town with the population of 2400.

A town full of people who have time, and time again, have come to my aid, helped me out, and held me up.  One came to fix a fence, another a broken sprinkler, another was a medic that came to our aid when my son was horribly burned, another came bearing gifts for Christmas the year I had nothing to give them, these are the teachers of my children, they are the coaches of my boys sports teams, these are the store keepers, and the church community I once was very active in. They are the bus drivers, and the policemen. Almost every home is directly impacted by the lock out.  I have been in many of their homes, and they have been in mine.  Some came to my aid because they knew me, or one of my boys, but more often then not, someone heard from someone else there was a need and just came.

NASA is my job, Boron is my town... and American is my blood.  They are all such a driving force of who I am, it is hard to separate them. I understand that to protect one from the other I have too, I have no choice... and so I do and I will.  But it is the act of having to do so that is truly hurting me in the process.

Laying down my colors of one, lowering the flag of loyalty on one, so that I may freely embrace the other makes me so very sad.  It is not about the politics to me. It is about family. It is not about who is right, and who is wrong, it is about who is hurting, and how I may help them.  It is about reaching out my hand with love, support, and compassion to those that have selflessly reached out their hand for me when I was face down in the sand, and the desert sun was blistering on my back. It is about opening myself up to their pain and their strife so that I may help to carry their burden so they do not have to shoulder it alone. The very heart I wear on my sleeve is breaking only because I am learning that I too must learn to play the game. And that all things no matter how simplistic, even as simplistic as family, it is still very much all about politics.

And because I love them both, I will protect them both... and ultimately protect myself in the mean time. I will learn politics, and learn to dance on the fine line.  I am learning in a painful process how to protect the cornerstones. It is a fine line. And I am not sure I am going to navigate the path correctly.  I am fearful, but I have no other choice. I am but a leopard, and I am driven by my spots. I make no apologies for them. And yet all I can do is be Loyal foremost to me.  For it is me that I must sleep with at night. When jobs and employers change, and towns are long moved away from... I will still remain.  And my marker will still be Loyalty.

Once in a Blue Moon...

This year began in an unusual way, a special, and rare event marked the passing of the new year.  2010, The year of innovation, of change, and growth.  Not just for our nation, but for each and every one of us.  I knew as I sat there surrounded by my boyfriend, best of friends, and work colleges that things were going to change for all of us this year.  The moon was literally blue and full, and yet no one seemed to notice its quiet radiance dusting the environment with celestial blessings. I pondered within my own heart how my life would or could possibly change this year... and I drew a blank.  

I love my life the way that it is, and how it could alter for the better was beyond my envisions of the moment.  And yet, it nagged at me.  Weighed heavy on my mind, and danced around from time to time over the last couple days on my heart.  What if anything could I do to make good of the Full Blue Moon and all of her blessings?  I just simply did not know.

Until Yesterday...

I went to work, to a job I absolutely love with a passion.  And in another turn in the bend of the river I call my life, I was tasked with a very unique, and splendorous honor.  I am so excited about it even now a whole 24 hours later that I can hardly capture the words dancing above me to even write it.  I was asked to begin a NASA Dryden Blog for the Dryden, Office of the CIO, ON THE National NASA WEBSITE!!!  

Oh my gosh, I am still reeling with excitement, and thankfulness.  What an honor.  I am to do an entry once a month.  With a crunch factor of three entries now for a roll out on February 1st, 2010.  Each entry will be from the Dryden CIO office, as an interview of staff, and what it is that we do, are doing, and are working towards.  The first interview if for the goal of the organization by Rob Binkley our CIO and Ken Norlin our DCIO.  That will kick off our blog.  Then it will be on to the ITSM lead Anthony Thomas, and then to our Network Architect Dennis daCruz.  And then systematicly down the line one by one until the entire department is captured and spotlighted.  

The blog will be as much an out reach tool, as it will be a showcase of specialty, and positive PR campaign for the IT Department. A collaboration of our greatest assets... our people, and me.  I get to be the spokeswoman, with a voice for our men and women who work so quietly behind the scenes, without recognition, or gratitude day in and day out.  I am so excited.  It is a side job to the routine taskings of my job, but what a jewel in the crown of the position.  With.......

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It never happened.  The idea took on a life of its own. It was not meant to be.  Bigger then myself, it turned into a dream job for the proper people.  I only pray that with its evolution onto the broader spectrum and elevated status of the blog... I pray it is done in greatness.  I hope it encompasses the passion of Dryden and all that we do there.

As it stands the blog grew in depth and grandeur,  the idea growing up to maturity within days. It grew from a modest blog written by a secretary for a small intimate department, to a center wide full on representation of the mission and research that goes on there.  It grew bigger then my hands, but like a butterfly on the hand of a little girl, while I had it in the palm of my hand... it delighted me.  Dreams are but dreams, but sometimes we are lucky enough to touch them if only for a moment in time. We are still the fortunate ones.

Life is a Gift....

There have been a series of events that has surrounded me lately that has me deep in thought.  Again with an issue that has been long since a staple in my life.  From working in the hospitals of my past to observations of the present. It saddens me, the reality of it.   I suppose it is best if I take a moment to take a step back and explain the missing pieces of the puzzle.

It started again for me about a week and a half ago.  A young man in his late 30's.  A face I would occasionally see smiling in the halls.  He was on his way to work, just like any other day before.  Same route, same routine.  He was struck by a text messaging while driving 20 year old  blowing a stop sign at 70 mph...on his way daily morning commute to work.  He was killed instantly.  He is survived by his wife and 4 children ranging from 3 to 18.  The 12 year old they called shadow because he did everything with his father.  Shadow stopped eating for several days in grief.  I did not know the Garrett family, nor did I know this man who walked quietly among us.  He was a  face in a crowd to me... but to his family he was their whole world.  And now their whole world lays in shambles, as shattered glass upon the ground.  A woman becomes in the blink of an eye, both mother, and father to her heartbroken family.  All while trying desperately to keep from drowning in her own grief as well.  My heart bleeds for them.  Their oldest has Asperger's Syndrome... just like my middle one.  My heart breaks for the boy who does not know how to deal with normal feelings let alone with the torrential waterfall of pain, guilt, and grief he now faces.  This is just tragic anyway you look at it.

Then a second event hits from out of the blue.  I find that another man more familiar then the first, but still an acquaintance has not just fallen ill due to the swine flu, but has actually passed away due to his exposure and contraction of it.  This young man was all of 25 years old, healthy, and active.   He was known to come into my home and harass my children as a big brother might. He was funny, and friendly, and always willing to give a hand.  He was the best friend of a land lord I had while here in Boron.  He would come like a shadow attached to my landlord and his wife.  Never very far, always quick with a laugh, or a witty remark.  Usually at someones expense, but all in good jest.  He was a substitute teacher at the High School.  So the kids all knew him quite well.  He was too young, to healthy, too strong to die.  Dialysis, and poor blood gases were no match for him.  Dennis Darr was the one who helped take care of his parents when they were in failing health... how on earth did the young, strong, full of life care taker die before the already compromised parents?  Tragically lost too soon in a shroud of scary unanswered questions.  His celebration of life is to be on this coming Monday.  And while I did not know Dennis well, the fact is I did know him, and I liked him.  I respected who he was, and what he stood for.  And I will go as a quiet observer to support this community, his best friend, his family, and him.

Then today I got to help with a baby shower.  To hold a precious little life within my hands, and stroke her soft and tender head.  She was alert and her eyes were bright.  A tiny miracle of God. She smiled so tenderly  at me, and seemed to know with all certainty she was in good hands.  It made me ponder so many things.  How life is a rare and most precious gift. We have all been granted the time we were given, the experiences we get to have, the blessings we get to embrace and yet none of us knows when that card will be recalled.  My PaPa died at 94 years old... it can and does happen all of the time.  Carl's grandmother is 93 years old right now.  Both with long full abundant lives.  And yet there are so many still like my brother in law who died at 38 years old just 2 years ago. My Grandmother who died at 36.  Like Mr. Garret in his late 30's, or Mr. Darr at 25.

I have long pondered of this concept and it is written upon the tablet of my heart. Words that seem to have long echoed within my ears over the course of my life, but seem more recently to carry more and more weight.  Words I have but just recently passed on to my boyfriend, Carl. Cherish the Moments.

Cherish the Moments we are given, embrace the love as it is given us.  The big and the little stuff.  The meaningful and the simplistic.  Embrace your life, and live it with purpose, drink it in with passion, and pass it forward with love, understanding, and respect.

For me this is people.  My children, my beautiful boys, and the moments they choose to smother me with their love, and excitement. My lover, and best friend, and the moments he chooses to hold me, talk to me, and share a piece of himself.  My friendships such as those with my dear friends; Amy and Tanya, or those of my work colleagues such as Russell, Stephanie, or Emil.   For me it is also cherishing the opportunities and life experiences.  Such as the slow dances, the historical NASA events, decorating for the 58 days of Christmas, the quiet dinners out, the sunsets in the desert, the feeling the waves of the ocean crashing upon your feet.

I am grateful for it all.  Life is much too short.  And in the blink of an eye, anyone of us could be gone.  Those around me know me.  I ooze love, not just from the heart upon my sleeve but from every breath I exhale.  I am not perfect, but I do cherish my moments.  I cherish the smiles from strangers, from faces in the crowd.  I cherish those who come ever so briefly into my life and touch me and the lives of my children.  I cherish the laughter, and energy of my boys.  I cherish the love of a good, kind, and long awaited soul mate.  I cherish my friends who make me laugh, let me cry, and carry me through.  I cherish the gift of a tiny and delicate brand new life, and getting if only for a moment to hold her hand and welcome her to her journey.  I cherish the ability I have to help, when a distress call is played.  I cherish the joy I get to pass it all forward.  I am rich with life, rich with blessings, rich which experiences, and just for the record... my life is Full, and anything from this point forward is just icing on the cake.

I will continue to cherish the moments... today, now more then ever.

Thank You, Lord.

I have not blogged in a while due to some heart breaking developments that I will not go into here.  It is enough to say that life is a constant flux of change.  It is the journey that forges us into the people we are meant to be.  Choices are made by each and everyone of us along the path.  Countless lives we touch and love and learn to let go of.  The relationships in our lives are for reasons, seasons, and some special few for lifetimes.  I cherish the ones I have today for I know not if they will be there tomorrow.  The best of friends, the love of my family, the loving supportive relationship I am currently in.  All can be gone tomorrow. 

This is self evident once again in my life.  Having to let go and distance myself for the greater benefit of the friend.  There is no less love there for them.  All things have a place and a time.  Ours is just over.  While this revelation saddens me greatly, I am thankfully reflective of all of the wonderful times and precious memories I have been gifted by them.  The pieces of the friendship that I will forever hold close to my heart with no regrets.  

I am but one person making the best decisions that I can make for myself with the information that I have set before me at each and every moment of my life.  These are my choices, these are my decisions, and this is my path.  I hold my head up and face the wind and take one step at a time.

Baccus Ranch...

Wow, you talk about a big boys playground! There was so much to see, do, and explore. We easily could have been there for weeks on end and never gotten bored. Most of which I saw had to be explained to me in great detail, but that is what made it so much fun. A little boy's workshop mecca. So much to play with, everything could be created into something. The creature and creations only limited by your own imagination.

The boys got a kick out of this guy. A blinged out super robot that could help you with your homework, your housework, your workshop, and your home security system all while looking pretty darn sharp! The boys had so many stories about the wonderful uses for this guy that you half started to believe them yourself. It was amazing to me how the spark of one man's imagination was transformed into such a wonderful peice of artwork which then ignigted a whole forest fire of imagination within the minds of two young children. The delight they got in his decorations and his chains... making him more then just metal... making him real in their little minds. How wonderful it was for me to play watchful protective mother from a safe distance.

How Fun it was for all of us to enjoy being able to snoop around and find such wonderful treasures something suited for each of us. Colton found this spikey ball of death. For a 15 year old boy nothing could be more dangerous and fun to weild then a dangerous metal ball most would think twice before picking up let alone walk with. His imagination sparked with thoughts of fights and wars of long ago. Warriors in metal suits defending fortresses in beautiful foriegn countries. How he did laugh at me as I asked him to pose with the sculpture. I love his laugh.

The dragon of Carl's passionate artwork so beautifully portrayed in metal sculpured form. From the scales on his back to the mystic orb held tight within his jaws, it is a marvel of design and ordinary made extrodinary. A collection of talented relicks of the Baccus family that seem to explain the talents of the now grown men. How blessed they were to grow up in such a free expressionistic home that encouraged and nurtured their talents. The passions of the parents, gifted to the sons. What an amazingly talented, tight knit, loving, family.

Beyond the artwork was the toys. Dustin playing on a 35 thousand dollar tractor dreaming big dreams of working with great equiptment and playing. He does live in the right spot for that. With the Rio Tinto Mine not far from here... he just may someday make this dream a reality. Time will tell. How consentrated he was on making this big contraption work. How one can look into the future and see this image as the before shot and a grown man on the same machine years later as the after shot. He was loving it. My marvelous machine enamoured baby... does not matter what it is or what it does, he LOVES machines. Roaring engines, forceful power, magnificent metal.... splendor danced in his heart as he sat there.

Even George got on board, he got to bend and shape some peices of metal. He had learned what levers to push in what succession and his imagination was already lit with furry as to what it could become or how it should look. He loved it, and was overjoiedwith the news that he could take his peice of metal home with him. He was focused and happy. Glad to have made something, anything with his hands that he could show off and be proud of. It was wonderful to share in his exciment. I think he shocked himself, and then he had to orient all those around who would listen to what he had just learned. A born teacher.

I marveled at the gate, unique and splendid in all its wonderous glory. The scrolled artwork at the top, the sturdy secure wagon wheels as the secure base. The beautiful melody that graced any movement from the gate from the five fancy bells...one of which was silent and did not work because the knocker had fallen loose. It seemed so symbolic to me. Symbolic of a wonderful family which honor their mother and place her on high above all else (the beautiful scolled design), the Father providing the strength and security of the family (the reinforced bars on the bottom holding everything together), the two boys represented by success and movement (the two wagon wheels) The four functioning bells one for each fully functioning family member... all beautiful alone, but harmonious and delightful together. Even the electronic call box at the gate symbolic of the two boys in I.T., communications, and computers. The gate simplistic and yet sturdy beautiful and strong. The artwork and design reminissent of just how truly talented the family that presides beyond these walls really are. To most this place would not seem like much. To me it seemed rich with memories and love and laughter. The Baccus family home. Within these walls grew much more then rose bushes and trees long gone... within these walls grew an amazingly rich family.

It is evident to me as I sat on the front portch watching my boys with Carl and his Father play on the tractor just how rich and abundant this soil really still is. Dirt is dirt, and land is land, but family ties are the most proseperous crop this land has ever populated. I love showing my sons what this looks like... family roots. The Baccus Ranch deeply grounded in history, in acceptance, in free expression, and encouraged imagination. All I can say is... it was fun being able to share in the experience.

Thank you Carl, Jim, and Alice for letting us in. : ) <3>

Birch Aquarium - San Diego, CA

Oh my gosh we had the best, on a whim, destination stop in San Diego when we decided as a family to go to an aquarium for the day. The day started out with a wonderful breakfast, at Mimi's Cafe, full of scrumptious hot chocolate, cold juice, sweet pancakes, rich quiche, warm omelets, fresh pumpkin muffins and much, much, more. It was Colton's idea..."Hey, why don't we go to an aquarium?" Great idea! We took out the trusty navigation guru, Garmin, loaned to us by a dear friend. We affectionately refer to the navigational tool as Jill. We punched in aquarium and low and behold, Jill found us one, less then 8 miles down the road. PERFECT! We set out on a fun filled adventure to Birch Aquarium.

There were these amazing live coral reefs set down so the kids could reach in and touch living sea anemones, hermit crabs, and star fish. My desert dune boys were not sure what to make of weird water creatures, and would not put their hands anywhere near them. Carl showed them they were safe and not going to harm them, but no way were they going to be coaxed into the off chance he might be wrong. Watching them learn and interact with Carl was fun for me from the other side of the camera. He is a natural teacher, and they are sponges when around him. Maybe it is his calm, quiet demeanor... maybe it is his vast amounts of knowledge... maybe it is his willingness to slow down and genuinely listen to them... what ever it is, it was nice to stand back and observe silently from the other side of a camera's lense.

The vast array of coral and brilliantly colored fish was so amazing. It seemed so peacefully tranquil to me, and yet to Dustin the negative ions seemed to wash over him with each new tank only amping up his level of exuberance and delight. A wound battery, ever ready, and delighted to skip ahead to announce the up coming attraction. Hyper and happy, he stayed within sight of us, but rarely within arms reach. His own sheer enchantment drawing us deeper and deeper into each of the tunnels.

The day itself was perfect. The weather was cool and crisp, with a gentle breeze to keep it nice. But it was not too cold, not cool enough even for light jackets. It was perfectly beautiful and serene. The waves crashing gently on the beach below was truly picturesque. Spending time with my children and with Carl was nothing short of glorious. The air show was nice, but it was the kind of excitement and happiness that drains you... This trip to Birch Aquarium was the slower pace of life kind of trip. The kind that was more fulfilling. A recharging of the batteries of life, slower, calming, peaceful. I love to see the boys learn... hands on is so much better then any in class study time. There is something special about places like these that can not be absorbed properly through a textbook. To watch the memory forming in them, the way they see and feel the experience. It is the true embodiment of pure untainted joy from parenthood.

This picture of Dustin does little to depict the sheer vastness of this tank behind him or the glee written upon his face, and yet it is one of my favorite places within this splendorous scenic destination. There are so many fish, sharks, and sting rays in this tank, and the soft glow on the faces of those that pass by it is as remarkable as the tank itself. An exquisite display of rich wonderment and its resplendent under water world beauty! I could almost see myself as an underwater princess straight out of "The Little Mermaid Movie" If there had been less people there I may have even danced or spun around in the soft blue glowing light...but I did not. I was good, and proper, and adult like in behavior. Not that I wanted to mind you, but I did. It was just truly breathtaking.

This is a distorted, but wonderful picture of the amazement and wonderment in the eyes of the boys as they peered into the tanks. This one is of George watching the jelly fish swimming in a rhythmic dance on the currents in the water. I have to admit even I was caught up in the simplistic ballet of the jelly's. The way they moved, and how their bodies looked so wondrous and magical dancing in the water. I never realized how many different species of jelly fish that we have out here. It was fun to watch them behind the safety of a tank glass window. Graceful little creatures for sure.

Of course Colton was as cool as ever, for being all of 15 years old going on 25. But there were glimpses of both the child he once was as well as of the man he is turning into. The self assured, confident, gentleman would set out a deep giggle when he had found something cool to focus on, or to direct our attention to. It was fun to see him enjoy himself, being carefree, respectful, and kind. Sometimes I think quietly to myself, and am pleased in how my children seem to be developing. I am very blessed by them.

Some people chase after money, possessions, or things, but these things... these days, these trips you can never afford to do or take... these are the moments of riches beyond all measure. Delighting in the time well spent close with one another. Laughing and delighting in Colton making a USMC water flow experiment, watching Dustin light up light bulbs in an awesome hands on experiment, watching George deliver a news cast to us on wildfires in the area, or watching Carl going over the different sounds each of the different kinds of whales make as they sing sweetly to one another... these are the times of unmeasurable joys and happiness for me. The bystander moments of how genuine love pours over your soul and warms you from within. Where happiness shines brightly, and peace is breathed in.

MIRAMAR AIRSHOW 2009

You know some people think they have me all figured out. And I laugh... The reason that I love going to Miramar is so complicated and so simplistic that it often escapes people. They act like it some big secret, and in fact it is as simple as knowing that someday I am going to soar... I am going to make it. That this battered and bruised battleship is being put back together daily, that my rivets are being rewelded where they once popped apart. The broken hull is being made stronger and tighter, and yes... someday I am going to fly. Not just merely a secretary in an office as the assistant to all... but for once I am going to fly, and shine for all to see. An airshow moment of my life... no longer the spectator, but to dance in the glory of the sun. The time is coming, I can feel it....

And yet it is deeper still and more complicated. For many that come to the tarmac hold a love of the planes, and a serious appreciation for the grace and beauty of flight. I love the feel of the jet wash ripping through the air and reverberating off the bones deep within my chest. The sight of a slow copper orange sunset glistening off the rivets of an old, polished, pristinely restored, B-52 Bomber, that makes the beautiful, brunette, bombshell nose art take center stage. It is the soft low hum of the crowd as a F-22 comes in for a tight pass, and a high banking turn. It is the clapping of appreciation as an armored tank drives by with honorable service men and women waving from the turrets. It is the peaceful, misleading dance, in the sky high above. Beautiful and graceful, and yet lethal if necessary. It is the show of magnificent skill and talent, coupled with engineering master pieced constructed by intellectual collaborations and designed by marvelous minds. They are the fantastic women of the sky. Symbolic in their beauty, grace, and stream lined prowess as well as in their vastly different shapes, colors, and job classifications. They are strong when they need to be, and gentle, and patient when they don't.

I was told by one of my sons not so long ago, that my fascination with planes and with flight was not feminine,... that it was not becoming of a woman. I beg to differ. It is how I see it that makes it what it is to me. Although no other may see it as I, it is the vision that makes me who and what I am. Some think it is this love and passion that is slowly deteriorating the fine tuning of my hearing. What I do know is I truly LOVE the sound of the engines, the roar of the after burners... it is magnificent,AWESOME, inspirational and it makes me smile from deep within my soul. Few things in life are worth losing your senses for... to me, this is one that just is. Not many would understand that concept... then again not many understand me, and that is OK. This time, this place, the moments I get to be at NASA, these are moments of my dreams. I cherish them. I soak them in and they become a part of me. I love planes... I love air shows... I love flight.

But the whole air show event is not limited to the enjoyment I get from the planes. The planes are just the tip of the iceberg for me. It is spending time with the my beloved family... and enjoying the time we get to be with one another. Enjoying the personalities, and uniqueness in all of us. Watching my oldest son light up in the glow of the Marine Corps propaganda booths, and all of the Marine Corps gear. Letting him go with limited freedom to get food and drinks on his own, without the watchful supervision of his over protective Mother. How happy he is to walk past the men and women in uniform all puffed up and dreamy of days and accomplishments just around the bend to come. A boy looking into the eyes of manhood, and his desired future profession. Not knowing the real commitment involved, but desiring it none the less. It is watching the eyes of my two youthful sons faces deep into their very first funnel cakes. The strawberry and apple fillings smothering the hot pastry waffle goodness in a shower of powder sugar. How excited they were to sell me out for the Mother of the Year Award when I announced that Funnel Cakes were an acceptable dinner for air shows. How puzzled the looks as to how to judge their mother being morphed from the vegetable forcing balanced food group policeman to the carefree junk eating glutton cheerleader. How they seemed to revel in the thought they were getting away with something.

It was sitting cuddled into the arms of the one that you love in the brisk night air watching the night show, the fireworks, and the Napalm Wall of Fire. The Ooooooooo's and Awes resounding from the crowds in all directions in a chorused crescendo of amazement and appreciation overcame everyone at the same time.

It is the happy little boy laughter coming from the barreled chests of grown men as the fire billows the mushroom cloud explosions high into the darkened sky and dusts you with a blanket of dry heated warmth. It is the love in the air, the positive feeling that surrounds you and holds you up long after the show is over. It is the patriotism, the love of nation, country, service, and yourself that hangs heavy in your heart long afterward. This is Miramar... this is Family... this is Southern California Fun. This is what I live for...