Karen Shearhart was her name

Our local newspaper, the Fort Worth Star Telegram, had a story today about a 56-year-old homeless woman who had died. Alex Branch was the writer. Karen Shearhart was her name.

She appeared older than her 56 years, hair neglected had grown long and was pulled into a wool hat. She wore long-sleeved flannel shirts and pants year-round. Karen Shearhart was her name.

She preferred to live on her own terms, which included living in a wooded area near downtown Fort Worth. The story described her as "disappearing into the woods" when she headed to her home. The story said she talked of seeking squatters' rights to the area in which she nested: large garbage bags filled with paper provided cushion to sleep on. A plywood board apparently shielded her from whatever she believed she needed shielding from. The picture and description of her wooded estate showed evidence she had staked her claim years ago. It was a place of importance in her life. Karen Shearhart was her name.

I wonder what she thought about her existence. The story didn't say what her mental illness was, but it was pointed out that she was kind and able to carry on a conversation. However, the conversation could be halted if she got angry at something said. She was familiar to several social services people. She showed up for free lunch sacks. Karen Shearhart was her name.

She apparently made this wooded area her home about 8 years ago. During that time many people tried to get her to "come in." She told them, the paper said, she didn't like the shelters. In this area, it's not unusual for single homeless men to be alone and living outside. It is unusual for a 56 year old woman to be homeless outside all by herself. She resisted help from nonprofit agencies, church agencies, individuals. She had a place to stay at night in the woods. Karen Shearhart was her name.

People were able to gain her trust. She showed them her appreciation with gifts of clipped coupons. Clipped coupons held value for her, makes sense she would give them to people she valued. Karen Shearhart was her name.

She grew up in Tarrant County and was my age, 56 years old. It was reported she had heart disease, although it appears it was the heat that took her life. Karen Shearhart was her name.

On August 23rd, workers at Catholic Charities were concerned they hadn't seen her for a few days, unusual as she participated in lunch program. So they walked to her wooded home and sadly found her fallen. She already had passed. Karen Shearhart was her name.

What's the lesson learned? Mental health care is complicated. Some really fine people did all they could to make this woman comfortable and safe. They kept tabs on her, let her know they cared what happened to her. A lot of people in nice houses don't have that. And apparently, they wanted others to know about her as they called the newspaper to do a story about her. Those who tried to help her already did everything they could for her, but perhaps felt they could do one more thing: share her story. Karen Shearhart was her name.

I had never heard of this woman before today and I was glad to know about her. Karen Shearhart was her name.

Time to put away your white shoes

Labor Day. End of summer. Start of school. Time to put away your white shoes until Easter (or is it Memorial Day?). Actually that last one is outdated. I did some research on this a few years ago - about the white shoes - and really, it's OK to wear white shoes 365 days a year. Not that anyone would want to wear white shoes 365 days... back to Labor Day.

Labor Day, according to Wikipedia, which I believe, originated in Pullman, Ill., in 1894. Railroad workers for the Pullman company near Chicago went on strike after their wages were reduced. The strike halted traffic going west out of Chicago. So Pres. Cleveland sends federal troops to Illinois to control the workers. This action worked, but also it set off a nationwide effort to unionize railroad workers, led by Eugene Debs. To appease the many people angered by his forceful actions, Pres. Cleveland then was forced to rush through Congress legislation for a National Labor Day.

Interesting Labor Day facts:

• Pres. Cleveland argued he had the right to send troops because the strike prevented the U.S. mail from being delivered.
• Both criminal and civil charges were filed against leaders of the strike. Eugene Debs was represented by Clarence Darrow.
• 13 strikers were killed by federal troops.
• Here's a Wiki icky: Railroad tycoon George Pullman remained unpopular even after his death in 1897. His burial site had to be steel reinforced to prevent haters from desecrating the site, including digging him up.

Rainy days and Thursdays...

I spent the day in bed yesterday, sickern' a dog. Sinus, cold, whatever. I had that tickle in my throat that wouldn't go away so I couldn't stop coughing. I went through an entire package of Ricola, mixed berry flavor. RIIII-COOOOO-LAAAAA.

Today is another day. I feel better. Just took some Alka Selzer for colds. No flavor. Don't like that in flavors. Ick. I'm not exactly 100 percent, but if I don't go to work today I don't get paid for Labor Day, which we have off. It's not that we're destitute, but I do have my own bills to pay.

My plan: Take Alka Selzer with me, buy some more Ricola, maybe a new flavor, pack tissues and paste a smile on my face. It's rainy outside, which helps. I don't know why, just seems to set a more appropriate backdrop.

I have to thank Paulie for his wonderful care yesterday. He went to the store for me and got soup, crackers and Sprite. And tissues. A variety of tissues, some with lotion, some without. He brought me tea. You are the greatest.

Now time to get ready for work.

Thank you, Glenn Beck

Glenn Beck is on a mission to restore America's honor. Thank you, Glenn Beck. I didn't know that we had lost our honor, so it's good that you are on this.

Mr. Beck promises to lead us out of the darkness and into the white. That's not a typo. I meant white. I am not sure what the plan is as I have never really watched a whole Glenn Beck show on Fox or listened to his speech at the weekend rally or even read anything he's written. I just know that he has the guts to say stuff with such gusto and bravado so that the content of his message doesn't really matter. What does count, from what I can decipher, is the color of his skin. Let's face it, he's really, really white. White is the color of most Tea Partiers. White is the color of most Republicans. White is the color of most Libertarians. And white is the color of most Mormons - Glenn's religious affiliation. In Glenn Beck's world, white must go with everything. Just saying.

Glenn Beck says he knows exactly how to retrieve America's lost honor! OMG. That's amazing. Again, I am not sure what dishonor he speaks of, but Mr. Beck must have unearthed something. He wouldn't just make up stuff. And his intel's gotta be gold. After all, he presents said intel so expertly on chalkboards. I've seen this a couple of times. It makes me think of the late Tim Russert who used to write on a whiteboard election nights. I miss him. Anyway, low tech makes Mr. Beck appear teacher-ish. Just like high school algebra, his chalk formulas are a little dizzying. Oh well. If it helps us find our lost honor, he must be onto something.

Until our honor is restored, I wonder if it is still ok that I fly the American flag in my front yard? What would Glenn Beck do? WWGBD? We recently moved the flag from the front of our house to one of the trees in our front yard. It looks so nice. It really does wave in the wind. I remember putting it out late morning the day of 9-11, through tears. It was the only thing I could think of doing, after calling my children and husband and friends. I love that flag and my country. Truth is, I don't think America has lost its honor. Just think, if all countries had their own Facebook page, American for sure would have the most friends. WAY more.

I wonder what Tim Russert would think of Glenn Beck and his apocalyptic predictions? He'd probably tell Mr. Beck his formula is flawed and advise he go back to the drawing chalkboard.

Addie update

Addie will be 11 months old next week. She continues to be our major source of sunshine and happiness. Mika is taking to her. Tex and Baxter have discovered that when Addie gets fed, they have a chance of getting fed - food on the floor, on the chair, on her tray if someone turns their back long enough.

She walks and crawls, whichever mode will get her to her destination the fastest. And she is developing an age appropriate personality. She wants what she wants when she wants it stage. But also she is easily distracted from what she thinks she wants... adorable.

Happy Monday everyone! John said something this morning I think is good: he's going to work hard this week and EARN his 3 day weekend. Me too, John!

Liberation

Paul and I are getting older. How do I know? Let me count the ways:

1. A young man admires Paul's new Challenger R/T and they discuss engines for a few minutes -- at the pharmacy drive-through where we are picking up meds to lower cholesterol levels, soothe arithic pain, etc.

2. We plan activities based on our ability to stay awake.

3. We've replaced talking about the kids with talking about the granddaughter.

4. Articles we come across about retirement have become relevant and interesting.

5. It appears that doctor's appointments have outpaced all other events on our activity calendars.

I told Jenny the other day that I had a moment of dread when I thought about turning 57. I haven't had an age aversion reaction since... I was 37, I think. She said nice things of course, but it wasn't necessary. I am OK in my skin. I wish there was a lot less of it, but still I am OK. Aging presents you with the gift of acceptance. You care so much less about what you look like. It's a shedding of vanity and insecurities. Suddenly, you no longer care what other people think about you and what you look like. Instead you are curious about what they think of real stuff: community, politics, art, life. It's liberating.

I really wouldn't trade my age for anything. It's just that sometimes it hits me, I turn around and I'm a grandmother. I turn around and two of my kids are married and have mortgages. I turn around and my husband ... actually, he's looking better to me every day. He too has been liberated by age. It's nice.

Fossil Rim

On Friday morning, Paul and I took a 2.4 hour guided tour of Fossil Rim Wildlife Center about an hour south of Fort Worth. It was hot, for sure, but manageable.

It was Paul's first time. As a weekend activity (and 32nd wedding anniversary activity) it's pretty hard to top Fossil Rim.