maddash

  Almost twenty three years ago I  found my daughter, my only child......dead in her apartment.  She was 26 years old. The coroner said she died of a aortic dissection the day before, about 14 hours before I found her. Her little Shitzu/Poodle, Meeka lay by her side all night. Linda and I made numerous calls the night she died.  I even drove to her condo and tried to find out why she wasn't answering our calls.  Her lights were on, music was playing...I assumed she was taking a shower or had fallen asleep.  She was working two jobs and rose each morning at  5am to work out at Bally's Health Club . After I called her office at Raymond James in the morning, and they said she never came to work.  I panicked. Life does not prepare you for this.

  A Joyous Sound I can't say my father did not like music.  It's just that I never saw him listen to music.  Ever.  My mother, on the other hand, loved music.  She was an  amateur guitar and accordion player and like me, only played for her personal enjoyment. We never had a record player growing up.  Mom listened to AM radio, mostly WOWO and they had a limited selection of music.   She favored country and old time gospel music and listened to it mostly in the car.   All that changed late in 1962. My sister Dee was born in Sept, 1962.  I was 14 and my brother Chuck was 10.  Two much older brothers that loved the new baby dearly. Dee started out a normal baby.  When she was about two months or so old, she started crying.....all day and most of the night.  The family doctor said she had colic and treated her for it.   She still would not stop crying. Mom was exhausted, staying up most of the night rocking and cuddling h...

Violet Elaine Boice I have always believed I inherited my mother's love of music and her fear of the poverty she knew as a child. Mom was the daughter of a tenant farmer, she was born during the depression.  She grew up poor in rural Indiana.  There is no denying it. Her father's first wife died of kidney failure at the age of 20 in 1925.  John was 25, Myrtle 16 when they married.  John was left with a 4 year old boy and a 1 year old girl to raise. John married Laura Linton in 1928.  John was 33 and Laura 26.  John had raised his two children for 3 years with the help of Myrtle's parents.   John and Laura had four girls, my mother was the oldest.  Life was tough. There were 9 mouths to feed, including Laura's mother who lived with the family. Mom's father died in 1947.  All four girls were still at home.  John was 51 years old.  Step siblings George was 26, Evaleen 23.  Violet was 18, Ellen 16, Dorothy 10,  Joyce 7. I beli...

Leaving Latta Lake Well, we departed Latta Lake after living there full time for 9 years and owning rental property for about 20.  It was a bittersweet breakup.  I am going to miss all my vegetable and flower gardens, my intercourse with all the fishermen, the wildlife and the beauty of a sunrise each morning, over the lake. I won't miss the long trips to find a decent restaurant or grocery store.  I won't miss drive 35 miles to Mass every Sunday.  I won't miss being removed from the creature comforts I yearn for, at 72 years of age.  We won't talk about winter and the struggle to get up our steep road when the snow flies. The biggest reason we moved will seem trite to some people.  Linda and I are walkers.  Real walkers.  We spend a couple hours each day walking and Latta Lake had nearby trails, that were accessible if you drove.  We wanted to walk out the door with our dogs and walk in a safe, comfortable environment.  So, we sold the ...

We live on this lake in northern Indiana. It is not a large lake, about 50 acres or so. Just big enough.  My family owns most of the lakefront property. It has been handed down from  generation to generation. My wise grandfather bought it about 1954. It is a special place.  We allow fishermen to launch their boats for a fee of $3.00. It is on the honor system and most are honorable people. I have often thought that honor and fishingwent hand in hand. Other than the occasional fisherman, we seldom see outsiders on our lake, especially in the winter. I like that.  Our lake has a soul. It lives and breathes like any of God's creatures. It even suffers. I think of this lake as a member of the family, a kind, giving uncle if you please. The lake talks to me in the morning as I sit out on the patio drinking my coffee.  Sandhill cranes, splashing bass, honking geese........our lake has many voices.  When I am hungry, the lake provides me with food. When I...

We currently live in the most densely populated county in the state of Florida.  No, it isn't the Miami area, we live in the Tampa Bay metro area. We have lots of sun, warm weather and beaches. We also have more people per square mile than any other area in Florida.   It's the people I don't like. When the human race lives in this sort of chaos, the simple act of civility toward your fellow man seems to disappear . We get on each other's nerves. I see road rage on a daily basis, if the clerk at the 7-11 takes too much time checking us out, we get irritated beyond the norm of civil behavior. Those of us from the New York, New Jersey area are the worst. They have escaped from that hell of extreme population density to Florida. Upmost in their minds is to make Florida just like what they left, and complain about Florida at every chance. They are part of the problem. Here is the funny part. Those sun lovers who moved here, and spoiled the area, are now ...

You know the one I am talking about. When they pull their cell phone out of their pocket and give it the stare. It could also be called a glare, it is intense. They just stared at their phone two minutes ago, but there they go again. What exactly are they waiting for? One would think they were praying to some cellular god that lives inside their phone. "Please god, have someone call or text me". I am so lonely. Cell phones, like computers, have empowered the meekest and weakest of us with a sense of power. Someone has texted me, therefore, I am important. If I were to miss a call......it would be the end of the world, as we know it. I spend a lot of time waiting in airports. I feel like Woody Allen, observing life on this planet. For the most part, everyone in the airport is looking at their cell phone. That L.E.D. light emitting from the phone shines on their face. Perhaps God is really talking to them from his enlightened throne. I am no exce...

The Little Things Technically, we don't live in Palm Harbor, but a lot of our neighbors do. We live in Ozona and gladly pick up our mail each day at the tiny Ozona post office.  Our next door neighbors, like many others who live on the fringe, walk outside each day and get their mail from a street side mail box. They lead double lives. Their mailing address is Palm Harbor but they proudly profess being Ozona residents. They don't know what they are missing. I have often wondered if this area is some sort of secret witness protection haven. Garmin Tom-Tom, Mapquest, none of them can find Ozona. Handy, I suppose, if you are in hiding. One rural carrier took care of the whole town of Hoagland, Indiana when we lived there. I remember an incident in 1980, our daughter was about seven. Another child relative had sent her a birthday card from California. It was addressed; Lisa. Hoagland, Indiana. Lisa got the card. To this day I don't know if Lisa was the only Lisa...

I spent my early years in a small house directly behind “Great Grandma” Neukom’s house on Penn Street in Decatur, Indiana. I lived there from from the age of 1 to 8 years of age. I remember Grandma Neukom had a huge garden that she seemed to tend daily while wearing either an old fashioned bonnet or straw hat.   She was a small feisty old woman to me and didn’t seem to show affection towards many people. My father (Charles) said he had helped build her house when Christian, her husband died. It was a small bungalow-type house with a small basement loaded with canned fruits and vegetables. It was always immaculate and Grandma Neukom was especially proud of her flowers and garden.  She allowed me to go down there occasionally.  All I remember is jar after jar of sauerkraut. It always seemed to me that she was mean-spirited towards my grandmother (her daughter, Edna). As a young boy I didn’t realize she did this to perhaps make her blind d...

I sincerely believe the world is going mad. I see it every day. People do things that are meant to shock and awe. There is no limit to their actions or dress. Yesterday, a young girl pulled her pants down to show us all her new butt tattoo. There was not one shred of modesty in her, that I could see. She was proud and barely eighteen. I think this all started about twenty years ago when everyone my age started dressing like Willie Nelson. Don't get me wrong, I love Willie. I just don't want to look or act like him. He is not my idol. His stature as the "ultimate outlaw" started a trend. I wonder if he is proud of that fact. I have pretty much stopped watching any television. Movies and books are my source of recluse. I can escape the madness for a short time.

Our tiny seaside town. Technically, we live in Ozona, Florida.  It is a seaside town of about 300 souls.  When we moved here in 1982, most of the roads were crushed seashell and it was not uncommon to encounter dogs sleeping in the middle of the road. We have a tiny post office that seems to be threatened every year with abandonment from the Federal bureaucrats.  There are two employees, a post master and helper.  They do not deliver our mail to our house.  We have to go to the post office and pick it up.   I am fine with that. Ozona is changing.  People are buying perfectly good homes, tearing them down and building what I would call a McMansion.  We had one built right next to us.  After twenty years of a beautiful eastern view from our front yard......we now cannot see the sun come up in the morning. Ozona is still paradise.  It's just that everyone wants to live in paradise.   Then it slowly becomes something else.

I am not a particularly religious person. I believe there is a God. I am just not sure he believes in me.  I have always tried to lead a Christian life. I think that is a good thing and I feel better for it.   The writings of Henry David Thoreau have had a profound effect on my thinking and actions. Probably not as much as Christian teachings, but definitely a factor in the way I think.  Linda and I are approaching a new adventure in our lives. We intend to leave Florida, after 30 years, in a few months. In preparation, we have been discarding all those "things" that we find unnecessary in our lives. At first, it was a chore. As we progressed, it became an obsession and especially for me, a necessity. As we threw away, sold or gave away "things", we frantically looked for more items to dispose of. It became a game. Here is the funny part. After a few weeks, we can't remember what we got rid of. Maybe that set of candles given to us as a present man...

Last week I faced the prospect of kidney cancer. I found out I really had it. The surgeons say they got it all. Someone called me a "cancer survivor" today. I don't feel like one. I have survived a week. I don't have complete control over my emotions much anymore.  I cry at stupid things. 

My Brother-in-Law and Friend, Chuck I have many memories of Chuck after John and I were wed. I remember the Sue and Chuck’s wedding with the antique cars. Lisa was just a month old and we sat in the back of the church. I was very grateful she slept through the entire wedding. Lady Girl had been used for breeding and she quit going through heat. The owners had no use for her and added her to their auction. I got to know Chuck when be bought a St. Bernard at this auction for $5. All I could see was her head in the back of his Karman Ghia. Lady Girl was our love and lived with us for 3 years before she died. If it hadn’t been for Chuck’s kind heart at that auction we would not have had such a great dog. We remember how careful she was with Lisa (toddler) and was very protective. I remember Lisa telling me of the adventures of the 2 brothers in John’s pickup truck (green Ford with 2 stick shift levers). John had a tendency to allow the gas lever to reach empty, how empty could it...

In memory of my dearest brother Chuck,   There are so many memories as we all grew up together. One of my fondest memories would be going to the movies with Chuck, and seeing "Star Wars."   It was just the two of us. I am fortunate to have two wonderful brothers, John and Chuck.   I don't know what I will do without them. Chuck is one of kind.   A generous person, kind, loving and giving person.   He got this personality from Mom of course.    We lost Mom this past year.  It has been a hard year for all of us in the Peterson family.  May our memories stay within our hearts and always will be.   I am just glad I got to spend some time with Chuck at the lake helping him with the cottage. Those memories will always stay with me.   He would always tease me, just like old times.    I can remember the dishtowel flick that Chuck and Mom always did.    Boy, those were hard flicks.  How i miss those memories.  Chuck is now up there with Mom and watching over us. Now he will be for...

Linda and I have been crying a lot lately. It is random. Little things set us off. Our only child, Lisa, has been gone now for nine years. There is no way it has been that long. I think of her every day. Now......my only brother, Chuck, is in a battle for his life. When I suspected that something was drastically wrong with Lisa. I stopped my truck along US 19 and got down on my knees and prayed that she was all right. She was not. I have been praying every day, all day for my brother. He is not responding. If anyone else tells me that again that God is calling them home. I will lose it.

I miss the black and white world of the 50's. Latta Lake, Rome City, Indiana. This photo was published in the Ft. Wayne News Sentinel. 

We spent New Years day at the Outback Bowl in Tampa. Jan 1, 2000  Our only child, Lisa died on Nov 30, 1999. Linda and I had become recluse and depressed.  We were still working but living life was a chore. My dear friend Royal and his wife Susan insisted we go to the Outback Bowl in Tampa, on New Years Day.  They bought us tickets and insisted.  I didn't realize at the time, it was the best therapy we could have been prescribed.   We escaped our grief for a couple hours with new sights, sounds and noise.   I could have gone home after the National anthem and been happy.   As Charlie Daniels hit the last note of the anthem we were treated to a "flyover" of the stadium by four fighter jets from McDill Airforce base. Immediately after that four sky divers from the base made a dramatic fall to the center of the football field.   Very awe inspiring and for few moments we left our world of despair.  Incidently, there was ...

We have this dog. His name is Max. I think it is short for Maxwell. My wife Linda and my dear departed daughter, Lisa, adopted Max from a Cocker Spaniel rescue agency. Never, ever pick out the smallest, paranoid dog in the corner of the room. That dog might be Max. Max is my cross to bear, my nemesis. I am sure Lisa is laughing from heaven. Max is Linda's dog and I am Max's private walker. Max has curious walking habits. He only walks in 90 degree angles. Heaven forbid he ever cross over the corner to get to the sidewalk. Only 90 degree angles. Max only poops on the yellow center line of the road. Of course, after taking a 90 degree route to get there. The world that Max walks in is not part of ours. He hears planes far out of sight, and refuses to walk. He hears traffic from Alt 19 (about a mile away) and refuses to walk. He hears Ospreys screaching in the distance, he stops..refuses to walk. Max has excellent hearing. Walking with Max is a chore ...