Oprah, Oprah, Oprah and Oprah! and Moscow Mules!

I've written a long story of my history and the Oprah show and how it has influenced my life. Now I'm not considered the ultimate viewer.  I don't know if I'll publish it.  Maybe in segments.... Honestly, I wish she would see my tiny blog.  I would like to be the only person that sends her an email with my tribute and she would notice it.  Highly unlikely, but she teaches that all is possible.  I woke up at about 3 am this morning with her Master Series on the tube and it was Oprah talking about getting her role in The Color Purple.  I have had it recorded since it first came on.  Tears rushed down my face as I listened to her marvelous voice singing I Surrender All.

I find myself singing the tune often since first seeing her on the Master Series.  I was talking to my friend Linda the other night about some memories of my Dad and him not appreciating my little projects around the house when I was a youngster.  And she said, "Forgive it and let it go!   and maybe it will help with whats going on with you now."  As much as I look back at my journey through life I had not linked the old issue with the new one.  We called it An Oprah Moment.

Another moment on Oprah's series.....Wouldn't Take Nothin For My Journey Now.  I've been saying something like that for years.  I was so happy to hear Oprah sing this song. Perfection! I sing that one also.  When people hear about my Mom dying at age 1, they are apologetic and so sweet, but my general response is, "it's alright, I wouldn't be who I am today if life had been any other way.  Talk about getting strange looks or confusion on peoples faces because I no longer react with a woe is me attitude.  I haven't in years.  But I started thinking; something maybe is wrong with me.  Then I tell myself, No this is what it is!  Oprah is my wise sister!  I just wish I could meet my sister!!  Ha, ha!

Oprah, you have opened my heart to God again.  It's been closed for a long time. When I heard you talk about the creator the doors to my heart began opening up little by little. I'm beginning to understand my energy and God more and more everyday.   I've always understood about the good, bad or sad energy.  I can sense the energy the moment I walk in a room.  I used to become whatever energy I ran into and carry it with me.  I did not know it was bad for me.   I did this until one day I had a ah ah moment so I now create my energy.   Now I was not raised in a church, but I remember singing Jesus Loves Me as a tiny little girl.  And I would sing it whenever I felt sad or lonely which was a lot.  I don't know where I learned it.  The song made me feel safe.  While growing up I've had horrible evil dreams. One night at about 22 years I was in the middle of one of the most evil nightmares I've ever had and I remembered the song so I started singing Jesus Loves Me in this nightmare and all was calm and I woke up. No nightmare has been that bad since I sang that song.

I'm toasting you, Oprah with my Moscow Mule!  I thank God for giving me, you, a beautiful, giving, soulful woman to bring so much enlightenment and validation to my life.  Yeah I don't know you, but you have a way of allowing people to feel you are their friend and wise sister.  Please, take a hiatus on me and get GREAT REST with Sadie in your CA sanctuary.  I don't want you to wear yourself out! 

Riding Wistful Horses by Alistair Adamson

	Sitting here and thinking how My life much richer is now For all the ones I've chanced upon And the tapestry that was spun There was a time when no one came No friends to play in childhood game No one to shelter from the rain Nor the adolescent pain Yet in my inner heart I knew Secrets rare and secrets true Were wishes horses, all would ride Other dreamers by my side Then one day I dropped my guard I never did something so hard In my heart I let others in And found I had a friend By one's and two's they gathered near Soothing all my darkest fears A tapestry we began to weave And I once more believe For youth need never fade away As long as I can dream and play On wistful horses I will ride With other dreamers at my side

Happy Mothers Day, Dad!

In honor of Mothers Day, I am celebrating my Dad.  My Dad fed us, clothed us, gave us Christmas, fantastic summers on the lake and tried his best to do right by us.  There are 5 of us; my 2 sisters, 2 brothers and me, Mary Rose.  All of us loved my Dad and had their relationships with him and I had mine.  One of my first memories of him, he would come home for lunch from the base and slip me a Hershey's bar through the crib slats.  I don't know how old I was, but I think I was to old to sleep in a crib.  He would peel back the wrapping on the chocolate bar and break off a piece for me and for him.  I remember this because our live-in maid would fuss at him for disturbing my nap.  When we first moved to GA we lived on Mossy Creek drive in Marietta, GA, a very small house.  The kids were doubled up in rooms.

I worshiped my Dad for most of my life.  He would walk into the house larger then life with his magnificent uniform on and I would look up at him with awe and sometimes fear.  He traveled alot, so when he came home I would look around the corner at him and wonder what I should do.  As the saying goes, Dad was the kind of man "women loved and men loved to be around."  He was a very masculine man, he was not a touchy feely, mushy man.  But he had a soft side to him.  He commanded presence when he walked into a room, shoulders back, confident, his eyes would survey a room as if to either dare people to look back or invite them to come to him. I know this because I would watch my Dad.  Sometimes, he would meld into the crowded room so as not to be noticed.  People noticed, but they knew he didn't want to be noticed.  As the baby, he was saddled with me quite abit.  If Lulu the maid had to go home, I would get to go the base with him so I would spend time with his secretary Mrs. West on the base.  I loved Mrs. West and I wanted them to marry.  There were alot of women who wanted to marry my Dad, but most didn't take his 5 children into consideration.  Mrs. West was already married.  But I could tell she had a gentle heart and thought the world of my Father.  As a child, any good woman that showed me kindness on a consistent basis I attached myself to like a mistreated puppy.

I remember feeling safe with my Dad.  I knew I was safe! Be it, riding in the car. At the base. At home. At the lake. I feel it deep in my bones at this very moment.  I think his strength oozed out into me whenever he was around; so much so that when he wasn't there that I could walk with his strength and not show my fear to the world.  At some point when I was the child that noticed his commanding presence, I made a decision that I would be like him.  I wanted to walk through life like my Dad.  I aspired to handle the outside world like my Dad.  I have done this!  Only it has taken me most of my life to do it well.

Memories of him teaching me to cook,  mow the yard, clean the boat, how to water ski, showed me his patience.  He was not a man to have a lot of patience, especially stupidity.  As I grew older, I began to notice his flaws and inadequacies, and sometimes they really hurt. After all, he was a man that fought in WWII, a tough farm boy that grew up on the Tennessee river and lost almost everyone he loved in a 4 year period and at the same time  had 5 young children. And he kept all of us together as a family.

He gave me a base foundation of who I am?  The rest is up to me to shed the crap that attached to my heart, by forgiving and loving.  No, he was not a Mom, but he did his best, be it flawed.  I don't know if my Dad ever allowed his heart to love again like he did my Mother.  I am not a Motherless Daughter, as that stupid whiny book says, I had a beautiful Mother, I just never knew her.  I hear stories about her and to some extent I am like my Mother because of the stories of her and her strengths, temper and humor.  But my Dad is the one who took me shopping to buy my velvet penny loafers and a crinoline dress.  I still have the red, navy  blue wool school uniform he picked up in Germany for me when I was 8 years old.  Yes, there was a step monster for a while who would take my sister Carla and I shopping, but we always knew that her daughter was more important.  So when my Dad would take me shopping, I was a Princess.

My Dad, Colonel Carl F. Rudder, Air Force man, Father, farm boy, widower, and instead of Mother, how about nurturer; isn't that what a mother is?

Thanks Dad for being the best Mom in the world!