Slipping In

She arrived at our back door about a month ago. She did not stay or try to get in. She came cautiously, running away if we opened the door, but came slipping up the back stairs, and quickly downed the cat food and water we had placed for her inside a cardboard box as a protection from the elements. Just as quickly she disappeared. One day we followed her small cat prints in the newly fallen snow. They led us to our shed near the alley. She had found shelter under an opening under the shed. I believe that that hideaway had been previously occupied by a skunk that had been removed by a wary neighbor.

So it began. Each day my husband puts out food, twice a day, carefully mixing dry and wet food together. The weather has been cold and he often puts in fatty remains of our turkey or Christmas ham. We agree that she needs more fat in the extreme cold.

She still remains elusive, but she does not run as far when we disturb her on our back porch, and she answers to Bob's whistle when he first puts out her food. The past few days she even stays on our black back steps, warmed by the sun, cleaning herself thoroughly before she retreats to her underground home.

She is a calico cat, mostly white with large yellow eyes. She has long hair, helpful in this bitter cold, and she appears healthy. She eats a huge amount most days, but on occasion she snubs the food, and we guess that she had nabbed one of the many tiny mice that scurry around in the back garden.

She does not act like a feral cat, but she certainly does not try to make friends with us benefactors. She does not trust and remains cautious. This is strange. We have dealt with feral cats, and several times have had "dumped" cats peering in our door, asking to come in from the cold.

She is different. We wonder....where did she come from, what happened to her to have such mistrust? She is an older cat and not the usual "dropped-off kitten", left to fend for herself when she reaches about six months and is no longer "so cute", or, "getting to be a bother, so let's dump her".

She is now a part of our lives in some remote way. Will she ever allow us close to her? She seems oddly content residing under our shed and enjoying easy access to daily nourishment. We have lost our Bugsy after 18 years and our house seems too quiet some days, especially during the evenings when we have always had a fur ball purring contentedly on one of our laps. Will she move in closer to our lives, filling the space left by old Bugsy?

Perhaps in the new year we will have a new cat. Maybe yes, maybe no. Time and the stray cat will tell us.

A Christmas Gift

Some gifts come beautifully wrapped. Some come knocking at your door. Others arrive by telephone from loved ones. This year I received a very special gift via the internet. It was an email that sent me a Kirkus Review that was a 100% wonderful review for Reveille in Hot Springs. These editors did not know me, the town or our VA, but they completely understood our battle, the sentiments of the community of Hot Springs, and the views of our veterans who use our VA.

They wrote that this VA should not be closed, but rather it should be cloned in every state in this country. They stated that this book is "an infuriating, stinging rebuke to politicians who leave returning soldiers to their own devices."  They totally got it! I admit that I cried when I read this review from a group of reviewers long known for tough reviews. It was a gift.

To top it off, a few days later I received another email from the publishers who sent their congratulations and said that Reveille had been named to the Kirkus list of the best books of 2013! This news has been announced on the Kirkus web site, their email newsletter and will be published in their January magazine.

This is an additional gift. This is a gift for the veterans, for the editor, Dennis Cass, for Senator Johnson, who wrote the foreword, for the photographers, William Ing and Justin Gausman, for the members of the community who contributed their sentiments, and for yours truly who wove the words into stories that touched these critics.

The ultimate gift would be recognition by those in Washington who have the final say as to the closing of our VA facilities in the rural communities and to the gradual waning of veteran benefits.We don't ask for special wrapping or fancy bows. All we wait for is the word from Washington that our veterans will have their wishes honored.

Tell us Virginia, is there really a Santa Claus?

Wandering Between Past, Present and Future

It's that time of year when memories flow out like a river, at times overwhelming the present. I am writing my annual Christmas cards and I remember friends and stories from grade school, high school, college, various careers, family and places. Each year, as I get older, the memories become greater and consequently, they float in and out of one another, at times clear, and then again, fuzzy and fading.

With each card and stamp I realize once again that someone, somewhere in my life has left a mark, had added to my life in one way or another. After all my life is not in isolation. I have been imprinted by family, community, schools, friends jobs and activities.

They say to live in the past brings regrets, and to fret about the future brings fear. It is best to live in the present, which is do-able, but there are times when reaching back reminds me of how long a journey I have made and how much I have learned.

My past brings few regrets. I have learned from my mistakes, and that is what is important to me.
I often lived my life with worry about the future...will I have enough money to survive in retirement? Will I succeed at my job? Will my daughter have a good, rich life? Will I outlive all of my friends and family? Will I be alone? Will I finish my next book?

Concerns for the future bring tension. I get that from my father. He lived in the present but planned for the future. He worried, as do I. But at this time of year, looking back with each card I write, seal and stamp, I am brought face on with the realization that each person and event brought nothing but growth in the long term. Why did I worry? Too much of life is spent in worry, and not enough in relishing in the now...right now....at this time and place, writing cards by the fire in our cozy house in the beautiful Black Hills of southern South Dakota.

Brrrrrrrrrrr

We are definitely not used to these extreme low temperatures in our "banana belt" of South Dakota. Not since moving here from Minnesota in 1998 have we felt this cold. This week we might as well be back in Minnesota. (Just kidding).

Yesterday Bob and I went to a book signing at Prairie Edge store in Rapid City. It is an annual event that I have attended before for my other books, but we did not have 6 below in the middle of the day on previous signings. All of the other authors were there, but the crowds were rather thin. Most who came were bundled up from the elements and had braved the cold to take advantage of autographed copies of local author's books for holiday gifts, or wanted to partake of the hot food and beverages that the store provided.

Part way through the day an elderly couple stopped by. He had a cane and her face wore years of living among the many lines crossing her cheerful face. The couple did not appear overly dressed for the cold. The husband wanted to share his stories of his service to his country during WWII. After all, it was December 7th, the anniversary of the beginning of the war with Japan. The wife urged him on, hanging on his every word as if it were the first time she had heard his story. After encouraging him to finish his tale of service so many years ago, the couple walked off to meander through the store, taking their time to enjoy the many splendid displays in the various rooms.

Later in the day, as we were winding up our time promoting our books, the couple strolled back by our table. The woman saw me and quickly said, "I so enjoyed our visit with you. What a pleasant day we had."

My admiration was as much for the faithful wife as for the husband's service to our country. Seventy years after her husband shipped out from Hawaii to occupied Japan, this remarkable woman was at his side, ignoring the bitter cold, helping to keep his story alive for all of us later generations.

As the two left the store, the day no longer seemed so cold.

Homelessness Brought Home

Justin and I went for an interview on KILI radio today. This is the radio station serving the Pine Ridge reservation and nearby Indian populations. Justin brought facts and figures from Save our VA committee,while I came to discuss my book, Reveille in Hot Springs. It was my second interview at KILI. I wrote about the first interview on veterans day in my blog titled "Hindsight."

A new interview....a new experience....new insights. There were three Indians conducting the show, all veterans who use and are passionate about saving our Hot Springs VA. Everyone knew their material and each one shared their points of view with a raw honesty, refreshing to me, as it may also have been to the listeners. There was one moment that took my breath away.

One of the veterans is a columnist for the Native Sun Newspaper. I have been a long reader of his column and was aware that a short time back he had left the paper, citing personal reasons as I best recall. Today I brought up the topic of the homeless veterans and my anger that their needs could be met at our VA, long equipped and capable of housing, treating and training veterans. Why the government was not using our facility was a cause of distress.

This veteran quickly and casually responded to my remarks. "I am one of those homeless veterans. I lost my job and after the market crash I couldn't find another one.  I lost my family and my home in Rapid City. I lived in my car in the Hills. When winter set in my cousin let me live in his warehouse on the Rez. I was so cold that I made a tent around my car and plugged in a space heater. I went to the VA and they helped me. I am back in school again and I am going to write my column for the paper."

I was stunned. How do you respond to such honesty, announced to the entire listening radio audience? His words overwhelmed me. My anger at veteran homelessness had a face. He was sitting across from me, speaking into a microphone. He had a name, a reputation as a writer, an admirer of our VA and my book, and a veteran who had fought for our country, and he had been homeless in our beautiful Black Hills.

The interview was over and this veteran disappeared from the studio. I know no more, but I do know that today I looked homelessness in the face. He is not a statistic to me. He is a human being who worked hard all of his life, fell onto bad times, and who, at one time, by serving his country, served all of us.