I SOLEMNLY SWEAR...

I had to go to court last week.  The specifics of the case are not important.  However, the lesson I learned from the experience is. I learned that some people have no respect for the judicial process.  When some people stand before a judge, raise their right hand and swear to tell the truth, it means nothing to them.

I took going to court very seriously.  It's not something I thought I'd ever had to do.  It was very intimidating.  The courtroom looked similar to ones I'd see on T.V.  For a minute I thought, it wasn't real, but then my name was called and I knew it was. 

The judge listened to both sides and I won my case.  All I kept asking myself was, "How could the other person involved in the case not have told the truth?"  I won.  I should have been happy. It should not have mattered to me that they lied to try and prove their case, but it did. 

I have been told people lie every day.  That's sad.  What kind of message does that send to children?  Tell the truth, but if you are in some kind of trouble that might have serious consequences for you, it's okay to lie.  Say anything you have to that will prove your case and get you out of trouble.  Even if it means breaking an oath in court. 

I hope the message we want to convey to children is to always tell the truth and admit when you have done something wrong.  The consequences will be far less if you do.

I know some of you are reading this and thinking about how naive I am.  You are wondering why I would waste an entire post writing about how some people lie to keep themselves out of trouble.  I wrote this because it was important for me to share my feelings.  Thanks for indulging me.

The issue is that of respect.  Respect for yourself and others.  If you lie you have no self-respect.  And without self-respect you have nothing.

DANCING QUEEN

June 1, 2012, was a day to remember.  It was the day my nephew Tony married, Liz, the woman of his dreams.  It was the day two awesome people joined my family.  Liz and her daughter Hannah.

They say that her wedding day is the one day in a woman's life when she feels like Cinderella.  Liz truly looked the part in her beautiful gown and Tony looked so handsome in his tux.  When they were pronounced husband and wife. I was so happy.   I was glad I got to be there to share in their joy.

I enjoyed catching up with out-of-town family members, I enjoyed the delicious meal that was served, I enjoyed listening to all the toasts and speeches that were made in honor of the bride and groom and I also enjoyed dancing.  No, that's not a typo.  I said dancing.

Tony and Liz came over to talk to me.  We took a picture together.  Then Liz said, "Tony, don't you think we should get Joanne out on the dance floor?" 

I'm sure every person in a wheelchair has chair danced at one time or another.  The last time I had done it was at my high school prom in 1976.  At my prom, it didn't matter how I looked dancing because everyone there was disabled.  No one cared if you looked stupid.

Tony asked me if it was okay to take me out on the dance floor.  I was nervous. "I guess so," I said.   We were waiting for the DJ to play a good song for us to dance to when Proud Mary came on.  "Oh, Joanne, this is the perfect song for you because it's ROLLIN'."

They each took turns controlling the joystick of my chair.  I was spinning and moving back and forth in time to the music.  I was laughing so hard.    We sure hadn't danced like this in 1976! It felt great! I was really dancing.  People tell me all the time that my chair is old and doesn't move very fast.  It certainly was moving and spinning fast that night.  I got a little dizzy.  It was most likely caused by the spinning, the excitement, the rum and coke I'd had, or a combination of all three.  Whatever the reason, I wouldn't have stopped for anything.  We danced the entire song.  I was a little sad when it ended.

I have been to countless weddings in my life.  At the receptions, I was always a spectator, never a participant.  This time I got to participate, to be included, to be just like everyone else.

Thank you, Tony and Liz, for giving me a memory that will last a lifetime.

FOR THE LOVE OF LUCIE

I hate it when people tell me my Maltese Lucie is "just a dog." Lucie is so much more than that. She is part of my family.

Lucie joined my family in 1999 after the death of our Maltese Frosty. Two large dogs that had gotten into our yard had viciously attacked Frosty. 

We had an invisible fence for Frosty. When Frosty wore the collar for the invisible fence he couldn't leave our yard, but other dogs could come in. 

Frosty lived for a week in an animal hospital. His injuries were too severe. Frosty died.

I was heartbroken. Frosty had always been near me. Either he was lying beside my power chair or sitting in my lap. Whatever room I was in, you could be sure, Frosty was nearby. I desperately wanted another Maltese. My mom wanted to adopt a dog from the Humane Society in hopes that the dog would be trained because she didn't want to have to train a puppy.

Mom saw how much getting another Maltese meant to me. She relented. We began looking in the newspaper to see if anyone was selling Maltese puppies. My mom found a breeder who had one female puppy left located in Bourbon, Mo. We agreed to meet the breeders in Washington, Mo. to pick the puppy up. Friends from church drove to Washington with us to pick her up.

The first time I saw Lucie she was a little white ball of fur with big paws. When they placed her in my lap her little pink tongue began darting in and out. I had eaten french fries while we waited for Lucie to arrive and she licked the salt off of my fingers. Thus began her love of human food.

Lucie quickly became a doggie diva. She slept in bed with my mom. She refused to be put in a dog kennel when we were not home. She flunked obedience training. She refused to play with other dogs because she considered herself to be part of our family, therefore she thought of herself as a person, not a dog. Lucie had us right where she wanted us and she knew it. Mom and I spoiled her rotten.

Whenever my mom was in the hospital Lucie was my emotional support. Sometimes the only way I could fall asleep was by feeling her little body near mine. Lucie also gave me something else to consider as I knew she depended on me to oversee her care. 

When my mom was in hospice care, every night when she went to bed, she would ask, "Where's Lucie?" Our caregiver would put Lucie in bed with my mom so she could fall asleep. Now that my mom is gone, I'm the one who asks, "Where's Lucie?" every night.

When I come home she is always barking and has lots of kisses for me. When I leave I tell her where I am going and that I'll be back soon.

Lucie has many faults. She barks too much, begs for food, and still has accidents from time to time. She's not a service dog in the traditional sense. She hasn't been trained to pick things up off of the floor and bring them to me. Lucie does, however, give me something just as important. Lucie gives me unconditional love.