Watermark

My Mother

BETTY LOU JULIAN [BROGAN] SERR

Betty Lou Julian Serr  died October 12, 2009  in Chandler, AZ.    She was born in Long Beach, California July 5, 1924, the daughter of Bob & Georgia (Kenney) Julian.  She went to Montana as a baby  with her parents and resided on a ranch near Clyde Park until the age of ten, when the family moved to a ranch near Wilsall,MT.   She attended schools in Clyde Park and Wilsall, graduating from Wilsall High School in 1942. 

She attended computer school in Spokane, Washington, then worked for the Northern Pacific Railroad.  In 1945 Betty married Richard Brogan and lived in Denver, CO for several years.  Two children were born to them - Richard and Sharon Brogan.  They were divorced in 1955 and Betty returned to Livingston where she again worked for the railroad.  In 1958 she moved to St. Paul, MN where she was employed by the Burlington Northern R.R.  

In 1964 she married Joseph Serr in Mason City, Iowa and moved to White Bear Lake, MN.  She retired from the Burlington Northern in 1990.  Since her retirement the Serrs have spent the winters in Chandler, AZ.  After Joe’s death in 2005 she moved to Arizona permanently.

She is survived by her daughter, Sharon Brogan of Missoula, MT, her twin sister, Bonnie Pinkerton of Chandler, AZ, .stepson Richard Serr and his wife Marge, step-son-in-law Al Dieken of Oakdale, MN,  surrogate daughter, Louise Fritschy and husband, Ron, Denver, CO, several grandchildren and great-grandchildren, nieces and nephews.   

Betty had several surrogate children in her life - always ready to listen to someone in need. She was preceded in death by her son Richard, brother Russell Julian, foster brother Robert Clark and her parents.

Confession

What do you bring to the confessional?
Wasted hours; a kind thing undone,
and another, and another; or some
singular crime, a thought or deed
that left a wound, some innocent
bereft of confidence and cheer?
Have you taken what was not yours
to keep; kissed one not yours to claim?
Or is it deeper, darker than these?
Did you see your path was cold
and steep, so turn an easier way?
Have you scoured your heart of love,
set it to harden in a kiln of rage?
Drop it on the tiles, then. Let it break.

   

Been to an Emergency Room lately?

Perhaps, like me, you live in a town, rather than a city or poor rural area, and assume that things are like they used to be at your local emergency hospital. That's what I assumed, if I thought about it at all. Five hours in the emergency room with a friend (she's fine now) has cleared up that misconception.

I shot that sign, above, during our wait. The sign says -- for those who can't see the image --

Thank you for your patience. The Emergency Department is experiencing unusually high patient volumes. This is causing delays.

It certainly is. 

For the entire time, I kept hoping, not only that my friend would be seen soon, but that the man across from us, his hand held up and wrapped in ice, had at least been given something for pain. Something more than ice.

I asked: Why? Why are you seeing so many more patients?

Because, I was told, so many more people are without insurance, and have nowhere else to go.

Do you think health care reform is irrelevant to your life?

If so, you are mistaken.

[By the way, the 911 folks were wonderful. What a great job!

And what do you do? 

Oh, I save lives.]

unearth -- RWP minichallenge III

I'm posting all three parts here, because I think it is one poem.  Also, just to say -- this exercise has resulted in something much different than my usual. Whether this is a good or a bad thing, I can't yet tell:

  

I.

the walls are filled with the lives of children
what appears to be an exit changes to a trap
you have everything to lose

oil rainbows the water, a thin & dangerous sheen
that pain you call love pulls you away
there is no point in stopping

in the middle of the mountain road
an old woman walks in the wrong direction
she is thin & frail, she wears a red coat

years have passed, buildings torn down, rebuilt, renovated
each place you sail into more beautiful than the last
sometimes she can be heard, crying in the lake

the sun drops into the sea like a stone
you repeatedly forget what you have remembered
this part lasts forever

  

II.

this is how it happens
static in a closed room
an electrical hum

I open my hand
sparks escape from my palm, crackling
like petting a cat in the dark

you reach out & touch my face
a cradle, a caress
it's warm there, where our skins meet   

  

III.

you diminish in my arms & I want to take you into my body
the sky is washed with green light
you are not cold       you are not there 

a small forest grows from fallen trees 
we build houses & friendships around us like crypts
a string of mussel shells crosses the path       you will have luck

the earth holds me up.       feel that, you say.     feel it.
I shake off the fear and make a place for myself
where your edges touch my edges       there is pain

we watch skipping stones of light on the water
the sky is nearly cloudless & goes pink at sunset
the moon comes up one day from full, with a face and a soft aura

I try to find my own name
the river reflects nothing     it absorbs the light
I can't carry this mask much longer

 

   poetry mini-challenge

unearth -- RWP minichallenge II

this is how it happens
static in a closed room
an electrical hum

I open my hand
sparks escape from my palm, crackling
like petting a cat in the dark

you reach out & touch my face
a cradle, a caress
it's warm there, where our skins meet

   

unearth -- RWP minichallenge I

   poetry mini-challenge