All About Jeaneen

Jeaneen, the nicest woman I ever met, best friend, my wife of 31 years, rests now.  We were truly newlyweds of 31 years, and I owe her still, she taught me so much.  I was privileged to know her.  She gives me strength, I hope to honor her with the rest of my life, a truly wonderful woman.

Children who saw Jeaneen felt comfort and were comforted in her presence.  She truly worried when a new manager came in to wherever she worked, whether they would work with her to make a better place.  Inevitably it was shown she needn't have worried at all, her hard work and devotion won over every change in management, and she excelled in all her professional endeavors.  She once thanked me for "teaching her so much," when it really was I the student of her power of compassion reflecting back all I had learned.

So innocent, so trusting, so good to us all, was Jeaneen.  She truly left the world a better place for her having been here.  A peacemaker, a compassionate human, my personal hero, a true friend, I miss her.  I tried my best to make her way easier, she had suffered so much in her lifetime.  Her little brother, her father, her first born son, all went to their rest too soon.  These losses shaped the woman in ways we can only guess, somehow she gained a sense of strength to give more to those she came in contact with.

Always cheerful, an inspiration, upbeat and enthusiastic, honestly interested in our personal trials Jeaneen wanted to help us cope and have a better life.



The sand blew into our eyes and hair, we made our way back down to the water.  We sat, we had a little beer, the waves lapped at our feet and she laughed and I smiled, loving every second...is that a fish on, or seaweed?  She jumped up, grabbed her fish pole and commenced to reeling in- a prize winning weed, it was a whopper.   Catch and release you know...it was slimy and smelled of fish, I pulled the hook free and she re-baited, casting but I couldn't watch, it makes her nervous if I watch her cast.  The sun so bright, the breeze so slight, pelicans diving for "her fish."  I grab her in a hug so tight she squirms out of my arms lubed with sunscreen and I love her so much I can hardly stand it.

We take a walk.  Pick up shells that meet her criteria, they have to have a hole to string them with and have no black stuff on them, I put them in my pocket for her.  I explain that the hole is where a predator drilled in to get the creature inside.  Predators have got to eat too.  She decides that is good after all.  Here the sand squishes under our feet, further up the eddy currents have created a hard washboard surface she calls a free foot massage, she is very sensual.  We hold hands and walk, soaking in the experience and watching the children, always watching the children play.  Look at that little guy with the hat, must be two years old.  Father so proud, mother hangs back watching as well.

That's far enough, we turn around and retrace our steps to our spot, we decide to go for a swim in the eighty-four degree salty brine, or really a float, what we call "water-buffalo-ing."  I grab her foot and gently pull her back toward me.  I must be careful because she is really unsure of herself in the water, never having had formal swimming lessons.  In Lake Superior you don't swim, the water is sixty-four degrees in the summertime.  I am glad we didn't get out the boogie-boards, I am afraid that in her youthful abandon she will float away to France.  We kiss intimately and get back to our chairs, drying off and grabbing our cups for a refill from the cooler in the trunk of her car.  I hang back to try to watch her walk, she is so beautiful, but she slows her pace as well, and my plan is foiled, she won't go far from me.

On the way back to the water what's that?  Her pole is bowing over wildly, she has a fish on!  I reach for and she hands me her cup, she moves to grab her pole and keeps it taught the way I taught her.  She hopes it's not another weed, as she reels it in she sees it is a whiting, or "whitey" in her lingo.   I loved it when she caught one or more fish than me, she was so proud of herself at that moment.  I grab it up and release the hook, putting the fish to sleep as it were, and showing it prone to her so she can admire the beauty of the creature that graced her hook.  We make sure it lives and release it back to the ocean.

We talk and talk, share and explore ideas.  In the car we never play the stereo, we have too much to talk about, even after thirty-three years together.  She tells me about people and their kids, always the kids, and about her workmates.  So compassionate, so caring, so affected by people and their troubles and experiences, I always tried to listen and encourage her.  I owe her so much, it really is very easy.  I am so proud when she tells me she loves me, and that she learns so much from me.  I am the luckiest man alive.

Dangerous Breasts!

Dateline: Sanford Florida

March 6, 2009

Last night at a Country and Western tavern in Central Florida the local police department saved a city of 100,000 from dangerous breasts!  These weren't young immature breasts either, but fully 18 years old.

Several irresponsible teenage girls were arrested for releasing these boobs, er breasts into the public.  Well, not really into the public, actually the breasts were let out into the interior of The Barn, a local nightclub that was at the time packed with reveling plainfolk, country style folks.

The public was never in any danger, though, because the Sanford Police Department had anticipated the nippular release in a brilliant bit of detecting that highlights their devotion and pointy-edged wisdom - there was a Girls Gone Wild taping going on inside. 

So, with the GGW ladies whipping it out onstage, and everyone hoot(er)ing, the stalwart officers in their plainclothes disguises peeled their eyes and erected an undetected teat-squad, watching the patrons to make sure no un-registered human milk-dipersal units were freed to poke out anyones eye or bop into anybodys body.

The perks, or perps rather, were evidently overcome by the noise (folks shouting "Show us your tits!"), the excitement, the mayhem in general, and their breasts just popped out, after they lifted their Barn-issued GGW pink T-shirts.

They were summarily rounded up, the girls, not the breasts, although, both really, and hauled off to the jail.  It was close, but thankfully the public at large was saved from having to view those nasty critters, those alien beasts, those horrific organs.  Those pink-tipped cuddly mammary glands that so represent the mammals on this planet.

The other customers in the Barn were then safe to return to their partying, drinking, and staring at the registered breasts that were deemed safe for them by the City, County, and local police authorities.  Presumably the GGW crew got their teatage, or footage rather, and wrapped it up later.