My Favorite Valentine

My parents had a true unwavering love. They gleaned happiness out of each day of the 52 years that they were together, spreading that joy to their family. Β Even in times of sorrow or just tired from dancing through life, they leaned on one another in a beautiful way that I have never seen in any other couple. My dear mom had a quiet deep-seated patience with an acceptance of others in a nonjudgemental manner. She exemplified genuine kindness.Β  I am continually amazed by my dad! His friendly charm and knowledge about many things have taught me to be curious and optimistic about life and reminds me to seek understanding. Β Β 

I have heard the story of how my parents’ courtship began many times over the course of my life, but never has it held as much emotion for me as it has the last time I heard my dad recount it.Β 

As a child, the details were missed by me.

He has always had a story, and has always had an uncanny recall of even the seemingly smallest details. Lately, it seems he cannot get his stories out fast enough.  Here is my favorite:

He began by a funny tale of his 1st drunk, therefore his 1st hangover at the age of 18 while attending a work Christmas party for his brief stint at the Bank of St. Louis. Being a greenhorn, he did not know what to order at the bar, but as a youngster he had swept out the floor at the local tavern for pocket money and often heard the men order whisky and rye on the rocks. (Rock candy).Β  Thus, that is what he ordered. When asked what he wanted to chase it with he not knowing any better said, 7 and 7. Didn’t take long before he was found “flopping in the parking lot like a fish, throwing up”.Β 

The next day, still feeling like death warmed, over he wandered into Woolworths in search of a Christmas gift for his mother.Β  The candy counter sales lady was a striking brunette.Β  She asked him if he had any girlfriends in school. In his hurry to escape the beautiful woman and not desiring to embarrass himself he said no.Β  Turning away and striding to the exit with his purchase he began to recall a sweet little girl in 4th grade he had had a fondness for.

Quickly, he made a bee-line back to the counter and said, yes, there was one girl in 4th grade.Β  She asked him if he was Bob Heatherly. Β Β She told him her name, Jeannie Pharris.Β  The same little girl he had given a special Valentine to in 4th grade.Β  He had given other girls in the class a card, but for her he chose a different one.Β 

That night he went home and told his mother about meeting Jeannie Pharris at Woolworths. His mom went into the closet and pulled out a Valentine card from his 4th grade. It was the one that Jeannie had given him.Β  His mother had saved it because of what that little girl had written on it.Β  “Save this until you are older.”


He could not get Jeannie off his mind. In March, he went back to Woolworths but they were closed for inventory.Β  He banged on the door, until it was brusquely opened. He asked if she was in there, and his heart leapt when she came towards him with her beautiful smile.Β  He asked her out on a date, but his heart fell when she told him she was dating someone else.

Still, he could not get her out of his head.Β  While at the dance halls and night clubs cavorting and having a great time, he compared all the ladies to Jeannie.Β  He was smitten and continued to pursue her.Β Β  Finally, they had a date.Β  She brought with her the Valentine that HE had given her.Β  They had BOTH saved the Valentine from that year…. having tossed away the many others received over the years. Even at that early age, they had each felt a strong connection to each other! Β Β 

We said goodbye to her on February 14th, 2009. Valentines Day holds a mixed bag of emotions for me, signifying a loving life full of hope and light, as well as reminder of how dark the day can turn.

DJ Heatherly 

Burning Bushes

The flaming colors of autumnal burning bushes ablaze with their vibrant red have always been an enchanting seasonal spectacle for me, a reminder of natures enduring beauty. This years’ have been especially poignant for me as I wander a dear friend’s land where they are in abundance, each one painstakingly planted by him.Β  When their colors first began to appear this year, he was making progress on the task of a much-needed barn clean out.Β  The seat of a swing that had undoubtedly belonged to his younger years came to my notice and I envisioned him pushing his laughing daughters in the swing.Β  My eyes welled up as my mind was seized by the sharp contrast of the past and present.

When I see the beauty of the bushes in bloom, it is always with a bittersweet nostalgia, a longing for my younger self, that time in my life when I didn’t know of the brevity of life. With times cursorily escape, these bushes have become a reminder that circumstances will alter life’s transitions.  Time’s relentless exodus will take me away from familiar faces, places, hopes and loved ones; much like the burning bushes colors disappearing each year.  It saddens me.

However, the ebb and flow of life provokes me to savor every opportunity to behold not only the burning bushes with their hues shouting ”Look at me”, but all of nature’s gifts. Now, I live in the present, appreciating the minutiae and the briefest of minutes, knowing that these moments will never return.Β  I will not walk these same woods again; a felled tree, a dry ravine, the sun dappled fields are ever changing. Β Unlike the fiery foliage whose plant DNA offers its perpetual return.Β 

Donna Heatherly

Hadley Isla At 5

Happy Birthday to my gorgeous ginger sprite!Β  As you celebrate turning five, I have a special gift for you… A tiny red haired porcelain angel playing a guitar once belonged to your great, great grandmother Grace Catherine Louise Costello Heatherly. I hope you will keep this little keepsake as a reminder of how deep our family roots are and how vast they will continue to spread.Β It is also my hope that you will learn to play a string instrument, perhaps be the first female in our family who shreds guitar riffs, or passionately play the violin. You have the music in you, as is highly evident by how much you love to dance every time you hear it! You are a natural entertainer!

Just like the fiery red hair that flows from your head, this angel is a symbol of uniqueness and beauty and it represents the love and strength that has been passed down through generations. Your great, great grandmother treasured this angel, and now, it’s your turn. Whenever you look at it, remember the strong and kind women who came before you. The each had a bit of that same feisty, fun-loving essence you have. They will be watching over you and protecting you, just like this angel.

You are a precious of brightness in my life, and I love you more than words can express.

Happy birthday, my little sweet!

Love, Love!!

Grandma

                                                                                                                        September 19, 2023

This angel was given to me last year by my cousin Teri Johnson Lewis when she was in town to bury her father, Glen.  She told me that when our Grandma Grace passed away in 1998 this was one of the items she wanted to keep from her things.  She told me that now that we have another red head in the family, that this should be given to Hadley. 

Observer Of The Orb

You pondered life while

peering out classroom windows.

Your daydreams gave rise to

a need for knowledge

of all things, large and small.

Grade school teachers worried

that you read too fast

Feared for your comprehension.

As you consumed every book in the library

In one year at Landsdowne Jr. High!

Ol’ wise Observer of the Orb,

you are the embodiment of common sense

your wisdom is unlimitless

your interests brim

with verity and wit.

You amaze me with your recall.

Details of distant days are contentedly recollected.

The prose of your memoires spill forth with ease.

Suddenly, I am in your moment of days gone by.

A generous man, with tolerance and perception.

A grateful man, with an understanding, compassionate heart.

Your open-minded opinions with just the right amount of suspicion

makes for stimulating issues of discussion.

You have taught me plenty and I have taken it all in.

The essential lessons of life being:

Remain positive, continue to learn, love deeply, and take care of oneself.

Afterall, a fulfilled life is much easier to live than a neglected one!

Happy Birthday Dad!

                        Love,

Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β  Donna

August 7, 2020

My Two Brothers Bob

 

I awoke this morning with a Facebook notification telling me that a special member of my family has a birthday. I use the word β€˜telling’, instead of reminding, because I didn’t realize that today was the day that my dear mother had birthed my half-brother Bob. June 7 is not etched in my mind yet as a day to remember.  You see, I met him for the first time in my life a year ago.

It was a bittersweet discovery, the details of which I will reveal later. For now, let me just say that Half-Bob (a nickname which I joyously gave to him upon having him in my life) is the brother my psyche craved.

The brother I grew up with, the one I both adored and abhorred was Full-Bob. He was unavailable often as he hid his emotions from his sisters early in his life. (Unless angry or disgusted..he had no problem with expressing that). We had a extremely loving childhood, but Full-Bob was often solemn and moody. As children he teased me and hurt my feelings as only a brother can. Perhaps I was too sensitive. Perhaps I did not get his humor. Nonetheless, there was a deep love for one another.

As an adult, Full-Bob was busy working rotating schedule as a train operator or performing a gig as a professional musician. He often missed family events. He had two miserable marriages and great angst about unfulfilled dreams/desires.  His time was thin and he was often stressed out.

When a cancer diagnosis fell out of the sky he let the full range of his emotions rain down on my sister and I, sharing his disbelief, anxiety, and fear.

Shortly after that horrible diagnosis and dire prognosis his incredible strength hit me with full force. I have always been proud of my brother, but never had I been prouder than while watching him battle an evil disease. He became optimistic of a positive outcome, trying new cancer treatments, researching, vocal in support groups, all while continuing to make music. He was unable to play out, so instead he set up a recording studio in his home. His sense of humor showed a quiet dignity about the process of his body being destroyed.

Meeting Half-Bob was an emotional roller coaster for me. Total sublime happiness upon finding out about him! However, supreme sadness that he and his half-brother Bob never knew each other. I know their bond would have tight, and I know they would have stood side by side on stage playing their guitars.

Half-Bob is strikingly similar to Full-Bob in so many ways. They have the same names, given by different parents.  One is a pessimist. The other was a cynic. They both are very musically talented. Yet Half-Bob reaches out to both of his sisters in a way Full- Bob never could.

There were so many times growing up and as a young adult that I would’ve wanted Full-Bob to be more attentive to me and my life, my family, and more appreciative of who I was. I’ve never heard Full-Bob say he was proud of me.

Half-Bob on the other hand, is 100% more expressive with his feelings towards his new sisters. At first I thought it was insincere. …all the times he told me he loves me, how happy he is to be the β€œbig brother”, how amazing I am. I mean, how could he love me when he just met me for the first time merely months ago? And why couldn’t Full-Bob tell those things? For some reason I really needed to hear them from my brother during my life. Why did I need validation from him?

I love Half- Bob, but it’s different. It’s mixed with disappointment that we didn’t know each other when we were younger and extreme grief at the death of our brother Bob. All the what-ifβ€˜s have been very hard for me to look past. But I’m working on accepting the fate of both of my dear brothers.

Our generous, sweet mother created a gift for me the day she gave birth to her first son. Six decades delayed, and yet, he arrived right on time.

A Brothers’ Birthday

Birthday Thoughts  

(I wrote this to my brother to celebrate his birthday on 02/20/2015.  He is gone now, almost a year.  I miss my big brother.)

A firstborn son to loving parents.

Cuddly, cute with crabby cries.

Their only winter of discontent!

Brief it was, as they found their way

Together.

Doted upon and adored, the baby

Grew strong and happy.

Until his sisters came along.

But soon enough the toddler discovered

Sibling love.

A dynamic combination of emotions that evoke

Jealousy, joy, unbounded happiness and fears

The complexity of which sweetens the years

With loyalty, pride, laughter and tears.

*****************************************************

Dear brother,

Your teasing makes me stronger.

Your intellect makes me strive to be smarter.

Your dark moods make me want cheer you.

Your watchful eyes make me feel protected.

Your humor makes me smile.

Your critical tongue makes me try harder.

Your musicality makes me proud.

Your laughter makes my heart light.

Your relentlessness in this battle makes me admire you even more.

On this day, your birthday, I wish so much for you.

I won’t put them down to paper for fear they may vanish.

But you know what they are.

They are the same wishes that you want for me.

02/20/2015 – D. J. Heatherly

Limerick To My Dad

Limerick To My Dad

Β As a wee lass, there were cuddles, laughter,Β  and kind words when I was crying.

Β There was naught ever a thing in my life time that I needed.

Alas, the Insolence of youth, rolling of eyes, and sounds of sighing.

His sage advice I seldom heeded.

With age and maturity my own offspring were seeded.

Now it is known to all who have known him…

My dad is the finest, without even trying!

Thank you for your constant care and love!

Β Donna J. Heatherly

Image

Dad and I Circa 1961.Β  He grew a beard in honor of the E. St. Louis Centennial… the hat I am wearing is his from the event.

His beard was red, and his hair was blonde, I should add!

Β 

Β 

>Black River Boys

Black River Boys (2006)

D.J. Heatherly Hall

Prepare, pack, plan, provide

Sun, hugs, mud, bugs

Filthy fingers. Happy feelings

Finding tree stars and tree nuts

Four-wheeling to a fishing spot

Our little bit of paradise

Where the River runs shallow and secluded.

Floating in clear coolness with eyes full of brightness

Dylan’s curiosity along with Devin’s sweet smiles.

Brings contentment to the family.

 

Small voice questioning all around us

What are those lines?

As Dylan points to the ripples in the water

Bordering us silently, moving as we slowly glide.

What is that sound?

Listening to concealed birds screech over head.

What are those things?

Looking intently at the polished pebbles under foot.

Tiny fishes scatter in all directions

Yet, the plastic red one is continually caught

Proudly on the end of Dylan’s reel.

 

Canoeist’s float towards us

Small talk begins. They comment

about our boys in the River.

Devin coyly smiles at them

Dylan shyly looks away, grinning.

Canoeist’s drift lazily past us

And Dylan quietly says to me,β€œI did not talk”.

 

Heather and Bobby take a walk, take a break

Alone together to float downstream.

Dylan tells me, β€œI can’t see.”

β€œSee what?” I ask.

β€œMy best friends” he says in his small voice.

He misses his mom and dad.

They are his world.

Minutes later he sees them floating towards us

he points at them excitedly with his whole self smiling.

 

Back at our camp site quick showers

Washing away sunscreen and sweat

Primed for evenings’ bug spray and smoke

Blued-eyed dimpled Devin bounces happily in his walker

As we work our magic on the grill.

 

Snuggled in their tent, our boys doze off before dark.

Time for adults. Starry nights and wine lead to talk

About life, the future, and The Universe.

 

Rise and shine to a dewy day.

Dylan chases his early morning shadows.

While running from hand monsters.

β€œIt’s getting me, it’s getting me.”

Giggling all the while.

 

Early a.m. energy and excitement.

Stooping, exploring, digging, collecting

Acorns, rocks, leaves, memories.

Arms wide with joy, high stepping and spinning.

β€œWhats happening to me?” Dylan laughs.

His feet, in constant motion.

 

Coffee savored over warmth of the fire.

Simple moments make the grandest of occasions.

Dylan’s sweet comments and Devin’s carefree smiles.

Our Black River Boys.

 

 

>Jack

>White as the snowfall of that joyous Christmas

He entered our young family

Petted, kissed and cuddled

He dozed in our arms

As we all took a stab at naming him.

He was carefully passed around

The kitchen island

Along with the bottle

That he was named after – Jack!

Jack – a strong name for a solid fellow

Would grow to be a faithful friend.

The happiest member of the clan.

Always at the ready to offer a greeting

From his earliest years of generously

Jumping on top of guests with

A full body hug –

To his more mature years

Showing huge affection

Too well-trained to jump up,

Instead, showed a more refined joy

With his entire body wagging,

Always with that happy face

Smiling sincerely at you.

Constant companion, always nearby.

Underfoot in the kitchen,

Discretely in wait for a morsel to fall.

Resting attentively in the foyer

Guardian of his family

Our gentle giant

Had a secret desire to be a lapdog!

Jack’s favorite place was with hisΒ family

A poolside party or bonfire where

He could garner affection, food and preferably

A lap to sit on!

That young family who giggled at his puppy pranks

Who grew up together

Strong, solid and so very loved.

Has entered a new phase.

And is now a sweet memory, savored often by all.

As is our dear friend, Jack.

In memory of Jack – Great White Boxer. Losing an aging pet is very hard on many levels. First is the sadness of loosing a dear friend, a member of your immediate family. Also, we are reminded of now fleeting the years go by, and of how fast the chapters of our book is turning. Growing older.Β 

D. J. Hall (03/16/2009)