LadyBugs on My Panties

Deborah Gilson, Rhonda Platt, 9-2018

I was all dolled up with someplace to go: my 40-year high school reunion. My 13 beauty t’s were crossed and my i’s were dotted. My hair was colored and styled, my brows waxed with a shapely arch, my teeth whitened and the weird hairs on my chinny-chin-chin removed. Every nook and cranny had been addressed, including my shaved legs complete with tan-in-a-can color. After all, “tanned fat is always better than white fat”, advises Katy Cochrane, a close childhood friend.👍

Rhonda Platt, a dear friend since we were 13, was flying in from Alaska to stay with me. She always has the low-down on beauty secrets and I desperately wanted to be in the know. I emailed to let her know I was wearing a gown, which required a strapless bra.😮

Rhonda immediately responded and told me to purchase a silicone bra. “A what?”, I queried hesitantly? She sent a photo to better guide me.😉The moment I saw the photo, I knew I was in over my head mumbling to myself, “That flappy thing will never stick to my boobs.” I drove to Victoria’s Secret anyway and whispered to the young salesgirl, “Hey, I need one of those rubbery bras in a D or DD - if they even make them in that size.” I secretly hoped no such item existed, however, she returned a moment later with the unwanted item in her hot, little hands.😟

I drove home and thought I’d better have a practice session before Rhonda arrived. I wanted to seem in-the-know on her trusty recommendation. I yanked the blubbery cups out of the box and made sure there was no lotion on my skin, per the box's explicit instructions. I learned I could tighten the cups with the centerpiece to create cleavage, too! I was excited at the prospect of bringing my girls closer together.😁

With precision, I rolled the super-sticky cups onto each of my breasts while gripping the instructions between my teeth. With firm hands, I pushed the cups on and held them in place for a moment. Hesitantly, I let go and watched the left cup slowly roll off and dangle onto my stomach.😥

Rhonda arrived and boy did the good times begin rolling. The neighbors could hear screams of laughter from sunup til sundown. The first evening of our reunion was about to take place and it was time to get our attire together. I was wearing a fitted black skirt just above my knees and wondered whether any V.P.L.’s, Visible Panty Lines, could be seen. I peered over a shoulder at my backside into my full-length mirror, pulling an Elastigirl pose.🙄

I hollered to Rhonda who was also getting ready. I told her my concern of a rumpled butt and she suggested a pair of Spanx. I was instantly reminded of the time I wore a pair of costly Spanx to a black-tie affair. During the dinner, I felt the Spanx rolling down my torso and onto my rear. I knew I had to race to the ladies room. The moment I stood, they continued rolling down to my kneecaps. I hobbled to the bathroom where I tore the thing off and threw it into the garbage can.😬

“Um, I don’t think Spanx are for me”, I hollered back to Rhonda. I decided to wear my paneled granny panties, instead. Besides, they would also conceal my motherly tum-tum. Rhonda and I were dressed to the nines and excited for our first reunion evening. We were meeting Bernice McHale Corey and other friends there. We became reacquainted with several attendees and I began talking with Don, one of the guests. All was going swimmingly, I thought. I was poised, confident and relaxed while having a wonderful time. Don asked whether I looked familiar to him and I said I thought his hair was familiar.🤔

He rattled off several facts about me from my teen days and I became visibly perplexed. I asked how it was possible he could know so much about me while I knew nothing about him. He flatly responded, “You ran with various large groups of popular friends. I was a brainiac. You didn’t have time for me.” I cringed with shame and embarrassment at my once deeply shallow demeanor. The hot air emptied from my balloon and I sheepishly replied, “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t give you the time of day. Hopefully, I’ve grown up a bit.”😱 Although I wanted the ground beneath my chair to open up, I nervously remained next to him with my tail between my legs.

Rhonda and I screamed with laughter on the way home. We exchanged stories we gathered from the evening’s events. We could hardly wait to see what the next reunion evening brought. The 100 attendees looked magnificent in their gowns and dress coats. Again, I dressed for success in the hopes stories of my teen shenanigans was complete. However, Lady Luck was nowhere to be found.😧

Robin, Bernice, Me, Rhonda, 9-2018

Someone pulled my graduation photo from their phone. I was horrified to see my full set of teeth, complete with big, blue eyes squinted shut. The owner of the phone questioned my obvious glee and asked about the elation on my face. I admitted during the day of the graduation practice, I buried a bottle of booze under my chair for the evening’s event. The group of listeners was hanging on my every word when finally their memories began flooding in. “Oh, my God! That’s right! The bottle was passed up and down our row!”🍾

Deborah Patterson-Gilson, 7-1978

I nearly escaped another’s horrifying memory of me. In the desperate attempt to present a healthy, mature and respectable image for my son, I buried countless treasures in my sub-conscious. “Hey, Debbie! Remember the time you snuck out your bedroom window and couldn’t get back in?”, someone shouted?🤨

I straightened my shoulders and told of that evening’s adventures. In 1978, the band Boston released their debut record ‘Don’t Look Back’ and I threw a party in their honor. I had a 10 P.M., curfew and left the outdoor party to dutifully head home. I told Bernice McHale Corey's brother to pick me up at 11:00 after my parents were asleep. With a thrill, I climbed into his white pickup and we headed back to the party. At 3:00 in the morning, he dropped me off at my parents’ home and drove away. It was then I realized I hadn’t given my plan enough thought.😖

I was petite and my bedroom window was 12 feet higher than the flower bed. I couldn’t even jump high enough to reach the bottom of the window. After 30 minutes of failed attempts, horror became a reality. I’d have to ring the doorbell with a lie. My mother let me in and I explained how my horses escaped their paddock.🤥With her finger pointed at my bedroom door, she uttered through gritted teeth, “You’re grounded for a month, young lady.”😭

The reunion evening continued swimmingly until Bud Dangl said he, too, had a funny story about me, although he preferred to tell me in private. “Aw, come on, Buddy. After all, how bad can it be?” He shrugged his shoulders and began another cringe-worthy tale of when I was 17. He relayed what Robb Hüebner, his cousin, told him years ago. A party was in full swing and the bathroom was crammed with attendees. Robb was using the bathroom when I charged in saying I had to pee. Robb pushed everyone out and turned his back, however, not before taking a sneak peek. He then held the door closed until I finished while the Steve Miller Band blared “Jungle Love” in the background.🎤

It seemed highly improbable I’d be carefree about my privacy with a male present, however, I knew the story to be true as I treasure ladybugs to this day. I wanted to holler, “Holy crap, stop with this story, Buddy!” However, I feared my late mother’s Baptist-reared finger staring me in the face. Instead, I silently thought, “WTF?”😵

The other morning I awoke and 40 years passed. A few days ago, I was a fresh-faced young girl wobbling through pastures wearing platform wedge sandals and a stuffed bra. Although I’m where I longed to be as a full-fledged woman, I secretly snicker thinking back to the years when I wore ladybugs on my panties.🤭🤫

Carr Fire of Redding, California

Photo Courtesy of Kailyn Alonzo, 7/28/18

During the four long summer months, it's natural for temperatures in Northern California to soar into the triple digits.👿July 23rd, 2018, was no different, however, as a vehicle puttered along Highway 299 at 1:15 pm, it blew a tire igniting the most destructive fire in Shasta County’s history. The vehicle was near the Judge Francis Carr Powerhouse in Whiskeytown, California, 32 miles west of Redding, California. What happened within minutes ironically became known worldwide as the Carr Fire.

It wasn't long before I received word from Janice Thomas-J's Blossoms and Emily Faye Traylor, my in-the-know next door neighbors, that evacuation of our close-knit neighborhood was imminent.😲I'm grateful for living in between Janice and Emily, whose husbands are first responders for major disasters in Redding.👨‍🚒 In the wise words of Grant Butterfield, "Sandwiched by first responders. Nice!"

In only a few minutes, the Carr Fire was "plume dominated," a type of fire that spreads itself. The fire also created towering pyrocumulus clouds, which collapse at night, creating strong downdrafts, described as a tornado. The fire was also fueled by hot, dry weather and dry vegetation. High winds drove embers beyond the fire lines igniting roofs and trees. The normally blue sky was replaced with an eerie orange and red canvas.

Ashes began landing on my pristine yards making my heart race. I knew it wasn't long before Janice and Emily would send texts telling me to pack a suitcase and load up my most prized possessions. Robotically, I gathered my grown son’s childhood belongings, along with eight large plastic bins of photographs. I stayed the night at Lynna Gott's comfortable home, visiting with John Gott and their lovable dogs. By the grace of good fortune, I received word the residents in our neighborhood were able to return home the following day.

The Carr Fire continued its ferocious activity by jumping the 700-yard-wide Sacramento River, which none of the first responders expected. In its aftermath, 40,000 Redding community residents were displaced. According to Cal Fire, 126,000 acres burned for 197 square miles. More than 366 fire engines with 4,151 firefighters assisted local firefighters from 68 fire crews, along with 17 helicopters, 119 bulldozers and military personnel, too. Thousands of animals' lives were disrupted, 1,060 homes were destroyed and sadly, six people died.

🦊🐷🐿️🌳🏘️👨‍👩‍👧‍👦

Precious Cat Rescued and Treated at Haven Humane Society

A great-grandmother and her two young great-grandchildren died, trapped in their trailer.👵👧🧑The young boy and his sister were discovered under a wet blanket with their great-grandmother’s body lying across them. She did everything humanly possible to save her tiny tots.💜

My ultra-sensitive heart imagined this final scene. In an attempt to soothe the children’s fragile nerves, their great-grandmother calmly told them to imagine a few of their favorite things. In my mind’s eye, she said they would soon bake homemade chocolate chip cookies and watch their favorite movies, complete with a big bowl of buttered popcorn.🍪They could even stay up late, too!😀😃

She told the kids it wouldn’t be long before Halloween would be here and gave them ideas for their next costumes.🎃She also gave hints as to what would be in Santa's bag because, of course, Santa Clause knew they were perfect children.🎅🎄She also told them how much money they could expect from the Tooth Fairy, all about the treasure hunt for their next Easter Sunday and the beautifully wrapped presents they would receive for their birthdays!🎁

As this Great-GrandMother lay her exhausted body across her trembling Great-GrandChildren, she protected them from what she instinctively knew, "Grammy loves you both so very much and it won't be long before we're home, at last, I promise." As she wrapped her loving arms around them, these three angelic souls were gently lifted from the Carr Fire of Redding, California.😇😇😇

Jesus: The Teacher of Love

I heard this handsome man's name a thousand times throughout my life. He is an icon to approximately 1,800,000,000 people around the world. How could someone who lived only 33 years leave such an indelible mark?

I dreamt of him swimming naked in the warm waters, surrounded by tiny waterfalls. I watched as he pulled his tall, lanky body out of the water to lie next to his forever lady love and soak up rays from the brilliant son.

I dreamt I walked with him through a cave  and discovered a drawing in the stone of him next to a similar carving of Ross, my late brother. In the dream, I could not help notice the physical resemblance of Ross to him, down to their crystal blue eyes.

With his posture straight and standing tall, he walked miles of hot, dusty earth until he finally reached his destinations. Of Jewish decent, he was born in the spring to a loving mother and father. He left home during his teen years to begin his calling. Instinctively, he lead by example.

His steely-blue eyes, auburn-colored hair and trim stature represented hope. Faith and prosperity of the heart embraced Jesus' warmth. He did not need to meet anyone in person for them to envelop all he offered. One merely opened their hearts, souls and awareness to receive the restorative powers he spread like a ripple effect upon calm, clear, aquamarine waters.

His short-lived life ended when he was only 33-years-old. Those outside his mindset were deeply enraged by the fierce loyalty of those who followed him and his beliefs. The antagonists were in far greater number than those who followed him. His powerfully intoxicating personality threatened those outside his group. Their fear was that they, too, wished to follow him. 

On a snowy December night, he was killed. As his loved ones gathered at a site on the Mount of Olives, they shed tears in agony at what could not be prevented. While his mother lay crying at her only child's feet, his father attempted to comfort her and in his own suffering, he continued the pride of his heroic son.

As I ponder life and what Jesus means to me, I take comfort having a friend known only to my heart, soul, consciousness and dreams. To this day, I think the world of him, the teacher of love.

I'm Hardly an Old Dog

A growth mindset is one of my goals for life. I joined a health club to branch out, hoping to meet like-minded, health-conscious individuals and attempt a new venture. 

I arrived in time to join the final 10 minutes of a Zumba class. I could hear the pounding bass from the street and thought this would be a terrific class for me. The five women in attendance were sweating from their 50 minutes there. I walked to the back of the tiny room to begin. 

There was no way I could keep up with the instructor, whose booty easily and smoothly swayed from side to side. I was the whitest bread in the group with my knees stiff, as well as my mind. I thought if I danced freely, the others would think I am an easy middle-aged woman and I wouldn't have that! However, I could clearly see my reflection in the mirror, proving I had no groove left in my heart, body or soul.

The class finished and I waited for the Hatha Yoga class to begin immediately after. Although I do a few simple stretches every morning, I knew with this yoga class, I'd become more limber and ultimately, so would my mind and soul.

The instructor noticed I was new and introduced herself. She smiled and my blue eyes instantly focused on her missing front tooth. I thought of the wise adage, "Floss only the teeth you wish to keep." I gave her a strong handshake and when she walked away to prepare for class, my eyes bulged at the tattoo covering her entire back. Although I'm of Jewish decent, I reminded myself tattoos are common place in today's society and no longer a testament to Hitler's unfathomable inked marking of a singled-out, innocent, vulnerable, beautiful human race. 

I placed my borrowed yoga mat on the floor and began again to open my mind when a female attendee hollered, "Holy crap, that ocean music is loud!" I flashed back to the day I was a sassy 16 year old who came home from school to proudly mouth off to my mother my latest word: Crap. My mother's hand immediately raised with a first finger pointed in my face, "Don't you ever let me hear you say that word again. Ladies don't speak that way and as long as you're in my home, you'll behave like a lady." To this day, I've never used that word.

The yoga class began with the instructor telling us to deeply breathe in through our noses and our through our mouths. She allowed a loud belch to escape and then, rolled onto her side in a fit of laughter. I was horrified and again reminded of my family upbringing where proper manners were the norm.

Breathing could be heard by the five others, except not me. I didn't have the loud breathing in me. I remained quiet as a mouse, while feeling somewhat content with my participation. The instructor said to bring our knees up and then open the groin flat like a butterfly. I thought, "What the ?" My knees wouldn't open too far therefore, the instructor was at my side in a flash. I cringed and then, she put her hand too close to my groin with another moving toward my behind. I freaked out inside while attempting to remain calm outside. 

This was way too much for my uncomfortable level. I firmly said, "Got it. Thanks." Fortunately, she went back to instructing the class. I watched the clock like a hawk for the hour-long class to end. As the minutes inched onward, I participated to the best of my ability to avoid further conversation with the instructor. 

While lying flat, we were told to put our arms over our heads for the ultimate stretch. Again, I wasn't doing the maneuver properly and the instructor was at the back of my head to move my arms another way. She leaned over my face to ask whether it was okay to do this. I smelled the distinct repugnant odor of her smoker's breath and thought I'd wretch. I instantly became rigid again and firmly said, "No, thanks. I'm fine." By now, the only thought racing through my mind was, "Get me out of here!"

I couldn't wait for this new, mind-opening experience to cease. It was now 10 minutes after the class was to end and I came unglued. I jumped up and raced around the building to locate the front office gal to ask why the class wasn't ending. I was told the times are loosey-goosey. The yoga instructor began late, which would make my class run late and the next class wouldn't begin until mine was finished.

I quickly walked back to the yoga room, rolled up my mat, grabbed my belongings and left. I'll attempt the dance class again to learn how to groove to my heart, mind, body and soul. After all, my mind doesn't believe I'm an old dog. I'm still open to learning a few new tricks. 

Running for My Life

While driving home last Saturday from the grocery store, a hitchhiker standing at the I-5 South on-ramp gave me the creeps. I thought, "Not on your life, mister!" I soon realized why the hitchhiker made my skin crawl. He resembled the man who murdered Ranee' Wright, my high school friend, two years after we graduated.

August 10, 1980, 19-year-old Ranee', "Nay-Nay", was driving home to Redding, California after visiting her sister in Sacramento. Her mother, sister and boyfriend expected her to arrive by 10 P.M. However, one of the tires on her Chevy Vega blew out on I-5 North. A man stopped and offered to help the beautiful, long-legged Ranee', wearing a strapless, maroon pantsuit. Her fresh-faced naiveté allowed him to drive her to a service station where she called family members to let them know she'd be safely home in an hour or so.

The following morning, Ranee's empty Vega was discovered on I-5. The authorities combed every square inch of Northern California until finally discovering her body August 17th, buried under a pile of gravel. She suffered a gunshot wound to her head by a monstrous man who ignored her trembling pleas, deeming her young life worthless.

Ranee' Wright, 1978

Enterprise High School, Redding, CA.

During my high school years, my mother was the bookkeeper at Dr. Oler’s orthodontics where Ranee’ visited to have her braces checked. My mother joyfully greeted Ranee’ and they visited until Ranee’s appointment time. Ranee’ was a teller at a local bank where she took care of my mother needs while they laughed up a storm. My mother would call to say, “I saw our darling Ranee’ again today!”

During the summer of 1980, I returned to the Hawaiian Islands to work in between school years at Brooks Fashion Institute in Long Beach, California. My mother called to relay the news of Ranee’s murder, however, I was unable to comprehend the magnitude of Ranee’s horrific death. Instead, in my mind’s eye, I gazed at her senior portrait. My mother attended Ranee’s funeral where a vast majority of the several hundred mourners were forced outdoors to hear the service from the overcrowded premises. My former high school friends attended to say goodbye to Nay-Nay, whose lively light full of wonder, was darkened by a murderer still on the loose.

In December of 1980, I completed my finals and was anxious to begin the 12-hour drive home to Redding for Christmas. I telephoned my mother at 3:00 P.M., to let her know I was leaving and she pleaded for me to wait until the following morning. I promised and then, promptly loaded “Beachie”, my Chevy Vega, to begin the long trip.

Beachie was complete with an 8-track player, speakers on the floor and an aluminum block engine. During our many travels, I put the pedal to the metal and together, we sailed along the highways. While driving home, Classic Rock blared from my speakers to keep me awake. However, at 2:00 A.M., on I-5 North, Beachie began making horrific noises, which I never experienced in any vehicle! It wasn’t long before Beachie’s engine died, along with my favorite music. I glided from life’s fast lane to the right side of the highway and stopped.

I sat frozen in the pitch black, surrounded by a million stars all around, although I had no peaceful, easy feeling. Cell phones weren’t a part of civilization yet therefore, I continued gripping Beachie’s steering wheel for comfort. Ranee’s plight replaced my false comfort and sheer terror consumed my skinny, 5’2 frame. I knew I had to begin running for my life!

I grabbed my purse, slung it sideways over my shoulder, jumped out of Beachie, locked the door and began running down the freeway as fast as my short legs could race. I was delirious with fright, which propelled me to continue long after I was physically prepared. With  my head straight, I continued when I saw headlights from the corner of my eyes.

I thought, “Oh, my God! Oh, no! Please, keep going! I’m too young to die!” The car was next to me keeping pace and I knew it wasn’t leaving. I heard a man’s voice holler from his passenger window, “Miss, it’s the California Highway Patrol. I’m here to help you.” I knew not to believe this lying murderer therefore, I continued running now keeping my eyes forward.

Suddenly, the car pulled ahead and screeched to a halt in front of me. The lights on top were now blinking and the officer was walking toward me. He said he saw my Vega with no one inside and began the search for me. I crawled into the front seat of his patrol car and thanked him profusely for coming to my rescue. He drove me to a gas station at the next exit and I called my parents. You can imagine the sound of my mother’s voice when I told her what happened.

Within 30 minutes, I was safely nestled in the loving arms of my parents. We thanked the kind officer and made our way home as a new winter’s day was dawning. Our Christmas together was filled with warmth, security, my mother’s comfortable food, the reuniting of childhood friends and the creation of more fond memories.

Nay-Nay and I were once lively young women, on the road to explore life’s adventures. I was gifted continuous life: I married, became an adoring mother, created a passion for writing my true stories and advanced to a middle-aged woman, while Nay-Nay’s brilliant flame was extinguished. The senseless, needless, heartless murder of Cheryl Ranee’ Wright is forever etched in my pain-filled, yet loving memory.

Deborah Patterson-Gilson, 1978

Enterprise High School, Redding, CA.

HUGE Pig in Kitchen Eating Cat's Food!

Deborah's Best Man

"Deborah's Best Man" ~

There's an available, healthy, middle-aged man searching and waiting for me, an available, healthy middle-aged woman. Synchronicity will make this happen and with your power, there will be two less lonely people in the world. He must pass your guidelines and be known by you or me.

I'm done with on-line dating sites and shooting in the dark. (I think the men on -line are probably in prison!) I have a spark, however, I can't start a fire without the perfect match.

So you may swiftly connect my best man, a loving guide to me, you need to know who I am.

Who is and Isn't Deborah Gilson?

A Loving, Supportive, Grateful Mother: Her best man is a father in kind
Democrat/Extreme Liberal
Relocating: To be closer to her son and relatives
Compassionate to all who are compassionate
Divorced: The best man for her has been married
Healthy: Emotionally, mentally, spiritually, physically
Funny: Loves to laugh!
Not into Alcohol: Rarely imbibes. Those days are gone.
Vegan: Organic produce, too.
Foods: Asian, especially Thai, raw (uncooked veggies)
Beverages: Zero VitaWater, Home-made lemonade w/ stevia, iced tea, hot herbal tea in winter, nut/soy kinds of milk, spring water
Not into Tattoos
Handy: No, however, her best man is a handyman
Mechanically Inclined: No, however, her best man is
Computer Savvy: No, however, she's a voracious writer and hopefully, her best man can keep their home computer up to speed
Homeowner: To a beautiful, paid, tidy, comfortable home
Travels: She used to and wishes to do so again - especially to Hawaii, once her beloved homeland
Quiet: Enjoys quiet time
Movies: Loves going to the theater and watching movies at home
Music: Classic Rock to Classical
Spiritual: No religious dogma
Physique: Petite with average frame
Work: Working and striving toward vocation as a published author. Her best man may be working doing what he enjoys or he's retired
Reader: NonFiction, philosophy
Activities: The symphony, cushy camping, bicycle strolls, Farmer's Markets, visiting Family of Friends, writing life's stories, driving to the snow, being on/near water, concerts, museums, art exhibits, garden parties, local live music
Patient: She is now. The best man needs to be patient for those who learn differently, get lost easily and need a calculator to add the simplest of numbers. After all, one cannot expect a fish to climb a tree.
Listener: Prefers listening to talking, which is exhausting.
Comfort Level: No extreme temperatures
Stylish: Enjoys dressing up and going out
Attractive: To her man as he is to her. Value keeping in shape.
Teeth: Excellent pearly whites
Eyes: Blue. Prefers her man to have either blue or green.
Hair: Like a horse's mane. Prefers her best man have hair, too. Bald men drive some women crazy, however, not Deborah.
Smoke/Drugs-free (including Big Pharma's)

Thank you for helping me find my best man. I know he's out there somewhere.

Amazon.com: Born to Write: Engaging Confessions eBook: Deborah Gilson: Books

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