Fabulous, Flawless, Fifty

Who is this woman? Standing amongst a sea of plaid, alongside a nostalgic array of artifact. She just happens to be my inspiration and aspiration. She just turned fifty and she is nearly as fearless as ever. Tough lou, the name stuck, although her parental guidelines often weary. Her punishments were merely meek. She was never ashamed. Proud of where she came from. She would stretch a dollar, disguised any issues of despair with colorful activities. From homemade 'pretties' to 101 ways to cook hamburger, this woman made ends meat. Reassuring confidence, proving uniqueness, fighting to protect the under dog. Inflecting morals which she never would have obtained if she had not belonged to an under privileged upbringing. You have extras you share, you hear taunting you defend, you need help always ask. She would pick up ignored native hitch hikers, in our green minivan on our way home, conversing with them, caring for them for those brief encounters. She was salvation for a neighbor who was constantly tormented by an abusive father figure. Never forgetting to give second chances. She would never just read bedtime stories, but she would perform the part of each character. She did not run me to the doctor insisting a diagnosis, when I became obsessed with hallowing at the moon. She played along with my belief that a rock named jaw jaw lived in our mailbox, and if ever he was misplaced she would help me retrieve him. She encouraged my creativity. She is the reason I am where I am. I have been blessed by your presence mrs. Westman and only hope for another fifty years within your embrace.

... Some gifts I had sent her