Regan Looks at the Calendar

So it turns out I was wrong about my Daddy moving on. He came to visit me this morning. EARLY this morning. I'm glad and everything..I mean I was really missing him all week, worrying that he'd moved on. But SIX in the morning? WTF? He should know better after all these years. I mean, Saturday night is party night. Sunday morning is for sleeping.

Anyway, he kissed me on the cheek and said, "Good morning, Princess."

I opened my eyes and saw him standing there, dressed in his best white suit he wore when he performed that last time. "Daddy! You didn't leave me."

"Of course I didn't leave you."

"But you didn't come last Sunday and you always visit me on Father's Day."

"Today is Father's Day, Princess." He laughed and rumpled my hair. "You still can't keep your dates straight, even after all these years."

I guess he's right. Days just pass most time and I can't keep them straight.. There are too many people, too many parties, and too many battles. And time just moves on around me. But at least I still have my Daddy. Happy Father's Day, Daddy, for real this time.

Daddy's Girl

People have called me a Daddy's girl most of my life. And I'd be the last person to deny it. See, I was a Daddy's girl...still would be if I had my way. Not only did my Daddy raise me, he was awesome. Everyone respected him, even if they didn't like him.

Of course, there were people who didn't like him...people who were jealous of his talent. He could play piano like nobody's business. That's how he got his nickname -- "Blazing Fingers Worth" -- sure he was a bootlegger when the prohibitionists tried to deny our right to party, but the nickname came first and had nothing to do with guns or hooch.

It's not that me and Daddy never squabbled. We did...of course we did. I was as strong-minded then as I am now...maybe more so. But we always loved each other deep inside. We still do...sure I know he still loves me because I can see him like I can still see Mommy. They're between realms and can't pass through. No one sees them except me and I don't see them always. But Daddy usually drops by on my birthday, his birthday, Father's Day, Christmas, and sometimes when I'm under too much stress.

Are you kidding me? It's Father's Day? I haven't seen you today, Daddy.  Does that mean you've moved on beyond the weave? I guess that's ok, if it's a nice place. But you know me, Daddy. I want you here with me forever. There's still a few hours left...maybe you're just running late. I hope so.

Meet Swampy

Agatha

Hanover asked me to talk about Swampy. I told him my clumsy claws have no business pounding little keys and that he should talk about his godfather, but he gave me those pleading eyes -- you know, the ones children learn at about 4 months -- so I told him it's his own fault if I break this thing. So here goes.

If you've read From the Gator's Mouth, you know that the Swamp Rat, as I call him, can't form a complete sentence to save his life. He has a habit of hunting my gator children, and when he was a young man, had a tendency to fool with my nymphs. He grew out off that, but you'll have to wait until until "The Reunion" comes out to find out why. I'm not spoiling that secret.

What I will tell you is that from the time he was a child, I liked the Swamp Rat. Of course I didn't let on. He called me Hag and for good reason. Whenever I went to see him, I shifted from my gator form to a two-legged form that is not quite what you see here in this photo. That I had to learn...and believe me, it was not easy.

Swampy

Why not let him see me as a gator? That was his great-grandmother's idea. Amadahy. She was a good nymph, but she fell in love. Most nymphs don't, you know. But Amadahy did. And she asked me to reverse what I had done -- to make her mortal. When she conceived a child, she asked me to stay away so that the child would be normal. Two generations later, when the last of her nymph blood was gone and she was dying, she came to me and asked me to make sure the Swamp Rat got along fine. I'd say I kept my promise. But then, I always do.

Thoughts on Compassion

Toledo Cats

My father said to my mama, not long after they first met, You do not need to hide your tears from me. The desert sand holds the salt of many tears. Yours will only enrich it with their power.

Mama embodied compassion. The turnout we had for Blog Tour de Troops proved there are an abundance of truly compassionate people. Many just need a vehicle to express it. I feel the blog organizers and participants gave them that.

Last night the Indie Book Collective announced that the participants are donating 10,000 ebooks to the troops.  As many of you who commented here noted, that's 10,000 opportunities for a soldier to get a little escape -- a little piece of mind. Thank you all for stopping by and commenting here and on the other blogs in the tour to make this possible.

When I look around, I see other acts of compassion too. People like the woman in this article who risk their own lives and health to help the victims of the Fukushima earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear disaster. People who spend their time working to educate people, reunite lost animals with their owners and find homes for abandoned pets. These people are true heroes. They are people Mama would be proud to call her friends.