Colorado · family · Memories · Mom · MY LIFE · My Thoughts · Panama

Day 21 – Here and There!: A Poem About Two Places

juggling - here

For most of my adult life, I have struggled with “here” and “there.” I grew up, moved and had my adult home but my home in Branson, Colorado always called to me.

After our move to Panamá, this poem came up when I was visiting in Branson in December 2025. Witness my current struggle with “here” and “there”!

Here & There: Juggling Two Lives

The familiar train whistle blows

                  And I know I’m home

                                    In Branson,

A sound that echoes through my childhood.

The wind blows

                  Dust devils twirl on the plains.

The mesa towers to the southwest of us.

Saddlerock hangs to the west

                  As another reminder of home.

This my here now!

Our family ranch calls to me

                  Dad voices his familiar stories

                                    In my heart

                  Granddad looms large in my history

                  Mom’s sweet presence and squeals of delight

                                    Echo in my soul

                                    Memories overflow

                                                      Even though they’re gone.

Now, sitting beside my brother

                  With our stories.

He’s the only one who can verify their truth

                  Our stories

                  Our family’s stories

Sometimes quiet fills the truck cab

                  Dust swirls

                  Silence

                  Reverence for our shared lives

My brother opens up while we ride around

                  Safe

                  With deep stories

                                    His childhood disappointments

                                                      At our community church.

                                    I never knew!

                                                      Why???

The familiar sights

                  Cholla cactus

                                    Graceful with arms extended

                  Yucca

                                    Sharp spikes pointing heavenly

                  Pinon pine trees

                  Cedar trees

                                    The smell I love!

                  Oak brush, orange at this time of the year

                  Dead trees ravaged by drought and bugs

                  A windy trail, bumpy with rocks

                                    Reminds me of a Canyon Lullaby!

We try to make daily trips to the ranch,

                  But our busy schedule doesn’t allow.

Each trip feeds my soul, my spirit, my heart!

The train whistles in the background

                  Of my life here

                                    Several times a day

                                    Welcomed and comforting!

This house I inherited overflows

                  With Mom and Dad

I just used Mom’s pressure cooker

                  To cook spaghetti noodles

                  She called it her “Poor Man Microwave.”

Dad’s pot on the stove

                  To add some humidity to this dry climate.

Here my life is

                  Ranch business,

                  English, English, English!

                  No one knocks on my door anymore               

                                    My brother only

I visited my 96-year-old friend

                  But she’s failing!

That’s the here, but underneath

                  The “there” beckons!

Life there!

Our new life in Panama

                  Green jungle surrounds us

                  New friends live near us

                                    They knock on my door.

                  Beautiful clear mornings as we look towards

                                    Vulcan Barú

                  Rainy afternoons during the rainy season now.

Our life carved out

                  Two markets for fun and people

                  A knitting group

My recovery group

Basketball games, following one of our landlords

A more relaxed life

                  Less stress

                  US politics not the focus

No dishwasher in our rental house

                  Gives me time looking out the window

                                    At the green

                                    The colorful flowers

                                    The hummingbird buzzing the lavender flowers

                                                      Being present

                                                                        A gift!

Here my life is

                  My book business

                  Spanish, English, Spanish

                                    Which I love!

I never planned to move

                  To Panama

I planned to live and die in Tijeras

                  And visit Branson

My here and there

                  Used to be Tijeras, then Branson

But we stood on our decision and morals

                  We said no to the insanity

                  We took action,

                                    Well planned by Lin

                  And it happened

Here and there—juggling these two lives

                  When I’m here, I think of there.

                  When I’m there, I yearn for here.


My Writing Group

I shared this on Monday with my Writing Group from New Mexico at a Zoom meeting. One person’s critiqued: “I loved the homeyness of it. Also, I can relate to the train because I had a train in my childhood. I also love the line – ‘The “here” now.’”

Another writer in the group shared he loved the visuals and it felt so many of the topics in it were universal.

Finally,

Juggling the here and there has become an art for me—I’ve done it my whole life. What are your thoughts about this poem? Any line resonate with you? Any topic remind you of something in your life? I hope it did and please share it.

Larada Horner-Miller - here
Here or there? Where am I?

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Friends · My Thoughts

Laughter & Death: A Paradox?

paradox ahead - Laughter

Laughter and death: a paradox? For sure, but I had an amazing experience this weekend that gave me a different perspective.

On Friday, April 5, I attended George’s funeral in La Junta, Colorado with my brother. Because of his likable personality, I had a feeling the church would be full, so we arrived about thirty minutes early. Pickup trucks lined the street—I was right. As we approached the church’s entry, people milled around at the door. People packed the entryway. Friends and family already filled the sanctuary, so we ended up in the Choir Loft.

What a nice service he had. They had beautiful country and western songs throughout the service like “Wherever You are Tonight” and a traditional one, “Precious Lord, Take My Hand.” A close friend shared stories about George that made us laugh and remember his great sense of humor—also his love for storytelling. The minister shared a short sermon. The service ended with a PowerPoint show with more country-western music.

Then on Saturday, April 6, they planned a graveside service which led me to write the following poem:

Is Death a Laughing Matter?

I stood at the crossroads

            Between life and death.

It happens a lot now

            At 70,

repeatedly.

Yesterday, my brother and I walk by

            His wife’s grave as we walked

                        To George’s graveside service.

I stood near George’s casket

            In the country cemetery

                        Near Branson, Colorado.

I brushed my hand across the edge

            Of the blue smooth metal edge—

Like a familiar touch

            To a friend’s shoulder

                        Standing nearby.

March winds blew

            Across the southeastern Colorado plains,

                        Swirling dust and grit,

                                    With a piercing cold edge,

                                                Adding to my grief.

A sea of faces watched

            The day blow by.

Some familiar—lifelong friends—

            Some not!

I sought out his family.

            I wanted to hug them,

                        To share their sorrow,

                        To touch George through them again.

I met his 89-year-old sister

            I had heard of

                        But didn’t know.

She left Branson the year

            Before I was born.

Excessive strong wind gusts hampered

            The solemn ceremony planned.

A short thoughtful prayer filled the air instead.

Then the music began,

            With somber lyrics,

            Country-western flavor

            Guitars and familiar sounds.

Tears ran down my cheeks.

            Sorrow for the loss

                        Of a dear lifelong friend.

            Sorrow and regrets for

                        No more of his stories.

As the last song started up, I recognized its intro

            And singer, Joe Diffie.

I gasped; in the midst of tears,

            I choked back a chuckle.

The chorus confirmed it: “Prop me up beside

            the jukebox if I die.”

In the howling wind, I strained to hear the first verse,

            But the chorus captured me

                        And everyone there.

Laughter erupted—

            Release

            Appropriate humor

Through her tears, his partner

            Announced,

“George planned it all!”

At that point,

            I laughed;

                        I cried.

The laughter comforted me,

            because

George taught me a meaningful lesson yesterday:

            Tears

            Laughter

            Death

            Life

It fits together,

            Not a paradox,

But life

            Reality!

I witnessed an honest

            Graveside service,

                        Not contrived

                        Solemn

But mixed with

            Laughter and tears.

Isn’t that life?

            Now it’s death for me!

Thank you, George,

George Mitchell - laughter

            Laughter and death mixed,

                        And I walked away smiling

                                    Because of you!


In closing, as I age and continue to lose close friends and family, death has become a hot topic. George’s graveside service helped me get it all in perspective—be sure the celebration of your life reflects who you really are! And for me, poetry captures the essence of any life event!


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Colorado · Friends · Gratitude · Memories · My Thoughts

Margaret Taught Me to Knit: Women’s History Month Continues!

Margaret Lewis taught me to knit—a lifelong hobby I love! I continue celebrating Women’s History Month, and my personal heroines! Today, I honor Margaret Lewis, a lifelong friend and my Home Ec 4-H leader. I knit because of her!

Margaret Lewis at the 2013 Branson-Trinchera Reunion

This afternoon, I had a delightful conversation with Margaret Lewis and found out a bunch of information I didn’t know about her. When I stopped outside her house, childhood memories flooded me. During my childhood, Harry and Bea Warner lived in the house Margaret now lives in. I used to visit them regularly to get eggs. Such strong connections with the Warners and Margaret!

When I knocked at her door, she waved me in and we greeted each other warmly— she looked so good at 99 years old. Immediately, I started the interview and she aptly answered most of the questions with giggles and sighs ever so often.

Margaret Oxandaburu was born June 7, 1924 in Las Animas, Colorado. Her parents immigrated from France. They were French Basque. Her parents didn’t meet until they arrived in Las Animas and were there because of a couple, John & Jean Mary, who sponsored the two to come to the United States. This couple was called her parent’s “home parents.”

She was the youngest of six girls and grew up on their ranch south of Kim, Colorado, but her dad bought a house in Trinidad, 410 College Street. He took the six girls to Trinidad where she attended Holy Trinity Catholic School from kindergarten through twelfth grade.

After high school graduation, the six girls went to Trinidad State Junior College. Afterwards, Margaret went to Denver, Colorado to live with her sister Mary and husband Kenneth where she attended DU for several semesters. Then she finished her degree at Greeley with an elementary education certification.

After college, Margaret returned to their home ranch and rode a horse one to two miles to teach at Fallah Springs’ school for her first teaching assignment. Fallah Springs was fourteen miles south and east of Kim.

She met Don Lewis when he came home after the service. By that time, Margaret had several years of teaching under her belt. Also, by then she taught at Branson, Colorado. Because of the shortage of teachers with the men off to war, she taught English, history and math in the high school.

Branson Hotel & Restaurant - Margaret
Branson Hotel & Restaurant

At this time, she lived in the hotel ran by Mrs. Shaw which also had a restaurant. Two women teachers lived there: she and Clara Van Matre (who was a dear friend of my parents and our family). These two young women walked to school each morning together.

Don Lewis’ parents owned the ranch presently owned by Will Ward north of Branson. Margaret’s sister, Ray, and her husband, Toy, owned it for most of my life.

Don and Margaret married January 17, 1944 at Holy Trinity Church in Trinidad, Colorado. They had two children: Dave and Lori. Margaret lost both Don and Dave. But her family has grown exponential: she has seventeen grandchildren. Her daughter and husband live in Branson and take good care of her. And her grandchildren regularly keep in touch. Her eyes sparkled with pride when she talked of their accomplishments.

Teach - Margaret

As she thought back over her life here in Branson, Margaret noted she taught over fifty years in Trinidad, Fallah Springs and Branson. She remembered a memorable trip to France with her granddaughter Kerry and her husband, Jacob. And she noted she easily conversed in Basque there.

Margaret led 4-H groups in Trinidad at East Side school when she taught there, but her longest run as a 4-H leader was in Branson, where she so deeply touched my life.

Knitting needles - Margaret

Thinking back, she remarked, “I taught a lot of girls to knit,” as we talked about her 4-H groups.

“You taught me to knit when I was ten,” I replied, “and I’m still knitting sixty years later.” Margaret taught me and her niece and my classmate, Kay, the same year to knit.

However, we didn’t talk about all the hours she taught me to sew, too! First year I made a red gingham apron, the requirement for the first year. Each year afterwards, the requirements got harder, and she continued to teach me more and more—how to put in a zipper, gather a skirt and so much more. Margaret dedicated hours to me and many others, teaching us individually!

When I asked her about her favorite memory about Branson, she sighed, “I have so many. It’s a charming little town.”

I knew she had a close relationship with Ray, her sister, who lived in the old Lewis place north of Branson. She shared a hilarious story: they each had two-way-radios. So, when they talked on them, they talked in Basque. Other, listening in, heard them and had no idea what they were saying and these two mischievous women loved that. Margaret also helped Ray out with her nine children.

Her niece, Kay, and I were in the same class, so I was with them often. When I joined them on trips to Trinidad, they stopped by 410 College Street to visit Grandma Oxandaburu and Uncle Cadet. I remember hearing them speak Basque and they taught me how to say “hello” to them in Basque. It sounded so luscious! Uncle Cadet was her dad’s brother and they had worked together. She noted he was a bachelor.

Before I left, she asked about my husband, Lin, remembering sitting next to him at the banquet at the prom at the school several years ago. She reminisced about watching my parents dance. I have known her my whole life. As we talked, she’d forget some details and said, “I’ll remember when we circle back.” What a memory she has for 99 years!

We ended our visit with her identifying five languages she can speak: French Basque, French, Spanish, English and Italian—what an amazing woman! As I gathered my things, we hugged a couple times, lingering over the memories and our sweet relationship. We moved to the front door, still holding on to more memories and relationships. I updated her on my family.

Yes, Margaret has always been a heroine of mine. This gentle, quiet, loving woman taught me so much, but more importantly—loved me and encouraged me my whole life! I look forward to big celebration in June of 100th birthday!

Did you have an adult in your childhood that not only taught you skills but so much more? Let me know.


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Friends · Memories · My Thoughts

March—Let’s Celebrate Women’s History Month

Two young friends dancing - March

Last year during March I celebrated women in my life, not well-known women but family and friends. Looking at women in my life, I truly enjoyed honoring those women who touched me in a special way. I want to continue that tradition this year.

So, this year I want to honor my childhood and lifelong friend, Candy McMillan Vargas.

Me, Candy, Randy & Bub, October 1954

Candy was born on July 8, 1952, and my brother, Harold (Bub) was born May 25, 1952. Our mothers enjoyed being young pregnant women together, telling hilarious stories about getting their car stuck in the mud with their enormous bellies. Candy’s dad and my dad were best friends. So, we grew up together.

For many years, Candy and I were the only girls in Branson, Colorado, a small ranching town. So, I remember my early playtime with her—donning our mom’s dresses, hats, and shoes. Then we threw purses over our shoulders. Those female items transported us to be Ethel and Lucy for sure.

Dressed up at the Sweetheart dance to gather donations - Jill, Candy & me
Dressed up at the Sweetheart dance to gather donations

So much of my childhood memories center on Candy and her family. They owned the grocery store in Branson, so we visited often. Also, back then, people visited each other’s houses in the evening.

Candy’s dad shared the same date as my birthday, June 27, so he and I had a special gift exchange each year—another thing that tied our families together.

Group of cheerleaders - 1963-64 - Candy bottom row, second from the right & me first on the right
Group of cheerleaders – 1963-64. Candy bottom row, second from the right & me first on the right

Candy moved away about the time she was twelve, but we didn’t lose contact. One morning she arrived at our doorstep at 6:00 AM, having just jumped off the train to come and see us. We felt like she was family.

Candy moved back to Trinidad, Colorado and graduated from high school there. We ended up going to Trinidad State Junior College together her last year, then she moved to Pueblo, Colorado. Candy was maid-of-honor at my first and second wedding. For my last wedding to Lin, she had passed away six weeks before.

She married Michael Vargas in Pueblo, and I was her matron-of-honor. Then they moved to Denver, just a few short blocks from where my first husband and I lived. I celebrated with her and Michael when their children, Sonia and Shane, were born.

When I graduated in 1986 from Colorado State University, Mom and Dad hosted a major shindig at a bar I frequented often, and Candy catered the delicious meal. She also partied like a crazy lady with me to celebrate my big day.

Candy listened to all my woes about my first husband, our marriage and divorce. After our divorce and my graduation from Fort Collins, Colorado, I lived with her and Michael for six months to get established in Denver because I got a teaching job there. I will always treasure those six months living with her and her family—special fun family times like cheering on the Broncos on Sundays and weekly watching Cheers, one of our favorite TV shows at the time. She always came to my rescue and added to my life.

When I moved to Raton, New Mexico, she continued having me cut her hair every six weeks and lined up enough friends to get perms and cuts to make my trip profitable. (I was a beautician for 14 years before becoming a teacher.).

Candy & me at Cripple Creek, Colorado celebrating my birthday
Candy & me at Cripple Creek, Colorado celebrating my birthday

In 2005, when Lela, my sister-in-law died, we had a second funeral and her burial in Branson. Candy brought a tent to set up out in the backyard because of the hot July weather and helped Mom and I handle the meal after the service.

Diagnosed with kidney cancer, a group of her friends bought these “Team Candy Rocks!” t-shirts to support her. She loved the idea. I still have my “Team Candy Rocks!” t-shirt tucked away in a safe place.

Mom & I in our Team Candy Rocks T-shirts
Mom & I in our Team Candy Rocks T-shirts

Candy died September 13, 2011, and I had been experiencing some strange health episodes. The night she died, I had one of the worst ones yet at a square dance. After calling 911, I went to the hospital. They found nothing identifiably wrong, but my doctor strongly suggested I not drive to Denver, Colorado for her funeral on September 19. So, I didn’t, but I took the day off from work and had a private ceremony I prepared at home by myself. That broke my heart not to honor her by attending! I will always regret not saying goodbye formally to her and her family I love so much. Sonia, her daughter, told me later they had a rose for me to lay on her coffin at the burial site. Candy’s daughter takes after her mother in so many ways!

Candy’s hilarious sense-of-humor and jokes, her delicious home-cooked meals steeped in Texan traditions and her deep friendship remind me daily of my dear friend. I still see her sparkling eyes and hear her contagious laughter and know that I am a better person for having known her and been loved by her. Thank you, Candy, for everything you did.

Yes, March is here again, and I have looked forward to this time of honoring the women in my life. Candy holds a high place of honor for me!

Do you have a woman in your life you need to honor this month? Because of her death, I lost the opportunity of doing this while she lived, but it’s never too late. Be sure and honor the women in your life today!


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