Saturday, November 26, 2016


November 14th I lost a very dear friend whom I have known since high school (I graduated) and we had been friends ever since through all the years.  She unfortunately passed the day before her granddaughter, Avianna,  was born. Her 3 year old grandson, Malachi, was such a shining star in Joanie's life.

Joanie, Margaret Joan Kanaski, was so very unique, a one-of-a-kind woman, filled with love, passion and caring.  Joanie could make you laugh and forget your worries and woes.  Her hugs gave so much warmth that it melted your heart. 
Joanie was able to get me to come out of my shy shell and do things I probably would never have done. She expanded my horizons. She got me to set aside my fears.
Joanie was always laughing and she helped me recover from severe pneumonia with her comedic antics. She was at my side through tears and laughter.
Joanie and I even worked together at a Shakey's Pizza parlor and laughed every day!
We did volunteer work at the Anaheim Serviceman's Center from 1970-1974 when Vietnam ended. We had also spent time visiting injured soldiers at Camp Pendleton and El Toro and entertaining them.  She would imitate Lily Tomlin (look her up) doing the telephone operator and when I answered the phone and heard, "Is this the party to whom I am speaking?" I knew it was Joanie.
She would also imitate Lily Tomlin as Edith Ann, the little girl.
She got us volunteer girls to put on a luau and hula in them! Such a fun silly thing to do.
Joanie approved of my husband and was at my side when we married in 1976.
Joanie made the dress she wore for my wedding and it was so lovely! She was quite talented!
Joanie, Sue and I were dear friends and we could be regular old ladies....
 or silly ones, and feel comfortable with each other.
 I will miss her.  I am thankful to have had her in my life and to have shared in her love and laughter.
She will be so missed.

Tuesday, November 1, 2016


I ask all of you to take the time to watch this amazing and educating film and to share with everyone you know.  Do this for your children and their children and future generations. Hopefully we will leave a beautiful and recovering world for them.  I beg you to all be educated. It made me weep.


Saturday, October 29, 2016


The shoes on the Danube promenade is a commemoration dedicated to the Jewish victims of the Fascist Arrow Cross Party.  In March 1944, the German Wehrmacht invaded its ally, Hungary.  In May 1944 mass deportations commenced. In less than 2 months some 440,000 Jews were deported. Nearly 200,000 remained incarcerated in Budapest.  Between Dec. 1944 and the end of 1945, the Arrow Cross took as many as 20,000 Jewish men, women and children from the ghetto, forced them to remove their shoes, line up along the edge of the water of the Danube, and were shot. Their bodies fell or were pushed into the river and floated away. They had to take their shoes off since shoes were valuable at the time.  Sixty pairs of the cast iron shoes were created by Gyula Pauer and Can Togay.  Along with the shoes you can find a plaque with an inscription which reads:
To the memory of the victims shot into the Danube by the Arrow Cross Militiamen in 1944-45.
Sad is that some of the shoes have been pried up and stolen.
When I saw these photos and read of this, it touched me deeply. 
I wrote a poem, and here it is.


They stand
as if waiting,
waiting for their wearers to pop
out of the water after a brisk swim.
But there will be no return, no laughter,
No donning of shoes.
Sixty pairs made of cast iron stand
facing the Danube to memorialize
the twenty thousand Jewish
men, women and children shot,
discarded into the dispassionate blue water.

My eyes settle
upon one small pair,
one shoe askew from the other,
as if the child who wore them tottered
away in a hurry to run barefoot
along the sinuous waterway.
I imagine a boy, head of curls,
with a big smile and lyrical laughter.

To one side of these small shoes
stands a duet of a woman’s shoe
and I wonder if these belonged to his mother.
On the other side is a man’s single shoe poised
adventurously on the edge, its mate gone.

I want to envision
the three of them,
father, mother, son,
dancing, laughing, playing
jubilantly at this riverside.
I want to imagine this

Rose Lefebvre ©

Saturday, October 8, 2016


My garden is still so colorful and lovely.  I know it is fall, but it is hanging in there.  Our weather has become cold and rainy off and on, so it has affected my recovery. The cold has caused my legs to be in lots of pain because of the arthritis, and makes it very difficult to do my physical therapy exercises at home as leg is so stiff.  It has also slowed my movement.  Looking out at the garden through the windows makes me think God is giving me a "thinking of you" card. The pain is so difficult to deal with and does make me feel down.  Right now the garden is my sunshine in otherwise difficult days.
Here is what I enjoy.
In our daily lives we often forget to notice the beauty God provides in our lives. 
Being laid up has kept me from much activity, so the views from my windows are so greatly appreciated by me. 
I hope they make you stop, look, and appreciate.

Tuesday, October 4, 2016


I have discovered how few places provide electric carts for use.  I do not have the strength and stamina to walk very far at all as still working on regaining muscle and strength. So now when I do take a short jaunt out, I need an electric cart to use.  Now my ventures are limited because of this.  Before my fall in May I was always out and about and kept active.  Now I do so miss going to my favorite thrift shops, antique stores, garage sales, seasonal events, fairs, and for hikes with my camera.  Just going out to lunch or dinner with a friend takes a lot out of me.  I am so tired of feeling like this and spending so much time sitting or laying down. *sigh*  
Here is a poem I have edited a few times and decided to share with you all. Many of my friends have already heard it.  I hope you all enjoy it.

My Gentle Green Heart

it’s the mottled green of a forest, damp
after a rainfall, leaves tossing watery
jewels to the spongy moss below.

At times
it’s the pale green of grinning Bramley apples
blushing in the sunshine, scenting
the breeze with their acidic aroma.

Now and then
it’s the emerald of a slick lizard
scurrying along soft mossy bark
of a stoic fir tossing cones.

It may be
a striped watermelon dripping
with luscious sweetness, tempting
us to taste, discover, enjoy.

my gentle green heart is a seedling
peeking from the shelter of its fleshy soul
seeking warmth, nourishment, and affection.

Rose Lefebvre

Wednesday, September 28, 2016


 Maria Muldaur was one of the singers I fell in love with in the 70's.  A great singer, she was famous for her song MIDNIGHT AT THE OASIS. I decided a while back to write a bit of a romantic poem about a couple of her songs due to a writing prompt.  I am also including a couple of her songs for you to hear.


I travel down the bump and grind road
My body forced into an unintentional
Lap dance in the driver’s seat.
The A/C on the fritz, windows are down
yet steamy air does not lessen my sweltering.
Clothing adheres to my damp skin,
shivers run up my spine; I shudder.

Radio reception bad, I pop in
 my homemade CD of Maria Muldaur songs
instantly starting off with Don’t You Feel My Leg.
Her sultry bluesy voice fills the van,
eases into my essence, the ebb and flow
makes me undulate like a wave.

Heat begins to flow from the outside
to the inside of my body, surging,
pulsing to the beat.

As she slips into her song
It Ain’t the Meat It’s the Motion
I shudder, my sensations stimulated,
aroused by the words, the heady atmosphere.

I feel sensual as I pull up to the cabin and see
him, shirtless, hair tousled, approaching
as I descend from the atmosphere of the van.
“You look flushed. You want some cold water?”
The CD in one hand, I take his hand in my other,
kiss his neck and, smiling, move to the cabin
to share the experience with him

and maybe give a lap dance.

Rose Lefebvre ©


Saturday, September 24, 2016


 I was lucky to take a few workshops with the Oregon Poet Laureate Emeritus Paulann Petersen.  She is amazing and gets the creative juices flowing.  We were told to write a different way to describe things, being unique.  I chose Whirlpool and Mist. We were to keep them short.
How did I do?

Liquid hurricane tickling across stones,
the laughing, spinning, dizzy
Rollercoaster for leaves and twigs,
a merry-go-round for daring frogs.
A shroud upon hillsides and mountains,
a painter creating ghostly silhouettes of grand firs
in mottled shades of grays,
composing depth, softening landscape.
a million dandelions flooding the sky,
a softened surfing cloud,
a smoky blanket obscuring fields,
dispersed where roads cut through.

Rose Lefebvre