Life nor Death

When I leave this earth, I am not dead for I am living in a new form. Yes! For I have shed my skin of worldly boundaries and constrictions of man, created by man. Death is but a creation of earthly explanation for what we do not understand. I understand. If everything we know was told to us by man, passed on by man, what are we to believe our own truths to be if we ought not to think thus live freely for ourselves? Trusting in our own experiences, what we witnessed proving what they say cannot be. Otherwise. What would living be like if we followed our own beliefs and truths brought on by the intuition of our hearts rejecting the discrepancies of the straight and narrow? I know. Do not mourn my so-called death, I am all-ways with you, I all-ways have been and all-ways will be. With you. For this I know, I live my truths, speak my truths and will transition from this earthly body, confident in my truths. I do not require the world to tell me how to live, how to be an adult, nor how to die if death exists. Which it doesn’t? Why do we need others to tell us the steps it takes to get from A to B in life, or more importantly from A to Z, how about we travel further down this rabbit hole and go from A to B-yond? Can we see past these blinders of society conformity? I believe so. I am.

Posted On Wed, Sep. 21st, 2005

Written by my uncle:

Dennis Boone Commentary

Dan Boone’s legacy was a lesson in the power of love

To appreciate the end of a truly great American love story, it helps to know a little bit about how it began.

According to family lore, this one began at a Christmas party in Kansas City in 1948. An ex-sailor of 23, then living in Armourdale, spotted a leggy brunette who was working as a production supervisor at Hallmark Cards. Trouble was, she had another date to that party. This was of little consequence to the Navy’s finest, fortified as he was with an evening’s ration of liquid courage.

Dan Boone, the sailor, then planted a kiss on Cecilia Vanderhoof, the surprised lass, and told her:

“I’m going to marry you.”

Not long after that, he was navigating Kansas City’s network of streetcars across the state line to reach 31st Street and Indiana Avenue, pursuing the brunette with the same sense of assurance. A knot was tied in April 1950.

And the rest, as their nine children might say, is obstetric history.

Well, the love story ended a week ago Tuesday. Their oldest daughter, Pat, found Dad in bed, staring into the dawn and still warm, but no longer with us. For nearly five months, the folks have lived with Dad’s death sentence, handed down by an oncologist a week after their 55th anniversary.

As he began the last night of his life in a near-coma, I was fortunate to be able to hold his hand, say a rosary over him, and tell him how much he’d meant to me. And to tell him how very glad I was that he’d hung around long enough to hold our new born daughter, Sofia, in his arms just eight days earlier.

He opened his eyes.

“Well, sure,” he said in mock indignation barely short of a whisper: “I wanted to see her.” That was the last thing he said to me.

In many ways, Dad’s life was the story of the 20th -century America. Like millions of other Americans now in their 70s and 80s, his youth was tempered by the economic savagery of the Depression. That had barely ended when a global conflagration warped the life of a landlocked Kansan who, just 17, found himself bound for war on the open sea. And still shy of his 20th birthday, he worked the deck of the USS Belleau Wood as its Avenger bombers joined the massed flyover of Tokyo on sept. 2nd , 1945, at the dawn of American supremacy and his own adulthood.

In just as many ways, his story was that of a Wyandotte County and the Kansas City area in the latter half of the century, from living with his father in Armourdale, to buying his first home in the 3000 block of North 13th Street in Quindaro, to “line-jumping” into the expanse and promise of Johnson County at a time when cattle still grazed in what today is the 7100 block of Halsey Street in Shawnee.

He raised nine kids on a mailman’s salary and never lost his sense of humor or dry wit, which any parent out there will tell you is nothing short of amazing. Perhaps that good nature was bolstered by the refuge of a Katz Drug Store, where he worked nights to supplement the postal salary until most of those children were through high school.

He showed us immeasurable amounts of grace and dignity that go into a successful marriage; I never in 50 years heard an argument between him and Mom. And he taught his children about personal responsibility, the rewards of hard work, the need to make no excuses for your failures, the importance of living your faith, and the power of forgiveness we all experienced for our many and varied missteps.

In doing so, he set a standard that few of us nine have been able to reach. And then, just before the cancer had finished chewing him up, he raised that bar several notches higher for all of us.

Which brings us back to the end of that great love story…

That Tuesday night, we sat around the kitchen table and opened his steel document case to begin piecing together life-insurance policy needs and documentation for health-care claims – the business of death. Mom gave out a gasp that was equal parts delighted and heart-wrenching sorrow.

Inside was a card- yes, it was a Hallmark- and a letter, written who knows how long ago, addressed: To my Bride, when I am gone.

The card’s inscription read: I close my eyes, and there you are. I love you.

Then the familiar handwriting:

Dear Babe,

When you are told that I am gone, get a second opinion. … Come lay by my side, then you’ll know for sure. And if so, I’ll ask the Keeper of the Gate if I may wait at the corner of 31st and Indiana for you. And when I see this pretty girl of mine coming down Bales Street, I’ll take your hand we will take the streetcar for a look at eternity.

Always, I’ll be waiting.

Love, DB

Now just how, in the wide, wide world of romance, do you compete with that? It was the quintessential Dad; In the end, something tender for Mom, and almost unattainable standards of love for his kids to meet. But his real gift to us, of course, was the strength to never quit reaching for it.

Go with God, Dad. See you around the vinegar jug.

A Toast To Life

A Toast To Life

By: Brent Leslie

To the earth that we call home,

To the sun that gives us warmth,

To the moon that teaches us beauty,

To the stars for our amazement,

To the oceans that lead to new worlds,

To the mountains for us to explore,

To the animals who provide us with friendships,

To the trees who give us oxygen,

To the dirt that gives us nutrients,

To the rocks that provide us with stability,

To the humans that show us love,

To the children that give us hope,

To the families who give us support,

To the fathers that lead our families,

To the mothers who never judge,

To the sisters who give us comfort,

To the brothers who always protect,

To the grandparents who always love,

To the feet that carries us miles,

To the legs that move our bodies,

To the stomach that holds our food,

To the lungs that let us breathe,

To the arms that let us carry,

To the hands that let us touch,

To the muscles that give us strength,

To the heart that lets us feel love,

To the brain that gives us independence,

To the eyes that give us sight,

To the nose that gives us scents,

To the ears that allows us to hear,

To the tongue that gives us taste,

To the skin that lets us feel,

To the faith that gives us prayer,

To the future that leads to tomorrow…

To the life that we can toast.


A Dream Awaken

If you could only hear the sound of her voice.

Such passion and beauty. Amazing!

Her smile makes me smile, Her laugh makes me laugh.

She brightens my brightest days.

I’ve barely even scratched the surface.

God! Source! Universe!

How precious are the gifts that you bring into our lives!

Take for granted? I cannot.

Abuse? I will not.

Lie to? I refuse.

She listens when I speak and accepts me for who I am.

Thank you source for creating me. You’ve allowed an angel to walk right into my life and raise me to the sky on her caring wings.

I can only imagine where our journey takes us from here.

Our hearts have been blessed and our worries placed to rest.

Each child like step we take , we travel together, side by side, hand in hand.

We welcome the dawn of a new day.

A revelation of hope, honor, pride and perseverance…

This is only the beginning…



I want you all to raise your hand if you have ever wanted to be loved by someone so badly that you actually believed that they loved you as much as you thought you loved them? Come on now let me see those hands.

Well, a long time ago about a generation before our parents there really was no thought about it. A guy on the street could just walk up to a “Dame” give her a kiss on the lips and tell her that they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. Do you want to know something? It really worked back then. I am sure plenty of you have heard your grandparents speaking of stories like this, then again some of you my not have. But those of you that have not, watched similar stories on The Big Screen in such movies as “The Notebook”.

Now I want you to imagine such events like the ones previously spoken about taking place in today’s society. Ladies, if a guy walks up to you on the street that you have never met before and lays a big fat kiss on you he most likely will end up with some pepper spray in the face. If you did know of him but wasn’t sure exactly who he was he would end up with maybe a lesser punishment, possibly a restraining order. Am I right? And guys, same scenario for you but reverse the roles. Most likely you would call her some names and she would probably end up having to go to a shrink and be put on some wonderful medication because she was rejected for believing that she was in love with you. Now, on to my next question: How many of you have had people tell you that they were absolutely crazy about you and you just believed the crazy part and not the part about being crazy for you? And how many of you were the rejected ones? For those of you that were the rejected ones you know what I am talking about and for the others that did the rejecting I am about to explain it to you. With rejection comes a loss to heart that leads straight to the soul and it hurts not just emotionally but physically as well. You would know it if you have ever felt it. It does suck. I am speaking from experience and it is no fun.

This loss that I am speaking of are the dreams of all of the hopeless romantics in our society today. Those dreams give hope that there still might be someone out there that is capable of understanding how much you care for them and that they are willing to share that same love and compassion with you. Now where do these dreams go when we loose them? I believe not very far. I think we just push these dreams to the back of our minds and build up an impenetrable wall in front of them so we no longer share that side of our hearts to the world. From there on out we perceive ourselves as nothing but dreamers, that that kind of love no longer exists and forget about the possibilities.

So what have we learned that happens if we forget about something long enough? It disappears.

So is all hope lost? Are our grandparents generation and the many before theirs lost in history? Remember, the love that was the building blocks for their time was a love that pushed for a dream. One that is still heard of today but not really thought of. Ladies and Gentleman I am talking about “The American Dream” That love pushed this dream because they wanted a better life for their families so they gave everything up, left their homes for a better life in a place that was only heard of. Can you imagine taking a chance like that? Putting everything on hold because your love is all that matters and that you want a better life for those you care about? Some of us still do and we are the ones I spoke of in the beginning of this passage that are the hopeless romantics. I admit there are some strange people out there but for the greater good people, If you want to romance back in the world please allow the dreamers to continue dream and share the love that they hold deep in their hearts. Those dreamers still believe in The American Dream and are willing to sacrifice everything to give the ones they care about true happiness and a life that they feel you deserve.

With this said I will leave you with a quote from someone that dedicated her love for the good of the world. Also. Comments are much appreciated.

“There is more hunger for love and appreciation in this world than for bread.”
~ Mother Teresa


Creation of Love

Eyes lock

Hearts race

Warm embrace.

Lips quiver

Muscles shiver

Sweat breaks.

Bodies Dance,

Emotions Scream,

Passions Rage…

Love is Made.

Joyful Creatures of the Night
By: Brent Leslie
To you my creatures of light
whom dances on butterflies wings
and laughs of radiant sunbeams
Gleefully I follow you into the night
As you tickle the air in endless flight
But alas my dears,
this dream I live tonight
must come to a temporary end.
For this you see,
the morning sun gives birth,
to fuel the joy you will bring once again
an evening of pure delight.