Category: 2022

These have been some sad days in our town with the kidnapping of 18 year old Naomi Irion. Slowly, the town is filling with ribbons, as towns do when something terrible has happened. Naomi loved rainbows so her ribbons have all the colors. Tuesday night, hundreds attended a candlelight vigil, with many more people lighting virtual candles in hopes of a safe outcome. Our town doesn’t lose our young girls. At least not until now.

Her parents and brothers have flown in from South Africa. The town raised the funds for them to do so on a Go-Fund Me Account. Her sister is here from Texas. Her brother, with whom she lived, is a local. My town has come together to find her. Last Saturday, 700 people searched on horseback, ATV’s, Jeeps, and Trucks. Nevada’s desert plains are vast. The town spent the day looking, along with local police and even the FBI.

Just look at the high desert of Northwestern Nevada on Google Earth. This is a difficult task. I could drive on dirt roads for a hundred miles in any direction and never meet up with a soul. Naomi could be thousands of miles away, or she could be right under our noses. She is SOMEWHERE and SOMEONE knows SOMETHING. Please come forward.

Naomi’s story is viral now. She was taken from a town right next to some major interstates. I-80, Highway 50, Highway 95A, Highway 50A, Highway 95, Highway 395. All those roads lead in different directions. She could be anywhere by now. She’s not a small girl. 5’11”. 200+ lbs. Keep an eye out for things that don’t look right. Report anything you know to the police. Her family needs our help. We need her back.

As for me, I’ve been a busy one. Last Saturday, Ace invited me to join him in California for a change of scenery. Even though his town has a smaller population than mine, it is a busier place. People were out and about in mass. I was lucky enough to enjoy a beautiful breakfast at the town’s tiny airport where we ate just feet away from the planes. It’s wonderful that the world is returning to normal, even though it might not be exactly as before.

On my side of the Sierra’s, we stopped in at Cabella’s. If you’re interested in outdoor activities, hunting, or guns, this place is for you. They have everything the adventurous person would need. From hiking and biking to fishing and hunting. Target practice. Clothes in which to look cute while target practicing. Purses for secreting personal protection.

When first entering the store, two very friendly associates were pushing their credit cards. It’s been a long time since I opened a new line of credit, but their deal was so great, I did. Along with the Visa, they’re offering $$$ off purchases, $$$ towards future purchases, a Cabella’s hat, and a versitle, multi-headed tool in purple or green.

While I was excited about my extra’s, Ace was a little down that he didn’t get goodies when opening his account just a week before in California. Sure enough, the Nevada people were happy to give him the knife and hat, as well. Happiness for all. Sometimes it’s the smallest things. If you are near Cabella’s, drop in. You won’t be disappointed, unless you’re looking for perfume, an evening gown, or stilettos. On second thought, they might have the stilettos, as the definition reads — a short dagger with a tapering blade. Hmm, I thought the word referred to heels only. Silly me.

Now back home, the mountains around here are the slightest shade of gray-green. In the desert, that’s as much green as you can expect. Mustang foals are making their grand appearance. The herds have made it through another winter. We all have.

Please keep Naomi in your hearts and minds. Send prayers for her safe return. She has her entire life in front of her. We need her back.

More tomorrow.

PS– Watch more about Naomi’s case at KOLO, KTVN, or KRNV in Reno. Podcast at Crime Stories with Nancy Grace. Several stories on YouTube.

Who would even think that creating, purchasing, and setting a headstone would become a nearly impossible task? Of all the things I’ve gone through as a widow, this wasn’t something I considered as difficult. It seemed it would be something easily done. Two years later, I’ve found out differently.

Choosing the right place to memorialize VST took some consideration. There are family plots in the Central Valley of California, but that’s too far away. VST wasn’t a US Veteran, so that eliminated the National Cemetery in my town. Although his ashes will be spread, I wanted a place to go. A place to think. A place to grieve. A place for friends and family to remember him. Virginia City, Nevada was the last place we dreamed and lived together. My “Bionic Cowboy” was never happier than taking his daily walks on the boardwalk. Everyone in town knew VST. A headstone would be fitting there.

The next step was to find a stone cutter to create the headstone. This was not to be an easy task. In case you haven’t done this lately, you are in for a surprise. In the biggest little city to the west of me, headstones are ordered online. Can you pick your own slab? No. You can’t even see what it might look like when finished. All are computer-generated and delivered by Fed Ex. That didn’t sit well with me, but the next part was horrifying.

“I’m planning to place the headstone in the cemetery at Virginia City. How much will it cost to set it in concrete?” I asked.

“Virginia City?” he asked with a puzzled expression.

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“We don’t set headstones there. You can come pick it up when it arrives and set it yourself.”

Excuse Me, Mr. Funeral Guy????? Are you kidding me??? You’re kidding, right???? This little old 66 year old woman is going to come to your office, pick up a 180 lb. headstone, hoist it in the back of my Jeep, travel to Virginia City Cemetery and set the stone in concrete? Has this man lost his flippin’ mind????????

These days, I’m constantly floored by society. In this case, Mr. Funeral Guy (MFG) works in the business of grief. Wearing shorts and tapping his little flip-flopped sandal, our conversation was obviously going no where. Besides, he had a tee-time and was sure I knew that. Only one thing raced through my mind.

FERGETABOUTIT!

I wasn’t purchasing a headstone online. This wasn’t a casual purchase. This was a stone that will last hundreds of years, like the others in the Virginia City Cemetery. Although two years have passed, I’m a grieving widow. Widows don’t set their husbands headstones as they did in the prairie days. Zero Stars for Mr. Funeral Guy.

T and K met in on a sad day in the Central Valley at a real headstone manufacturer. They chose all the elements, lovingly creating a beautiful headstone. Even so, it took months to create. The headstone will still need to be transported to Virginia City by family, but it feels more personal coming from the Central Valley where VST became a man, married me, raised our children, and became a Grandpa.

I met with the Virginia City Cemetery care taker, Donald, almost six months ago. On a fall day, we walked around the cemetery to choose the right spot. As it turns out, when placing a headstone in Virginia City Cemetery, you just pick a spot. There are no pristine rows of manicured plots. In a mosaic of headstones, you just find a spot you like and claim it. Donald knows who is buried where. He makes the rules.

“How do I select the spot once I find it?” I asked.

“Just set a rock on it.” Donald replied.

Just so you understand, Virginia City is a big pile of rocks. Big rocks. Little rocks. It’s a town that has been mined numerous times. Everything sits on one big pile of rocks. This is not a green cemetery. It’s a rock cemetery. One rock looks just like all the rest.

Finally, I found the perfect spot. VST’s headstone overlooks all of VC and The DunMovin’ House. VST always had to know what was happening around town. From his spot, C Street and all the excitement of the tourists can be seen and heard. From this little cemetery hill, the Washoe Zephyr Winds will gently blow from the west towards the east. From where we came together to where he left me alone. In my new little town, evening winds will pass over VC to me, connecting my past with my present.

On April 8th, we’ll meet in Virginia City one last time. Neighbors, friends, children, grandchildren. I hope the Sheriff stops by.

Donald did agree to set VST’s stone. Thank goodness that isn’t something I need to worry about. I’ll put a little heart in the concrete for good measure. With all the yards and yards of concrete work VST and I did over the decades, signing our pieces was something we always enjoyed.

After we’re done, we’ll have a meal at Virginia City’s finest restaurant, Café del Rio. So many happy memories were made on the side of Mt. Davidson, elevation 6200 ft. Although our life story ended on April 8th, 2020, it’s a story I’ll remember with love for the rest of my life.

More tomorrow.

It’s been two weeks now since Naomi was kidnapped. A girl with big dreams finally living her own life in the safest town in America. I moved to this little place because it was so safe. Out in the middle of no where, bad guys would need to be crazy to come here. There is not much to rob or pillage. Just a sweet little desert town.

Just the other day, I met a Marine in California. He was a crusty old sort for being in the middle of his life. He was complaining about everything in the world. This was wrong. That was wrong. But looking in his eyes, you could tell that he wasn’t happy. That was the real reason everything else was wrong. I mentioned that he could always step across the Sierra Nevada’s and live in a good state like Nevada.

“Nevada? Who the heck would want to live there?”

I get that response from many of my California friends. When VST and I first chose to move to Nevada, it was for political and financial reasons. We wanted a fresh start. Nevada was the closest place to start. Wyoming was always called to my heart but the distance was too great. Nevada would have to do.

Nevada has exceeded every hope I had for a new home. Desert life will morph into anything you want it to be. Want to be miserable and see only brown desolation? There it is, staring you in the face. But, when you open your eyes and really examine the wonders of the desert, you just might find a wild mustang looking you right in the face. The green isn’t blinding here. But, the springtime greening of our hills does occur. When you do see the Truckee River flowing into Pyramid Lake, you appreciate the beauty of water. Our crackers don’t turn stale if we leave them out overnight. Nevada has everything except the Pacific Ocean. Until now, it felt very safe.

There are no smash and grab robberies here. No major forest fires bringing terror to the fleeing public. Earthquakes aren’t as severe, as we are on a primitive ocean bed of sand, cushioning all the action. There aren’t pile ups in the fog, or hours sitting in the car in traffic jams. There are no angry mobs taking over entire towns. It’s quiet. You can hear yourself think about important things. You can watch migrating birds. Imagine shapes in the most beautiful clouds. Enjoy the Zephyr Winds. Until now.

Last night, at around 8:30, it was announced that the monster has been found. The soulless piece of flesh that kidnapped Naomi. He didn’t only ruin her life, but disrupted something special here in our little town. His eyes are vacant, like that of a great white. He has a smirk on that ugly mugshot. He knows where she is. He did this. It’s on video.

The Walmart from where Naomi was stolen hasn’t been my Go-To place for some time now. Choosing to drive 30 minutes across the desert, I’ve felt safer. The Eastern Walmart store has been cleaner. The associates friendlier. This monster was arrested only a couple miles from the front door of that Walmart. Two communities are now on edge. What a big man…… Now where is safe?

Spending time on “Naomi Irion – Missing/Abduction – Fernley, Nevada” Facebook site last night, I read posts from a community in shock. Hearts are breaking. We all want her back. Now. Family members were absent from the site last night. I hope they found comfort in the prayers being sent for them.

Today there will be a community search by foot. It’ll be interesting to see how many thousands show up. Rainbow ribbons are everywhere. The sunset was a ablaze in a rainbow of colors last night. A sign? Please God, let it be a sign that she’ll come home today. We all need a miracle.

Prayers for our Naomi.

More tomorrow.

Yesterday, the town came together for another search. This time, it was on foot on a very hot, dry desert day. This says a lot. As I pulled weeds in the garden yesterday, the sun was getting pretty warm by 10 AM. 150 citizens went out in the desert to look for any and every clue, down to the tiniest thing that looked out of place.

All the while, the arrested piece of soul-less flesh sits in an air-conditioned cell. Something is so wrong with this picture. You see, he’s an experienced murderer. At 17 years of age, he helped kill a man and dispose of a body. That’s who stalked and kidnapped an 18 year old girl in our town. Truly, a real-life monster among us.

Listening to her mom’s pleas, I wish Naomi could be teleported into her arms. I can’t imagine waiting and not knowing. We’d love a few minutes with this monster. The community would make him talk, the easy way or the hard way. But, that’s not who we are. We aren’t monstrous. We have hearts. And so, we wait and pray for Naomi’s return.

The sky was flaming with rainbow colors on the evening the monster was arrested. The rainbow is a beautiful symbol hijacked by one particular group. Rainbows and lollipops. As a child, I certainly grew up loving them. I still do. As a woman, they represent an everlasting covenant between between God and man to me. Their exquisite beauty make me stop in my tracks whenever I see one.

At only 18, Naomi was a still a girl in many ways. She grew up in many different countries in the world in which the rainbow didn’t have hidden meaning. I can assure you, a rainbow in Russia or South Africa is just that, a RAINBOW. How refreshing that she loved rainbows for the beauty they hold. I wish the world could go back to a simpler time, when a rainbow was something magnificent to behold far beyond ridiculous earthly symbolism.

Winterpast knows nothing of current headlines and human strife. The gardens are sprinkled with an abundance of weeds. They weren’t so prevalent last year. Almost non-existent the year before. It seems I need to apply a pre-emergent treatment which will stop weeds from growing. Caution. It stops anything starting from a seed from growing. Be careful where you apply this. “Preen” comes to mind. I need to check and make sure Ollie will be safe with whatever product I choose. Although highly effective, pre-emergents do wear off after many years, especially in a harsh desert climate.

The irises are just starting to awaken. So funny that in California, the irises and daffodils are in full bloom, along with every other flower known to man-kind. We cherish our desert blooms because it takes water and effort to grow them in the garden. In my neighborhood, there are only three or four houses that have traditional yards with mature trees. The rest of them are desert-scaped. It’s a luxury to have an oasis in the backyard. For me, a necessity.

Trimming the roses, I wonder what type of crop I’ll have this year? It’s time to start developing the blank areas in my back yard. Plant some nice hedges next to the back fence. A few more bushes. Some flowering plants. And, lots of annuals. My completion date is July 4th. Who knows? Maybe I’ll host a big party this year.

Last night, Mr. B, the gardener, called to remind me it was time to turn on the water. It sounds easy enough. Go to the faucet and turn it on. When living in a harsh environment with snowy winters, it’s a little more complicated. The garden water must be turned off at the main line when the night frosts begin, and turned on again when the temperatures remain above 32 degrees Fahrenheit. It’s that time of year. Once the sprinklers start sprinkling, everything will come back to life.

Two years after arriving at Winterpast, she and I are a unit. Her garden walls provide peace and tranquility in troubled times. The desert gave a rainbow sunset on the evening Naomi’s kidnapper was arrested. Now, if the desert will just give her back. She’s out there somewhere. Hopefully, today will be the day she’s brought back home.

Prayers for Naomi.

More tomorrow.

Danger is part of life. In my case, the Wild, Wild West is alive and well. Naomi is still missing, along with several other missing and dead women in my area. For some reason, the news isn’t reporting many of them. Not every victim reaches the status of Gabby Petito or Naomi Irion. Not every case goes viral. Plenty of families in our country wait years for their missing loved one to return. We just don’t hear about them.

Take for instance, a lovely woman named Anna Scott. Found in her burned car, she had been shot in the head. The car was found on a busy freeway. IN PLAIN SITE. The case grows colder every day. Someone knows something somewhere.

The hand signal in the image above was created by a person on Tic Toc to quietly alert someone that something is wrong. If you are out and about and see someone repeatedly making this sign with their hand, you may be the only one around to help. You could easily save a life by alerting the authorities. If you are in an abusive relationship, you can easily flash this to someone on a video chat. It’s brand new. Many people haven’t learned it yet. It saved a girl just recently.

Most importantly, be aware of your surroundings. There is a You Tube site that addresses Active Self Protection (ASP). Here you’ll find many helpful reminders of things we can do to keep safe, even as a Senior Citizen. The first is to avoid dangerous situations all together. Sadly, in this world, that isn’t always possible. Pumping gas comes to mind. Where is your “go-to” gas station. Are the pumps well lit? Is there a convenience store attached? Do people recognize you there? Do you look at others at the pump before you unlock your door? Do you keep your car doors locked while inside?

I used to love getting up early to be at Walmart or Lowe’s by 6 AM. The stores are quiet and clean at that time. For some reason, I thought bad guys like to sleep in. I’ve recently discovered that a high percentage of crimes occur in the early morning hours. Examine your routines and make sure that you are shopping at a time of day in which folks are around to help if something goes wrong. Make sure your routines aren’t predictable.

If you see something that doesn’t look right, turn your car around and leave. Naomi did a strange thing the morning she was kidnapped. Day after day, video surveillance showed her parking in the same spot. The day she was taken, she chose a different spot more in the shadows of the lot. She had promised her mom that she always parked under the light and in view of the cameras. That day, she parked in a different spot. As we are all creatures of habit, why did she do that on that morning? Did she notice the creeper lurking behind the cars? Did her spider sense kick in? We won’t know until she is found and able to tell us.

Being aware of people and your immediate surroundings can make you safer and, perhaps, help someone in trouble. Bad people don’t always look sinister. The person walking behind you may not be a danger, but danger doesn’t always come from behind. Try to avoid being a sitting target. Don’t get in your car and sit in the parking lot while checking messages. Especially at Walmart. Walmart is not the safe place we all wish it was. Walmart attracts a certain element.

As a single senior citizen, DO NOT stop to help a stranded person. Call 911. Stopping to help someone on the road could be the beginning of a carjacking situation. Sadly, it’s not the world in which we grew up. Unless you are packing protection, you can’t be the hero in that situation. Avoid being the victim.

Today, take some time and think of your personal protection plan. In your home, what items do you have that could cause bodily harm to an intruder. Mace is great, but it can also disable you. Wasp spray is a great one. The long stream of chemical is great for an eye shot. A baseball bat. Even a disposable Air Horn. Don’t forget the button on your “Help Me, I Can’t Get Up” pennant. My unit would alarm the angels in heaven as voices blare, “Ambulance on the way! Ambulance on the way!”

Danger-fatigue weighs heavy on all our shoulders. As a widow, traveling solo after decades of marriage increases that. No matter how tough anyone imagines it is, it’s 100 million times more lonely, frustrating, tiring, and terrifying. It’s exhausting trying to fill the void that a missing partner leaves. In my case, the missing partner that always gave 150% to my 75% (although he would tell you the percentages were reversed). Don’t ever tell a widow you know how they feel unless you’ve walked through that wilderness. Trust me, you don’t have a clue.

Stay aware. Stay safe. Be prepared to get away from danger should it come knocking.

In the mean time, please pray for Naomi. We want her home, safe and sound. Her kidnapper will be arraigned today at noon. Pray for his continued confinement and “No Bail”. Let’s all hope today is the day Naomi comes home.

More tomorrow.

_{Written by Natasha Bedingfield, rearranged by me}

I’m unwritten, can’t read my mind

I’m undefined

I’m just beginning, the pen’s in my hand

Ending unplanned.

Staring at the blank page before me

I open up the clouded window

Letting the sun illuminate the words I couldn’t find.

Reaching for something in the distance

So close I can almost taste it

Releasing my inhibitions

Feeling the rain on my skin

No one else can feel it for me

Only I can let it in

No one else

Can speak the words on my lips

While I’m drenching myself in words unspoken

Living my life with arms wide open

Today is where my book begins

The rest is still unwritten

I break traditions

Sometimes my tries

Are outside the lines

We’ve been conditioned to not make mistakes

But I can’t live that way

Staring at the blank page before me

I open up the cloudy window

Letting the sun illuminate the words I could not find

Reaching for something in the distance

So close I can almost taste it

No one else can write it for me

Only I can let it begin

No one else

Can speak the words on my lips

Drenching myself in words unspoken

Living my life with arms wide open

Today is where my book begins

Happy Tuesday, everyone!!!

Please continue to prayer for Naomi. Each day, hundreds are searching. Let’s hope today is the day she comes home.

More information at “Naomi Irion -Missing/Abduction-Fernley, Nevada”.

Two and a half weeks later, Naomi is still missing. Her image has exploded into the world through media, but no one has seen or heard from this missing 18 year old. Kidnapped from the Walmart on March 12, she is hidden away from everyone who loves and misses her.

One of my sweetest friends cuts my hair. This young woman has it all. She’s bubbly, beautiful, and smart. She’s a great mom and a loving wife. A caring daughter and loyal sister. We became friends the first day we met two years ago. When I saw her Monday, her words summed up this entire mess.

“Joy, I take this personally. My family, friends, and neighbors take this personally. I have an 18 year old still at home.”

That explains my feelings of ownership over this tragedy. I have an 18 year old grandson that is a senior in high school. At 6′ a lot”, it wouldn’t be so easy for someone to take him. But, wait. Naomi was 5’11” and 200+ pounds. She wasn’t a tiny girl. He didn’t pick her up by her hair to drag her off. He went to her driver’s door, she moved over (her car had a bench seat), he got in, and stole her away.

The time stamps on her phone show her snap chatting at 5:24. At 5:25, the car droves off. Just that fast. All caught on video. If only she would have been more aware of her surroundings this might have ended differently.

Naomi’s image is on 20 billboards now. There is a $10,000 reward. People are just learning her name. But, the reality is, she is still missing and we want her back. We take this very personally. She was one of us.

The soul-less piece of flesh is being arraigned today at noon. It will be televised on ZOOM for anyone that wants to watch. His physical body will remain in the jail, appearing on video in the courtroom. If you happen to see his picture, don’t miss the fact that the top half of his left ear is missing. Although no one knows for sure, it appears to have been bitten off. Yes. After all, at 17 years old he assisted in the planning and execution of a young man in California, spending over a decade in prison for that crime. He helped hide the body a girlfriend shot in the back of the head. This man is bottom-of-the-barrel scum who managed to get a great job supervising men at various mines for Led Cor. What a great company to have hired a murderer to watch over their other employees. His days in the desert could be numbered if he’s released. Rattlesnakes would be the least of his worries, as the town’s people are pretty upset about Naomi’s kidnapping.

We all need to pray he stays safely tucked away in the Yerington jail, not far from here. We need him safe. Please pray that God would soften his hardened heart so that he might reveal what he did with our girl. He needs our forgiveness and prayers, but it’s a little too soon for me to embrace that thought just yet. The soul-less piece of flesh needs to fess up.

I never saw myself as a crime writer, but I’ll continue to blog for Naomi’s safe return. Please study her pictures. Keep your eyes peeled for anything that doesn’t look right. This soul-less piece of flesh spent time at the Led Cor office in Reno (he was arrested in Reno). He lived in Fallon. He joined the Silver Springs Facebook on March 13th, the day after Naomi’s disappearance. There are many missing women in our area. If you remember the tiniest thing that bothers your brain, report it to Law Enforcement. You can keep up with the case at “Naomi Irion-Missing/Abducted Fernley, Nevada”.

Please keep praying for Naomi’s safe return. We need her back.

More tomorrow.

With the deepest sadness, the horror of the last two weeks is over. The body of Naomi Irion was found yesterday in Churchill County, Nevada.

Please send prayers to her family. Pray for our little town. Healing will take some time.

More tomorrow.

Thank you for these inspirational words, Van Morrison

Lord, if I ever needed someone, I need you

To see me through the daytime

And through the long, lonely night

To lead me through the darkness

And on into the light

To stand with me when I’m troubled

And help me through my strife

At times get so uncertain, I turn to You

In my troubles in life

Lord if I ever needed someone, I need You.

Someone to hold onto

And keep me from all fear

Someone to be my guiding light

And keep me ever dear

To keep me from my selfishness

And keep me from my sorrow

To lead me on to givingness

So I can see a new tomorrow

Lord, if I ever needed someone, I need You.

Someone to walk with

Someone to hold by the hand

Someone to talk with

Someone to understand

To call on when I need You

And I need You very much

To open up my arms to

Feel your tender touch

To feel it and keep it

To keep it right here in my soul

And care for it and keep it with me

Never to grow old.

Lord, if I ever needed someone, I need You.

More tomorrow.

Thinking back to my college days, I became fascinated with terrariums. They could be made from anything, but the container of choice was the coveted 5-gallon water bottle. With the help of a funnel and a long grabber tool, soil and plants were placed inside. Little tropical plants would thrive in the artificial space created just for them.

With the proper amount of sunlight and water, the level of humidity was perfect for those small plants to thrive, never growing bigger than the container. Transplanting those little plants was so much easier than transplanting an entire human life. As long as their nutritional requirements were met, the survived.

Moving to the desert, I’ve found a culture and way of life that is unique. Certainly not for everyone, even the shades spring-time green take some getting used to. Four distinct seasons are pronounced, each with their own distinct challenges and beauty. VST and I quietly moved to The Dun-Movin House in Virginia City, Nevada, sat back, and waited for our roots to take hold. Having each other, we had a wealth of shared memories to talk about. We had plenty of adventures to create over our six years together. It’s easier to transplant when you are a unit of two.

Seventeen days after his death, I transplanted to Winterpast as a Unit of One with one little dog to keep me company. The move has been easy in some ways and the most difficult thing in the world in the other. Choosing desert life has been good for me, being very similar to the one in which I grew up. Farmers. Ranchers. The Feed Store. Rodeo. Living with nature. Understanding weather patterns. Spring time and harvest. Those things are second nature to this farm girl. To someone transplanting from city life, those things can be learned, but it takes a lifetime to internalize them.

The Central Valley of California was a desert before it became the Bread-Basket of the United States. Anything you could imagine grew there until that was all abandoned and it returned to desert status. Without water, a desert is just that. Barren wasteland. Add water and can see what happens. Here in my little town, there’s not much help for the soil. Even at Winterpast, where gardens have blossomed for 18 years, the soil is still marginal. Some things can’t really be changed.

Will my tap root really grow strong enough to keep me from blowing away in the Zephyr Winds of the desert? That remains to be seen. I’ve transplanted myself in a nurturing, positive environment. My new friends are encouraging me to do my best by moving forward one day at a time. I’m finally finding out who I am and what I can accomplish. I’m also discovering all the limitations that come with my age.

At the present time, the town is comforting its residents, still in shock over the nightmare of the last three weeks. Visiting the local Walmart last night to get a few things, I noticed people staying a little closer to their loved ones. It will take some time to get over the unthinkable that took place on March 12, 2020.

One of the family members spoke yesterday, cursing the desert lands that kept Naomi hidden for weeks. The blame belongs with the one that caused this, which wasn’t Naomi or the desert. I, for one, find comfort in the wide open skies with their puffy white clouds. As the desert night skies reveal beautiful galaxies of stars more plentiful than I can count, I feel extremely blessed to live here. Nevada’s state song says it all.

Home Means Nevada — _{Written by Bertha Roffetto}

Way out in the land of the setting sun,

Where the wind blows wild and free,

There’s a lovely spot, just the only one,

That means Home Sweet Home to me.

If you follow the old Kit Carson trail,

Until desert meets the hills,

Oh, you certainly will agree with me,

It’s the place of a thousand thrills.

Home means Nevada. Home means the hills.

Home means the sage and the pine.

Out by the Truckee’s silvery rills,

Out where the sun always shines.

Here is the land which I love the best,

Fairer than all I can see.

Deep in the heart of the golden west,

Home means Nevada to me.

Whenever the sun at the close of day,

Colors all the western sky.

Oh, my heart returns to the desert grey

And the mountains tow’ring high.

Where the moon beams play in shadowed glen,

With the spotted fawn and doe,

All the live long night until morning light.

It’s the loveliest place I know.

Home means Nevada. Home means the hills.

Home means the sage and the pine.

Out by the Truckee’s silvery rills,

Out where the sun always shines.

Here is the land which I love the best,

Fairer than all I can see.

Deep in the heart of the golden west,

Home means Nevada to me.

More tomorrow.