Wanted: Alive

Seems I've always had a fascination with the old days of the wild west. If there was really such a thing as reincarnation, then it is quite possible I could have been Annie Oakley in my previous life. I have always felt a bit out of place in the world I live in today. No matter how hard I try to find my place in this world, there is a tugging at my soul for those days gone by.

Days when men and women knew who they were and what their roles were and didn't spend countless hours trying to "find themselves." When America actually had a heritage of our own we were proud of, where we fought and worked hard for improving ourselves and didn't look for a handout from the government. Days when the law was actually laid down on the "bad guy" and we weren't afraid of offending someone for punishing them for their crime. Which brings me to Wyatt Earp.

Where is Wyatt when we need him and why can't I find a man like that today? So I decide to take a trip out to old Tombstone to get a glimpse of this once bustling wild west town. A town where the Earp brothers with the help of Ol Doc Holliday, laid down the law. When all of a sudden......there they were.....like a ghost from the past, Wyatt, Virgil, Morgan and Doc. I couldn't believe my eyes. Could it really be true or were my eyes just playing tricks on me? As the vision of them got closer and closer it became more clear and more real. My body was shaking with excitement, my heart was pounding. A dream come true.

Here I now was, standing face to face with my heroes of the old west. I was speechless, in ah, trembling with emotion. Then it happened. Wyatt reached out his hand to mine and gently held it up to his lips and kissed it. Not letting go, he looked deeply into my eyes as if he knew me. As if in another time and place we had shared a moment. A moment that had left us all too soon. Now here he was once again, again for only a moment. As I looked back into his deep blue eyes, he spoke. Strong, rugged and commanding attention was his tone, yet calming and caring. "Christy," he said, "never let go of your dreams, never let go of the yearning in your heart." "That is how we built the west and won the west." "Don't be afraid, good will in the end , always win out over evil." "We came to only remind you of what you already know, don't let the enemy rob you of your joy and the good things that are still with you."

I could feel the presence of someone behind me as Wyatt spoke. As I turned to see who it was all I saw was a flash of light but no one there. When I turned back around, Wyatt, Virgil, Morgan and Doc were gone. Vanished into thin air as if they had never been there at all. "What had just happened," I said to myself. I shook my head and continued my tour of Tombstone, this once bustling wild west town.

Several weeks later I received a small package in the mail with no return address or postage. When I opened it I couldn't believe my eyes. It was a picture of Wyatt, Virgil, Morgan, Doc and me under the OK Corral. A remembrance of that moment and a reminder that everything is going to be OK!

Rolling Gangsta With Aunt Christy, Part 1

So it turns out I have a dark side -- a real tough girl underneath this sweet exterior. I may be a petite, sexy, God-fearing woman, but I can really throw down with the rest of them. I am hardcore.

Note: Everything you will read on this blog is without a doubt completely true and entirely factual.

Picture this: It's New Year's Eve, and I have plans to go out with my equally sexy, though not quite as God-fearing, niece. We agree to meet at a classy joint, the name of which will be witheld to protect the identity of the innocent -- you know, one of those places where an extravagant number of 200-lb women wearing stretch lycra exposing their fleshy abdomens dance the night away to the sweet sounds of bad hip-hop music, a place where diversity reigns in the form of unattractive women with stringy hair bumping and grinding on one another as men with hair in odd places look on with love. A place where the more tattoos you have on your face, forearms, and neck, the cooler you are. And everyone is partying like it's 1999. Like I said -- a classy nightclub, only the best for my niece and me.

Not surprisingly, my niece and I found ourselves on the stage shortly after midnight, dancing as best we could, trying to compete with the large, pretend lesbians that shook the stage with every swivel of their hips, and trying to avoid the short, sweaty man who was convinced that he was meant to be my Latin lover. He danced terrible Salsa all over the stage in an effort to lure me into his grasp.

At some point, I noticed that a group of greasy-haired men below the stage were eyeing my niece and me, much to the chagrin of their girlfriends. I made a mental note to keep my eye on them . . .

TO BE CONTINUED