Never alone

Jan 3 2019

When I was born, my sister Mary Beth was a little over a year old. As a result, all my memories from childhood involve two people.
Imagine never being alone, or lonely, or thinking you didn’t have a friend. We were raised as if we were twins. But we were so different. Mary was the pretty one, I was cute. She had gentle softness, I had round, rosy cheeks that would have made Santa Claus jealous. Other than that, Mom made sure that we were equal in our opportunities, possessions and love.
Poor Mary had to have a little sister who thought she was the same age.
But for this reason, all my memories can be shared. We went to the same events, can tell the same stories and even shared some of the same classes in school.
So my memory here is that I have someone who can remember with me what I am sharing.
If you don’t have that one person who can share your memories, I feel sorry for you. Having a memory partner really makes the memories sweeter...and keeps you from lying.

Doughnuts!

January 2, 2019

With a mailman for a father, his off days were varied with every fifth week resulting in a three day weekend. On some of those Saturdays we would see mom making yeast dough and dad slowly melting shortening to use as a deep fry oil. We knew it was doughnut day.
Hours spent in the kitchen with mom making the dough and dad doing the frying. Mary Beth and I would wait for our part. We would roll the warm donuts in sugar before placing on cooling racks, put in a spoonful of grape jam for the jelly donuts before sugaring, or dipping in mom’s glaze and hanging over chop sticks, balanced on large jello boxes to drip the excess glaze onto waxed paper.
To this day I think of donuts whenever I see chop sticks.
This memory is triggered by sight, smell, and taste. Better yet, it is an emotional memory. It is a time where I saw a family working, laughing and loving together. A memory of us all spending time for a common goal.
I hope many people can find a memory with as much satisfaction for them as this is for me,

A year of memories.

  January 1, 2019

Imagine growing older and not remembering your life. I fear that my mind may fail me when I get older and I will lose memories;  wonderful moments in time that shaped, nourished and encouraged me.

Like they say, you can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but not all of the people all of the time. That is how it is with memories.

All will touch some of the people, some will touch all the people, but all won’t touch all the people.

I hope I can bring a smile if you read something that touches you. Or a sigh. Or maybe a tear. All my memories are not good, but I know I can find 365 that are not too bad. Let’s start at the beginning.

I remember New Years from long times ago. I remember getting fruit punch soda, ritz crackers and blue cheese. I remember herring and raw beef and onions. I remember staying up till midnight on December 31st or at least eleven when we would watch the ball drop in Times Square... on TV of course.
I remember being with family. I remember starting the next year watching parades and playing with our Christmas toys and games. Times may have been simpler, but not foolish. My year began with church, love and hope.

So share my memory by remembering your own...the food, gatherings and fun you had to welcome the new year.

Happy New Year to all.

10 seconds

In less than 10 seconds…

You can destroy a child’s self-esteem with a look or comment.

You can ruin someone’s day by ignoring them.

You can ruin your own day by walking past happiness and choosing to wallow in self pity.

OR in less than 10 seconds…

You can pause and pick up something someone dropped and hand it to them with a smile.

You can put a hand on the shoulder of one who is suffering, and say “hang in there.”

You can look in the mirror and say, “not perfect…but not bad.”

You can stop to say something nice to someone at work.

You can accept your coffee or burger or salad from a server and say a sincere thank you.

You can pause at a light turning green to allow someone to finish crossing.

You can stop and tell someone they are loved.

You can mutter a quick prayer to get you through a situation or thank God for something not being worse.

You can start your day with “God…this one’s for you” and take it from there.

In less than 10 seconds you can do terrible or wonderful things.

What are you doing with your next 10 seconds?

Look UP!!!

Remember in school when the teacher would ask a question and look around for somebody willing to answer?
We would all drop our eyes, suddenly paging through a text, writing notes or looking for something...anything, as long as we didn't make eye contact with the teacher.
So I wonder why we bow our heads in prayer. I understand respect and awe, but sometimes we are praying for something where we are asking God to send help.
We shouldn't be dropping our eyes for this, hoping He looks past us. We should focus on the cross, or look up, challenging ourselves to make eye contact and let God know He can call on us.
Maybe He won't, but I want Him to know that I am not afraid. That I trust Him. He will choose the right person for the job.
Maybe not me. But I remain ready for the time it is.

I cry

I cry.

I cry when I am sad. When my world is filled with unfinished friendships; when I am forced to acknowledge premature departures; when all my energy is spent watching suffering and helplessness; when I have to face my weakness and inadequacies, closed doors and deflating situations, I cry. I don’t like to cry.

I cry when I am angry. When the space around me is filled with betrayal and belittling; when my area is full of sniping and arguing; when I am in a corner and not allowed to get out of it because my captor is stronger or louder or meaner; when there is so much negative emotion and no outlet for it, I cry. I don’t like to cry.

I cry when I am happy. When my life is filled with sunshine, love and warm feelings; when I see great kindness for myself or others; when I can’t express my total joy and must do something to avoid bursting at the seams; when my surroundings are pleasing, my situation undeniably positive and my wholeness a blessing to others and myself as well, I cry. I love to cry!

The Centipede

Many years ago, I was home alone and went into my basement to do a silly chore. On my return to the stairs, I saw a centipede. It sat there – hovering on the wall over the 4^th step…waiting. Anyone who knows centipedes, knows they are predators. They lay in wait and will ATTACK once you pass.

I was trapped.

I went through my basement looking for something to defend myself from that multi-legged creature. All I could find was a jar of Spray Shellac that I had been using to seal a plaster statue.
I approached the steps, one hand firmly on the spray nozzle, hoping the horrible thing had left the step and burrowed into a location I could not see.

He was still there. I sprang into action, focusing the sticky spray on the monster and pushing the spray button down in one fell swoop. He took off! He got to the spot where the wall met the step, then turned to race across the stair plank. I was relentless, holding the button, spraying as hard as I could. And he moved slower, and s l o w e r, and finally so s  l  o  w  that I could hold the can over him and cover him with the sticky, fast drying, shellac.

There he was – attached to my step in a clear, crystal casing. I was saved.

But now what? I looked in the basement for inspiration and found a piece of wood, approximately 3x6 inches and 1 inch thick. I placed the wood on the shining shell of shellac and went upstairs, hopping over the step where the wood covered, varnished centipede was entombed.

When my family returned from wherever they were that day, I was calmly sitting in the family room, watching tv… “oh honey? I killed a centipede while you were gone. See that wood on the step? Could you clean it up, please?”

They thought I had crushed it under the wood. What?! Do people really do that?

Better question: Do they not know me at all?   That would have been so ordinary.
And yes, they did clean it up.

Until next time, centipede community...until next time.