Category: Choices

That Bugs Me

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For the past few weeks, I have seen a commercial on television, that, over time, has come to really annoy me on several levels. It is for the Xfinity programs on cable. In the commercial, a mid twentiesish guy is trying to move house. He calls up his friends, and one by one they either lie to him, ignore him, or simply tell him no when he asks for help. The only person who “helps” is the lady on Xfinity who sets him up with all he needs for his new place. Cable, Internet, etc. is easily moved for him. In the last scene, the guy is sitting all alone, in his new place, he (it is assumed) moved all his stuff into it by himself watching television. No friends in sight.

It bugs me because friends are supposed to help friends. I can’t count the number of times we helped people pack and move. We have hauled sofas that weighed more than a small car, furniture of all shapes and sizes, clothes, dishes, even pets. We moved people in everything from our small Datsun station wagon to huge moving trucks. We, ourselves, have moved so often over the past 40 years, that I am a master at packing and hauling stuff. Everyone pitched in to help as soon as the word went out that help was needed. Generally pizza or Chinese takeaway was provided for the friends and family who showed up and pitched in.

So, what the heck is wrong with those twenty-ish kids who won’t help their friend move? One is at the beach and pretending to be at the office. One is shopping and pretends to be sick. One is playing video games and doesn’t even answer the call, and one just flat out refuses to help. Talk about selfish and self centered! If all those people had jumped in, the moving process would probably have taken less than a day. (We all know that no one ever fully unpacks boxes, we have some that are still taped shut from our move from Hong Kong.) But these, kids just can’t be bothered.

It makes me crazy to see someone need help and no one steps up. When I took Hal to the Urgent Care clinic a few weeks ago, there was a woman in there with a child about three. He was miserably sick, and constantly whining. He wanted to be held, but only if his mom was standing up. He was breaking into a full blown hissy fit, when I finally stepped up and asked the frazzled and frustrated mom if she needed some help. Her jaw dropped, then she stepped back and said, “If you have a miracle, go ahead.” I put on my MOM HAS HAD ENOUGH face, crossed my arms, walked over to the boy and cleared my throat. When he was looking at me, all I said was his name. In a calm, but firm voice. The tears shut off, he ran behind his mother and grabbed her skirt. We heard him in the exam room later when he got a shot. But, for the meantime, he stopped, the mom was thankful, and I could hear myself think again. That mom needed HELP. She was exhausted, overwhelmed, and right at the end of her patience.

I don’t know if I am odd, or what, but I am always offering to help people. Most of the time, they thank me and tell me no, but sometimes they are very grateful someone noticed their need. I sure as heck don’t see that much in the younger set. If they won’t help their friends, they sure as heck won’t help a stranger. Although, having said that, I do live in the South, where manners are vital in social behavior. I am not above asking some tall kid to get something off a shelf for me in the grocery or in a store. And I always thank them.

Last weekend, Hal and I took Addie out for breakfast (becoming a tradition for us now that she is old enough). As I was leaving the restaurant, I fell. Hard. I no sooner hit the ground than I had three guys trying to help me up. Poor Hal had his arms full with Addie, and could only stand there. I was so shaken, that had folks not gathered up my glasses and handbag, I probably would have walked off without them. (I broke my right foot, banged up my bad knee, skinned up my forehead and elbow, and felt like a fool for falling.) After thanking them all, I made my way to the truck and managed to climb in. Some how, I don’t see folks jumping to help others in big cities. They all just whip out their cell phones and start taking photos or filming. I guess people are used to viewing life through a screen. And that really bugs me.

So, I am going to write a letter to Xfinity and tell them they would do people a service by showing everyone agreeing to help the guy move. And to be honest that the darned service guy will be there sometime between Monday and Friday between the hours of nine a.m. and four p.m. Because that bugs me too.

Why Is It Number 3

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Why Is It, Number Three.

Why is it when you have a time limit to be somewhere on time, it takes the server at your table forever to bring the check?

Why is it when people get on the road, and they are locals, they get into the wrong lane and hold up traffic trying to move over?

Why is it that babies like to shriek at the tops of their lungs in public places. Generally when sitting right behind you?

Why is it, on the hottest day of the year, everyone goes where you are going, and all the good parking spots are gone, resulting in having to hike from the car park to the entrance?

Why is it, that everyone insists on driving the standard route to get somewhere, fighting traffic, when learning the short cut makes life so much easier?

Why is it, that people feel they have to stand in front of the concession booth and waffle on about what to get for a movie snack. Easy people, soda, popcorn, candy. Think ahead and save time.

Why is it that said people take such great pleasure in crunching, slurping, chewing, and belching, (sometimes all at the same time) while talking through the previews at the cinema?

Why is it, that so many people want to text or chat through the movie instead of watching the show they just paid seven bucks to see?

Why is it, I ALWAYS get the Chatty Cathy Barbie doll sitting behind me who simpers her way through the plot like twists by asking her testosterone loaded date what happened and why?

Why is it, that parents of very young children under a year old bring their kids to the cinema? Used to be Drive-In movies for that sort of thing.

Why is it, that I get to listen to the guy behind us crunch his straw in the ice in his drink, every time the action gets intense?

Why is it when one walks out of the theater, the sun seems so much brighter, but the day seems a bit more mundane and gray when the movie is over?

Why is it, people park their shopping trolley right smack in the middle of an aisle, and get ticked when you politely ask them to scoot it over a bit so others can get past?

Why is it that every time I am trying to look at a particular product, someone will just walk up and stand right in front of where I am looking?

Why is the counter guys at the deli can’t seem to understand what Pastrami is, and that when I say Cajun, I mean spicy Cajun. I mean really, there is no other kind.

Why is it the produce looks delicious across the room, but finding something you want to eat is so difficult?

Why is it, no matter what, I always end up in the slow check out lane in the market?

A Conversation on Race.

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I had a conversation, via a social media site, with an old friend of 40 years or so. It started out with one comment, evolved into another. And even though we are good friends, we see things very differently.

J said:

I love people. White,black,yellow and brown. Old and young. I have been fortunate to have different folks in my life. It is my greatest wish and dream that we can all look at each other and respect the differences we have. Embrace that we aren’t the same and accept things we don’t understand. This is my mantra.

Although I appreciate her perspective, one thing bothered me a great deal. The whole issue of skin color first.

So, I replied:

When we stop labeling people with colors, only then will we be accepting of everyone. I prefer to say I respect all peoples. I can’t say I love them if I don’t know them. And some people I won’t ever love because of the way they treat others. Respecting the humanity of another is more vital than love, because it accepts their negative attributes and positive attributes equally.

Love is a word thrown around far to casually. That demeans the value of meaning of the word and emotions it evokes. Love comes in many levels, from agape love of deep friendship, to the passion of romantic love. But a global love of all mankind is impossible as long as we maintain a thinking brain capable of reason and individual thought. We will always have our prejudices, and our exclusiveness of those who are different than our norm. An alien invasion might bring humans of all sort together against a common enemy, but as soon as we are safe, we will go right back to squabbling like children.

J said:

Well we would be ignorant to not acknowledge color and it’s differences. It would be a kumbya world if we could say “human being”, but we don’t. Let’s wake up smell the coffee and talk about these things openly and honestly. That’s it for now.

I replied:

How is it ignorant to not notice color? Culture and language sure, because culture and language are different from place to place. But neither has anything to do with color. I know blond haired Mexicans of German descent. So, am I supposed to look at their skin color and make a judgment on whether they are Mexican or German? Their families have lived in Mexico for three generations, are they still German just because they have light skin?

Skin color doesn’t matter a damn to me. I’ve lived in too many places with too many different cultures. What matters is how people treat other people, and how they make the world around them a better place.

Coming from a multicultural family, with every race from American Indian, to African, to European, and even a bit of several other groups mixed in my blood lines, I have relatives who are everything from snow white to dark brown. A family reunion is a colorful site to see. But, we are all related.

So is most of humanity in one way or another. Kumbya moment or not, when you can look past color and see the human beings FIRST, then you are truly on the way to acceptance and INclusion instead of EXclusion of everyone.

One of the things I found most wonderful about living all over the world is getting to know women of other countries. The thing is, once we found a way to communicate, we discovered we are very much alike. Everyone has different experiences, naturally, but at the core level, we are very much alike. We love our families, we work hard, we are smart, and each of us have that giving spark and deep down urge to nurture, even if we don’t have kids. We get each other’s humor, and we understand each other with compassion. And we can do all of that with a look, a smile, gestures, and a nod of the head or wink of the eye. And skin color has nothing to do with it. It is all about being a human being.

In a perfect world, everyone would get past the color issue. But, we are all human, and it isn’t ever going to be a perfect world. However, I hold out hope that some day everyone will learn to respect the differences as much as the likeness of one another. And I am blessed to have already crossed that threshold. Still, there are some people I will never love, or even like, because of the way they treat others. And that makes me human and imperfect too.

No response from J yet.

So now I am awake and thinking this over instead of sleeping. I cannot find a way past how I think, because to me it is so very wrong to look at skin color first. Yet, here in America, we do, and that bothers me a great deal more than I thought it did. Because I don’t care about race or skin color, I simply cannot get my head around the idea that it is so important to other people. Each race has issues, some more than others, about the entire topic. And I am not talking black and white only, it is also obvious in other groups who come here, move into the same area creating a cultural ghetto, and sit around hating America and their neighbors for being different. When they talk about it, skin color always seems to be one of the first comments on the list of “Why we hate …”.

I live in what many call the Mid-South. Traditionalism is greatly valued here. This is a former slave state, and has a huge population of their descendants. In the five years that we have lived here, I have never seen anyone be disrespectful to another because of skin color. It is almost a conscious decision that everyone has lived here for many generations, and that is all that matters. The only people they look at twice are “outsiders or Northerners”. Because, like in many places, if your people haven’t been here for 100 years, you are new to the area. But, Southern hospitality trumps all, and people are welcomed with a graciousness that is unexpected.

Memphis is the largest city anywhere near me, and it also has a huge population of black Americans. As with all large cities, it has it share of crime. There are areas that I will never go to, day or night, because it is too dangerous. Those areas are mostly white, black, or Hispanic. One race, one language, and exclusion of those who are different, creates racism. There are also areas where I may be the lightest person in ten miles, but no one cares as long as I am respectful. The same goes for my area. Mostly white, but mixed with several other cultures, as long as people are respectful, there are never any racial problems.

Yet, there are still those who have prejudices that are taught to them from birth. And that is a true shame. We, as human beings, should have evolved past that by now. Instead, we see certain groups encouraging racism toward others just because of skin color, affluence, or any number of petty differences. Creating a false idea of caste and classes is one of the surest ways of dividing people.

Giving a face to the seven deadly sins is an instant creation of anger, fear, hatred and racism. Using the pulpit to encourage that behavior is absolutely against the tenants of nearly every religion I have studied. Yet, we see it happening all over the country. Using racism to score votes is equally abhorrent, yet it is regularly done from coast to coast every election cycle. Inciting fear and hatred is against everything this country has worked toward for generations, yet there are still those who use both as a way to prod people into discontent. Bearing false witness about another is a sin, yet so called religious people do it all the time toward other religious people who are “different.” And still, in today’s so called enlightened world, we use race and skin color to create offense, and highlight differences among us. Until we get past that and accept the humanity behind the skin, it won’t change and we will be that much worse off for it. .

Cinema Junky

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Jake walked into the cinema on a hot summer afternoon. It was the first time he had ventured into a theater in a very long time. He had forgotten the tactile and sensory impact, along with the ephemeral ‘something’ that enveloped him as he walked in.

Entering the lobby one goes from the blinding bright heat of the day, into a dimmer, cool world complete with neon lights, music, and chattering people. It is almost a shock to the system, when he take his first deep breath, the aroma of popcorn, hot dogs, and chocolate overwhelm the olfactory senses, and his mouth starts to water, because deep inside, we all know that a good movie deserves good popcorn and soda.

After garnering the prerequisite treats, he headed for the theater inside the giant building. Used to be that the theater was one large auditorium that showed two movies in a row. The coveted place to sit, for anyone under 20, was in the balcony. Little kids loved the front row of the balcony so they could throw popcorn down on people and be as obnoxious as they could until the ushers threw them out. The older kids loved the back row of the balcony where they could cuddle and kiss in the dark. Things have changed, however.

Jake wandered down the corridor to the door marked with the number 16 and an LED sign that ran the name of the movie over and over above the door. As he stood waiting for the cleaning staff to let him in, he realized the same smell existed in the building as it did in the old cinemas of his youth. The slightly dusty smell of carpets combined with a hint of urine, spilled drinks, and too much cologne slathered on by both males and females surprised him. It felt comforting, because it was so familiar. He always wondered why, even if the restrooms were in perfect order, the slight tinge of urine always lingered creating a piquant note to the warm oder of the salty popcorn.

Entering the theater auditorium used to be a big moment. Walking into the hushed semi dark atmosphere, down a aisle with lights embedded in the carpet at the end of each row, searching in the darkness for a special seat or one’s friends, and scooting into the middle of a row over knees and packages were part of the ritual of going to the cinema. Back in the day, people chatted, crackled paper, crunched on ice, and babies would toddle up and down the aisle until the parents finally got them to settle down. Today, however, there are the added benefits of commercials on the screen, blaring music and announcements, and the ever present cell phones beeping, squeaking, and lending bright light to the darkness.

Jake sat down in his favorite place, center seat, center row of the theater. He always counted rows and seats before sitting down to make sure he was dead center in the room. That way he was able to see and hear everything while ignoring the noises from the other patrons. Cup of soda on his right, popcorn nestled in his left arm, he settled back to enjoy his favorite part of any movie, the previews of coming attractions. Lights go down, music is cued, and with each preview, the sound gets louder, until, at last, the main event lights up the screen. Cue the dramatic music, action sequence to introduce the story, and the outside world goes away for two hours or so.

If the movie is good, Jake gets sucked into the story and action, never hearing or paying attention to his noisy companions. If the movie is bad, or boring, every little thing about his neighbors annoys him, sometimes to the point of complaining to management. It paid to have a reputation as a grumpy old man.

With the high cost of attending the cinema, a cost he has seen double over and over again since the days he could spend the entire afternoon at the cinema and spend less than a dollar, Jake didn’t go as much as he used to. Watching a movie at home on all the new gadgets and gizmos was, eh, okay. But, it simply didn’t have the magical feeling of a theater. The anticipation, the aromas, the feeling of isolation and distance from the every day world, were only experienced in an honest to goodness cinema. As expensive as it was, Jake had to get is movie fix once every few months. It wasn’t the movie he saw that mattered so much, as it was the experience of the mysterious world of the cinema.

When the movie ended, he always stayed to see the credits roll by. Generally, there was a theme song that played along with them, so he sat quietly watching and listening as everyone bustled around grabbing up their items and debris as they headed out. Jake was almost always the last person out of the theater, annoying the cleaners at his delay. Head still wrapped up in the story, he would slowly wander down the corridor to the exit.

It was always a shock to the system to realize that the world had kept on going while he was away in the mysteries of the cinema. The lobby seemed too bright, loud, and full of people. The aroma of popcorn wasn’t nearly as enticing, and, depending on the time of day and year, he knew once he opened the exterior door, he would step back into the heat or cold of the rat race. It always made him feel tired and ready for a nap. Regretting the cost, he, once again, made himself a promise that he wouldn’t spend that kind of money on a wasted afternoon. He could, after all, see the movie at home in a few months.

Of course, like all addicts, deep inside, Jake knew that he would be back as soon as a new movie came out that just had to be seen in a theater to gain the most from the story. At least that is what he told himself. It was better than admitting he was a cinema junky.

Taking A Break

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I have recently taken a break from most of my most politically, socially, and emotionally liberal friends. Some of whom, I have known for over forty years. I am not angry with them, I do not hate them, I don’t think of them as less important or valuable as I am, or anyone else for that matter. I am just tired of dealing with people, though I love them, who are so narrow minded, judgmental, and so caught up in their self serving lives that they cannot, or will not, take the time to learn to be truly accepting people. Accepting, that is, of others who do not profess the same agenda, live the same life style, agree with the same issues, and walk, talk, and do just as they do. I am too old to deal with group speak, group mentality, and group non thinking. I miss the individual thinkers that they used to be.

Political correctness has taken over the minds of so many of my brilliant friends. Highly talented, intelligent, and, previously, interesting people to the last one, they have become mind numbed robots of the politically correct, or they have taken a path that allowed them to steep themselves in unending self victimization as an excuse to be angry at everyone not exactly like them. The odd thing is, they profess, profusely, profanely, and with great pontification that they are accepting of everyone. Of course, they don’t say, “As long as they believe exactly as I do.” We see this playing out on the stage of world politics every day. It has, sadly, trickled down into every day life for many people.

I am reminded of the opening scene in the movie, Joe VS The Volcano where hundreds of men and women walk in near lockstep into a factory of some sort. In the center of the concrete slab that is the outdoors, one single flower grows regardless of the fact that it shouldn’t be able to do so. It gets stepped on, ignored, pulled up, but it still managed to grow and make a single bright spot in the middle of the gray concrete. Not one person notices, except for a man who is miserable with his boring, repetitive life. He notices, and that leads to a whole new life of adventure.

Many of my friends of old, have become those boring people who do the same things day after day They only read the socially approved books, watch the popular movies, listen to the music that is most acceptable by their peers, and never, ever, think for themselves. It seems like they have given up on growing intellectually. Why read history, why bother with anything that you can’t find on the Internet with the newest electronic gadget? Just go with the flow, and accept that you are happy just the way you are.

There is one particular person, that we love very much, and always will. He lives in one of the most sophisticated cities in the world. However, at pushing sixty, he has never lived anywhere else other than to attend college. He lives in the family home, and he is doing exactly the same things he was doing at the age of 25. His life is a world more based in fantasy than in reality. Don’t get me wrong, he makes a good living, and is successful in myriad ways, but his entire life outside of work is caught up in fantasy characters and play. Not on line, oh no, in real life. Yeah, he is the guy wearing the clothes that always look like a costume of one sort or another. Last week he was Sherlock Holmes every time he went out the door. He has a vastly busy social life, on and off line. (But seriously, can one really have 2000 “friends:?) He has a successful marriage, to an equally fantastical woman, but I really don’t think he has a friend he can just sit down and talk with – as himself, bumps, warts, and all. He hides behind that personae and crazy, frenetic activity that is his life. Consequently, he sees anyone who is practical and based in reality as someone who is completely out of touch with the ‘right’ way to live. As a liberal person living in a very liberal city, he has abdicated common sense and turned over his thinking to big brother and others who bother with that sort of thing. Go with the flow, man, go with the flow. Even if it does rip away all his rights eventually. That liberal river is one mean mother when she overflows and takes rights away in a flood of laws and regulations.

On the other hand, I have friends who live such supercilious, fake lives that they think they are living in a movie, and they have the staring role. It is all about cars, houses, clothes, money, gizmos, and doodads. The women get hooked on shoes and the men get hooked on, well whatever they can get away with, be it golf or women. They are like one of those French pastries that looks delicious on the outside, but they are all hollow inside. Under all the chatter and silliness, there is a cut throat competition that would make the Hatfield and McCoy feud look like a tea party. Many of the men in this group are business men. It is all about screwing over the competition so they can feel manly. For the women, it is all about looks and having more than the wife, or girlfriend, or lover of their significant other’s competition. I really, don’t get it. These people can look at a diamond and tell you exactly the karat, cut, and value of it in a glance, but mention something like, oh, Benghazi, and they look at you like you just passed gas at a formal dinner party. They know all the trendiest spas, trainers, cars, places, and things, but rarely have an original thought – and if they do, it scares them to death. The women copy each other, the men steal ideas from each other. They bore me to death. Really, I would rather walk on rocks than go shopping all day, (Bookstores are an exception, but I only shop there on my own.) or spend my time trying to out do everyone around me. Too much work, too little return.

Then there are all my LGBT friends. Yes, I have more than a token one or two. You can’t be in my field of employment without knowing many. I have a few, very few, friends in this group who are as conservative as I am, that just get on with their lives. They honestly do not care one bit who anyone sleeps with, loves, or cohabits with. They are who they are, and being LGBT is not a big deal. They are accepted professionally, socially, and politically – and yes, religiously within their group of friends, family, and community. However, sigh, there is the group of friends who are LGBT first and foremost. They are angry, strident, bigoted, and racist toward anyone who does not bow down to the god of rainbow flags and their sacred fight to be “Just Like Everyone Else.” If you do not agree with everything they do, say, and believe, then you are branded as a hater. Ironic, since they are the people hating to begin with. No matter how often I tell them I don’t care who they sleep with as long as I don’t have to be a party to it, they still think I am a homophobe. I have just thrown up my hands and decided they are all insane and need a time out for anger management. Thinking for themselves is anathema to these people. Just get on the band wagon, in the parade, or carry the rainbow flag and scream about how much everyone hates them already. Oy, can we say self fulfilling prophesy? If you treat everyone as if they hate you just because they think or believe differently, they they just may start walking away in droves. OH, and the LGBT group is evenly sprinkled with fairy dust and delusional beliefs in the first two groups as well. Professional victims still, but vacuous victims.

I have a boat load of friends who are living in the fly over country in middle America. The majority are parents, hard workers who know how to enjoy their down time. Some are city dwellers, some live out beyond the back forty. Some love to travel, some won’t leave their home county, let alone their home state. Some are professional people, from judges to teachers and then some. More are blue collar workers of one sort or another, and another bunch are farmers and ranchers. There are a few things they have in common. They believe in Family First, and included in that is the extended family of friends and neighbors. They tend to be religious, not necessarily church going, but religious. They believe in the greatness of the United States (even those in the south who still lament the late Northern Aggression, aka Civil War.) and they stand firmly for the Constitution and values upon which this country was founded. Best of all, they are independent thinkers, and they understand that history repeats itself if humanity doesn’t protect its freedom from tyranny. Most of them have either served in the military or come from a family that has served. They are patriots.

That’s not to say that middle America folks aren’t selfish and self absorbed. They can be, and some are as vain and supercilious as anyone else. But, at the end of the day, they are less focused on themselves, and more focused on the world around them, and the world far away.

There is something so fun about engaging in a debate with thinking people. Even if we are complete opposites on everything, thinking people take the time to listen and think before spouting the current propaganda and talking points of the day. Like me, these good folks don’t give a flip about who you love, sleep with, or how you live – you are defined by your behavior and how you treat others. What they do care about is the individual, not the lemming behavior of the group. Everyone has incredible potential, and the greatest gift everyone has is the ability to learn, think, and make up their own minds about who they are and what they think. I may not agree with the things they do, or how they think, but it is their right, and they know the consequences of their behavior. The great thing, is we can disagree vehemently and still be friends – not thinking any less of each other or throwing about invectives concerning hate.

So, this self imposed distance from my knee jerk, emotional, lock step, group think, self absorbed liberal friends has done two thing. It made me realize that I bought into their arrogant belief that I simply could not be as good as they are because I am an ignorant hick from Oklahoma, and it made me aware that they are so bogus in that arrogance. They may think they are all that, but deep inside there is a huge hole of discontent and fear. Hiding behind pretend personae and victimization isn’t going to improve anyone’s life. Suck it up people, and learn to think for yourselves. Yes, you might lose a few of those so called friends, but if speaking your mind offends them so much, then they aren’t really your friends.

It took me years to realize no one has the right to tell me to sit down and shut up. No one has the right to tell me how to think. And, best of all, that I am intelligent, well educated, caring, accepting, and willing to lend a helping hand or listening ear. I am not perfect, liberal whiners and moaners annoy me and I loathe the political leaders who are trying to destroy our country. But, at least I am honest with myself and others, and I am not afraid to take a stand and state my thoughts on any topic.

So, my distant liberal friends, I recommend that before having a knee jerk emotional response to every little thing in life, take a deep breath, step back, and think before babbling nonsense. If you don’t know the truth, find out. If you don’t understand, learn. If you are afraid, learn to stand firm even in the face of adversity. Because until you do, my dear liberal friends, you will never be truly happy, content, or who were intended to be.

Three Generations

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As I was holding my new great granddaughter and watching her milk drunk little face fight off sleep, I was struck by a sudden, overwhelming, love for her. It felt, in many ways, just like the love I felt for my new born sons many years ago. I guess those innate nurturing emotions never fade.

I was a young mother. By the time I was twenty-one, our two boys were born. It wasn’t easy to be so young, poor, and parents. But we were, so we just worked harder, made do with less, and loved our kids. We learned to accept the fact that one of us would be out driving around in the middle of the night to sooth a grumpy, over tired baby. We learned to live with sticky mystery goo on hands and faces. We could wrangle a two year old into the bath while talking on the phone and feeding a new born. We were fast diaper changers, quick to feed a baby, and very good at carrying on a conversation with each kid and each other at the same time. Our house was loud, active, and somewhat crazy.

I never got the laundry completely done, not even when they were teenagers. I was always facing a sink filled with dishes, and a house that was beyond messy. But, my boys and I had fun, and it was much more interesting to be with them than it was to clean house. We survived bumps, bruises, bike wrecks, fist fights, stitches, and broken bones. Not to mention childhood illnesses and germ filled school days. It didn’t matter to me that things went unfinished or undone when a Scouting project or school project took up our evenings. Dishes would still be there the next day. We managed the teenage years. Not as well as we could have, but we managed.

Then, suddenly, my boys were grown. And, before I was ready, our first grandchild was on the way. She was born between Christmas and New Years, and we were thrilled to have a girl to spoil. We never really thought we would raise her, but when we lost her father, we did. So instead of cars and building forts in the woods, we had a little girl who knew she was a princess. She spent six months of her third year determined to turn used computer parts into a time machine. And she refused to go to sleep unless her Papa told her about another Princess Crystal adventure. I honestly think that those stories were as real to her as her own life. We did all the things we did with our boys, only differently. She was, and is, high maintenance in many ways. And our greatest delight was to see her riding on her horse in a show. She is a natural. But, suddenly she was a grown woman, with a baby of her own on the way.

Our second son gave us two delightful grandchildren. A boy and a girl. Both are smart, funny, opinionated, and a joy to us. It is different from our first grandchild, it is more like being a real Nana and Papa rather than a parent. Our son is a single father, and he does a super job raising his children. The divorce was not amicable, but at least he gets to see his kids every day. When I see him telling them the exact same things I told him when he was in trouble as a kid, I smile inside knowing I did something right.

Now I have a great granddaughter. She is only three weeks old, and, like most babies, she has taken over our home and our hearts. I have raised, or helped to raise, two generations of children. And at the age of 58, I get to be involved with a third generation. And as I talk to my granddaughter, I hear the words I told her about raising her come straight from her heart as she talks about raising her daughter.

I am a mother, grandmother, and a great grandmother. My life has been raising kids, encouraging my husband, and constantly improving me. I do not regret one moment of being a parent to two rowdy boys and one little princess. It has been the greatest accomplishment of my life, better than my degrees, and all the world travel we experienced. Raising kids to be faithful, hard working, patriotic, and dedicated men and women is the best thing I have ever done, or will ever do.

If you take the jump to parenthood, you will see that all the work, lack of sleep, school projects, and laughing at the dinner table is well worth it. Because that crying baby in aisle two of the grocery store that annoys you now, is going to grow up one day, and he will take on his world from the lessons his parents taught him.

Three generations of children fill my heart. I am blessed and thankful for the opportunity to love them.

Comforting Traditions

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I have come to the undeniable conclusion that I am turning into a pack rat. (shudder) I figured that out by taking a look at the exterior of my refrigerator this morning. It had become, one bit of stuff at a time, the standard hoarding place for magnets. Under those magnets were photos, old phone numbers, ancient appointment cards from all sorts of places, bits and pieces of tools, keys, reminders, sticky notes, and plain old STUFF that should have long since gone into the rubbish bin. There were some great things on there too, like the drawings made for me by my grandchildren – two years ago, and a few of the awards Crystal got when she was doing martial arts, when we lived in Virginia – six years ago or more. But most of it was just stuff we all got too lazy to throw away.

What wasn’t on the refrigerator, was our yearly calendar – something that was a mainstay in our home for the past 41 years. Our lives went on the calendar, and when it got too busy, everyone ended up with a different color pen to write in their events, just to keep straight who I was taking to the soccer practice, and who was going to be dropped off to hang out with a friend. School assignments from the class syllabus went on there too, so I could stay on top of what next important project had to be finished first, or when a big exam was coming up. That way I could do the Mom thing, that makes our kids hate us, and nag them to get it done.

Calendars used to be important. At least they were when I was first married and then raising my boys. Now everyone has a smart phone, or PDA, or laptop, or an i Pad. Who needs something hanging on the fridge or bulletin board that has cheesy pictures or boring sayings leaching down the pages, when they can download, upload, tweet, text, FB, or set up the phone to ring an alarm to remind them of the things going on in their lives? Yet another casualty to the advent of the every changing tech world.

When I was a little girl, getting a new calendar each new year was a big deal. At first we got one from the garage where my granddad worked, but when we got old enough to know when the picture of the girls on each month were, shall we say, a bit saucy, my Grannie would get one from the grocery store for free. It was boring, and didn’t have many things worth looking at other than the food we knew we couldn’t afford.

The first time I got a calendar for Christmas, I was thrilled! I was allowed to put everyone’s birthday, important dates, and appointments in the blocks under the pretty picture. It was so exciting to be able to cross off days for big days and events. My first calendar was all about Pioneers who settled in Oklahoma and the west. Old photographs, drawings, and on the page for September, a map that I studied until the page fell out. That was when I realized the world was massive, and to find my way around I would need to understand maps. I am still a map junky. Forget Map Quest of any of the maps on line, give me a paper map with a million details and I go anywhere my dreams take me.

I’ve had calendars with cats, dogs, horses, Harley Davidson Motorcycles, cute kids, bratty kids, dolls, Scouting, guns, cartoons, castles, great writers, great artists, and much more gracing the months and edifying those who take the time to read the words on them. One of my favorites was a calendar that Riley made for me in Cub Scouts. Each month had a finger print or hand print turned into an animal on it. It was stapled at the top, and not all of the boxes were straight, but I loved that calendar and used it for the whole year.

So, this year, I bought a calendar with silly cartoon cats doing all sorts of obnoxious things. I wrote in everyone’s birthdays, added a few anniversaries, big events, and goals. Now that my refrigerator is DE-junked, I have put it on the front with huge magnets that will hold it all year. Now I feel organized and a bit more in control. Like comfort food, comfortable traditions can make our world right in the midst of change and chaos. All I have to do now, is keep everyone else from using it for the family bulletin board and a place to stick stuff they don’t want to take the time to put away.

Why Is It?

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Why is it no one under the age of 30 can put an empty container into the rubbish bin instead of back into the refrigerator?
Why is it, the more windows in a door, the harder everyone has to slam it entering and exiting the room?
Why is it, when folks shut the trunk or hatch on a vehicle, they always have to slam it, instead of closing it until it latches.
Why is it that rubbish tends to multiply overnight, and it multiplies even faster if it has something smelly in it?
Why is it, when I clean the kitchen, turn off the lights, and go to relax, I always find at least one more glass or plate to wash?
Why is it that shopping for clothes is always such a stressful event, made more once I step into a dressing room?
Why is it that laundry is never done, ever?
Why is it that every time I want to put gas in my truck, I always pick a lane that has some old geezer in it that can’t pump gas in under twenty minutes?
Why is it that everyone who wants to chat with a friend in the grocery has to do so right smack in the middle of the aisle, and then gets all snarky if I ask them to move?
Why is it that the more I need to use the bathroom, the farther away it is from where I happen to be standing?
Why is it that people talk on their cell phones in the restroom loud enough for everyone to hear their conversation and for the person they are speaking with to know they are in the restroom?
Why is it that the day I have a rotten headache, the car that pulls up next to me at the stop light has his stereo booming so loud it makes my truck bounce and it is always the longest red light in history?
Why is it girls always have to run everywhere in a pack of snobby screaming giggles?
Why is it that the most annoying kids are allowed to run loose without supervision in the most dangerous places?
Why is it that parents let their kids out of their chairs to run around in a restaurant just because they don’t want to eat any longer and the parents aren’t done yet?
Why is it I always get the waiter/waitress in a snarky mood who obviously finds it beneath him/herself to serve me?
Why is it so hard to keep from saying sarcastic things to people who behave moronically in my presence?

Weary, Worried, Wary and Willing.

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Weary, Worried, Wary and Willing.

I am weary, tired to the bone weary with the political disgrace of our so called elected leaders for our country. I am weary of constantly battling against the unmitigated crimes that are perpetrated by those who are supposed to be protecting our rights. I am weary of dealing with the repercussions of a supercilious, narcissistic, unbearably arrogant man who thinks he should be king of the United States of America. I am weary of trying to protect that which are my God given rights via our Constitution and Bill of Rights. I am weary of the constant, never ending, self congratulatory braggadocio of the people who would turn America into a third world country that is enslaved to the government through the unrelenting pressure on everyone to give in, sit down, shut up, and let Big Daddy take care of us. I am weary from fighting the good fight, hanging on by a sliver of hope and dauntless resolve, to stand up, speak up, and do what is right for myself, my family, and my nation.

I am worried. Very worried, down to my toes, can’t sleep at night worried about the future of my world as I know it. I am worried that the inane, insane, indulgent expenditure of the tax dollars forced from our hands will continue to hemorrhage and regurgitate into the hands of the illicit and nefarious characters behind the man who would be king. I am worried that the corrupt government will continue to pillage and plunder our heritage until all truth and history of the great republic will fade and become little more than an experimental footnote in the far reaches of our progeny. I am worried that the greatest document in the story of man kind, The Constitution of the United States of America, will be culled by those who have contempt for the words and meanings therein, leaving the citizens with little more than an illusion of what the forefathers scribed. I am worried, that stealing away our constitutional rights, one minuscule bit at a time, will numb the majority of Americans to simply ignore the more insidious evil of proletarian dictatorship that awaits us at the other side of the cavernous maw of so called progressive liberalism.

I am wary, very wary, down to my deepest level of caution wary, of the way in which the progressive liberals have begun to use dubious language to present their doctrine in ways that will sound logical, but are, instead, quite radical. I am wary of the constant race baiting and the use of implied guilt to divide the people of this country, and in doing so, stalking and defeating our personal rights of speech, liberty, religion, and law. I am wary of those who would use fraudulent procedures designed to force those who differ in opinion and thought to violent hostility toward one another. I am wary, deeply wary, of the politicians who were elected to represent the wishes of the people they serve. No matter how determined their verbiage sounds, it is frequently the unsaid that influences their back room deals and constantly starving pocketbooks.

Having said all of that, I am also tenaciously willing to stand in the face of my enemies to protect and overcome the persuasion and persecution of those who would take that which my forefathers have fought for in every war since the American Revolution. Those who fought the tyranny of the government from whence they came, those who stood shoulder to shoulder to overcome poverty, sorrow, and loss, those who prayed, sweat, and cried as they pulled themselves up from the lowest level to the highest gave us FREEDOM. I am willing to stand with you, with every American Citizen who wants to keep that freedom from the tyrants who are waiting, like circling buzzards, to pick our Constitution and freedom from the bones of our great nation. I am willing, no matter how weary, worried, or wary I may be, to boldly declare my determination to overcome the negative and guilt ridden brainwashing of the progressive left and remain free of their new form of slavery and humiliation. I am an American Citizen with all the rights and freedoms therein. Who wants to join me in the revolution to take back our world?

“Stop blaming guns and start teaching the value of human life.”

Posted on Posted in Children, Choices, Family, Habits, loss, Parenting, Politics, ReligionTagged , , , , , , 1 Comment

Addy-Combs-9-24-2012-profileThe sign said, “Stop blaming guns and start teaching the value of human life.” Made me think about all the death of young people perpetrated by young people in Chicago and other gang infested cities. As we all know, the majority of people being killed are in black on black crimes. We also know that there are more abortions among black females that there are in any other race in America. This causes their religious leaders and communities to lament the loss of the next generation.

Here’s the thing, if kids in the gang culture are taught that being a man means shooting and killing anyone who might have insulted them, come into their territory, or impugned their manhood, they are taught to take a gun to even the score, Then what is the value of human life? If girls in the gang culture are taught that if they get pregnant sleeping around, prostituting themselves, or because they are careless, they are taught to kill their babies by aborting them, then what is the value of human life? And that is why there is a huge decline in black Americans throughout a large portion of American cities.

Along with that particular culture and race, are the rest of the kids who fall into the violence and uninhibited behavior of the gang cultures. The value of life of a human is treated as unimportant as a sneeze. Not even the gangs themselves mourn the loss of a member for long. In too many gang cultures, it is simply the way it is. So, if people are going to die from violence or drug use, why bother to care about them? Again, girls are taught that abortion is a form of birth control and that tissue is not a human being – even though it does have human DNA – so getting rid of it is no more important than blowing one’s nose.

Even among those who are affluent, or not part of gang culture, the idea that human life is valuable is laughed at. The exception being those who are religious who do not practice their religion as a reason to make war and kill others who do not believe as they do. However, those who are raised in a secular society without a moral platform based in caring about their fellow mankind, simply do not see a reason to care beyond their particular circle. Kids sit in front of a screen “playing” violent games where killing is the main focus of a game, numbing them even more to the value of human beings.

Guns, Thank God, are part of American culture, and a means to protect one’s property, self, or family. They are also there to protect ourselves from a tyrannical government. Weapons, however, that are used to murder and injure others can be anything from a gun to something as simple as a belt used to strangle someone. It is not the weapon that kills all on it own, it is a person deciding to take a life for some implied slight, because a child would ruin their plans, or because someone has gone mentally ill.

It is the failure to teach our children that human beings are valuable that worries me the most. Are we a raising generation of people who are so selfish and self absorbed that they cannot see the value in others? Are our children remaining childishly concerned about only themselves? Do they find the suffering of others unimportant, and will they simply ignore the loss of life because it isn’t happening to someone they know? Do they know how to love others? Or are we raising a bunch of pack animals who only bond together to mate, commit violence against other packs, and keep their numbers under control by killing off the weakest of the children?

It worries me that so many kids today, and in many cases, their parents, have no manners, no sense of a moral boundary, and no understanding of the value of human life. Our information sources, books, entertainment, and education makes it clear that human beings are the scourge of the earth. Except, naturally, their generation. They are so self absorbed that many of them simply do not recognize they are no different than the kid standing next to them. They are both humans. They are both valuable. They are our future, God help us.