Destroy From Within


It seems that the deepest wish of the left leaning politicos is to tear down and destroy all evidence of the Confederate States that removed themselves from the Union over a hundred years ago. All statues that honor or recall the war of Northern Aggression, as the people of the south called it, are to be erased. They are to be torn down and destroyed in a fit of anger by those who have never been slaves, and who are doing their best to undo fifty plus years of steps to total race equality in the United States.

Why stop at pulling down statues. Let’s go whole hog and tear down all things that represent the south, and their former use of slaves. Let us start with the history of slavery, and the fact that the first person to own a slave in the Americas was none other than a black man, and let us not forget the indentured servants who came to the Americas to be enslaved for the duration of their indenture, and in many cases, until their deaths. We must erase all of that. Justice demands it. At least it does according to the leftists.

While we are at it, lets destroy all monuments on the battle fields, both north and south, so that no one has to know our horrid past and we can white wash (no pun intended) the whole issue of slavery and the Civil War. In fact, lets just do away with all the historic battlefields and turn them into condos and golf courses, because they aren’t important. We can build section eight housing for all. Covering the graves of the fallen. No one cares anyway. Why not?

We might as well go right on ahead and tear down all memorials and monuments to every Revolutionary War hero too. Destroy the Liberty Bell, burn the Constitution and Bill of Rights, and don’t forget to shred the Federalist Papers too. Deny the Founding Fathers, remove every mention of them from our history. How dare they have the gumption to form a country based on freedom. Be sure and tear down every museum, and burn all the history books. We can’t have anyone believe the truth of our foundation, we don’t have the right to have a history that isn’t in line with the leftist propaganda machine.

Of course, that means there is no reason for the Civil Rights heroes either. Rosa Parks, nah, totally unimportant because slaves freed themselves and there were no victims of inequality. Martin Luther King Jr., just another loud mouth preacher, no one cares what he had to say. He isn’t important in the history of the country. He can’t be if the past is denied and revisionist history is the shining star. Douglas Frederick and Harriet Tubman, totally unimportant in saving lives, after all, if we deny the Civil War, deny the Southern involvement, destroy all monuments and buildings dedicated to those who served in the Confederate, none of the heroes are important or relevant.

While we are at it, we must also deny all the changes for gender equality, because without the fight for Civil Rights, the entire issue of gender equality would never have got off the ground. It would be a non sequitur in the history of time. Women would still be second class citizens and the rainbow alphabet people would still be in the closet. But, the leftists simply do not accept that. No monuments to the likes of Harvey Milk and others allowed. Revisionist history will wipe away all of that.

Let’s not stop there, go on and completely revise history while we are at it. Tear down all memorials to any war. Every statue, every monument must go. WWI. WWII, Korea, Viet Nam memorials all must go. The monument to Iwo Jima must be an insult to every American of Japanese ancestry. The monuments for each world war must be an insult to every American of German, Russian, or Italian ancestry too. And, we also need to remove every battleship or floating museum, after all, someone just might get upset if they see one.

Why not simply deny we are a sovereign nation and forget our honor, our integrity, our men and women who fought for that freedom and independence? They are an embarrassment to the leftists, and anyone who believes in what they fought and died for is a racist white supremacist who needs to be lynched for daring to breathe. Let’s just go all the way and destroy our country, turning it into a third world country where only a few are living well.

Oh yes, and we must deny God. We cannot have a belief in the Judea-Christian faith. It must be deleted from existence and denied as a rumor from the past. We must, instead, fear Islam and bow down to it, while we live degenerate, rudderless, selfish lifestyles that cater only to those who disbelieve in all that America was founded on, and until the past twenty years, stood as a beacon to freedom to the world. The leftist would have us be nothing more than mediocre. How dare we strive for excellence. We must be less than others to be accepted.

“Nothing in all the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.” Martin Luther King, Jr. A brilliant deduction of the leftist beliefs. It horrifies me to see the complete lack of understanding of the importance of history and the events that shaped and formed our county. It is because we have experienced the past that we can move forward into the future with confidence and the ability to overcome the negative issues that crippled our country. Anyone who denies the past history is destined to repeat it, over and over and over again.

Yes, slavery was a part of our past as a country. It was awful, and in today’s modern society we condemn it. However, in today’s world slavery is still alive and well in many countries. I don’t see the leftists screaming and rioting about that. I guess it doesn’t really matter since it isn’t in their neighborhood, city, state, or country. There are no rabble rouser paying them to riot on behalf of the mutilated girls and women in Islamic countries, after all.

The greatest President of my generation, Ronald Reagan, said, “Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn’t pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same.” I fear, ladies and gents, that our children are failing and freedom will die with their generation. Our beacon will dim and be snuffed out by self serving, greedy, spoiled people who will never really grow up. Soon, America will become a back world country over run by those who do not want to overcome their past, but who will revel in their disappointments and anger relegating America to nothing more than a day care for the government to babysit. Our moral compass will be constantly stuck on half -assed.

If the leftists like Black Lives Matter and others of their ilk take over and cow the true Americans in our country, we will end. George Washington said, “If the freedom of speech is taken away then dumb and silent we may be led, like sheep to the slaughter.” Oh, but wait, he will not be important, nor will his words or thoughts, because we will have erased all knowledge of our first President via revisionist history. However, the words still ring true for those who want to listen. When we stop standing up against those who would destroy freedom, when we stand quiet and acquiescent, we will be led to the slaughter of the greatest country the world of mankind has ever seen.

So by all means, let us get to it, leftists. But know, that there are still Patriots who will stand against you, and we will not be silenced. Not because we are racists, not because we are filled with hate, not because we are paid to by powers that be, but because we understand and believe that we are One Nation, Under God, and that as such we represent the finest of all attributes. To quote Thomas Jefferson, “Do you want to know who you are? Don’t ask. Act! Action will delineate and define you.“

A Day at the Salon.


Other than a handbag addiction, I am a pretty low maintenance kind of female. Not into clothes, shoes, makeup and all that tripe. But I like to have my nails done. Once a month, costs 31 dollars with tip. I try to go when the shop isn’t busy. That way I avoid the one thing that I loathe dealing with when I get my nails done. Other people’s loud, whiny, grumpy, fighting, crying kids drive me crazy!

If you can’t leave them with a sitter, or bring someone with you to corral your little darlings, don’t come. If you must bring them, at least teach them to behave in pubic. Allowing running screaming through the salon, fighting over who is going to play in the water at the pedicure stations, beating the crap out of each other over whose turn it is to have the phone to play with, or just crying because, darn it, they are tired and just need a nap is NOT good parenting. You also might get the hell off the phone and pay attention to you kids first!

There was a great contrasting example today. Two women, both with three kids come in. One sits her kids down on a sofa, firmly tells them to sit still unless they need to use the bathroom. She handed them coloring books, reading books, and toys, reminded them not to be a bother to others when she was called to the salon area. The other woman came in, ignoring her already fighting kids, loudly demanded to know how long it was going to take to have her nails done and how much it would cost. She then argued about the amount of cost, got on her phone and called another salon and comparison shopped, all the while ignoring her kids running up and down the salon, sliding on the newly polished floor. Unfortunately, she stayed instead of going to the other salon. The workers and owner were visibly dismayed.

The first woman just looked at her kids with the mom look, and they moved closer together and tried to ignore the bratty kids.

Mom number two plopped herself down to wait to have her nails done, kids still fighting and screaming for her attention. Every now and then she would yell at one of the kids, but pretty much ignored them.

Mom number one had her kids well in hand, and they were very well behaved. Then the three brats decided that they wanted the other kid’s books, toys, etc. So they just walked up and took them. The littlest good kid, went over to his mom in tears, but still quietly, and told her what was going on. The brats were breaking crayons, fighting over the book, and one even tore a page from one of the storybooks. (I am gritting my teeth at this point.)

Mom One took one look, walked over and took the books and toys back, and told the brats to leave her kids and their things alone. Not in a mean way, but firmly. Mom Two got in Mom One’s face and called her every name in the book and said she didn’t have the right to correct her kids. Mom One told her to make her kids mind then and to teach them some descent manners and that taking things that didn’t belong to them was stealing. That’s when Mom Two said Mom One needed to teach her kids to share because that stuff belonged to the salon. (God save us from stupid people from the shallow end of the gene pool.)

At that point the salon owner told Mom Two she had to leave because she was causing a problem and her children were out of control. She was told not to return. So Mom Two called the cops. Idiot.

The cops turned up, we all had to make a statement. Mom One was told she was right. Mom Two was told to leave and take her kids with her. She mouthed off about a law suit for discrimination. Everyone laughed. Besides me, one other patron, and the workers, everyone else was black, including the owner.

So, what did the kids learn? Group one, do the right thing, support each other, and they have a strong loving mother. Group two, not a damned thing. Sad.

Anyway, I tipped the salon worker extra for doing a great job in the middle of chaos. Complimented the Mom One on her kids. And cheered with everyone else when Mom Two had to take her brats and leave – without getting her nails done.

Kindness Is NOT A Muscle!


Since we have had a four year old with us all summer, I have had the television on a channel she loves called Sprout during rest time after lunch. (We no longer call it nap time… melt down will ensue.) They have a theme going this summer about kindness.

Basically a good idea to teach about kindness. But they have the jingle they keep using that drives me nuts. “Kindness is a muscle.” Now, anyone who has raised young children know that between the ages of two to about six, everything they hear is taken literally. Sprout is designed for that age group. It didn’t take long for Addie to ask me which muscle on her body was her kindness muscle. (Picture me banging my head on the keyboard.)

So, I had to sit down with her and explain that there isn’t a muscle that makes you kind. Kindness is an act or a behavior that is brought on by compassion, love, and the way you are taught to treat others. It is something that is in your brain and emotions. Some people say from the heart, but that is even more confusing, so we left that for later. She got the concept, after several attempts to explain the kindness muscle.

Then the oddest thing happened, she decided that Sprout was lying to her, and that really ticked her off because she knows that lying is a VERY bad thing. It is unkind, and mean. (Okay, we are really strong about honesty in our house, deal with it.) It was good that she was able to grab the concept of kindness, and it was good that she was able to have an out let for her anger. When she hears that jingle, she gets in front of the television and shouts, “Kindness is NOT a muscles. You nitwit, Kindness is an ACTION!” (Nitwit is an acceptable word in our home too.)

Why an organization like Sprout, who is supposed to understand children who see the world literally would promote an out right lie is beyond me. That means parents who give a flip have to undo the confusion and help kids understand that to some people it isn’t a lie because they see an action as using some sort of muscle. Then explaining that you don’t know why they would say something so wrong, but that people are different and see the world differently. Not two to six year old kids, the world is literal, black and white, and straight forward.

Sprout shows are now recorded, after all, what would life be without Topsy and Time, Sarah and Duck, and Noddy? At least we can fast forward past the inane commercials and PSA nonsense. Back in the dark ages of television, we had Captain Kangaroo and Mr. Green Jeans to explain our complicated world (rabbit is still a carrot stealing rascal). Life was so much easier then. No complex issues past learning to share and being good to others. I am so glad our little Addie Rose would rather read a book, paint a picture, or just play tea party, than sit in front of the television.

We only have her for one more week before we go back to seeing her every other weekend. I think we will just play all week long, to heck with television and nap… ahem… REST time!

 

Feminist or Victimist?


Back in the dark ages of the 1970’s women declared themselves to be feminists by burning their bras, and protesting Viet Nam. They cried, “I am WOMAN, hear me ROAR” while prancing around bare breasted to declare their freedom from oppressive males. Yee Haw, no longer ladies but WOMEN! And a lot of the regular women went along with the hard core man haters as they were bullied and shamed into standing “with the sisterhood.” Personally, I thought the whole thing was silly and embarrassing.

I didn’t need a bunch of females telling me how to be a woman, nor did I need to join a group of man haters and burn my bras to feel free. I didn’t need to have sex with everyone to feel empowered, and I sure as hell was not going to let anyone bully me into being a pathetic follower. I was, and always have been, always will be, a strong, independent minded, fully functional, intelligent, lady. Meaning, I have manners, morals, and a mental altitude geared toward compassion, motherhood, and being a wife and partner to my husband.

However, the hater feminists screamed louder, and the younger set fell for their lies and consummate bullying tactics, and we are now in our third generation of feminist females. I don’t have a clue what women find attractive about that title. More than a few have followed the Gloria group, declaring they deserved to have it all. A partner, kids, and a career that made them feel powerful. That the glass ceiling had to fall, and they would be the generation of women to do it. Yawn… whatever.

What happened is there are generations of kids who were raised in day care instead of their mothers. The women spent their lives torn between career and kids. And if there was time, a moment or two a week with their partner, who still had to work to fulfill the American dream of a home, a car, and two vacations a year. One with and one without the kids. Many longed to stay home, but were pressured by the mantra of the haters to do all and be all – and to be treated just like a man in all ways. Except in a special way. – Politically correct, you know, like they were delicate flowers deep inside.

So, look what we have forty years later. Feminism has turned into Victimism. Women no longer ROAR, they whimper. They no longer burn bras, they think they need to either prance about in a vagina costume, or cover up to support Sharia law. The haters are angry because their plan didn’t work, so they hate men even more, although it is more likely they drove more women away every generation with their vitriol spewing violence. They demand equality, and once they got it, they hated it. Because they weren’t special any longer, but just another cog in the wheel of the working wonks of the world, and that isn’t faaaair…. Be careful what you ask for, it just might bite your right on your ego.

Now, victimism has managed to emasculate every traditional male role, and it has made something as normal as appreciating the beauty of a female body illegal. Feminist flaunted their bodies and told women that it was something they should take pride in showing off. So, women dressed like they were walking sex on display, and now they are whimpering victimists because some guy, or another female, looked at them. Just looked. Well, if you look like a street walker, expect people to see a street walker.

Once, women were treated with respect by benefit of being a female. No longer. We are no longer valued by men as a loving companion, mother, or lover. We are treated just like any other guy, and with less respect than ever. Feminist saw the light in the 1990’s, and decided the way to force their issues was to become victims of Every. Single. Thing. Victimism is the new feminism of the twenty first century. They want fair, but not equal. Fair is not an option in most real life situations. Equal makes them feel demeaned – go figure – and that makes them victimized via being a feminist. Yes, I know, vastly vexing and illogical.

The roaring women of the 1970’s have fallen on hard times. There is no pride in sisterhood, it is every woman out for herself, and the wimpy males that hover in the background are the whipping boys of the future generation of women. Every feminist screamed defiance. Every victimist screams they are demeaned. Listen carefully the next time the likes of Ashley Judd gets in front of a bunch of other females. Hatred, anti male, anti family, anti women who disagree with the agenda, angry, bitter, vitriol spewing victimism all over those who just want to be normal, every day, honest to heaven, women, moms, wives, partners, and most of all happy.

I am not a victim, and I am sure as hell not a feminist. I am a woman, I don’t need to roar, a smile and a chat works wonders to solve issues. Oh, and I quite like men as friends, much more than shrewish victimist females.

Letting Go


It is that time of year again. High school graduation is looming, and prom season is upon us. I am seeing a lot of folks on social media who have kids in their last year of high school, who are young adults, according to the laws of the land, getting ready to head out into the adult world of college and work. Suddenly, all those parents are lamenting that their baby is grown up and leaving them behind.

I didn’t. I mean, sure I would miss them being around all the time, but if you have done your job as a parent correctly, then it is time for junior to head out and grow up. As parents, we only have our children on loan anyway. The goal is to have them become adults with lives and families of their own, no matter what that family looks like. So why all the crying and wailing that they are doing exactly as they are meant to do?

Selfishness, perhaps. A feeling of losing control? Maybe feeling like your purpose is changing and it is something you aren’t ready for, nor is it something that you like? Well, heck, folks, you have had eighteen years to get used to the idea. I wanted my kids to grow up and get on with life.

Of course I worried, because, like most adults, I knew the things out in the world that could hurt them, drag them down, frustrate them, scare them, and annoy them. I knew they would have to pay bills, eat, clothe, and take care of themselves, without mommy and daddy to do it for them. I knew that they would have to figure out how to balance income versus outgo in their bank accounts, I knew they would need to understand credit cards are a financial trap. I knew they would need to understand how taxes work, and that they had to be aware of every penny they would have to pay, and how to do their taxes or who to take them to so they could be done correctly. I knew they would have to learn how to make a deal for a car, and what needed maintenance on a regular basis. I knew they had to know that making a decision about paying a debt or having fun wasn’t really a decision, other than to make sure the debt was paid first.

I knew that my child would no longer be a child to most people, but an adult student or employee. As such, they would be expected to act like an adult. That meant understanding that your boss is not your equal, nor is he or she your friend. Your boss tells you what to do, and like him or her or not, you will do what you are told. An adult works hard, and gets paid for said work. A student, if not paying their own way, is there to learn and do well in school so he or she can get a paying job in a career of their choice. They have one job. Graduate at the end of the four years. To do that, they have to stop playing like teenagers and start studying like it is a job.

If we have done our job as parents correctly, our kids will be ready to leave home and move forward in their lives. From teaching them how to cook, clean, and do laundry to teaching them how to deal with finances, bank books, and car maintenance, it is our job to make sure they know how to do everything an adult needs to do. If you have done that, and they have had part time jobs learning how to function in a work place and in public without being a childish brat, then they know the basics of being an adult. Bravo, you did it!

Now, all they need is more experience. The only place they are going to get that is outside your comfy nest. Be there if they sincerely need help, but encourage them to learn how to deal with life on their own. If they know Mom and Dad will fix everything, they will never learn to trust themselves to make a decision, and they will never truly leave home and become an adult. Let them go, let them learn. Love them as the adults they are and will be. Then go do something fun for yourself. You earned it.

2730 Words


2730 words. That is all he wrote. 2730 words define his poetry and deepest thoughts. So few, yet they say so much. How can it be?

There are fewer words in an obituary, even fewer on a tombstone, summing up most of our lives. We don’t know how the person buried under the soil felt, or what they thought, or what engaged them. And when those that knew them are gone too, all is lost.

It is beyond sad so few of us leave behind any written legacy for our loved ones. A quote, a thought, a story, a remembrance, to hand down from generation to generation sharing and telling the future what the past was all about.

Each of us has a story, lived a life seen only from our perspective. We know things no one else knows, and we share only what is acceptable, easy, and gentle. The hard truth, the pain, the rage, all of those are buried as deep as a coffin, shame.

2730 words are the legacy of my son. Something to share, no matter how painful, with all those who loved him, and all those who will never meet him in this life. It was an honor to put his words together for those who will come after.

Twenty Senior Moment Thoughts


  1. The moments after you wake up and nothing hurts, and suddenly you think you might be dead.
  2. You can’t argue with someone who doesn’t have on his hear aids.
  3. Telling your grandchildren how things used to work in your world compared to their world leaves them thinking you are either a liar, or crazy.
  4. Food isn’t nearly as interesting as it used to be, especially if you have to do the cooking.
  5. Getting to the the bathroom and back in the middle of the night without hurting yourself, tripping on a pet or shoes, or stubbing your toe on the bed frame is considered a victory.
  6. Taking a shower without someone else in the house to help if you fall is a daring thing.
  7. Running is not an option. Don’t care how big and scary it is. Not happening.
  8. No one cares if you suck in your stomach, because people actually look at your face to see if you can their read lips.
  9. You can say anything you want, no one dares take on the ticked off old lady.
  10. If you have your walker with you, people let you go to the front of the line. Really. They do.
  11. You can tell other people’s bratty kids to stop behaving like a brat. It scares the crap out of the kids, and embarrasses the parents.
  12. When someone young complains about how hard life is, you can mock them by telling them, “Child, you have NO idea how hard life can really be.”
  13. Going out means going to the grocery or out to eat so you don’t starve. Otherwise, why bother.
  14. Music from your era is now elevator music. Scary to hear “Taking Care of Business” played with violins and muted horns. Very scary.
  15. It is easier to relate to old people. I mean really old people, like your parents old.
  16. It is harder to relate to your grandchildren or great grandchildren because, well, they just don’t get interpersonal relationships. They have techno friends instead.
  17. Language doesn’t mean what it used to mean. Slang has evolved into everyday speech, and proper English has disappeared in conversations.
  18. Try explaining how short cut words and TEXT speech are impossible to say out loud, do it often enough that it drives kids nuts. R U does not spell ARE YOU. Really, it doesn’t.
  19. It no longer matters if you wear pajamas all day long. It is just practice for the day you are in a nursing home or left at the funny farm.
  20. Being grumpy and ticked off is the best way to get your daily aerobic exercise for your heart. Less sweaty too.

I Will NOT Feel Guilty About Christmas Gifts.


I saw a meme on Facebook today that left me speechless, for all of four seconds, then I was totally ticked off. I do NOT like it when people try to manipulate me in any way, and this was exactly what the meme was trying to do.

Basically, it calls people on the carpet for buying nice gifts for their children and labeling them from Santa Claus. Because, after all, some other child might not get anything as nice as a laptop or phone, they may only get gloves and a scarf or something less expensive from the man in red. Therefore, those of us who give our kids something from ‘Santa’ that is more expensive will cause hurt feelings if they share what they got with those less fortunate. In other words, we have to limit what we spend on our kids, or we are guilty of flaunting our wealth, and that makes us evil people.

Quite frankly, that is a load of bull$*(*#!!! If you have kids young enough to believe in Santa, they won’t give a flip how expensive the gift is, because it will be from Santa! That is all that matters. If they are old enough to know the cruel truth of who bought them the gift, then they won’t be upset because it will be from you no matter what name is on the package. Sometimes the logic of the knee jerk emotional response people baffles me. No, the logic of such people always baffles me.

Why would it be my responsibility how your child reacts to what my child receives for Christmas or any other time a gift is offered? I don’t expect you to buy your children’s gifts based on my income or what my child might want. It is utterly ludicrous to suppose that anyone should be involved in gift giving between myself, my children or grandchildren but us.

Everyone knows Christmas comes around every December 25th. Everyone knows that we give gifts to one another in remembrance of the gift we received from God in the Savior, and in the gifts the Magi gave to the Christ child. We know it is coming all year long. I do not understand why everyone waits until the last possible minute to recognize the expense, whether in dollars or time and effort, that will be added to the budget. So let me explain how we do things.

In January, I take my empty Christmas money jar, and start putting back as much as I can from my budget. Some months it is more, some less. I have a goal of one hundred dollars per child or grandchild, a bit less for the babies as they are happy with wrapping paper and boxes until about the age if two. I also factor in things like baking goods, baskets, and wrapping paper to the fund. As I save each month, I start a file from each kid or grandchild about the things that they are interested or would like to have. It gives me a bare bones budget from which to work.

Around the end of October, I start shopping in earnest. I look for sales, coupons, two for one sales, any way to save money and still buy them what they want. It doesn’t matter if it comes from Santa or me, each gift is carefully chosen and paid for with CASH. No debt here, thank you very much. By Christmas, I have spent my savings, prepared goodie baskets for my friends and neighbors, wrapped all the gifts, and have everything set for a family dinner.

Even on a limited income, this can work as long as you are diligent about saving and keeping the funds for Christmas. The trick is to be determined not to waste the funds on other things. If it is in the Christmas jar, nothing short of a life and death situation will get it out of the jar before Christmas. My point is, that anyone can give their children nice things, if they want to work hard enough for it.

Sure I will go without other things, and maybe I won’t have that extra whatever I wanted, but at the end of the day, did I really need it? How many pairs of shoes, or handbags, or goodies does one need to be healthy? Not too many. I would rather see my granddaughter’s face light up with joy at her “Santa” present, or have a heart felt hug from my son for the item he has wanted for a long time, but didn’t want to spend money on with a family to feed.

So, back to the meme, get over it people. No one is responsible for your family but you. My family comes first, and what I have left over, I share willingly and for as far as I can stretch it. Maybe it will only be a basket of Christmas cookies and muffins, but it is given with love and appreciation to my friends and family.

Don’t try to manipulate or guilt people into shame for doing well, working hard, and giving generously, be it from “Santa” or from Nana and Papa. It makes you look inept, immature, and impractical. It used to be people stood up for themselves, they didn’t expect everyone else to feel sorry for them and make life easy. Be honest with your children. They aren’t stupid, they know if you are wealthy or if you are barely making it. So, work hard, save hard, give with love, and teach your children to do the same.

How Did I Get So Old So Darned Fast?


Today I turned 62 years old. I think that qualifies me as older than dirt. I know it qualifies me as a senior citizen. What I want to know is how it happened so darned fast. Just a few weeks ago, I swear I was trying to figure out the whole concept of being an adult.

When I turned nine, I remember it well, because my parents gave me a copy of Huckleberry Finn. The first real book I remember ever getting. I still have it. And I took time to re-read it not too long ago. When I turned 17, I was a married woman of a whole three months. I remember thinking I had it all, and knew it all, and wasn’t afraid to face everything life would throw at me. I was a grown woman, and by heaven I knew it all. Arrogance knows no bounds to a 17 year old.

When I turned 20, I had a three month old son, he was taking me down a peg or two in arrogance, and teaching me that being a grown woman was harder than it looked. Being a mother certainly was harder. Little did I know that by the time I turned 22, I would have a second baby boy and life was set on fast forward for the next twenty years or so.

I don’t remember many spectacular birthdays. They seem to blend together. However, I remember when I turned 30, my two best friends kidnapped me, drove me all over Harrison, Arkansas for a few hours, then took me out to eat at a steak place. When I walked in, almost the entire church ward, most of my Boy Scout Leader friends, and many others turned up for a surprise party. I was totally shocked. Not a clue slipped out from anyone. Back then, there were no cell phones, so no one was able to tip me about the kidnapping or anything. It was great! I was fully embarrassed, but it was the slickest thing anyone has ever pulled on me. Candy, and Edie Mae , I have not forgotten, and I will get even one day.

The best gifts my husband gave to me are: The Elton John Concert in Hong Kong, The Michael Buble concert in Memphis, and my beautiful blue Honda Del Sol sports car, I call Posh. Treasured memories, and one of the most fun toys I have EVER had.

Once our boys moved out and on with their lives, and we got custody of Crystal, we decided to move to Europe, and then around the world, using employment opportunities to set off on our next adventure. When it was time to move on to the next new home, it was always on my birthday. We were either moving into a place, or packing to move out of a place – or in accommodations between places. Since it was either a sad time, or an exciting time, there was never time to pay much attention to celebration. One exception, however, was when we were living in Hong Kong. The other moms with children Crystal’s age who attended the same international school as Crystal took me to lunch. It was a fabulous time, and each gift is still something I use today, or wear today. They are part of my treasure horde. Of course, tea in the plaza after school every day was special too. Sigh, I miss you all.

I guess I was busy having a life, and simply didn’t notice time sneaking past at such a rapid rate. Technology has overtaken the simple pleasures, and I miss that. I miss being the mom of growing boys (before teenage hell set in). I miss the summers at the swimming hole with Edie Mae and her girls, and Candy and her boys along with me and my kids. I miss the Plaza with the ladies there and their kids, I miss the women in London and Nottingham, and I miss the dear friends in New Zealand, especially Leah who was more than willing to give me a kick in the attitude when I needed one most. I miss being young and strong physically even if I am old and stronger emotionally and have more wisdom.

The older I get, the less it matters if we celebrate my birthday or not. It is a day I do a lot of reflection on my life. Since it is so close to Christmas, and the anniversary of my baptismal date this month, there always seems to be more important things to focus on. Especially, for me, spiritual matters.

But I still don’t understand how I got from 22 to 62 so darned fast! The upside, is now I have grandchildren, and great grandchildren to love and spoil. I have a husband of 45 years, who has grown up and old with me. And who can still carry on a conversation and debate over all sorts of interesting topics with me, Who still, after all this time, wants to have adventures with me. So, I guess the real trade off of getting old, is that I have had a great life, get to do so much more, and know that life is still full of adventures.

Come Christmas Time


I am one of the odd ducks that happens to be fully ambidextrous and, according to all the tests I took in college, I have a brain that is exactly balanced between the right and left sides of the brain. What this means, actually, is I spend more time figuring out which hand to use to do what task, and I argue with myself on almost every single issue.

Emotions in public embarrass me, so that makes logic a good choice, except emotional people think I am cold and unfeeling because I give a logical response. If others get emotional, with good reason, I have empathy for them, but I probably won’t join them in a crying jag, hysteria, or temper tantrum. On the other hand, or side, I get hurt and angry, and I am capable of having a tantrum, I just usually turn to sarcasm, facts, and downright snobby rhetoric to let others know how upset I am.

The biggest battle I face with myself, is admitting that I am such a softie when it comes to anything to do with children, my family, my country, my religion. I can be brought to tears just hearing the National Anthem, and nothing gets to me like seeing a flag flying against the sky. Only years of self control has kept me from breaking out singing God Bless America at a flag raising. See, Embarrassing.

I love my family. I have the most wonderful children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and all the steps and add on family that comes with them. I have a husband of 45 years who has grown old with me that I love in more ways than I can say. I am deeply proud of all of them, even the one that has gone on before us brings me pride and joy. I admit, blushing, that when I see them do something that brings them joy, I have to fight tearing up. After all, they don’t want to see an old, weepy lady sobbing all over them. So I have learned to suck up the tears and smile with pride, and enjoy their achievements. Holding a grandchild for the first time is magical, sacred, and fulfilling in a way only a parent can understand. It is a continuation of all that we are. But, I never cry, nor do I laugh out loud, the logic side keeps me under control enough to be excited, but calm. None of that means I don’t feel emotion, I am just more comfortable with keeping it close and personal.

Music brings me to deep emotions, especially music that speaks to my religious being. My country and all that it was founded on is as much a part of me as my name. That patriotic belief comes from my ancestors who both founded the United States, and those that were here to meet the ships as they came in.

So, as I sit here with my fifty-fifty brain, we are once again embarking on Christmas and all it means to me. I secretly LOVE Christmas. I start planning gifts and decorations in mid-summer, and can hardly wait until Thanksgiving is over to begin my Christmas plans. I love the bright lights, glittery decorations, brightly wrapped packages, Christmas trees, baking, and all that goes into it the family traditions that our melded family celebrates. It makes me HAPPY!

On the emotional side, I love the deeply religious meaning of this time of year. The sacred music, the beautiful story of the birth of Christ, the amazing story of Mary, mother of the Savior, and the abiding love of Joseph for both of them makes me feel filled with love and understanding for all other mothers and fathers. Though our struggles may be different, we, as parents, have same love for our children.

This is the one time of the year I tell my logical side to zip it and take a holiday. Oh, I allow it control when it comes to things like planning how much I need of what to get things done, and I allow it free reign with finding the best deals for gifts, but otherwise, it stays out of things. This is the time of year I can cry, laugh, and rejoice without feeling embarrassed, or out of control.

Yep, being one of those few that struggle with an ambidextrous brain and body, is not easy. But come Christmas time, only one side is in control. God Bless You One and All, may your dreams come true, and may you rejoice in all the love of Christmas and all it means.