Saturday, May 23, 2020

Airwolf (posted on WordPress 01/20/2017)

Do you remember the TV show Airwolf? It was one of our family favorites with fairly clean language, adventure, clothing, and the star was a flying machine. A parents dream program...something for every age group. With the characters played by the easy-on-the-eyes Jan Michael Vincent and the lovable Ernest Borgnine, it was a pleasing program.

The sound of that state-of-the-art helicopter was absolutely unforgettable...we all loved it. Not so much, however, in real life...

We lived in a huge old farm-house

Together Into That Dark Night (first posted online on 01/20/2017)

It is with some misgiving that I greet this day. The person taking oath as the president of the United States today does not inspire me with confidence.  Just the opposite; I've heard him say things and act in a way that is commensurate with the way others I have personally known acted in the early stages of Alzheimer's.  If this is indeed the case, then who will actually be running America? Please let it be someone with more experience than Trump.

I'm glad the weather here is dark and somber, it fits the bill and mirrors my mood. I have never been this afraid. I have grown up in an America where I believed the leaders truly had my best interests at heart. Now I fear the leaders have my quick demise as their foremost agenda. There is so much talk of ending Social Security, Medicare & Medicaid that the older population in this country will be doomed if that comes into play.

This is a dark day to be an American. The weather agrees. Countries around the world also agree and are not honoring his presidency as legitimate. Thank you to all of them.


Age Changes Things... (first posted online on 01/20/2017)

I know it isn't just me, although there are times when I wonder, noticing how time changes things...behaviors, physicality, beliefs, ideas, what seems important....etc.

A friend texted me today. It's been a long time since I've heard from this friend. I contacted her a year and three months ago regarding the death of a mutual friend's husband. She said they had grown apart and she felt no need to attend the service since they were no longer close. That made me sad. I wondered then how people can just let another person slide away from them. I wondered once or twice if she'd felt compelled to send a sympathy card or if that too, had slipped far enough away to seem irrelevant.

Today she contacted me, I'm not really sure why. She wrote that her life has been a whirlwind (which she imagined I was aware of via Facebook). That made it very clear to me that she no longer (if ever) follows me because I am so rarely on Facebook a follower/friend would have missed my online presence it would seem. Are we so caught up in banality and the constant stream of information that we are no longer aware when someone goes missing?

If you are expecting me to be aware of what is going on in your life because you've posted it on Facebook, be aware that I am highly unlikely to see anything posted on Facebook unless you text me immediately to inform me to check it. So, two things immediately came to mind...

1) who posts such personal stuff on Facebook? and 

2) if you have time to post on Facebook, why wouldn't you have time to call a friend or text a friend on a regular basis? 

I texted none of this to her, and I debated doing so, I also debated asking if she had time for a phone call...but I was busy and was rather resenting the intrusion into my day, much the way I do when the telemarketers get fired up at their phones.

She briefly brought me up to date with a major event in her life and I found myself wondering why bother? If it isn't worth a phone call, the contact with a human voice with nuance and tone, if it only merits a brief text message, why bother? And if it was really worth the telling, I would still have to ask, "Why now?" Nearly two years have passed since we saw each other last. After six months of my phone calls going unanswered and un-returned, I finally gave up.

Everything has a season and a reason for being. With the pain of heartache and grief, I relinquished the friendship I had treasured and moved on. Is there a pre-approved time limit for moving on? The friend who lost her husband over a year ago, is moving on slowly, I have moved on a bit more quickly, but then, it wasn't a "death" but an "ignoring". What is the acceptable time limit for that? Is there one? Did I not give it enough time? Do I owe her more than an obligatory and polite, "Hi, how've you been?" if we meet in public?

As I answered her texts as briefly as was polite, I felt more-and-more miffed at the intrusion. I was trying to work and every few minutes I had to stop, pick up my phone again, read the newest text and try to respond in a kindly  manner. Out of respect for the deep friendship we'd shared years ago, I didn't want to offer anything she could pick up and take as offense, so I tried to be careful and noncommittal. I told her I was happy she was happy. There's nothing more I can add to that other than, enjoy your life, good day.

For years I have said that if anything happens to my marriage I would never get married again and probably would never even have a "boyfriend." I don't want to spend countless hours memorizing someone else's family and dramas or having to help someone learn mine. Years of, "No, honey, that was Robert, this is Anthony, Robin's middle child, no nooo, Robin is the one who worked at the drug store, remember? Anthony married the bookkeepers, ex's daughters, friend's daughter. I know it's confusing, you'll get the hang of it." It makes me shudder! (And BTW, those are all made up names and instances...but you get my drift.)

Well, after limited contact the last three years culminating in no contact for the last 15 months, this relationship feels much the same as that. I know there has been a tremendous lot that has gone on in my life and I imagine the same for her and I really don't want to try to catch up now. It doesn't matter enough, and yet, it's too much to just pick up and move forward from here because the gaps are just too big. That's where the sad came into play...I realized that if you don't use it, you do lose it. I fought to keep the friendship alive, but with only me trying, it died. I mourned it, buried it, and now I've moved on.

I was on the verge of feeling angry about her contacting me after all this time. And I thought about calling a mutual friend of ours and realized, wow! I hadn't talked to her in almost a year, either. I know, I know, at this point you're thinking its me....and you might be right, but I don't think so, other than I tend to pick the same kind of people for friends and this is where it's gotten me.

Anyway, I picked up my phone to call her and ask for a reality check to see if it was just me being bitchy or if I really was justified in feeling what I was feeling when I realized, wait a minute! She did the same thing to me! She was the one who told me to stop calling the text-er because she clearly wasn't interested in keeping the friendship alive. That people come and go in our lives for a reason and we need to be able to let them go when they have served their purpose. That is the way Spirit (not my term) has things set up so that we can get the help we need when we need it most, but we have to let go too.

Then she got busy with men in her life and no longer had time to talk to me and never called back and then, never called. Never made any effort whatsoever. When she was coming to visit the old homestead I arranged a lunch date with her and a mutual friend. I kept at it and made it work. No talk before or after, just during the lunch where she said, "I don't know why we don't talk anymore, we need to." And I just looked at her and thought, "I know why". But we are getting older and I was a little worried that maybe she's starting to have memory problems... . So, I let it go then, I let it go today, and then I started thinking wait, this is a good lesson, a good warning to others...friendships are important and they are necessary. They are also living organisms so if you don't take care of them, they die.

I have two people who used to be very dear, beloved and intimate friends who are now strangers to me. I tried. Repeatedly. I don't give up easily. But today, I realized I am a bit angry with both of these women who probably have no idea how long it's been and who are so wrapped up in their own lives that they couldn't bother with me, not a phone call, not a text, nothing. And yet, clearly at least one of them feels certain they can just pick up like it's the next day. It's not the next day. It's been over a year. I'm not willing to "be there" for you anymore. If I mattered, you should have taken better care of our friendship while it was alive.

So....here's the lesson...I feel like Mr. Peabody at this moment...

If you value someone as a friend, make it a point to keep that friendship alive. It takes two people to keep it active. If you can't be bothered today because you are busy or tired, that's fine, but don't be surprised when you finally contact them in a year or two to find out they've moved on and the friendship is done. Dead. Buried. Mourned. 

Over.

I have learned to be self-sufficient and entertain myself quite nicely. I like who I am, and I think I am too valuable to be put on a shelf until someone has time for me. Either I matter enough to be a part of your life everyday or I don't, but I won't sit on hold for months on end. I don't think anyone should. I don't know how many years I have left, maybe ten, twelve...who knows, but I have found a multitude of things to do and my time is precious. I won't waste it on those who didn't want anything to do with me until they were bored...or whatever.

So...go out and feed your friendships and any other relationships that matter to you.

Namaste.

 

A Feeling of Dread (first posted online on 01/19/2017)

Only one (1) more day can I wake up with the comforting thought, "Obama is still my President." On Saturday morning I will not be able to think that, and that thought alone makes my chest grow tight and breathing becomes difficult.

I believe in the power of energy, words and thought so I try to keep my thoughts, my words and my energy positive and upbeat. I try to concentrate on all the beauty in this world, on all the wonderful people there are here (and by here I mean all around the globe).

Then I open my email and receive this:

Sexual Assault !!! (first posted online on 01/15/2017)

In 1973, when I was still a young wife and new mom, I had a very unpleasant experience that qualifies as sexual assault even though it was not nearly as invasive as others have suffered. With that said, it has still affected me emotionally and psychologically for over 40 years, and that just isn't fair. I'd be willing to bet

Republican Congress & Faulty Memories - (first published online on 01/14/2017)

Seriously! I watched Paul Ryan give a very heated speech about the 1000+ pages of "Obama Care" and actually give the democrats in Congress and the still sitting President Obama grief over all the extra garbage attached to the Affordable Health Care Act AS IF they put it there!!!!

HOLD ON a cotton pickin' minute here Mr. Ryan!!!!!

Abandoned School & Curious Kids (first posted online on 01/07/2017)

In 1963 or '64 there was an abandoned school house just a few yards from where I lived. Far enough away to be safe from the prying eyes of adults if we were careful, but close enough that we kids had to keep our exuberance under control. The lot was fenced along three sides, but the front was open and there were huge gaps in the fence along the back allowing easy access to small bodies. The lot was overgrown with tall grasses and weeds that were almost as tall as I was by the end of August.

The building itself was yellow brick, and had been

The Enlightenment Project - (first posted online - 01/02/2107)

It took 61 years for me to reach this age and now...only now, do I learn that there has been an "Enlightenment Project" going on for hundreds of years! Why hasn't the lame-stream media covered this? I began reading the "Atheist Manifesto" by Michael Onfray last night as part of my decision to begin reading in earnest again, even if it means new glasses. This morning, I read that there was, and is, an ongoing thing called The Enlightenment Project that consist of many papers written but not compiled. There are even written arguments against The Enlightenment Project.

As far as I can tell, the original concept of

Shabby Practice (originally posted online

Welcome 2017!

Happy New Year! A new year. Another year. An uncertain year perhaps...but isn't every future uncertain?

The blog I began a year ago, this blog, did not see me every week as I had planned. My writing practice went by the wayside thus this post title. I promise to do

Nothingness (first posted online on 09/19/2016)

Some of you will be too young to remember taking a crisp white piece of paper and rolling it into a typewriter, snapping the guide bar over it, the ratcheting sound of rolling it into place to begin your first sentence......

Why Can't You See That I'M Right?!?!?! (posted online on 08/04/2016)

Wow! Election year certainly seems to get a whole lot of people fired up emotionally, doesn't it? Every four years I go into this thinking, "This year it'll be different, people are older, wiser, and no one I know is going to get emotionally caught up in this." Yep. You guessed it. Every four years I am wrong.

Orlando...Kalamazoo...and all the rest. My sympathy to all...(first posted online - 07/13/2016)

Tragedy strikes again.

People killed.

People injured.

Shock!

Grief!

People's lives changed forever by loss.

The same old arguments ensue. Blame

Attention! Calling All Inventors...(first posted online - 06/25/2016)

As I sit here, suffering from a summer cold (blechkt! the worst!) I have solved the world energy crisis.

Now that I have the perfect fuel and the free source...I need an inventor or inventors who can figure out the specifics.

Are we happy slaves? (first posted online - 06/12/2016)

This morning, (at the time I began writing this) a friend posted something on Facebook that reminded me of a topic I wanted to blog about earlier (I get sidetracked easily)...I will post the link to this blog to her Facebook post

Celeste (first posted online - 03/21/2016)

Over eleven years ago I spent nearly a month having a visitor every night after I'd gone to sleep. It felt as if I was falling asleep and immediately being met by a beautiful little girl with dark golden curls and grey eyes who called me "grandma". She was such a lively little thing, full of energy and excitement. She would grab my hand and

Buzzards (first posted onlinbe - 03/24/2016)

Interesting birds, buzzards. I've seen them soaring aloft for most of my life but never in the numbers I have since moving to my current home. I remember hearing about the buzzards circling over something dying from the old westerns like "Gunsmoke", "Paladin", which it appears was actually called "Have Gun Will Travel",  "Bonanza".  I knew it was how you could find someone who had wandered off and was in peril from either "Sea Hunt", "High Noon", or "Lassie"...maybe from all of them.

1880 or 2016? 136 Years of Women's Exploitation? (First posted online on 05/12/2016)

In this cool old book, "Buckeye Cookery and Practical Housekeeping"  the preface starts off with "Fortunately it is becoming fashionable to economize," In my local community, in the past couple of years, there have been several events started that aim, or aimed, at helping homemakers learn how to economize while creating a pleasant home experience.  "and housekeepers are really finding it a pleasant pastime to search out and stop wastes in household expenses," Are they really? Is it a pleasant pastime or is it a necessity? I think in today's economy, most homemakers would claim it to be a necessity. And evidently, it is a long lived necessity and one that is even profitable. If it weren't such a popular topic I doubt that Martha Stewart could have built a financial empire on it and that FlyLady would have been hard put to follow in her footsteps. Up-and-comer, Rachel Ray, is on the scene with an ever increasing popularity in those interested in cooking. "and to exercise the thousand little economies which thoughtful and careful women understand so readily and practice with such grace."

Prince...A Farewell (first posted online - 04/27/2016)

Prince.

I never met the man, never attended a live performance, and yet...

even so....

there is a deep sadness in my heart at his passing.

This surprises me a little. Why would I feel so sad, and

Killer Phone Calls (first published online - 04/13/2016)

Seriously....

This has been stuck in my craw for a couple of months now. I thought I could just let it go, but I can't. Mainly because this could potentially cost someone their life and I can't live with that possibility so I have to do what I can to get the word out about this.

I had a caller that tied up my only phone for about an hour before

Whistle While You Work...(first published - 04/1/2016)

When I was a kid I used to love that first week of summer vacation. It was the best of all the weeks of the year. Even though I missed my friends at school and my friends on the bus there were things that I only got to experience fully during that first few days of summer vacation and that made that week so special.

We lived at the top of a long hill. Even most of the back yard was downhill. Down the hill from us on the other side of the house, was a barn full of smallish wooden crates (that we used to play in even though we were told repeatedly not to)and a small room where powdered chemicals in big paper bags were stored until they were needed to spray the fruit trees. That room had a very distinctive smell that I can still recall all these years later. But, I digress…continuing downhill were a cold-storage, various outbuildings, a church, a very small community library, several homes, another fruit farm with a barn and cold-storage, etc., and other homes and buildings and land and a small road before the main road about two miles away where the land flattened out for a while before going back uphill again.

We had single-pane, single-hung windows in our old farmhouse. That meant that in the winter, as often as not, I'd wake up to snow on the foot of my bed. We had a coal fed hot water furnace. Every night just before going to bed, Grandpa would "bank" the fire so that there would be hot coals in the morning to quickly start a new fire in the furnace. So, while it meant that the house got warm faster in the morning, it meant that the house, and the radiators, got really cold during the night. As I understand it, “banking the fire” meant that he would keep less oxygen from reaching the fuel supply (coal) either by partially covering the coals with ash or by adjusting the flue grates or maybe it was a combination of both. Now that it’s far too late, I wish I’d asked him about that. Grandpa would get up at 5:00 A.M. (at least that’s what I thought, but to be fair to him, it could have been three in the morning for all I knew) to go down into the basement and fuel up the furnace so that the radiators would feel warm to the touch by the time I got up. Even though the air would still often be frigid, at least I could sit on the radiators and put my clothes on them so that when I got dressed, the clothes were warm. 

It also meant that when I got out of bed I would need to brush the snow off of the bed so that it couldn’t melt on my bed and get it wet all the way through to the mattress because that would still be wet when the house went cold again. I think I was about twelve when we got the gas furnace and the days of coal were done. I remember how luxurious it felt at first to have warmth all the time, and then I missed the cold while I slept. And now, I find myself returning to my childhood roots by going into a spare bedroom and closing the door on those cold winter nights and opening a window a crack and snuggling down into a ton of blankets and sleeping in there. I love being all burrowed into a pile of warm blankets and quilts with cold air in my face. I sleep the deep sleep of youth without a care in the world. It is such a restful and wonderful slumber.

During warm weather, I would slide the bottom pane up and insert a wood-framed metal screen in, the screen would adjust side-to-side to fit the opening and the window sash would come down to hold the screen in place. This allowed me to let in the fresh air while keeping out the bugs. My bedroom was on the second story in the southeast corner of the house. One window was over the front porch roof and faced the road, the other faced east and was a long drop to the ground. My bed was against the wall so that I looked out the east window and it was the one that was usually open when the weather allowed. Just down the hill between my room and the storage was a beautiful old Russian Olive tree. It had long, silvery green leaves, tiny black berries in summer but in the spring, and during that first week of summer vacation, it had flower blossoms.

On summer vacation, those first few mornings when I was allowed to wake up on my own, I can still remember coming back to consciousness, s-l-o-w-l-y. First, was the awareness of light on the other side of my eyelids; then the awareness that the light was warm and that the warmth was on my nose, my lips, the mountain fold where my lips meet my facial skin; my cheeks; the valley hollow where my cheek skin transitions toward the rim of my lower eyelids. Then as my awareness expands the light and its warmth is also brushing against my forearms, right calf and foot. My toes wiggle in delight of the warmth and freedom inviting the toes of my left foot to join them.

As I continue to wake, along with the warmth of the sun against my skin comes the further awareness of a coolness brushing along my skin here-and-there as if under the control of a master water-colorist whose light touch flits across the surface, and with it comes the most delicious aroma as the sense of smell awakens…that wonderful scent of the Russian Olive tree that to this day I still remember with great love.

Immediately upon that realization comes the sense of hearing waking up as I hear the bees buzzing, the birds singing their greeting into the morning, a tractor in the distance roars into life and there, in the distance, a sound I realize I am very happy to hear. It is a spluttering, chugging, purring sort of sound…the milk truck! Oh wow! The milk truck was coming! Back in those days, our milk was delivered by the milkman. Yes, seriously. (As an adult, I learned that my babysitter had been, of all people, the milkman's wife. Yes, I know that would be amazing fodder for Whoopi Goldberg and I am sure I would love to hear what she would/could do with all that. I am not a comedienne so anyone reading this who knows Whoopi, feel free to send her a link to this blog post, I'll be happy to sign a release for her to use the info. But, for the time being, I am simply going to share the lighter, sweeter side of the milk man's tale.) On our ample front porch (which ran across the entire front of the house) was a silver colored box, not noticeable from the road because of the bushes that grew in front of the porch. This silver box, well, more accurately perhaps, I should call it a metallic box because it was dull silvery color, because then, as now, silver wasn’t cheap. It was, most likely tin. So, our silvery tin box was insulated, and the milkman would put our order in there so it would stay ‘fresh’ until someone could bring it into the house and fridge as soon as possible.

As I lay there, still with my eyes closed, I heard the truck come to a stop, the brakes made a  squealing noise, there was a thumpety-thump-thump as the milk man exited the truck, and then his whistling, and then the sound of the back door of the truck sliding open the clinking of glass, then the clinking and jangling of glass against metal as he walked, whistling a tune and the thumpety -thump-thump-thump up our four steps and more jingling-jangling as he took the empty bottles out of our milk-box and put the full ones in, then the same sounds in reverse as he left, all the while whistling.

Whistling! And not just random whistle sounds, either...songs! Melodies and harmonies and stuff you could've sung along with. Whistling while he worked! The whole time! Everyday! I never heard any other grownups whistle while they worked. Ever! Much less every day. Well, except Cinderella and even though I was a kid I knew she wasn’t real. The milkman must be the happiest person on the whole earth! And being a milkman must be the best job on the whole earth! When I grew up, I was going to be the first milk-woman in the world.

I couldn't wait to get up and run downstairs to see what goodies were in that box! Milk for sure - for cereal and cooking. Usually there would also be eggs and butter, and cream for coffee. Sometimes there would be orange juice and whipping cream or even ice cream when they knew I would be awake to bring it in right away. Such great times.

Well, I never drove a milk truck, but I have done some jobs that I really loved and if I'd ever mastered the art of whistling a tune, there are some that I certainly would've whistled through all day long. And as unbelievable as it may be, one of my very favorite was literally shoveling sh**. Yes, I did a stint as a stable hand and that meant cleaning (such a ladylike term for using a pitchfork to pick up) horse dung and wet spots out of the sawdust in the stalls. I loved the animals and I loved giving those magnificent beasts a clean place to live, eat and sleep. Most of them were very appreciative. I loved them all.

milk-man

I don't know who this fellow is, this is a photo off the World Wide Web,not one representing my particular milk man or the dairy that was local to us.

First Published on WordPress on 04/11/2016

Plagiarism? Who?...Me?

When I was quite young there was a movie that came on the television that starred a very pretty lady (who was very mysterious) and Jimmy Stewart (the leading man). I recognized him from other movies I liked. I didn't know the name of the movie but it was about a lady who had a little shop that must have been pretty busy because I remember the little bell over the door rang a lot. And there was a black cat named Pyewacket. When I grew up, I found a black kitten in the parking lot of the grocery store one night,

Easter

What makes Easter sweet for you? Are you still following time honored family traditions or have you created your own? Why or why not?

In my memories, Easter was a sweet time of anticipation and excitement. It was synonymous with the word "hunt." Not only did we hunt for Easter eggs, but for our Easter baskets. These were a big wicker or straw basket, wrapped in colored

StoRies

You can't know what you don't know. I live by those words.

And I also am a firm believer in speaking positive words to people. I think it helps them reach their full potential.

I know that I have been blessed with a lot of people who tell me how smart I am. Today, I think I learned that maybe that isn't such a good thing either (I am chuckling as I write that.) Late this morning I decided, after only about an hour of research, that I was smart enough to set up a website on

Old Dog, New Tricks...or...grrrrr

You can't know what you don't know. I live by those words.

And I also am a firm believer in speaking positive words to people. I think it helps them reach their full potential.

I know that I have been blessed with a lot of people who tell me how smart I am. Today, I think I learned that maybe that isn't such a good thing either (I am chuckling as I write that.) Late this morning I decided, after only about an hour of research, that I was smart enough to set up a website on