Tom Petty said it best:
“The waiting is the hardest part.”
It’s true in everything.
We are always waiting.
…For test results
…For the answer to our prayer
…For the cable guy (or any service person we need to repair what is broken)
…For the truth
…For “the one”
…For the phone call
…For good news
…For a miracle
…For the opportunity
…For IT to fix the computers
…For recognition
…For forgiveness
…For the letter, the phone call, the e-mail, the package
...For many, many, many, many things.
Think about it.
Right now.
What are you waiting for?
I spent years at my former job waiting for the promotion that never came. (Oh, there were promotions but never the one I truly wanted.) The recognition was there, the appreciation, the kudos, even the bonuses. But never the elevation, title and salary increase I truly thought came with hard work, dedication and commitment. They gave me opportunities, paid for my college and placed me on teams where my talents were better utilized. (Why pay a programmer in India when I could build the database you need for a fraction of the cost?) It was never enough.
At my former job, the opportunity to become a more integral part of my work world finally arrived. They called it a “developmental opportunity” which is business language for “you’re going to take on this new role because you have caught our attention and we know you can handle it. It will be more work for you, beneficial for us and there will be no increase in your salary at this time. We are giving you this honor to assist in your development. This will be an opportunity for you to develop yourself into a new role. A better role.”
So I took a deep breath and let the smile slowly unfold across my face until it hurt, and my eyes brightened and widened and then I said, “THANK YOU!”
(As it turned out, this was all for naught!)
Additionally, I should feel honored and recognized for my tremendous contributions! Longer hours and no salary increase. Wow. It’s like a nightmare come true.
And once again, I said, “thank you!”
While in the midst of this overwhelming, same paying, high expectation of an opportunity came to fruition - I was later (much later) informed the job I was being “groomed” for would be out of state. Most of you know the story. If not, you’ve figured it out all by yourself.
There was, for me, at this particular juncture in my life, only one viable option. Hang on for six month in order to get the severance payment. So I did.
I took my severance, my iPhone, and my brand new beginning and landed myself a brand new job ALL BY MY BRAND NEW SELF.
Less than 2 years later, with my brains and abilities duly noted by my new employer, I am proud to say I just received a promotion, salary increase and am hiring an assistant. Not bad.
There was no posting for the job.
The job was simply created.
For me.
And so sometimes it is true - when one door closes, another opens. I am grateful for the recognition, the promotion, the salary increase and the opportunity to make a difference in a company that has recognized I have the ability to do so.
I’m still waiting for a few things in life, but as a dear friend of mine always said, “It’s all good.”
Big thanks to the friends that knew I would arrive, and for the accolades, happiness and support you have given me. Thank for being there not only when I fall but also when I rise.
I am grateful. So many of my friends and former colleagues helped me get here. Thank you.
I try to learn something from everyone I meet. Sometimes you learn what to do and sometimes you learn what NOT to do.
Life is continuous learning and improvement. (Personally and Professionally)! It's definitely a journey and one hell of a ride!
After all the rough patches, this feels really good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You take it on faith. You take it to the heart.
The Waiting is the hardest part
~ Tom Petty / The Waiting
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Good Friends, Good Wine, Good Times
We finally picked our day and were going to hang out together. Since we no longer work for the same company, we hardly ever see each other these days. Distance, and life in general tend to get in the way.
But one is never to busy for a good friend, and so you set the date, and work out the details, no matter how miniscule or magnitudinal, that might possibly get in the way.
Then you simply sit back and look forward to it.
And when you arrive at your destination, ready to go, greeted warmly and so happy to see each other…you are asked only one simple but serious question:
“Is it too early for wine?”
“NEVER”, I replied.
And there we were, 9:30 in the morning – two friends…one at the helm of the dreaded work laptop, finishing an e-mail that was a “must,” and one perusing her iPhone for messages. I cut my friend the slack needed to finish that dreaded work e-mail so we could hang out. Thankfully my friend cuts me slack right back. After all, we were both technically “working from home” that day. Shhhhhhhhhhhhh! Don’t tell anyone.
After wine, homemade pizza, crazy conversations, carrots and hummus, and more wine, we headed out to Standing Rock Art Gallery. A quaint little abode with something to catch your eye and make you think twice before leaving empty handed.
Next stop, Don Drumms. I’ve never left there without a trinket or two, and I’m quite sure I never will. We in no way tire of this gallery! So much to look at – every nook of these buildings, inside and out, are filled with treasures to behold and bewilder!
All this gallery hopping can leave one hungry and…. thirsty! So off to CRAVE for some delectable food and more wine along with interesting conversation! (“Where are my keys?” asked my friend. “ You left them with the valet,” I replied.)
FUN TIMES!
And before I knew it, the day I looked so forward to was rapidly winding down and coming to an end. It’s true, “time flies when you’re having fun.”
And it was decided:
We need to plan our next adventure...soon!
Very, very soon!!
Thanks T!
But one is never to busy for a good friend, and so you set the date, and work out the details, no matter how miniscule or magnitudinal, that might possibly get in the way.
Then you simply sit back and look forward to it.
And when you arrive at your destination, ready to go, greeted warmly and so happy to see each other…you are asked only one simple but serious question:
“Is it too early for wine?”
“NEVER”, I replied.
And there we were, 9:30 in the morning – two friends…one at the helm of the dreaded work laptop, finishing an e-mail that was a “must,” and one perusing her iPhone for messages. I cut my friend the slack needed to finish that dreaded work e-mail so we could hang out. Thankfully my friend cuts me slack right back. After all, we were both technically “working from home” that day. Shhhhhhhhhhhhh! Don’t tell anyone.
After wine, homemade pizza, crazy conversations, carrots and hummus, and more wine, we headed out to Standing Rock Art Gallery. A quaint little abode with something to catch your eye and make you think twice before leaving empty handed.
Next stop, Don Drumms. I’ve never left there without a trinket or two, and I’m quite sure I never will. We in no way tire of this gallery! So much to look at – every nook of these buildings, inside and out, are filled with treasures to behold and bewilder!
All this gallery hopping can leave one hungry and…. thirsty! So off to CRAVE for some delectable food and more wine along with interesting conversation! (“Where are my keys?” asked my friend. “ You left them with the valet,” I replied.)
FUN TIMES!
And before I knew it, the day I looked so forward to was rapidly winding down and coming to an end. It’s true, “time flies when you’re having fun.”
And it was decided:
We need to plan our next adventure...soon!
Very, very soon!!
Thanks T!
____________________________________________
So no one told you life was going to be this way.
Your job's a joke, you're broke, your love life's DOA.
It's like you're always stuck in second gear,
Well, it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year.
But, I'll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour.
I'll be there for you, like I've been there before.
I'll be there for you, cause you're there for me too
~ I’ll Be There For You (Theme From FRIENDS)
by The Rembrandts
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Mother's Day 2009 ~ The Loss
(Written by Jules who was unable to post this herself today. Our thoughts and prayers are with Jules and her family.)
I come from a large family with many aunts and uncles.
Today, we lost one of them. My mother’s youngest brother. He would have had his 67th birthday this coming Saturday.
For about 12 years, he has battled chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, known as COPD, and emphysema. Chronic oxygen had been his constant companion for most of those years.
He lost his wife who was only 46 years old during the beginning of his health issues. He had to go on disability soon after her death due to depression and worsening of his health. At the time, his son was 10 years old.
He was able to get around in the beginning with his portable oxygen. He continued to raise rabbits which were a hobby and business. He was able to drive his truck for most of this time, until recently, when his now adult son said , " no more driving. "
Severe COPD is a progressive and ultimately terminal illness. He had his exacerbations over the years, and stabilization came as well. His life became smaller and smaller, until it seemed that he lived in his kitchen sitting at the table, or walking the few steps to his bedroom, dragging the long tubing from his nasal cannula hooked up to gigantic tanks in his living room. It seemed that he always had his TV turned on to “Matlock” reruns which were always playing when I would visit. I doubt I can hear the theme song to “Matlock” without thinking of him.
He used to play banjo , years ago , and he was pretty good. The banjo sat in its case in his room but I never saw or heard him play it in many, many years.
He had a cat named Thomas – a dark tiger cat.
These are just things I remember fondly.
A few years ago, he nearly died from an exacerbation. He was hospitalized, put on a respirator, and an induced coma. He was given the Last Rites of the Catholic Church, now known as the Anointing of the Sick. But he pulled through that one.
A week ago, he developed pneumonia. He seemed to recover. He was to go home Friday, but the winds took a different turn. His son was told to please call family because he had 24 to 48 hours at best. Many of us went to visit – but he was in no condition for visits. Heavily drugged, confused, exhausted, there was no real conversation. He was headed to hospice Saturday, yesterday. Upon my visit, he was completely unaware, totally out of it, a BiPap machine hooked to his face. Earlier, he told his son “There’s a small boy at the end of the bed.” Maybe it was a hallucination, maybe it was an angel. He didn’t seem afraid.
A priest from my parish offered to give him those Last Rites again this morning. He offered to go last night but I decided to risk the wait. This morning, after mass, I went to visit him. Father was leaving the building as I arrived. I thanked him from all of us.
I found my uncle as he was yesterday, not aware, breathing from the machine, not responsive to conversation and I didn’t really try. The nurse showed me his fingers and toes, the odd color, almost bloodless, very cold, and a mottling of the skin on his knees. His BP was very low. She told me they looked for such signs. The signs were there. I stayed with him awhile, and although I could not give him Communion which I had brought with me, I said the Lord’s Prayer for him, which we always prayed together before he took Communion at home as a shut in. I told him I would say it for him. I held hi s arm, his tattooed arm, and could barely say that prayer. I had to look out the window between my gasps and tears. I gave him a kiss and left. I don’t think he knew I was there.
Less than two hours later, his son called to tell me his dad had passed. No one had come yet , after me, but others were coming and were actually on their way, including his son. He was alone when he died. I wish I had known, because I would have stayed, but I didn’t. A nurse went in to check on him, and he was gone.
I hope the little boy he saw , at the end of his bed the day before , came back and took him home.
He always told everyone “Love you.” I have many messages on my phone where he said, “Love you.”
He was my godfather…
LAI – the journey is over, the battle done and we “love you.”
-------------------------------------------------------------
”And I’m waiting on an angel, and I know it won’t be long, to find myself a resting place, in my angel’s arms, oh, in my angel’s arms.” - Ben Harper, Waiting on An Angel
I come from a large family with many aunts and uncles.
Today, we lost one of them. My mother’s youngest brother. He would have had his 67th birthday this coming Saturday.
For about 12 years, he has battled chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, known as COPD, and emphysema. Chronic oxygen had been his constant companion for most of those years.
He lost his wife who was only 46 years old during the beginning of his health issues. He had to go on disability soon after her death due to depression and worsening of his health. At the time, his son was 10 years old.
He was able to get around in the beginning with his portable oxygen. He continued to raise rabbits which were a hobby and business. He was able to drive his truck for most of this time, until recently, when his now adult son said , " no more driving. "
Severe COPD is a progressive and ultimately terminal illness. He had his exacerbations over the years, and stabilization came as well. His life became smaller and smaller, until it seemed that he lived in his kitchen sitting at the table, or walking the few steps to his bedroom, dragging the long tubing from his nasal cannula hooked up to gigantic tanks in his living room. It seemed that he always had his TV turned on to “Matlock” reruns which were always playing when I would visit. I doubt I can hear the theme song to “Matlock” without thinking of him.
He used to play banjo , years ago , and he was pretty good. The banjo sat in its case in his room but I never saw or heard him play it in many, many years.
He had a cat named Thomas – a dark tiger cat.
These are just things I remember fondly.
A few years ago, he nearly died from an exacerbation. He was hospitalized, put on a respirator, and an induced coma. He was given the Last Rites of the Catholic Church, now known as the Anointing of the Sick. But he pulled through that one.
A week ago, he developed pneumonia. He seemed to recover. He was to go home Friday, but the winds took a different turn. His son was told to please call family because he had 24 to 48 hours at best. Many of us went to visit – but he was in no condition for visits. Heavily drugged, confused, exhausted, there was no real conversation. He was headed to hospice Saturday, yesterday. Upon my visit, he was completely unaware, totally out of it, a BiPap machine hooked to his face. Earlier, he told his son “There’s a small boy at the end of the bed.” Maybe it was a hallucination, maybe it was an angel. He didn’t seem afraid.
A priest from my parish offered to give him those Last Rites again this morning. He offered to go last night but I decided to risk the wait. This morning, after mass, I went to visit him. Father was leaving the building as I arrived. I thanked him from all of us.
I found my uncle as he was yesterday, not aware, breathing from the machine, not responsive to conversation and I didn’t really try. The nurse showed me his fingers and toes, the odd color, almost bloodless, very cold, and a mottling of the skin on his knees. His BP was very low. She told me they looked for such signs. The signs were there. I stayed with him awhile, and although I could not give him Communion which I had brought with me, I said the Lord’s Prayer for him, which we always prayed together before he took Communion at home as a shut in. I told him I would say it for him. I held hi s arm, his tattooed arm, and could barely say that prayer. I had to look out the window between my gasps and tears. I gave him a kiss and left. I don’t think he knew I was there.
Less than two hours later, his son called to tell me his dad had passed. No one had come yet , after me, but others were coming and were actually on their way, including his son. He was alone when he died. I wish I had known, because I would have stayed, but I didn’t. A nurse went in to check on him, and he was gone.
I hope the little boy he saw , at the end of his bed the day before , came back and took him home.
He always told everyone “Love you.” I have many messages on my phone where he said, “Love you.”
He was my godfather…
LAI – the journey is over, the battle done and we “love you.”
-------------------------------------------------------------
”And I’m waiting on an angel, and I know it won’t be long, to find myself a resting place, in my angel’s arms, oh, in my angel’s arms.” - Ben Harper, Waiting on An Angel
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Lovin's Little Itay - Cleveland Style
All we asked for was a day with no rain – we never contemplated the fury of the wind. This particular wind was a gale force to be reckoned with! Nearly every time I’m fortunate enough to visit Little Italy – the vicinity of Murray Hill and Mayfield - the wind makes its presence known. We laugh at the wind and tell her we respect her, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. So we let her have her with us and forged ahead.
The wild winds had performed their duty and sent chills through our bodies. It was time to warm up.
So we ate and we drank. Firs stop - Trattoria. We dined on luscious bread, Egg Plant Parmesan and Three-Cheese Spinach Ravioli along with the house salad and wine – Chianti, of course. The place packed in fast and we were soon ready to head out and see the galleries and boutiques. Somehow, sheer will power I presume, we passed the bakeries without stopping. The smells permeated the air and every breath we took.
After taking in a couple galleries, we stopped at Little Italy’s Wine Store. She begged us to stay for the wine tasting but it was 3 hours away and by then, well, we’d be on to bigger and better things. Lazy things. But I left with 4 fun bottles of wine and a promise to come back for a wine tasting.
A couple of my favorite galleries were closed today however, (and thankfully,) my boutique of choice was open and ready for me. I walked in to Ann Von H’s, not looking for anything in particular when the very first thing to strike me (hit me like a ton of bricks), was what appeared to be a cropped, crinkled, leather, intriguingly buttoned blazer.
Damn.
The price tag was outlandish. The owner and her cohort in crime begged me to try it on. I politely refused. I had 4 bottles of wine after all…what else did I need today.
Apparently I needed a cropped, crinkled, faux-leather, outrageously and insanely-priced blazer.
Hmmmmmmmph. It fit nice. It fit cool. It said, “take me I’m yours.” So I said, “OK.” They told me to pick a plastic egg from anywhere in the store. In the spirit of Easter and Spring and Renewal, and Discounts, I was happy to get a break of any kind on this overpriced-what-the-hell-am-I-thinking blazer….
I opened the egg, pulled out the ticket, which read, and I kid you not: “25 cents off.”
Huh?
I was insulted. Had it not been for a very important meeting this week (to which this blazer would be donned), I would have laughed at them, scoffed at their audacity to be so insulting (I mean, c’mon – 25 cents??? Are you freakin’ kiddin' me? For a blazer that costs 3 figures? You couldn’t give me $5.00 off at the very least?)
And then I placed the blazer right back on the rack.
Well, I considered it anyway.
But I couldn’t do it. Instead we looked at each other and with our eyes and body language, we let them know exactly how childish and insulting their little egg game was.
We left Little Italy after that – I was pretty pleased with my over-the-moon cool and overpriced blazer but somehow felt really annoyed about the 25 cent discount – I mean – seriously – I thought it was a joke – but quickly realized April Fool’s was long gone and Easter was approaching – hence the plastic eggs. My friend kindly reminded me that I was going to buy the blazer regardless of the contents of the speckled egg.
It’s a cool friggin’ blazer!
On the way home, we stopped at Gallucci’s. Mama Galluci had just packaged some of her homemade sauce and took us right to it. I managed to pick up her Alfredo Sauce, Ravioli and Manicotti too. Talk about sensuous aromas! On the way out, fresh baked – (seriously) just out of the oven – pepperoni bread was mine for the taking – so I partook!
It was a very good day in Little Italy. A great place to spend with your friends and family. A great place to meet new people and enjoy new things.
And today it was back to work – a very busy, stressful week for me so I’m grateful for fun weekends and friends and family that I get to spend them with.
I count my blessings every day. As we all know – things could be better and things could be worse. Much worse.
As my cousin says, “make it a great day!”
___________________________
Chinese Fortune Cookie:
The wild winds had performed their duty and sent chills through our bodies. It was time to warm up.
So we ate and we drank. Firs stop - Trattoria. We dined on luscious bread, Egg Plant Parmesan and Three-Cheese Spinach Ravioli along with the house salad and wine – Chianti, of course. The place packed in fast and we were soon ready to head out and see the galleries and boutiques. Somehow, sheer will power I presume, we passed the bakeries without stopping. The smells permeated the air and every breath we took.
After taking in a couple galleries, we stopped at Little Italy’s Wine Store. She begged us to stay for the wine tasting but it was 3 hours away and by then, well, we’d be on to bigger and better things. Lazy things. But I left with 4 fun bottles of wine and a promise to come back for a wine tasting.
A couple of my favorite galleries were closed today however, (and thankfully,) my boutique of choice was open and ready for me. I walked in to Ann Von H’s, not looking for anything in particular when the very first thing to strike me (hit me like a ton of bricks), was what appeared to be a cropped, crinkled, leather, intriguingly buttoned blazer.
Damn.
The price tag was outlandish. The owner and her cohort in crime begged me to try it on. I politely refused. I had 4 bottles of wine after all…what else did I need today.
Apparently I needed a cropped, crinkled, faux-leather, outrageously and insanely-priced blazer.
Hmmmmmmmph. It fit nice. It fit cool. It said, “take me I’m yours.” So I said, “OK.” They told me to pick a plastic egg from anywhere in the store. In the spirit of Easter and Spring and Renewal, and Discounts, I was happy to get a break of any kind on this overpriced-what-the-hell-am-I-thinking blazer….
I opened the egg, pulled out the ticket, which read, and I kid you not: “25 cents off.”
Huh?
I was insulted. Had it not been for a very important meeting this week (to which this blazer would be donned), I would have laughed at them, scoffed at their audacity to be so insulting (I mean, c’mon – 25 cents??? Are you freakin’ kiddin' me? For a blazer that costs 3 figures? You couldn’t give me $5.00 off at the very least?)
And then I placed the blazer right back on the rack.
Well, I considered it anyway.
But I couldn’t do it. Instead we looked at each other and with our eyes and body language, we let them know exactly how childish and insulting their little egg game was.
We left Little Italy after that – I was pretty pleased with my over-the-moon cool and overpriced blazer but somehow felt really annoyed about the 25 cent discount – I mean – seriously – I thought it was a joke – but quickly realized April Fool’s was long gone and Easter was approaching – hence the plastic eggs. My friend kindly reminded me that I was going to buy the blazer regardless of the contents of the speckled egg.
It’s a cool friggin’ blazer!
On the way home, we stopped at Gallucci’s. Mama Galluci had just packaged some of her homemade sauce and took us right to it. I managed to pick up her Alfredo Sauce, Ravioli and Manicotti too. Talk about sensuous aromas! On the way out, fresh baked – (seriously) just out of the oven – pepperoni bread was mine for the taking – so I partook!
It was a very good day in Little Italy. A great place to spend with your friends and family. A great place to meet new people and enjoy new things.
And today it was back to work – a very busy, stressful week for me so I’m grateful for fun weekends and friends and family that I get to spend them with.
I count my blessings every day. As we all know – things could be better and things could be worse. Much worse.
As my cousin says, “make it a great day!”
___________________________
Chinese Fortune Cookie:
Why be in sitting when you can be outstanding?!
Sunday, April 05, 2009
Hennessy, Harley and Me
I’ve had this gift certificate to a particular Harley Davidson store burning a hole in my pocket for some time now. I just never seem to get there. It’s not a place I’m particularly comfortable walking into by myself, unlike say, Black House White Market or Neiman Marcus.
So I called upon my good friend Hennessy to hang with me in a place he would be comfortable, and therefore I would be too. There’s something about walking into a Harley Store – the smell of leather, the sheen of chrome, the bikes lined up inside and out, the camaraderie and welcoming that ensues the minute you walk in the door. (And it was customer appreciate day – free soup!)
So, donned in my “camos” (camouflage jeans) and Hennessy in his colors (more green), I looked at the clothes, while he talked to EVERYONE. Most of them knew him anyway. He’s a very friendly soul and will strike up a conversation no matter where he lands. Always the interesting conversationalist with tales to tell and new adventures to unravel. I continued to shop. I had a mission afterall. He had a social engagement.
I ended up with a very cool t-shirt that gives the impression of full-sleeve skull tatts.
I swore I would not end up with another leather jacket – I have too many now!
And there it was.
On the sale rack - if you can believe that.
A suede (not leather) Harley Davidson jacket that screamed “Take Me, I’m Yours.” The price was just right. So was the size. Thanks to Ohio weather, I’ve worn it twice already! Third times a charm and I'm banking on it being tomorrow. (Ah, yes, gotta love snow in April if you have a super-over-the-moon-cool Harley jacket - and I do.)
Spring will come soon enough - until then, I have a very cool jacket to keep me warm and toasty.
After doing damage at the Harley store, we headed out to Quaker Steak for Smokin’ Bill’s Bacon Biker Burgers and fries. EXCELLENT CHOICE, however…
I may never eat again.
Thanks Hennessy – good times as always!
So I called upon my good friend Hennessy to hang with me in a place he would be comfortable, and therefore I would be too. There’s something about walking into a Harley Store – the smell of leather, the sheen of chrome, the bikes lined up inside and out, the camaraderie and welcoming that ensues the minute you walk in the door. (And it was customer appreciate day – free soup!)
So, donned in my “camos” (camouflage jeans) and Hennessy in his colors (more green), I looked at the clothes, while he talked to EVERYONE. Most of them knew him anyway. He’s a very friendly soul and will strike up a conversation no matter where he lands. Always the interesting conversationalist with tales to tell and new adventures to unravel. I continued to shop. I had a mission afterall. He had a social engagement.
I ended up with a very cool t-shirt that gives the impression of full-sleeve skull tatts.
I swore I would not end up with another leather jacket – I have too many now!
And there it was.
On the sale rack - if you can believe that.
A suede (not leather) Harley Davidson jacket that screamed “Take Me, I’m Yours.” The price was just right. So was the size. Thanks to Ohio weather, I’ve worn it twice already! Third times a charm and I'm banking on it being tomorrow. (Ah, yes, gotta love snow in April if you have a super-over-the-moon-cool Harley jacket - and I do.)
Spring will come soon enough - until then, I have a very cool jacket to keep me warm and toasty.
After doing damage at the Harley store, we headed out to Quaker Steak for Smokin’ Bill’s Bacon Biker Burgers and fries. EXCELLENT CHOICE, however…
I may never eat again.
Thanks Hennessy – good times as always!
Sunday, March 22, 2009
God's Plan
If I were a gifted member of StoryPeople or had the wisdom of Brian Andreas, I would say:
I don't think this place is my final destination work-wise, she said, but I did land here for a reason so we'll see what God's plan is because I just don't have one that works anymore.
I don't think this place is my final destination work-wise, she said, but I did land here for a reason so we'll see what God's plan is because I just don't have one that works anymore.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Forbidden Fruit
It wasn’t something you wanted or sought.
You didn’t think about it one way or the other, if at all. And then all of a sudden, it was all you thought about.
Thought Consuming.
And then, it just happened.
Realizations.
You thought you saw it coming but there was always the chance that you could be wrong.
It’s not like you haven’t been wrong before.
And then you realized you weren’t. And there it was. Right in front of you.
Forbidden Fruit
It’s tempting (YES!) and it has many shapes and forms - those things that we want but know we cannot or should not have for various reasons. Some crystal clear reasons – some not so much, depending on to what extent you choose to creatively spin the situation to your advantage.
But you know it is off limits and then, out of nowhere, you realize it’s not. And it hits you like a ton of bricks because now the rules of the game have changed – there are none.
And THAT changes EVERYTHING.
Everything you know.
Everything you were taught.
Everything you believe.
Karma.
Ethics.
Morals.
Scruples.
Friendships and Loyalties.
You are bewildered and blind-sided. Confused yet curious. The wonderment of it all. And again you straddle the fine line between wrong and right. The decision is yours and it’s colossal, because if you go forward, you can’t go back. And if you stand still, you will never know…
Where has standing still ever gotten anyone?
Choices.
You only get one life. And things happen to us in life that mold us and change us. Forever.
Does that justify it?
Blame.
Someone.
Anyone.
Just not me. I’ve been through enough.
Bitter sweetness.
We toy with the notion to a very dangerous point. Like two magnets in a small room. The thing you try to avoid the most keeps pulling you closer. Unavoidable decisions to be made in this game called LIFE.
Is it worth it? Consider the fallout. There will be fallout.
RELENTLESS.
And the signs are there and they are screaming, “Danger! Danger Will Robinson!”
And I know better than to partake of forbidden fruit in any form. (Shoulda known better…)
And yet, it consumes my thoughts more often than I care to admit.
And this must stop.
But that’s not what I want.
Some days I am strong – a force to be reckoned with.
And some days…I don’t recognize this person that I am.
____________________________________________
(Click 1st line of lyrics to hear song)
I don't know what I've done
Or if I like what I've begun
But something told me to run
And honey you know me it's all or none
There were sounds in my head
Little voices whispering
That I should go and this should end
Oh and I found myself listening
~Where I Stood/Missy Higgins
You didn’t think about it one way or the other, if at all. And then all of a sudden, it was all you thought about.
Thought Consuming.
And then, it just happened.
Realizations.
You thought you saw it coming but there was always the chance that you could be wrong.
It’s not like you haven’t been wrong before.
And then you realized you weren’t. And there it was. Right in front of you.
Forbidden Fruit
It’s tempting (YES!) and it has many shapes and forms - those things that we want but know we cannot or should not have for various reasons. Some crystal clear reasons – some not so much, depending on to what extent you choose to creatively spin the situation to your advantage.
But you know it is off limits and then, out of nowhere, you realize it’s not. And it hits you like a ton of bricks because now the rules of the game have changed – there are none.
And THAT changes EVERYTHING.
Everything you know.
Everything you were taught.
Everything you believe.
Karma.
Ethics.
Morals.
Scruples.
Friendships and Loyalties.
You are bewildered and blind-sided. Confused yet curious. The wonderment of it all. And again you straddle the fine line between wrong and right. The decision is yours and it’s colossal, because if you go forward, you can’t go back. And if you stand still, you will never know…
Where has standing still ever gotten anyone?
Choices.
You only get one life. And things happen to us in life that mold us and change us. Forever.
Does that justify it?
Blame.
Someone.
Anyone.
Just not me. I’ve been through enough.
Bitter sweetness.
We toy with the notion to a very dangerous point. Like two magnets in a small room. The thing you try to avoid the most keeps pulling you closer. Unavoidable decisions to be made in this game called LIFE.
Is it worth it? Consider the fallout. There will be fallout.
RELENTLESS.
And the signs are there and they are screaming, “Danger! Danger Will Robinson!”
And I know better than to partake of forbidden fruit in any form. (Shoulda known better…)
And yet, it consumes my thoughts more often than I care to admit.
And this must stop.
But that’s not what I want.
Some days I am strong – a force to be reckoned with.
And some days…I don’t recognize this person that I am.
____________________________________________
(Click 1st line of lyrics to hear song)
I don't know what I've done
Or if I like what I've begun
But something told me to run
And honey you know me it's all or none
There were sounds in my head
Little voices whispering
That I should go and this should end
Oh and I found myself listening
~Where I Stood/Missy Higgins
Friday, January 09, 2009
Blind Sided, Naive, or Hopeful
She did her job well from what I observed. They cut her hours. She still did her job well. Mondays became more challenging for her and she dealt with it - no complaints. I thought she should have seen it coming but hoped I was wrong. I fully admit, after all, that I am jaded.
I couldnt' help but wonder, was she blind sided, naïve or hopeful?
And at this point, I couldnt' help but wonder, which of those things am I?
But as her story goes…
After the New Year, on a lone Thursday afternoon, he visited her. He doesn’t come around much. He is a man of few words. He is rarely visible in the office. His schedule suits him, conforms to no one, and is rarely foretold to anyone. That includes his assistant. He does his own thing. Most of them do. And they wonder why things run amok.
But he sat with her. And he couldn’t look her in the eye - and this troubled her. And he told her she was laid off. She fought her tears and remained strong. He may or may not have offered words of encouragement but she was no longer afraid to speak and said, “Who are you kidding? I’m not coming back.” She told him, in no uncertain terms, that this was more than just a lay off. She was in shock. She also duly noted that her commanding salary was a factor in the decision…especially compared to the salary of the current employee who would take on her duties along with his own. (Good luck!)
What fools.
She has built relationships over the past several years. I hope she lands on her feet. She is a smart and attractive woman and that combination can be deadly and very powerful once one makes up their mind to be so. Both those qualities can be exploited separately but, when you incorporate them, it’s a “no holds barred” situation. The one that replaces her has very little chance of success in the position she claimed and excelled at. This is why management needs to know what you do and how well you do (or don’t) perform.
Today was a blur…and yesterday and today, tears were shed.
I lost the person who helped guide me through my newness and rawness and awkwardness of being the "new person" in the office. She was honest and wise. She was cunning and clever. We clicked. We respected each other and got along for all the right reasons and all the wrong ones too. Our similarities dangerously paralleled and made us respectful equals. We were not a threat to each other and so we could be friends.
And when I listened to my voicemail and she spoke from her heart, I realized how much I would miss my newest friend. I also realized how cold others could be and I wondered where this left me. Perhaps I am not at my final destination in the work world. I feel sad for my newest friend and her situation. I remember going through it. The difference is I had 6 months employment to deal with it and a severance package. She left with a white box of personal belongings and nothing else.
When I lost my job, my real friend wrote to me, “you do realize that others are sad that this happened to you but secretly they are glad it didn’t happen to them.” I felt that today too. I’m just being honest. Honest like my friend was to me. It’s hard to swallow but we all know it’s true.
I will start next week by clearing my office of all personal items. The ones I said I wouldn’t have in there in the first place, especially after having to pack up several boxes after leaving my las gig.
And then it happened.
The final straw…
…was the comment that poured the salt into the open fleshy and bleeding wound. It occurred precisely when he said, “so, do you want me to lobby for you to have her office?”
I was seething on the inside. My outside sustained some semblance of composure.
“No,” I replied. “That’s bad karma.”
_______________________________________________
I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
(The Fray / How to Save A Life)
I couldnt' help but wonder, was she blind sided, naïve or hopeful?
And at this point, I couldnt' help but wonder, which of those things am I?
But as her story goes…
After the New Year, on a lone Thursday afternoon, he visited her. He doesn’t come around much. He is a man of few words. He is rarely visible in the office. His schedule suits him, conforms to no one, and is rarely foretold to anyone. That includes his assistant. He does his own thing. Most of them do. And they wonder why things run amok.
But he sat with her. And he couldn’t look her in the eye - and this troubled her. And he told her she was laid off. She fought her tears and remained strong. He may or may not have offered words of encouragement but she was no longer afraid to speak and said, “Who are you kidding? I’m not coming back.” She told him, in no uncertain terms, that this was more than just a lay off. She was in shock. She also duly noted that her commanding salary was a factor in the decision…especially compared to the salary of the current employee who would take on her duties along with his own. (Good luck!)
What fools.
She has built relationships over the past several years. I hope she lands on her feet. She is a smart and attractive woman and that combination can be deadly and very powerful once one makes up their mind to be so. Both those qualities can be exploited separately but, when you incorporate them, it’s a “no holds barred” situation. The one that replaces her has very little chance of success in the position she claimed and excelled at. This is why management needs to know what you do and how well you do (or don’t) perform.
Today was a blur…and yesterday and today, tears were shed.
I lost the person who helped guide me through my newness and rawness and awkwardness of being the "new person" in the office. She was honest and wise. She was cunning and clever. We clicked. We respected each other and got along for all the right reasons and all the wrong ones too. Our similarities dangerously paralleled and made us respectful equals. We were not a threat to each other and so we could be friends.
And when I listened to my voicemail and she spoke from her heart, I realized how much I would miss my newest friend. I also realized how cold others could be and I wondered where this left me. Perhaps I am not at my final destination in the work world. I feel sad for my newest friend and her situation. I remember going through it. The difference is I had 6 months employment to deal with it and a severance package. She left with a white box of personal belongings and nothing else.
When I lost my job, my real friend wrote to me, “you do realize that others are sad that this happened to you but secretly they are glad it didn’t happen to them.” I felt that today too. I’m just being honest. Honest like my friend was to me. It’s hard to swallow but we all know it’s true.
I will start next week by clearing my office of all personal items. The ones I said I wouldn’t have in there in the first place, especially after having to pack up several boxes after leaving my las gig.
And then it happened.
The final straw…
…was the comment that poured the salt into the open fleshy and bleeding wound. It occurred precisely when he said, “so, do you want me to lobby for you to have her office?”
I was seething on the inside. My outside sustained some semblance of composure.
“No,” I replied. “That’s bad karma.”
_______________________________________________
I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
(The Fray / How to Save A Life)
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
A Long December
Here are the lyrics from my favorite Counting Crows song.
To quote my favorite line, and my wish for all of us,
"Maybe this year will be better than the last."
Happy New Year from KAT
_____________________________________________
A long December and there’s reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can’t remember the last thing that you said as you were leavin’
Oh the days go by so fast
And it’s one more day up in the canyons
And it’s one more night in Hollywood
If you think that I could be forgiven...I wish you would
The smell of hospitals in winter
And the feeling that it’s all a lot of oysters, but no pearls
All at once you look across a crowded room
To see the way that light attaches to a girl
And it’s one more day up in the canyons
And it’s one more night in Hollywood
If you think you might come to California...I think you should
Drove up to Hillside Manor sometime after 2 A.M.
And talked a little while about the year
I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower
Makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her
And its been a long december and theres reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can’t remember all the times I tried to tell my myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass
And its’ one more day up in the canyon
And its’ one more day up in the canyon
And it’s one more night in hollywood
And it’s been so long since I’ve seen the ocean
I guess I should
_________________________________________________
“Ideas are only good if they’re shared,” he said.
The silence was deafening.
And it’s been so long since I’ve seen the ocean
I guess I should
_________________________________________________
“Ideas are only good if they’re shared,” he said.
The silence was deafening.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Merry Christmas
(Written By Hennessy)
Perhaps it should have been prefaced, “Once upon a time, long ago.” Maybe even “as the story goes” might have sufficed as its beginning.
Those lines are for fables and fiction. This story, not of fiction, not of folklore, but of truth, has passed on from those who were there that night in Bethlehem. This is the very essence of just how we are to celebrate this time of the year. It has taken on many shapes and forms, but it still has the same core meaning we all wish to capture in life.
This is the story of hope, love and peace.
I have never been to Bethlehem, nor have I crossed the sands of Galilee. I cannot begin to imagine the journey that was to take place in order to deliver this Savoir, this man who was already to be called Jesus. I do know however, that on that night, that most silent of nights, the holy spirit came to be in a manger with the animals as witnesses to watch the hand of God see that his Son be delivered to us all. A lone star shining in the darkness of the desert provided the light to the manger where the magi assembled to bring gifts to the newborn King. They knelt at his feet, and glory be to the newborn rang true throughout the tiny manger. This night, there in the cold, a miracle amongst mankind was under that magic star. Perhaps today, we see stars and think to ourselves; where is my miracle.
As I said, this is the story of love, hope and peace. This is also what Christmas is as well. On this day, we shall not find under the adorned trees that grace our homes any of those three things (love, hope, peace) as a wrapped present. They are wishes of ours, beliefs we hold in our hearts and souls that we pray we never lose, or that we pray we obtain, should they not be with us just yet. All of them represent the essence of who we are as a people. I find it rather humbling to seek these three magical elements of life. So precious they are, so fragile and in an instant can be gone should we not guard them with care. It is a blessing to us all that we have them with us and let their meaning guide us just as the star did for the Wise men. I hope that you have love, hope and peace, and hold them closely, never letting them out of your thoughts.
Love. This is an emotion we extend to those we care for. Our families mostly are the receivers of this. Acts of kindness not provoked, but rather given freely as we love those that matter most to us in our lives. While the sands of time permit us to be together in life, tell those that make you who you are that you love them because one day, the hourglass of time shall have not a grain of sand left and time and love shall have slipped away.
Hope. Perhaps this is what we desire daily. We use that word an awful lot in life, and when it appears in spoken word or thoughts, we overextend its true meaning. To all of you, I so hope from my heart, that all of you have a blessed Christmas together with family; the ones we love the most in life. I hope over your homes that day, that your star shines, and that your miracles take place.
Peace. The last of the three holiday spirits. Let it visit you this day. Let peace be in your hearts, your souls and in your homes. May the hand of heaven hold yours and let you know that peace and kindness on this day shall be yours to have and to hold. May serenity and tranquility rain down upon you and those that matter most to you in your lives.
Permit me to take this time and opportunity to extend wishes to you all in hopes that you on this most magical of days experience the love, hope and peace that you so all deserve. May the beauty that is this day be with you all and that you experience in the love of this season of giving and receiving. Let these blessings be with you this Christmas, and forever and always.
There's more, much more, to Christmas than candlelight and cheer; it's the spirit of sweet friendship that brightens all year. It's thoughtfulness and kindness; it's hope reborn again, for peace, for understanding, and for goodwill to men.
From our home to yours my friends, a very blessed and Merry Christmas day to you all. God bless.
Peace.
Perhaps it should have been prefaced, “Once upon a time, long ago.” Maybe even “as the story goes” might have sufficed as its beginning.
Those lines are for fables and fiction. This story, not of fiction, not of folklore, but of truth, has passed on from those who were there that night in Bethlehem. This is the very essence of just how we are to celebrate this time of the year. It has taken on many shapes and forms, but it still has the same core meaning we all wish to capture in life.
This is the story of hope, love and peace.
I have never been to Bethlehem, nor have I crossed the sands of Galilee. I cannot begin to imagine the journey that was to take place in order to deliver this Savoir, this man who was already to be called Jesus. I do know however, that on that night, that most silent of nights, the holy spirit came to be in a manger with the animals as witnesses to watch the hand of God see that his Son be delivered to us all. A lone star shining in the darkness of the desert provided the light to the manger where the magi assembled to bring gifts to the newborn King. They knelt at his feet, and glory be to the newborn rang true throughout the tiny manger. This night, there in the cold, a miracle amongst mankind was under that magic star. Perhaps today, we see stars and think to ourselves; where is my miracle.
As I said, this is the story of love, hope and peace. This is also what Christmas is as well. On this day, we shall not find under the adorned trees that grace our homes any of those three things (love, hope, peace) as a wrapped present. They are wishes of ours, beliefs we hold in our hearts and souls that we pray we never lose, or that we pray we obtain, should they not be with us just yet. All of them represent the essence of who we are as a people. I find it rather humbling to seek these three magical elements of life. So precious they are, so fragile and in an instant can be gone should we not guard them with care. It is a blessing to us all that we have them with us and let their meaning guide us just as the star did for the Wise men. I hope that you have love, hope and peace, and hold them closely, never letting them out of your thoughts.
Love. This is an emotion we extend to those we care for. Our families mostly are the receivers of this. Acts of kindness not provoked, but rather given freely as we love those that matter most to us in our lives. While the sands of time permit us to be together in life, tell those that make you who you are that you love them because one day, the hourglass of time shall have not a grain of sand left and time and love shall have slipped away.
Hope. Perhaps this is what we desire daily. We use that word an awful lot in life, and when it appears in spoken word or thoughts, we overextend its true meaning. To all of you, I so hope from my heart, that all of you have a blessed Christmas together with family; the ones we love the most in life. I hope over your homes that day, that your star shines, and that your miracles take place.
Peace. The last of the three holiday spirits. Let it visit you this day. Let peace be in your hearts, your souls and in your homes. May the hand of heaven hold yours and let you know that peace and kindness on this day shall be yours to have and to hold. May serenity and tranquility rain down upon you and those that matter most to you in your lives.
Permit me to take this time and opportunity to extend wishes to you all in hopes that you on this most magical of days experience the love, hope and peace that you so all deserve. May the beauty that is this day be with you all and that you experience in the love of this season of giving and receiving. Let these blessings be with you this Christmas, and forever and always.
There's more, much more, to Christmas than candlelight and cheer; it's the spirit of sweet friendship that brightens all year. It's thoughtfulness and kindness; it's hope reborn again, for peace, for understanding, and for goodwill to men.
From our home to yours my friends, a very blessed and Merry Christmas day to you all. God bless.
Peace.
So This Is Christmas...
Wishing all of you a very Merry Christmas.
For all you have, for all you need, for all you want, for all you are grateful and thankful for.
For all you've lost, for all you will gain, for all you hope and for all you dream.
I wish for you that your Christmas wish comes true.
(And mine too!)
___________________________________________________
So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young
A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
And so this is Christmas
For weak and for strong
For rich and the poor ones
The world is so wrong
And so happy Christmas
For black and for white
For yellow and red ones
Let's stop all the fight
A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
And so this is Christmas
And what have we done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
And so happy Christmas
We hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young
A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
War is over
If you want it
War is over
Now...
John Lennon Happy Christmas (War is Over)
For all you have, for all you need, for all you want, for all you are grateful and thankful for.
For all you've lost, for all you will gain, for all you hope and for all you dream.
I wish for you that your Christmas wish comes true.
(And mine too!)
___________________________________________________
So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young
A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
And so this is Christmas
For weak and for strong
For rich and the poor ones
The world is so wrong
And so happy Christmas
For black and for white
For yellow and red ones
Let's stop all the fight
A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
And so this is Christmas
And what have we done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
And so happy Christmas
We hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young
A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
War is over
If you want it
War is over
Now...
John Lennon Happy Christmas (War is Over)
Sunday, December 21, 2008
A Few Days Before Christmas...
Written By Jules:
On Wednesday late afternoon/early evening, I drove through downtown Elyria on my way to a meeting for work. I couldn’t help but notice the town square, always beautifully lighted for Christmas and it is no exception this year. However, my thoughts were not so much on the pretty lights and the holidays only a few days off. It was hard to feel much joy. The day before, the company I work for eliminated three positions in our department. Like most every business out there, the domino effect of the economy has hit us and due to “changing business” needs, as it was referred to, three women were told their positions were cut – effective immediately. Somehow losing your job the week before Christmas seems even more brutal. It was mentioned in our meeting that there is no good time to be told you are out of a job, but I beg to differ – it seems these cuts could have waited until after the holidays, but that was not how it was handled.
In the past month, two women I know lost their mothers – in the same week. My neighbor’s mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in early November. She had not been obviously ill – the diagnosis came through the investigation of a swollen ankle, which led to other tests and unbelievably, stage IV pancreatic cancer. As Thanksgiving and the pre-Christmas season came around, my neighbor and her family watched her mom rapidly dwindle away. I could only imagine the shock and grief they must have felt during the month that her mother was dying. I cannot begin to know how they are coping now, but certainly with the deep sense of pain and loss that perhaps makes their lives seem unrecognizable as they work through this rough time.
A week earlier, a young college student who works at a coffee shop I frequent lost her mom; a 51-year-old woman. She passed away in her sleep from an apparent heart attack. I saw this young girl today, back on the job for the first time since her mom died. I didn’t know what to say, except, “I’m glad you are back.” Her face was sad. We didn’t go anywhere near the discussion of her mom. She thanked me for the card I sent her. She told me that they had put a tree up but she had not bought presents. I got the feeling she didn’t want to celebrate Christmas. I can understand why. Her pain is too fresh.
There is the terrible sadness over the discovery of little Caylee Anthony’s body being positively identified this past week. There is nothing left of this beautiful little girl but her bones, tossed into a garbage bag with duct tape across her mouth. No one can comprehend this tragedy. What can you say? Caylee will not be here to celebrate Christmas with the people who did love her. So many people who didn’t even know this child feel the grief of her loss – So many people who hoped that by some miracle she was still alive. She lives on in a video made of her singing the song “You Are My Sunshine” in the voice of a toddler who cannot quite get the words or tune quite right. You can ask why over and over and there will never be an answer that makes sense.
So many people I know must feel their lives are fragmented; changed in ways they never expected, through loss of loved ones and loss of jobs. I know they are hurting. I keep them in my prayers and I hope they can move toward better times and the road will not be long and difficult. I hope that they are shown kindness and a lot of care right now – that they are not alone in their pain. I hope they are given peace, strength and hope this Christmas. I hope they will be okay.
For KP, MB, MM, RM, and JK.
And for anyone who was touched by Caylee and loved her. And for anyone who is having a hard time during this holiday season.
Take care,
Jules
On Wednesday late afternoon/early evening, I drove through downtown Elyria on my way to a meeting for work. I couldn’t help but notice the town square, always beautifully lighted for Christmas and it is no exception this year. However, my thoughts were not so much on the pretty lights and the holidays only a few days off. It was hard to feel much joy. The day before, the company I work for eliminated three positions in our department. Like most every business out there, the domino effect of the economy has hit us and due to “changing business” needs, as it was referred to, three women were told their positions were cut – effective immediately. Somehow losing your job the week before Christmas seems even more brutal. It was mentioned in our meeting that there is no good time to be told you are out of a job, but I beg to differ – it seems these cuts could have waited until after the holidays, but that was not how it was handled.
In the past month, two women I know lost their mothers – in the same week. My neighbor’s mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in early November. She had not been obviously ill – the diagnosis came through the investigation of a swollen ankle, which led to other tests and unbelievably, stage IV pancreatic cancer. As Thanksgiving and the pre-Christmas season came around, my neighbor and her family watched her mom rapidly dwindle away. I could only imagine the shock and grief they must have felt during the month that her mother was dying. I cannot begin to know how they are coping now, but certainly with the deep sense of pain and loss that perhaps makes their lives seem unrecognizable as they work through this rough time.
A week earlier, a young college student who works at a coffee shop I frequent lost her mom; a 51-year-old woman. She passed away in her sleep from an apparent heart attack. I saw this young girl today, back on the job for the first time since her mom died. I didn’t know what to say, except, “I’m glad you are back.” Her face was sad. We didn’t go anywhere near the discussion of her mom. She thanked me for the card I sent her. She told me that they had put a tree up but she had not bought presents. I got the feeling she didn’t want to celebrate Christmas. I can understand why. Her pain is too fresh.
There is the terrible sadness over the discovery of little Caylee Anthony’s body being positively identified this past week. There is nothing left of this beautiful little girl but her bones, tossed into a garbage bag with duct tape across her mouth. No one can comprehend this tragedy. What can you say? Caylee will not be here to celebrate Christmas with the people who did love her. So many people who didn’t even know this child feel the grief of her loss – So many people who hoped that by some miracle she was still alive. She lives on in a video made of her singing the song “You Are My Sunshine” in the voice of a toddler who cannot quite get the words or tune quite right. You can ask why over and over and there will never be an answer that makes sense.
So many people I know must feel their lives are fragmented; changed in ways they never expected, through loss of loved ones and loss of jobs. I know they are hurting. I keep them in my prayers and I hope they can move toward better times and the road will not be long and difficult. I hope that they are shown kindness and a lot of care right now – that they are not alone in their pain. I hope they are given peace, strength and hope this Christmas. I hope they will be okay.
For KP, MB, MM, RM, and JK.
And for anyone who was touched by Caylee and loved her. And for anyone who is having a hard time during this holiday season.
Take care,
Jules
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Christmas Past - Remembered and Missed
(Written By Jules):
This year, my 12 year old son has asked for an iPod for Christmas. We have decided, however, that a less expensive MP3 will most likely be what he gets. Being that he’s on the immature side, loses things such as his winter coat on a cold snowy day last week (it did turn up in his locker at school), his $15.00 Virgin mobile top up cell phone (again, went the cheap route because of his track record) and countless school supplies – he’s already on a second round of new supplies and it’s only December), the same brand less expensive MP3 that I personally own will be what he gets. It will still have to be heavily monitored because of the high probability of it turning up missing, or found in my washing machine…
I started thinking about the things I got for Christmas when I was a kid, particularly around his age, or a little younger. There was my transistor radio, no doubt a Christmas gift, a little handheld one in a brown leather case with a strap. I do not remember the brand name. It required some effort to get it to work at times, probably due to dying batteries since I played the thing constantly – pressing the 9 volt battery up against the connectors, holding it this way or that way, whatever it took to get the best reception from CKLW out of Detroit/Windsor. Transistor radios are pretty prehistoric compared to how we access music today, but nothing opened up the world to me like the music that came, often crackly, from that little radio. Music was my escape from things that were hard on the not so popular loner kid that I was. Music in many ways was EVERYTHING to me. It made me feel happy. I could listen to music and forget that I didn’t like school, that I was a shy kid and struggled socially. Music connected me somehow to the world, and helped me get through. Thank you Elton John!!! No, I didn’t have an MP3 player but I had what most of us did during the 1970s – and it was enough. It was more than enough. It still makes me feel good to think back on the many happy hours I spent listening to that radio.
I went through my Barbie stage for awhile, but I never actually owned my own Barbie. Rather, I inherited my sister’s dolls, which were probably circa 1960, possibly original versions of Barbie, with the heavily lined lids and the high ponytail. My sister had a “Midge” doll too who wasn’t too cute. We had Skipper who was a kid doll, Barbie’s little sister. It wasn’t until I got Barbie’s English cousin (later I think she was plugged as Barbie’s sister) “Stacie” in 1968 that I felt I had a cool doll. To me, Stacie was the hottest doll in the collection of Barbies (unlike kid Skipper or Midge). She was up to date, red hair with bangs, a side swept ponytail (which would require extensions if you wanted to recreate the look today) and eyelashes. I thought Stacie emulated total beauty. I wanted to look just like her when I grew up. Never was there a more beautiful doll than Stacie. I can still remember the rubber/plastic smell of that doll when I opened the box on Christmas - Stacie by Mattel.
There were other things I remember like Liddle Kiddles, an Alice in Wonderland watch, a Mickey Mouse watch that was “electric” and needed battery (the beginning of the end to the wind up watch), a baby doll early on called Thumbelina that squirmed and moved like a baby. But my brother had the toy I truly wanted, Mattel’s “Thingmaker” and the molds for Creeple Peeple. A little heating unit which could most likely send a kid to the ER with third degree burns melted different colors of PlastiGoop that was squeezed into molds set on the unit – the plastic “set” somehow while emitting unbelievable fumes throughout the whole house while my worried mother, downstairs, would scream up to his room, “You are going to burn the house down – and that awful smell!” He wasn’t banned from using it (I honestly don’t think my parents knew what they were buying when he asked for it and they never took it away from him and I don’t remember any recalls of it being a dangerous toy – which indeed it was) and we ended up with rubber ghoulish monster heads made from the goop that we stuck on our pencils. I can still see the face of one ghoul in particular – you could glue little rhinestones onto the ears of this creature. I can still remember watching my brother cooking that goop in those molds with the stench permeating the air – while he chewed gum. He didn’t let me in his room often but I think he must have felt he had something with his Thingmaker and loved to demonstrate it. He knew I was jealous.
One last thing I want to mention – K-Tel’s 22 Explosive Hits LP. It was advertised on TV nonstop. I knew the order of the songs, the photos of the artists, and I wanted that LP. None of the songs were full length – they were all shortened to fit the 22 songs on this piece of vinyl. There was a song called “Popcorn” by Hot Butter, done on Moog synthesizers (if you don’t know it, check this out and I’m sure it will come back to mind… http://www.blogger.com/. K-Tel LPs and 8 tracks – yes, 8 tracks – were popular during the 1970s. Although I can’t find a You Tube for the commercial for 22 Explosive Hits, this one comes close… http://www.blogger.com/ . My cousin and I both got “22 Explosive Hits” for Christmas one year and we talked about it constantly. There was “Chicaboom” by Daddy Dewdrops, “One Bad Apple” by the Osmonds, “If Not For You” by Olivia Newton-John, and a bunch of songs long forgotten and artists never heard of again. What was so “explosive” about these hits, I am not sure, but my cousin and I thought it was a big deal and we wore our LPs out.
I miss childhood anticipation and those long ago Christmases. I wouldn’t trade it for another era for anything. I can’t hear the music of Vince Guaraldi’s “A Charlie Brown Christmas” without thinking of my childhood – particularly, “Christmas Time Is Here” or “Skating,” imaging snowflakes falling to that lovely piano piece. There were no iPods back then but I was happy listening to AM radio on that transistor. It’s what we had. It was cool to us. There is no more Mr. Jingaling or Santa Claus set up for two weeks after Thanksgiving at the Ben Franklin store in my home town – things change, sometimes sadly – but I remember them, and those memories are always with me.
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE – FROM JULES
Sometimes I get to feelingI was back in the old days - long ago
When we were kids, when we were young,
Things seemed so perfect - you know,
The days were endless, we were crazy, we were young,
The sun was always shining - we just lived for fun.
Lyrics to “These Are The Days Of Our Lives” – Queen
This year, my 12 year old son has asked for an iPod for Christmas. We have decided, however, that a less expensive MP3 will most likely be what he gets. Being that he’s on the immature side, loses things such as his winter coat on a cold snowy day last week (it did turn up in his locker at school), his $15.00 Virgin mobile top up cell phone (again, went the cheap route because of his track record) and countless school supplies – he’s already on a second round of new supplies and it’s only December), the same brand less expensive MP3 that I personally own will be what he gets. It will still have to be heavily monitored because of the high probability of it turning up missing, or found in my washing machine…
I started thinking about the things I got for Christmas when I was a kid, particularly around his age, or a little younger. There was my transistor radio, no doubt a Christmas gift, a little handheld one in a brown leather case with a strap. I do not remember the brand name. It required some effort to get it to work at times, probably due to dying batteries since I played the thing constantly – pressing the 9 volt battery up against the connectors, holding it this way or that way, whatever it took to get the best reception from CKLW out of Detroit/Windsor. Transistor radios are pretty prehistoric compared to how we access music today, but nothing opened up the world to me like the music that came, often crackly, from that little radio. Music was my escape from things that were hard on the not so popular loner kid that I was. Music in many ways was EVERYTHING to me. It made me feel happy. I could listen to music and forget that I didn’t like school, that I was a shy kid and struggled socially. Music connected me somehow to the world, and helped me get through. Thank you Elton John!!! No, I didn’t have an MP3 player but I had what most of us did during the 1970s – and it was enough. It was more than enough. It still makes me feel good to think back on the many happy hours I spent listening to that radio.
I went through my Barbie stage for awhile, but I never actually owned my own Barbie. Rather, I inherited my sister’s dolls, which were probably circa 1960, possibly original versions of Barbie, with the heavily lined lids and the high ponytail. My sister had a “Midge” doll too who wasn’t too cute. We had Skipper who was a kid doll, Barbie’s little sister. It wasn’t until I got Barbie’s English cousin (later I think she was plugged as Barbie’s sister) “Stacie” in 1968 that I felt I had a cool doll. To me, Stacie was the hottest doll in the collection of Barbies (unlike kid Skipper or Midge). She was up to date, red hair with bangs, a side swept ponytail (which would require extensions if you wanted to recreate the look today) and eyelashes. I thought Stacie emulated total beauty. I wanted to look just like her when I grew up. Never was there a more beautiful doll than Stacie. I can still remember the rubber/plastic smell of that doll when I opened the box on Christmas - Stacie by Mattel.
There were other things I remember like Liddle Kiddles, an Alice in Wonderland watch, a Mickey Mouse watch that was “electric” and needed battery (the beginning of the end to the wind up watch), a baby doll early on called Thumbelina that squirmed and moved like a baby. But my brother had the toy I truly wanted, Mattel’s “Thingmaker” and the molds for Creeple Peeple. A little heating unit which could most likely send a kid to the ER with third degree burns melted different colors of PlastiGoop that was squeezed into molds set on the unit – the plastic “set” somehow while emitting unbelievable fumes throughout the whole house while my worried mother, downstairs, would scream up to his room, “You are going to burn the house down – and that awful smell!” He wasn’t banned from using it (I honestly don’t think my parents knew what they were buying when he asked for it and they never took it away from him and I don’t remember any recalls of it being a dangerous toy – which indeed it was) and we ended up with rubber ghoulish monster heads made from the goop that we stuck on our pencils. I can still see the face of one ghoul in particular – you could glue little rhinestones onto the ears of this creature. I can still remember watching my brother cooking that goop in those molds with the stench permeating the air – while he chewed gum. He didn’t let me in his room often but I think he must have felt he had something with his Thingmaker and loved to demonstrate it. He knew I was jealous.
One last thing I want to mention – K-Tel’s 22 Explosive Hits LP. It was advertised on TV nonstop. I knew the order of the songs, the photos of the artists, and I wanted that LP. None of the songs were full length – they were all shortened to fit the 22 songs on this piece of vinyl. There was a song called “Popcorn” by Hot Butter, done on Moog synthesizers (if you don’t know it, check this out and I’m sure it will come back to mind… http://www.blogger.com/. K-Tel LPs and 8 tracks – yes, 8 tracks – were popular during the 1970s. Although I can’t find a You Tube for the commercial for 22 Explosive Hits, this one comes close… http://www.blogger.com/ . My cousin and I both got “22 Explosive Hits” for Christmas one year and we talked about it constantly. There was “Chicaboom” by Daddy Dewdrops, “One Bad Apple” by the Osmonds, “If Not For You” by Olivia Newton-John, and a bunch of songs long forgotten and artists never heard of again. What was so “explosive” about these hits, I am not sure, but my cousin and I thought it was a big deal and we wore our LPs out.
I miss childhood anticipation and those long ago Christmases. I wouldn’t trade it for another era for anything. I can’t hear the music of Vince Guaraldi’s “A Charlie Brown Christmas” without thinking of my childhood – particularly, “Christmas Time Is Here” or “Skating,” imaging snowflakes falling to that lovely piano piece. There were no iPods back then but I was happy listening to AM radio on that transistor. It’s what we had. It was cool to us. There is no more Mr. Jingaling or Santa Claus set up for two weeks after Thanksgiving at the Ben Franklin store in my home town – things change, sometimes sadly – but I remember them, and those memories are always with me.
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE – FROM JULES
Sometimes I get to feelingI was back in the old days - long ago
When we were kids, when we were young,
Things seemed so perfect - you know,
The days were endless, we were crazy, we were young,
The sun was always shining - we just lived for fun.
Lyrics to “These Are The Days Of Our Lives” – Queen
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Happy Thanksgiving
By Hennessy:
Permit to begin by wishing you all a very Happy Thanksgiving. Perhaps I should say, a Meaningful Thanksgiving. You see, this is the one holiday we gather as family not to exchange toys, gifts, bad fruitcake, or watered down eggnog. This is the day we come together, as family, as friends, as one.
We are where we are because of many things; jobs, childhood homes, family nearby. You are where you are because that is hopefully the ideal place where you are in comfort, peace, and love. True, we only live in houses, but it is what is inside that makes it a home, and so very special. It is the people, the memories, and pictures of your life from a time gone by on the walls. Sometimes, it can be merely the smell of a good meal that rekindles a smile from your mind of when your mom or grandma cooked or baked. Memories; may they never dwindle or disappear.
Thanksgiving is a time of gathering as I have said. We travel this day more than any other to be with those we care so much for, love so dearly, and wish to spend this meaningful day with. Planes, trains and automobiles criss-cross the globe joining loved ones to celebrate a day of cherished times and laughter. We sit at a table, across from one another, and on this day, we talk. I find this humbling as out of the three hundred and sixty five days of they year, we get this day to talk. We speak of all that we have done and been through since we last sat together; the talk is of pride, our accomplishments, a new baby, or maybe grandpa saying he is just glad he woke up today. I find this most amazing that we can cram the previous year into one day of all that we are, of all that we have done. It is a shame we don’t get to do this everyday. I guess we don’t have Ozzie and Harriett for parents and the ‘50’s are just a memory gone by.
For those of you that don’t know a poet by the name of Samuel F. Pugh, I shall introduce him to you. He wrote a poem about our day long ago, I guess back when the words he penned were symbolism over substance. He spoke of having food, but remembering those that went hungry. Work, when others were jobless. A home, and acknowledging that even in his time, some went without. He went on to ask that he remember when he is pain free, that he knows others suffer. Complacency was to be ridden of; it was to be replaced with the understanding he is to help others. For those that cried out for help, give to them, and take nothing for granted. He closed with an Amen. Thank you Mr. Pugh, I too shall do my best in life to honor your wisdom and kindness.
Today, we are to be grateful, thankful and remember why God put us all here. When all of you gather at your tables, and the sights, sounds and smells of this day permeate your mind, give thanks we are not in Baghdad, we are not in an AIDS hospital in Africa, that we are not in a soup line during the Great Depression, and that September 11, 2001, God willing, shall never happen in our lifetime again. Rejoice in the fact that the lights are on, the heat is working and soon after that sumptuous meal, yes, we can all sit back, loosen our pants, and slip deep into that wonderful after turkey food coma. Just don’t forget to buckle when you get up.
As I went to the bakery to get our pecan pies, I passed a car with a license plate bearing the word GR8TFUL. I would be that too if I had the car that the plate was on. But, I have a Harley Davidson, and they don’t, enough said. Yet, that plate got me to thinking about the word "grateful", and just what I am grateful for. This past week here has been rather tumultuous with regards to Jennifer and the treatment she is receiving for her MS. I am not exactly grateful of what it does to her, robs her of and how it saddens me; however, it is helping her to maintain a quality of life she and I can be thankful for. This God forsaken disease has taken away so many things, but it has not worked its evilness and trickery on our souls. I do have to be a caregiver for the rest of my life, but I am grateful that Jennifer smiles at me and tells me I am the bestest caregiver anyone could ever have. It saddens me to hear that, it makes me weep openly and humbles me to no end, but I am grateful and thankful someone in my life lets me know I matter to him or her. And for that, I accept this as a pathway to peace. I cannot think of a better thing in life.
Wherever you are my friends, and whoever is at your home, I sincerely hope that you have a most magnificent day. My table is already set here, the vases of flowers adorn it and I sat and polished the silverware all afternoon. I shall cook and serve Jennifer our holiday meal and after we unfold our hands and our prayers have been said, we shall sit by the candlelight and well, talk. Our Thanksgiving is just ours, just us together. Being together this day, in love, side by side as the candles flicker on in time, is a joyous occasion I shall forever cherish in my heart. I wish this for all of you. May you enjoy your talks on this Thanksgiving day and God bless you all.
Permit to begin by wishing you all a very Happy Thanksgiving. Perhaps I should say, a Meaningful Thanksgiving. You see, this is the one holiday we gather as family not to exchange toys, gifts, bad fruitcake, or watered down eggnog. This is the day we come together, as family, as friends, as one.
We are where we are because of many things; jobs, childhood homes, family nearby. You are where you are because that is hopefully the ideal place where you are in comfort, peace, and love. True, we only live in houses, but it is what is inside that makes it a home, and so very special. It is the people, the memories, and pictures of your life from a time gone by on the walls. Sometimes, it can be merely the smell of a good meal that rekindles a smile from your mind of when your mom or grandma cooked or baked. Memories; may they never dwindle or disappear.
Thanksgiving is a time of gathering as I have said. We travel this day more than any other to be with those we care so much for, love so dearly, and wish to spend this meaningful day with. Planes, trains and automobiles criss-cross the globe joining loved ones to celebrate a day of cherished times and laughter. We sit at a table, across from one another, and on this day, we talk. I find this humbling as out of the three hundred and sixty five days of they year, we get this day to talk. We speak of all that we have done and been through since we last sat together; the talk is of pride, our accomplishments, a new baby, or maybe grandpa saying he is just glad he woke up today. I find this most amazing that we can cram the previous year into one day of all that we are, of all that we have done. It is a shame we don’t get to do this everyday. I guess we don’t have Ozzie and Harriett for parents and the ‘50’s are just a memory gone by.
For those of you that don’t know a poet by the name of Samuel F. Pugh, I shall introduce him to you. He wrote a poem about our day long ago, I guess back when the words he penned were symbolism over substance. He spoke of having food, but remembering those that went hungry. Work, when others were jobless. A home, and acknowledging that even in his time, some went without. He went on to ask that he remember when he is pain free, that he knows others suffer. Complacency was to be ridden of; it was to be replaced with the understanding he is to help others. For those that cried out for help, give to them, and take nothing for granted. He closed with an Amen. Thank you Mr. Pugh, I too shall do my best in life to honor your wisdom and kindness.
Today, we are to be grateful, thankful and remember why God put us all here. When all of you gather at your tables, and the sights, sounds and smells of this day permeate your mind, give thanks we are not in Baghdad, we are not in an AIDS hospital in Africa, that we are not in a soup line during the Great Depression, and that September 11, 2001, God willing, shall never happen in our lifetime again. Rejoice in the fact that the lights are on, the heat is working and soon after that sumptuous meal, yes, we can all sit back, loosen our pants, and slip deep into that wonderful after turkey food coma. Just don’t forget to buckle when you get up.
As I went to the bakery to get our pecan pies, I passed a car with a license plate bearing the word GR8TFUL. I would be that too if I had the car that the plate was on. But, I have a Harley Davidson, and they don’t, enough said. Yet, that plate got me to thinking about the word "grateful", and just what I am grateful for. This past week here has been rather tumultuous with regards to Jennifer and the treatment she is receiving for her MS. I am not exactly grateful of what it does to her, robs her of and how it saddens me; however, it is helping her to maintain a quality of life she and I can be thankful for. This God forsaken disease has taken away so many things, but it has not worked its evilness and trickery on our souls. I do have to be a caregiver for the rest of my life, but I am grateful that Jennifer smiles at me and tells me I am the bestest caregiver anyone could ever have. It saddens me to hear that, it makes me weep openly and humbles me to no end, but I am grateful and thankful someone in my life lets me know I matter to him or her. And for that, I accept this as a pathway to peace. I cannot think of a better thing in life.
Wherever you are my friends, and whoever is at your home, I sincerely hope that you have a most magnificent day. My table is already set here, the vases of flowers adorn it and I sat and polished the silverware all afternoon. I shall cook and serve Jennifer our holiday meal and after we unfold our hands and our prayers have been said, we shall sit by the candlelight and well, talk. Our Thanksgiving is just ours, just us together. Being together this day, in love, side by side as the candles flicker on in time, is a joyous occasion I shall forever cherish in my heart. I wish this for all of you. May you enjoy your talks on this Thanksgiving day and God bless you all.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Humbled and Blessed
Written By Hennessy:
To think I rode my Harley just three days ago and now there is 3 inches of snow on the ground is rather hard to grasp. But, if you live where we do, you have come to expect this weather as a right of the calendar. Rarely, do we get out of this time of year without snow. Being a biker, I do not exactly welcome this, however, it is time for the seasons to change, and the snow to fly here. What it also indicates is that Thanksgiving is here upon us once again. I love this day, and for it to be snowing is just so much more enjoyable.
As I sit and watch the snow fall slowly from the sky and into our lives, I feel so humbled and blessed. I cant exactly put my finger on it why the snow just makes this particular day so captivating. Any other day it snows I really don’t care to enjoy it, but this day makes it just that much more special. It tells us to be home, for this holiday, together with family and be amongst the ones we care so dearly about. Perhaps knowing that we don’t have to leave the house for any reason is why I am enjoying the snow. It is telling me that there is nothing outside, that the snow is a barrier to hold me in my warm home with the one I so dearly love, my wife, Jennifer. No need to venture into this cold arctic, just stay inside and let the day work its magic into our souls. A day of thanks, a day of love, time to sit together and smile. If there is such a thing as a snow god, I thank him.
This day is not about gifts, malls, returns, or commercialism. It is the one-day of the year we assemble for visiting and family that has really only the purpose of gathering together for friendship. A day to reflect, a time to talk and a setting of peacefulness. The dinner table has been heralded as the pulpit of speeches. We gather and sit amongst our families to visit. No gifts, just talking. A lost art I think that has escaped so many of us. But why? Sure, we make some phone calls long distance, laugh and relive the year we have missed out on together. We wave at the neighbors, maybe even send an email. I don’t really understand why we don’t do this each and every day. What hold does this day have on us that we assemble and tell one another about our last years life’s worth. At least we have this day, we should not be greedy. This day is not for that; it is for cherished moments at the table.
So let it snow then. Let feet of it accumulate and hold us hostage with one another so that the clock does not tell us it is time to go. May the snow fall upon our roofs and blanket us with more time to spend together. Wrap us up in laughter; remind us we can stay for another hour or so before our departures. It is OK... we can shovel later.
My day will be spent in my kitchen. I will leave it to be with my best girl, and sit her down at our table and light the candles and just hold hands in the twinkling of the flickering light. I will hear in my distant memory the words and the laughter that once came from this table. Memories of my father carving the bird as he called it. My mum in her apron. My two brothers side by side across from me. I shall pause, recall, and smile. I wish they were here now with me to talk. Just for this day. I wish the snow would bring them to me. Come home, come back. Just for one day. Sit with Jennifer and I, say hi to Izzy our dog. Bask in the warmth that is our home. Sit, and please stay for just a while.
I can’t wait to cook. I have so looked forward to this day. My mum labored tirelessly to prepare this meal of thanks for our family. To me, it is a labor of love I cannot get enough of. The smells, the taste of the feast; memories. I look back at the Thanksgiving days we have spent together in our marriage. It is storybook and will forever adorn my mind. I am a homer, and this day is my day at home. I love my wife, and home with her is heaven on this earth of ours. So let it snow, keep me inside where I am shielded from the world and let me savor this day and pray to God my many thanks for letting me enjoy it and be here for it. Thanks, for giving us the snow. The heavens have blanketed us with comfort, I for one shall enjoy the quiet storm outside, for I know that in my home, there is just peace inside these four walls. May God bless us and let us be humbled.
To think I rode my Harley just three days ago and now there is 3 inches of snow on the ground is rather hard to grasp. But, if you live where we do, you have come to expect this weather as a right of the calendar. Rarely, do we get out of this time of year without snow. Being a biker, I do not exactly welcome this, however, it is time for the seasons to change, and the snow to fly here. What it also indicates is that Thanksgiving is here upon us once again. I love this day, and for it to be snowing is just so much more enjoyable.
As I sit and watch the snow fall slowly from the sky and into our lives, I feel so humbled and blessed. I cant exactly put my finger on it why the snow just makes this particular day so captivating. Any other day it snows I really don’t care to enjoy it, but this day makes it just that much more special. It tells us to be home, for this holiday, together with family and be amongst the ones we care so dearly about. Perhaps knowing that we don’t have to leave the house for any reason is why I am enjoying the snow. It is telling me that there is nothing outside, that the snow is a barrier to hold me in my warm home with the one I so dearly love, my wife, Jennifer. No need to venture into this cold arctic, just stay inside and let the day work its magic into our souls. A day of thanks, a day of love, time to sit together and smile. If there is such a thing as a snow god, I thank him.
This day is not about gifts, malls, returns, or commercialism. It is the one-day of the year we assemble for visiting and family that has really only the purpose of gathering together for friendship. A day to reflect, a time to talk and a setting of peacefulness. The dinner table has been heralded as the pulpit of speeches. We gather and sit amongst our families to visit. No gifts, just talking. A lost art I think that has escaped so many of us. But why? Sure, we make some phone calls long distance, laugh and relive the year we have missed out on together. We wave at the neighbors, maybe even send an email. I don’t really understand why we don’t do this each and every day. What hold does this day have on us that we assemble and tell one another about our last years life’s worth. At least we have this day, we should not be greedy. This day is not for that; it is for cherished moments at the table.
So let it snow then. Let feet of it accumulate and hold us hostage with one another so that the clock does not tell us it is time to go. May the snow fall upon our roofs and blanket us with more time to spend together. Wrap us up in laughter; remind us we can stay for another hour or so before our departures. It is OK... we can shovel later.
My day will be spent in my kitchen. I will leave it to be with my best girl, and sit her down at our table and light the candles and just hold hands in the twinkling of the flickering light. I will hear in my distant memory the words and the laughter that once came from this table. Memories of my father carving the bird as he called it. My mum in her apron. My two brothers side by side across from me. I shall pause, recall, and smile. I wish they were here now with me to talk. Just for this day. I wish the snow would bring them to me. Come home, come back. Just for one day. Sit with Jennifer and I, say hi to Izzy our dog. Bask in the warmth that is our home. Sit, and please stay for just a while.
I can’t wait to cook. I have so looked forward to this day. My mum labored tirelessly to prepare this meal of thanks for our family. To me, it is a labor of love I cannot get enough of. The smells, the taste of the feast; memories. I look back at the Thanksgiving days we have spent together in our marriage. It is storybook and will forever adorn my mind. I am a homer, and this day is my day at home. I love my wife, and home with her is heaven on this earth of ours. So let it snow, keep me inside where I am shielded from the world and let me savor this day and pray to God my many thanks for letting me enjoy it and be here for it. Thanks, for giving us the snow. The heavens have blanketed us with comfort, I for one shall enjoy the quiet storm outside, for I know that in my home, there is just peace inside these four walls. May God bless us and let us be humbled.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends
I know I’m not perfect. No one is. A flawed gemstone isn’t even realized until it cracks in 2. I was close to cracking the last month or so. The flaws, worries and stressors are still being camouflaged to the best of my abilities. I find that deep breaths and wine help, but not as much as my friends.
There are times in my life that I should have taken a right turn but I chose to turn wrong instead. But as StoryPeople so rawly states, I am only strong enough for a life of partial virtue. And that my friends, is why I need a REWIND button. Well, of course WE ALL could use one of those but I find I am in need of one more often than I care to admit. (What the hell is up with that?)
I try not to judge and I ask others to do the same. Thank God for my friends who have had to put up with me a lot the last couple of weeks.
Don’t judge and you’ll never be wrong. Thanks for that.
Things are finally starting to look up a bit but I think some irrevocable damage was done. I was less than pleased with some of the answers I received this week but I’ll deal with it.
You can sew it up but you still see the tear (U2 – The Sweetest Thing).
I’d like to rewind a lot of things I’ve done in life but all we can do is learn from our mistakes, mishaps, and bad choices (no matter how good it felt at the time).
But what do you feed a hungry soul?
And leave it my friend Hennessy to remind me of two very important things:
1. The strongest of us were forged by the hottest fires of hell
2. Three can keep a secret if two are dead
Big thanks. Much love.
_______________________________________________
What do you see when you turn out the light?
I can't tell you, but I know it's mine.
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends
Mmm I get high with a little help from my friends
Oh I'm gonna try with a little help from my friends
There are times in my life that I should have taken a right turn but I chose to turn wrong instead. But as StoryPeople so rawly states, I am only strong enough for a life of partial virtue. And that my friends, is why I need a REWIND button. Well, of course WE ALL could use one of those but I find I am in need of one more often than I care to admit. (What the hell is up with that?)
I try not to judge and I ask others to do the same. Thank God for my friends who have had to put up with me a lot the last couple of weeks.
Don’t judge and you’ll never be wrong. Thanks for that.
Things are finally starting to look up a bit but I think some irrevocable damage was done. I was less than pleased with some of the answers I received this week but I’ll deal with it.
You can sew it up but you still see the tear (U2 – The Sweetest Thing).
I’d like to rewind a lot of things I’ve done in life but all we can do is learn from our mistakes, mishaps, and bad choices (no matter how good it felt at the time).
But what do you feed a hungry soul?
And leave it my friend Hennessy to remind me of two very important things:
1. The strongest of us were forged by the hottest fires of hell
2. Three can keep a secret if two are dead
Big thanks. Much love.
_______________________________________________
What do you see when you turn out the light?
I can't tell you, but I know it's mine.
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends
Mmm I get high with a little help from my friends
Oh I'm gonna try with a little help from my friends
Sunday, November 09, 2008
Her Name is Misty
Written by Jules:
This morning, I went to Oberlin with my sister to visit a favorite store of mine, Bead Paradise, before we headed to Wellington to hit a wonderful little coffee shop for lunch. My sister was hoping to get ideas for Christmas at the bead store, which is an amazing place - there is so much there that one can become totally overwhelmed and decisions can be difficult at best. After our trip there, we went into a little flower shop so that my sister could look for a card. It was in this little store that I made an encounter that has stayed with me all day, and probably will forever.
I wasn't particularly interested in looking around the store, as my funds were limited and there was nothing I needed, but I soon noticed in the back of the store a small collie dog. The dog was sleeping and not paying much attention to us. Within a few feet of where I was standing, there was another collie. I was not sure if she was friendly. I called to her and after a few attempts, she rose from her position and came to me reluctantly. She let me pet her, but what I noticed right off was a distant, far away feeling from this beautiful dog. She was aloof, a bit afraid. I kept talking to her and she looked at me, but she did not react much. She reminded me of how my calico cat Ginger behaved when she first came to live with us.
Ginger had been a shelter cat, having lived in a cage for at least six months before finally ending up with Erieshores, who put her in a foster home where she lived during the week with a family and other homeless cats. On Saturdays, Ginger and other Erieshores cats went to Petsmart where the hope was someone would adopt her. On a Saturday in late January 2002, I was at Petsmart, and happened to see Ginger. It was 3 months after my calico cat Lily had passed. They looked so much alike. Ginger became a member of our family one week later.
The dog at the flower store, I learned from the lady who owned her, had lived in a kennel for 7 years - her entire life. She lived in a cage and was kept for breeding purposes. At some point, her vocal cords had been snipped to prevent her from barking. The beautiful collie's name was Misty. Her owner told me that Misty has had very little socialization. When they adopted her, she wanted only to go into a cage they kept in their house. They soon realized they couldn't let her stay at home during their work hours so they brought her to the store. They have had her for three months. Misty does not wag her tail. She does not seem to be able to react back to affection or attention. But after three months, her new owners feel she has made some progress. They were told it could take as long as a year to help her acclimate to a loving home and respond back. After sitting on the floor in this flower shop, petting Misty and talking quietly to her, my heart broke. I could have cried.
I do know, though, that on the one day a week my son has his guitar lesson, and my husband and I go for burritos at Agave Burrito Bar, we are also going to visit Misty in that flower shop to see how she is doing and to get to know her a little better. I want to see light in this beautiful dog's eyes and not the fear and emptiness I saw today. With the owners who have her now, I believe strongly that in time, just like my cat Ginger, that Misty will come around. She has a chance now. She has a chance to know a life with caring and loving people.
President-Elect Barack Obama's election night speech in which he told his daughters that they had earned a new puppy and that puppy would be going with them to the White House, has captured the attention of the media, but especially the attention of those who work with or are committed to animals in shelters. The family hopes to adopt a shelter dog. And I hope they do too. It will send a message out that it is absolutely THE RIGHT THING TO DO and perhaps can help other dogs like Misty and cats like Ginger get good homes with people who will love them.
"Dogs are our link to paradise. They don't know evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring - it was peace." - Milan Kundera
This morning, I went to Oberlin with my sister to visit a favorite store of mine, Bead Paradise, before we headed to Wellington to hit a wonderful little coffee shop for lunch. My sister was hoping to get ideas for Christmas at the bead store, which is an amazing place - there is so much there that one can become totally overwhelmed and decisions can be difficult at best. After our trip there, we went into a little flower shop so that my sister could look for a card. It was in this little store that I made an encounter that has stayed with me all day, and probably will forever.
I wasn't particularly interested in looking around the store, as my funds were limited and there was nothing I needed, but I soon noticed in the back of the store a small collie dog. The dog was sleeping and not paying much attention to us. Within a few feet of where I was standing, there was another collie. I was not sure if she was friendly. I called to her and after a few attempts, she rose from her position and came to me reluctantly. She let me pet her, but what I noticed right off was a distant, far away feeling from this beautiful dog. She was aloof, a bit afraid. I kept talking to her and she looked at me, but she did not react much. She reminded me of how my calico cat Ginger behaved when she first came to live with us.
Ginger had been a shelter cat, having lived in a cage for at least six months before finally ending up with Erieshores, who put her in a foster home where she lived during the week with a family and other homeless cats. On Saturdays, Ginger and other Erieshores cats went to Petsmart where the hope was someone would adopt her. On a Saturday in late January 2002, I was at Petsmart, and happened to see Ginger. It was 3 months after my calico cat Lily had passed. They looked so much alike. Ginger became a member of our family one week later.
The dog at the flower store, I learned from the lady who owned her, had lived in a kennel for 7 years - her entire life. She lived in a cage and was kept for breeding purposes. At some point, her vocal cords had been snipped to prevent her from barking. The beautiful collie's name was Misty. Her owner told me that Misty has had very little socialization. When they adopted her, she wanted only to go into a cage they kept in their house. They soon realized they couldn't let her stay at home during their work hours so they brought her to the store. They have had her for three months. Misty does not wag her tail. She does not seem to be able to react back to affection or attention. But after three months, her new owners feel she has made some progress. They were told it could take as long as a year to help her acclimate to a loving home and respond back. After sitting on the floor in this flower shop, petting Misty and talking quietly to her, my heart broke. I could have cried.
I do know, though, that on the one day a week my son has his guitar lesson, and my husband and I go for burritos at Agave Burrito Bar, we are also going to visit Misty in that flower shop to see how she is doing and to get to know her a little better. I want to see light in this beautiful dog's eyes and not the fear and emptiness I saw today. With the owners who have her now, I believe strongly that in time, just like my cat Ginger, that Misty will come around. She has a chance now. She has a chance to know a life with caring and loving people.
President-Elect Barack Obama's election night speech in which he told his daughters that they had earned a new puppy and that puppy would be going with them to the White House, has captured the attention of the media, but especially the attention of those who work with or are committed to animals in shelters. The family hopes to adopt a shelter dog. And I hope they do too. It will send a message out that it is absolutely THE RIGHT THING TO DO and perhaps can help other dogs like Misty and cats like Ginger get good homes with people who will love them.
"Dogs are our link to paradise. They don't know evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring - it was peace." - Milan Kundera
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Girls' Night Out - West Virginia Style
I know. I’m so very more New York Style (which might be the next destination) and I’ll be the first to admit the housing in the area was more than frightening (and those were the homes that didn’t have their Halloween decorations out yet), but an animal grooming business called “Doggie Style” made us laugh out loud despite ourselves!
Welcome to West Virginia!
And yes, just like Vegas, what happens in West Virginia, stays in West Virginia…at least to some extent.
Mountaineer Casino was the destination of choice. A friend of ours had been there numerous times and thus the idea was born…I planned “Girls’ Night Out.”
It was a beautiful drive down. The fall foliage was amazing and vibrant. The earthy hues of nature surrounded us as we talked and giggled and almost missed several important exits!
I thought how much Hennessy might like to ride his bike this way because he spoke so adoringly of this season. I thought how thrilled we all were to be getting away from the stressors we have – and boy do we have them! I thought of some other friends and one other person I might enjoy spending this much time with – on a destination to fun and trouble. The mind wanders…lost in fantasy and far from reality, which, after all, was the point of the trip.
The narrow bridge we took over from OH to WV had our driver white-knuckled. I didn’t look down. I prayed with my eyes closed and teeth clenched. I needed a glass of wine, or three, or maybe a bottle.
We had the car valet parked. I checked us in. I was still a little nervous it might not pan out as planned. You see, I had to rely on others, which I hate to do, but it was necessary… he said he’d make the call. Sometimes people offer to do things and they don’t come through. This was not the case. (I, of course had a PLAN B). There was absolutely no problem at all though and, instead of 11:00 AM, we received a NOON check out. SWEET!
He gave the word.
Our rooms were COMPED.
Nice.
Ravenous after the trek, we went to Gatsby’s for burgers. (Next time, we’ll try the 5-star Restaurant, La Bonne Vie). After that, a quick tour of the casino and then, time to gamble. Some of the slots were silly (CashSquatch, MIB, etc) but they paid. It was cool to spin a “bonus” which could last anywhere from 5 seconds to a couple of minutes. We moved to various games and hit on and off. It was addictive. We laughed, we joked, spent money, we ate, drank, won money. Everyone was friendly and having a good time. Deeper into the night, it became increasingly more difficult to find an open machine. The place got packed – quick! Noise, smoke and lights filled the casino and you couldn’t help but get caught up in it all.
Being from Ohio, it was strange (and a bit rancid) to see people smoking inside. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run away or light up myself. I did neither. Later that night we hit the Mahogany Piano Bar and treated ourselves to more cocktails along with Gorgonzola Dip and focaccia bread baked with sun-dried tomatoes. Rich and delicious! Dirty martinis came with olives stuffed with almonds.
The next morning, we hit Gatsby’s again for a quick breakfast. Blueberry pancakes, Belgium Waffles, sides of protein and lots and lots of coffee. We gambled a bit more before heading home.
The sun peaked out on and off to brighten the reds, yellows and oranges coloring the leaves of trees located in the gully and valleys on either side of us. We couldn’t believe how beautiful Ohio truly was during the season of autumn. We breathed it all in remembering that winter would soon be upon us once again.
And so, we decided, whether COMPED again or not,
“We’ll have to do this again.”
___________________________________________
Ships are only safe in harbor
But that's not what ships were built for
Welcome to West Virginia!
And yes, just like Vegas, what happens in West Virginia, stays in West Virginia…at least to some extent.
Mountaineer Casino was the destination of choice. A friend of ours had been there numerous times and thus the idea was born…I planned “Girls’ Night Out.”
It was a beautiful drive down. The fall foliage was amazing and vibrant. The earthy hues of nature surrounded us as we talked and giggled and almost missed several important exits!
I thought how much Hennessy might like to ride his bike this way because he spoke so adoringly of this season. I thought how thrilled we all were to be getting away from the stressors we have – and boy do we have them! I thought of some other friends and one other person I might enjoy spending this much time with – on a destination to fun and trouble. The mind wanders…lost in fantasy and far from reality, which, after all, was the point of the trip.
The narrow bridge we took over from OH to WV had our driver white-knuckled. I didn’t look down. I prayed with my eyes closed and teeth clenched. I needed a glass of wine, or three, or maybe a bottle.
We had the car valet parked. I checked us in. I was still a little nervous it might not pan out as planned. You see, I had to rely on others, which I hate to do, but it was necessary… he said he’d make the call. Sometimes people offer to do things and they don’t come through. This was not the case. (I, of course had a PLAN B). There was absolutely no problem at all though and, instead of 11:00 AM, we received a NOON check out. SWEET!
He gave the word.
Our rooms were COMPED.
Nice.
Ravenous after the trek, we went to Gatsby’s for burgers. (Next time, we’ll try the 5-star Restaurant, La Bonne Vie). After that, a quick tour of the casino and then, time to gamble. Some of the slots were silly (CashSquatch, MIB, etc) but they paid. It was cool to spin a “bonus” which could last anywhere from 5 seconds to a couple of minutes. We moved to various games and hit on and off. It was addictive. We laughed, we joked, spent money, we ate, drank, won money. Everyone was friendly and having a good time. Deeper into the night, it became increasingly more difficult to find an open machine. The place got packed – quick! Noise, smoke and lights filled the casino and you couldn’t help but get caught up in it all.
Being from Ohio, it was strange (and a bit rancid) to see people smoking inside. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run away or light up myself. I did neither. Later that night we hit the Mahogany Piano Bar and treated ourselves to more cocktails along with Gorgonzola Dip and focaccia bread baked with sun-dried tomatoes. Rich and delicious! Dirty martinis came with olives stuffed with almonds.
The next morning, we hit Gatsby’s again for a quick breakfast. Blueberry pancakes, Belgium Waffles, sides of protein and lots and lots of coffee. We gambled a bit more before heading home.
The sun peaked out on and off to brighten the reds, yellows and oranges coloring the leaves of trees located in the gully and valleys on either side of us. We couldn’t believe how beautiful Ohio truly was during the season of autumn. We breathed it all in remembering that winter would soon be upon us once again.
And so, we decided, whether COMPED again or not,
“We’ll have to do this again.”
___________________________________________
Ships are only safe in harbor
But that's not what ships were built for
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Keeping The Faith - At Least Trying To
Another submission from our friend Jules. Enjoy:
“I believe in the sun, even when it is not shining.
I believe in love, even when I cannot feel it.
I believe in God, even when He is silent.”
Written on the walls of a basement in Cologne, Germany, by a Jew in hiding during the Holocaust.
Faith is not an easy thing to me to write about, but I’m going to try. My faith, that is. I’ve always been interested in the faith of others and how they make it work in their lives, obviously making comparisons to my own struggles with belief and trust in God. I would not call myself a particularly religious person, although I have been raised Catholic from the get go and had strong religious influences growing up. Some of them were comforting, and some of them were scary. Today, I have to admit that my thoughts regarding my personal faith have a “confused” aspect to them, since I was taught that God loves, but God also punishes. Prayer life consisted of praying for the sick, those already gone, for something bad to get better and yes, at a more immature stage, for personal things I wanted for myself. Prayer was structured prayers and a little conversation added on for the personal stuff.
I’ve been praying since I could talk and was told to say my prayers. A younger “me” believed in the power of prayer and the answers that came, not always in the obvious way one might expect. Novenas weren’t something to sneeze at. Like everyone else on the planet, I have had hard times physically and emotionally, some difficult and some not as difficult as what others have to face. I felt God was there for me. So what happened? Over the years, my prayer life has taken on a more apprehensive angle – it’s gotten harder. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe. There are times, many times, when I feel myself praying to the air around me, alone. And that silence – well, let’s say I’ve “heard” that silence quite often, and I cannot not help but feel total isolation and abandonment from God. Hope sometimes goes down the drain.
I know that life is no piece of cake – it’s damned hard at times. We have no choice but to learn to accept. Some things, of course, take longer to accept, and some are perhaps never accepted – and this accumulation of loss, a fact of life we cannot escape, can strip your heart of hope. And how can a person live without hope?
Perhaps knowing, through the honesty of others that I am not alone in these feelings has given me a kind of courage, in a way. Opening up to a Catholic priest about the same age as myself, and also to a wonderful sister at the convent of my parish, I have learned that even the most seemingly religiously “intact” among us also feel this spiritual aloneness. I have desperately appreciated their honesty and sincerity in talking about the ups and downs of their faith. They made me feel less “guilty” about my thoughts, less of an agnostic because they, too, fluctuate in the strength and weakness of their faith. I expected to be chastised, but I wasn’t. I found common ground with these people – people who have dedicated their lives to God and the life of the religious. They sacrificed marriage and children to lives in service to a God they cannot visually see, a God they cannot personally have a one-on-one conversation with. They don’t think that much different than I do – well, that may be taking it a step too far, but I felt a lot better about myself for the conversations that we had.
A book written about Mother Teresa was released a few years ago – an account of her spiritual journey and, ironically to those who held her in high regard as the Saint of Calcutta, her spiritual darkness. I doubt she intended for her most personal thoughts, written in letters, to one day be published in a book about her life, but nevertheless, her most private thoughts about her faith, and sometimes lack of faith, were published. Some people were surprised by such admissions that this Nobel Peace prize winner for her humanitarian efforts had her doubts and maybe they were disappointed by this revelation. To a trusted spiritual director, she wrote, “…the place of God in my soul is blank – there is no God in me… He is not there… Sometimes, I feel my own heart cry out, “My God” and nothing else comes – the torture and pain I can’t explain.” I was grateful for her honesty. I felt little less alone myself to read such words from a woman who devoted her life to doing God’s work and helping the poor, even when she felt that silence. But Mother Teresa didn’t give up. I think of all the people she helped, prayed for, administered to, showed kindness and love toward when she felt her own private spiritual darkness. Yet she was a light in a dark world for a lot of people who were desperate for the basic of human needs. I admire her more now just knowing how she personally felt, as well as the sacrifices and good that she did.
The Serenity Prayer – the prayer of AA, the prayer of accepting, courage and wisdom. That prayer actually says a lot of life and coping. I really like that prayer and try to keep it in the back of my mind as much as I can, when I feel discouraged, and am having problems coping with the cold and heartless realities we all must face. It is a good thing to focus on – a little hope in a dark and confusing world. And we have to have hope – as difficult as it may be sometimes to really hang on to when the going gets rough. But without hope, you may as well never get up in the morning. The world is too difficult a place to cope without it – faith too. People search for meaning and purpose in their lives and maybe sometimes we just aren’t going to find it in the way we want. My faith may have its ups and downs and I may fluctuate during the course of a day. I will have my doubts and my fears. I’m human. I am geared to question. I hope God understands. Because I have to believe He is there, in all this silence.
“I believe in the sun, even when it is not shining.
I believe in love, even when I cannot feel it.
I believe in God, even when He is silent.”
Written on the walls of a basement in Cologne, Germany, by a Jew in hiding during the Holocaust.
Faith is not an easy thing to me to write about, but I’m going to try. My faith, that is. I’ve always been interested in the faith of others and how they make it work in their lives, obviously making comparisons to my own struggles with belief and trust in God. I would not call myself a particularly religious person, although I have been raised Catholic from the get go and had strong religious influences growing up. Some of them were comforting, and some of them were scary. Today, I have to admit that my thoughts regarding my personal faith have a “confused” aspect to them, since I was taught that God loves, but God also punishes. Prayer life consisted of praying for the sick, those already gone, for something bad to get better and yes, at a more immature stage, for personal things I wanted for myself. Prayer was structured prayers and a little conversation added on for the personal stuff.
I’ve been praying since I could talk and was told to say my prayers. A younger “me” believed in the power of prayer and the answers that came, not always in the obvious way one might expect. Novenas weren’t something to sneeze at. Like everyone else on the planet, I have had hard times physically and emotionally, some difficult and some not as difficult as what others have to face. I felt God was there for me. So what happened? Over the years, my prayer life has taken on a more apprehensive angle – it’s gotten harder. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe. There are times, many times, when I feel myself praying to the air around me, alone. And that silence – well, let’s say I’ve “heard” that silence quite often, and I cannot not help but feel total isolation and abandonment from God. Hope sometimes goes down the drain.
I know that life is no piece of cake – it’s damned hard at times. We have no choice but to learn to accept. Some things, of course, take longer to accept, and some are perhaps never accepted – and this accumulation of loss, a fact of life we cannot escape, can strip your heart of hope. And how can a person live without hope?
Perhaps knowing, through the honesty of others that I am not alone in these feelings has given me a kind of courage, in a way. Opening up to a Catholic priest about the same age as myself, and also to a wonderful sister at the convent of my parish, I have learned that even the most seemingly religiously “intact” among us also feel this spiritual aloneness. I have desperately appreciated their honesty and sincerity in talking about the ups and downs of their faith. They made me feel less “guilty” about my thoughts, less of an agnostic because they, too, fluctuate in the strength and weakness of their faith. I expected to be chastised, but I wasn’t. I found common ground with these people – people who have dedicated their lives to God and the life of the religious. They sacrificed marriage and children to lives in service to a God they cannot visually see, a God they cannot personally have a one-on-one conversation with. They don’t think that much different than I do – well, that may be taking it a step too far, but I felt a lot better about myself for the conversations that we had.
A book written about Mother Teresa was released a few years ago – an account of her spiritual journey and, ironically to those who held her in high regard as the Saint of Calcutta, her spiritual darkness. I doubt she intended for her most personal thoughts, written in letters, to one day be published in a book about her life, but nevertheless, her most private thoughts about her faith, and sometimes lack of faith, were published. Some people were surprised by such admissions that this Nobel Peace prize winner for her humanitarian efforts had her doubts and maybe they were disappointed by this revelation. To a trusted spiritual director, she wrote, “…the place of God in my soul is blank – there is no God in me… He is not there… Sometimes, I feel my own heart cry out, “My God” and nothing else comes – the torture and pain I can’t explain.” I was grateful for her honesty. I felt little less alone myself to read such words from a woman who devoted her life to doing God’s work and helping the poor, even when she felt that silence. But Mother Teresa didn’t give up. I think of all the people she helped, prayed for, administered to, showed kindness and love toward when she felt her own private spiritual darkness. Yet she was a light in a dark world for a lot of people who were desperate for the basic of human needs. I admire her more now just knowing how she personally felt, as well as the sacrifices and good that she did.
The Serenity Prayer – the prayer of AA, the prayer of accepting, courage and wisdom. That prayer actually says a lot of life and coping. I really like that prayer and try to keep it in the back of my mind as much as I can, when I feel discouraged, and am having problems coping with the cold and heartless realities we all must face. It is a good thing to focus on – a little hope in a dark and confusing world. And we have to have hope – as difficult as it may be sometimes to really hang on to when the going gets rough. But without hope, you may as well never get up in the morning. The world is too difficult a place to cope without it – faith too. People search for meaning and purpose in their lives and maybe sometimes we just aren’t going to find it in the way we want. My faith may have its ups and downs and I may fluctuate during the course of a day. I will have my doubts and my fears. I’m human. I am geared to question. I hope God understands. Because I have to believe He is there, in all this silence.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Changing Seasons Changing Lives
(Written By Hennessy)
Autumn.
Fall.
We have come to recognize this season of the year by both names. I prefer autumn. It just sounds prettier and conjures up a nice image in my mind. The colors of the leaves appear to be prettier when I think of autumn. I guess fall is a signal to a change coming, a time when something disappears, and reappears as something else.
Winter.
I am not fond of winter, especially since I live in Cleveland, Ohio. Even though I prefer autumn, things did change for me in my life, and I suppose that is why I don’t like fall. Wake me up, when September ends.
I say that because of my brother, Bill. I lost him in September and, in October, I lost my brother, Mark. Fall; the fall of my brothers. That is why I prefer autumn. Perhaps I fell too after they left me. I wonder if I ever made it back up again. Sometimes I am not so sure now that both of them are not with me anymore. Two people I sometimes think I have let slip from my mind. Two brothers I need yet they don’t answer me when I call to them. The silence is maddening at times; not hearing or seeing them anymore. To have them both gone is just tragically sad for me. I miss them terribly. I wonder a lot what we would have been like as brothers now at this time and age of our respective lives. I can only wonder, as they are not here to let me witness what might have been.
Perhaps this season of change is something that I don’t really understand since I feel so sad that my brothers cannot share in it; this special time of nature. It is rather cruel I feel that we cannot be as family and talk about just how pretty it is now. I do feel rather lost watching the leaves turn to brilliant colors without them. Maybe watching the changes in the leaves is telling me that life changes, and that even though the leaves do disappear, they do return. Could it be that nature is telling me that they are here, and have returned in spirit and are with me now? I will ponder this always and wonder if it is true. When the leaves all come back, are they there? Are they both as full of life as the newly adorned trees are? Can they see me as I see them? I wonder.
When my memory of them rests, I shall never forget what I lost. Wake me up, when September ends. Summer has come to pass, the innocence can never last, wake me up, when September ends. Every memory of walking out the front doorI found the photo of the two that I was looking for. It is hard to say it, but time to say it, good-bye, good-bye my brothers. Let my wishes be those that one day you return to me in spirit, like the returning leaves that left in autumn. May they be bright, full of life, and always wave in the wind, a sign telling me you are there.
I do like autumn, and this change it brings me each crisp day when the leaves are beginning to come down. It helps me relive those days I so wish I could have just one more time. I know there is a time where there will be a return of innocence. Watching as the leaves change, from one shade to the next, makes me aware that you cant keep things constant. Time and change are a given as they never stop for even one minute, one day, one year. Seasons come and go, memories are made in each, yet memories of days from the past are lived during this time as well. Perhaps this is what I long for, a change that brings them back, not just as a memory, but also as my brothers and their spirits. I will continue to watch the leaves change, be swept away by the wind, and think of them and smile. Maybe that breeze is them laughing, speaking to me. I hope so. Till then, I will wake when September ends, and wait for them. Come back Bill and Mark, come back to me. Do you see the tears in my eyes as the sun sets here? Do you see me waiting for you? Let me know when you are here with me. I would love to be your brother once again as my life needs that void filled you left me with. I am not angry, just lonesome for your faces. I miss you. Just wake me when you get here.
Autumn.
Fall.
We have come to recognize this season of the year by both names. I prefer autumn. It just sounds prettier and conjures up a nice image in my mind. The colors of the leaves appear to be prettier when I think of autumn. I guess fall is a signal to a change coming, a time when something disappears, and reappears as something else.
Winter.
I am not fond of winter, especially since I live in Cleveland, Ohio. Even though I prefer autumn, things did change for me in my life, and I suppose that is why I don’t like fall. Wake me up, when September ends.
I say that because of my brother, Bill. I lost him in September and, in October, I lost my brother, Mark. Fall; the fall of my brothers. That is why I prefer autumn. Perhaps I fell too after they left me. I wonder if I ever made it back up again. Sometimes I am not so sure now that both of them are not with me anymore. Two people I sometimes think I have let slip from my mind. Two brothers I need yet they don’t answer me when I call to them. The silence is maddening at times; not hearing or seeing them anymore. To have them both gone is just tragically sad for me. I miss them terribly. I wonder a lot what we would have been like as brothers now at this time and age of our respective lives. I can only wonder, as they are not here to let me witness what might have been.
Perhaps this season of change is something that I don’t really understand since I feel so sad that my brothers cannot share in it; this special time of nature. It is rather cruel I feel that we cannot be as family and talk about just how pretty it is now. I do feel rather lost watching the leaves turn to brilliant colors without them. Maybe watching the changes in the leaves is telling me that life changes, and that even though the leaves do disappear, they do return. Could it be that nature is telling me that they are here, and have returned in spirit and are with me now? I will ponder this always and wonder if it is true. When the leaves all come back, are they there? Are they both as full of life as the newly adorned trees are? Can they see me as I see them? I wonder.
When my memory of them rests, I shall never forget what I lost. Wake me up, when September ends. Summer has come to pass, the innocence can never last, wake me up, when September ends. Every memory of walking out the front doorI found the photo of the two that I was looking for. It is hard to say it, but time to say it, good-bye, good-bye my brothers. Let my wishes be those that one day you return to me in spirit, like the returning leaves that left in autumn. May they be bright, full of life, and always wave in the wind, a sign telling me you are there.
I do like autumn, and this change it brings me each crisp day when the leaves are beginning to come down. It helps me relive those days I so wish I could have just one more time. I know there is a time where there will be a return of innocence. Watching as the leaves change, from one shade to the next, makes me aware that you cant keep things constant. Time and change are a given as they never stop for even one minute, one day, one year. Seasons come and go, memories are made in each, yet memories of days from the past are lived during this time as well. Perhaps this is what I long for, a change that brings them back, not just as a memory, but also as my brothers and their spirits. I will continue to watch the leaves change, be swept away by the wind, and think of them and smile. Maybe that breeze is them laughing, speaking to me. I hope so. Till then, I will wake when September ends, and wait for them. Come back Bill and Mark, come back to me. Do you see the tears in my eyes as the sun sets here? Do you see me waiting for you? Let me know when you are here with me. I would love to be your brother once again as my life needs that void filled you left me with. I am not angry, just lonesome for your faces. I miss you. Just wake me when you get here.
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