As a parent of a rising high school junior and college sophomore, I have heard one statement more and more frequently from other parents. When referring to a son or daughter the age of my children they often say - "I only hope that (s)he makes good decisions." I have uttered these words as well, and I sincerely wish this for my children. I'd love to loan them my wisdom and insure that they don't hurl themselves headlong into pits I've crawled out of by the grace of God. And without giving them any ideas...I've schooled them as well as I can in this training program called parenthood. The older that they get, the more I see my job narrowing significantly to eventually primarily emcompass what I perceive to be the big three: watch, hope and pray.
It is my stringent belief that much of our life is rolled into the choices that we make, and the rest - heredity, environment, expectations, opportunities, geography, and timing do the work of fine tuning our lives into something unique. And while we do not have control of the circumstances of our birth or our upbringing, there comes a point where our decisions begin to steer the ship - for better or for worse. Whether we pilot that ship alone, or with someone at the helm, is one of those decisions...but it may be the most important.
In early adulthood, we see the smorgasbord of potential occupations, opportunities, and options as a bit overwhelming. Which college to attend, which job to accept, what we are going to do as a profession, and where we are going to live are all major life changing decisions. Nobody disputes this, and although we would all like to have all of the answers when it would do us the most good, the majority unfolds in unexpected ways due to the influence of others, and to the uniqueness of our individual situation. We celebrate people who seem to get it right...those who perform well in school, have exceptional athletic ability that earns a scholarship, who have a calling to the ministry, medicine, or education, or those who have a strong relationship with the Lord from an early age. And while these are definitely worthy of celebration and admiration...the majority of us get our answers in a far less impressive manner.
Strangely enough, most of us spend the first eighteen years of our lives focused on the short term and build our view of ourselves within those constraints. We are overlooked in high school and become convinced that college will be more of the same. We make a mistake that defines our life. We win every award, title, or contest and are universally loved and admired. We have a family history to overcome. We have every advantage and have no reason to believe that life will be anything but what we have known it to be. As such, it is obviously sometimes a good thing...other times...not so much.
All of us have heard of people who do exceptional feats at a young age...and we are fascinated by this. I think of the young gymnasts, ice skaters, swimmers, singers, and pilots and I am awed by not only their talent, but by their determination and focus. I remember spending Friday nights in my childhood secretly wishing that I could be in The Partridge Family or would actually learn to be exceptional at something. Unfortunately for me, in this regard, I was a late bloomer.
However, most of us are the product of the decisions that we have made. If we trace our lives forward, we can project where our education, family influence, intelligence, and talent should lead us. We then confidently head out in the direction of our dreams...or whatever graduation speeches tell us to do.
When we are older, though, we have both the benefit of hindsight and foresight. we have mourned the death of some precious dreams we held, have learned to appreciate the moment, and believe that there is still some unexplored territory. For instance, I know the answers to many of the questions I had at 18. I have had the time, encouragement and opportunity to develop certain gifts, and have had to let others atrophy. For instance...I now have the drive to write, am paid to do it in my employment, and derive a lot of enjoyment from it, but I can no longer do a back bend. Oh well.
But as I trace the path of my life, I am also able to trace the hand of the many people who came to nudge, suggest, or drag me kicking and screaming from point A to point B. My life is more than just the conscious decisions that I made. I had other people who saw potential in me, just like I have seen and encouraged potential in others. Sometimes a simple suggestion at the perfect time sent me out on a different trajectory than I would have followed had the intervention not occurred. Granted, there were times when choosing one option meant saying no to another. Failing to choose at times gave me the direction I would follow by default. Choosing poorly sometimes limited my choices in other areas. Life is like a multiple choice test where there is often more than one correct answer to every question. And other times, no matter how you choose...you are going to get the same answer.
It has been my opinion, based on my faith, that my life has been a series of choices that are secondary to a primary purpose that God put me here to accomplish and has revealed to me over time. Some of my early stupidity gave me wisdom...although I wouldn't recommend learning the hard way. Overcoming obstacles and having little fear of being transparent gave God an advocate that He has used to affect other people's lives. And for some reason, I am one of those people that other people tend to ask an opinion from on occasion. So, as I look at my failures, I sometimes see them now as proof of God's redemptive power. I also see them as part of the mosaic of who I am. A mosaic that wouldn't be quite as interesting without those dark stones to more heavily define the light ones.
As a parent...yes...I hope that my children will make good decisions. I have been fortunate in that the big decisions I made...marriage partner, children, profession, geography...have worked out for me thus far. I'm also hoping that I can correct some poor ones I've made in terms of taking care of myself, being more organized, and focusing on what is most important. With God's help, I will...and so will my children. Later!
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Friday, July 10, 2009
Tuscaloosa Trek - Part I
Today I was invited to drive 2 1/2 hours to Tuscaloosa, Alabama...home of The University of Alabama...by my daughter. Jill is taking a summer course and had to take one of her proctored tests in Macroeconomics. Unfortunately, she has about as much of a natural bent for this subject as her mother did, and had been up all night studying, reviewing online lectures, and taking practice tests. Since the girl that she and Emily are staying with did not get through with class until 5:00...she was looking to fill her afternoon. She decided that today would be a great day to show me her future home.
This desire to show me her new digs coincided with my final vacation day this week...and she apparently could not bear the thought of her mother spending another day in her hot pink moumou. (Editor's note: "hot" describing the color pink and certainly NOT the moumou or the wearer of said sad little garment.) Never mind that another day of sloth had previously sounded like an excellent plan to me.
I decided to spend gas money to travel up and see the place that she will be residing next year with three of her Phi Mu sorority sisters...a place known by Big Dave as "The Taj Mahal" and by Jill as "The Barn" due to the fact that it is barn red in color. The subdivision is known as "The Retreat" and it houses approximately 275 houses that hold an estimated 1,000 students. It is brand new, has a pool that is amazingly large, tanning beds, and a workout room. All that is lacking is a pool boy named Raoul in a Speedo, and a tiki bar for it to seem like any random condominium at the beach. It is every college student's idea of a great place to live and every parent's nightmare.
Nightmarish in that these kids are living far better than we did in our starter homes...in COLLEGE. No "Early Salvation Army" decorating scheme. I doubt that there will be pictures of "Dogs Playing Poker" or a neon sign flashing "Live Nudes" or "Corona". Somehow beer can pyramids in the window just seem strangely out of place here. Which is both good...and sad.
Jill jumped over the deck (yes...you read DECK) and opened the house so that I could take some measurements in her private room. The private room with the private bathroom. No arguing over who cleans it because each of the girls has her own. I am pleased because this means that Jill will not carry on the legacy of having her roommates lock her in the bathroom until she cleans it which was the fate of one of Jill's direct relatives (that is so NOT her mother).
The closet is eight feet across. This will provide her with at least eight times the amount of room she had last year in the dorm. She has under the bed shoe boxes that will hold 48 pairs of shoes. Lord help us if that isn't enough. Her feet quit growing in the 7th grade...and she has most of the shoes that she's owned since that time. I have probably owned 48 pairs of shoes in my adult lifetime...total.
We spent approximately one hour discussing where her bed should be, and the pros and cons of placing her television where it makes sense versus where she thinks it would be most aesthetically pleasing. We also considered curtain options for the double window in her bedroom, baskets that would best fit in the shelves already in her closet, what size bathmat she will require, storage options, and whether dark wood, white, or black should be the furniture color.
This was done while her friend, Jack, measured endless possible areas, offered opinions, and tolerated our banter back and forth. I have decided that I like Jack. He obviously has a sister...as he did not run screaming from the room or even look uncomfortable during any of our escapades. He seemed to find us funny...although I'm sure that inside he was thinking..."shoot me...shoot me now." Oh...and I was particularly excited that he understands big words, knew to say "yes maam" every other breath, and can actually differentiate between "acceptable country music" and "please turn that crap off country music." (Which...just so you know...nearly ALL country music is the latter for me.)
I find it hysterical that their names are Jack and Jill. They are not dating...and after spending today with us...may no longer even be speaking...but I digress...
The kitchen area includes a long bar that will seat all four of the girls, and the large living room has a "wood-like-ish" floor. Well, it is actually flooring that looks like wood but is designed out of some kind of indestructible stuff that will survive not only our girls but the frat boys across the way. The trimwork is done in the "arts and crafts" style...and the windows are lovely. The added touches of a built in pantry, black appliances, nice carpet in the bedrooms, tile floors in the bathrooms, built in desks in the upstairs bedrooms, a huge laundry room, front porch, and the deck are quite unbelievable.
Well...not so unbelievable when you multiply Jill's rent times four. Yeah.
Anyway, after seeing it, I started to understand something...that upon leaving my house in three weeks...she will now become a resident of Tuscaloosa, Alabama. She will have a real address other than the Phi Mu house, and she will not be coming home for the summer next year. Her future visits will be between semesters, and I'd be willing to bet that some of these will be spent on a cruise ship, lake/beachhouse or ski slopes somewhere (assuming that she can afford it).
I realized today that my little girl is a capable young woman who has earned the right to live in the "halfway house" of adulthood - even if her "halfway house" looks far more like the "Taj Mahal" of college living than "The Barn" that one would expect. I also like that she is spending time with people who can carry on a conversation and are on the dean's list rather than people who are very cute but cannot figure out how to use proper grammar...much less the proper fork...because they are far more comfortable with one that is plastic.
She and I had lunch with her soon to be roommate, Emily. We chatted about turning the utilities on, having adequate help to move everything in, and renting a big truck to haul it all up there. Just hearing their excitement and their big plans was worth picking up the tab.
Even the trip to the SuperTarget in search of some items on her well constructed list turned out to be fun. After discussing the merits of big pillows and actually picking up two...we moved on to a shower curtain liner, a small table, looked at desks, a full length mirror, and baskets. Poor Jack and Emily went with us. He must have had a dreadfully boring day on tap for this particular trip to have been his choice for entertainment. In the end, we ended up with the shower curtain liner, the mirror, and two Coke Zeros. Time for said excursion? One hour, 10 minutes. Nice.
Anyway, I was honored that she asked me to come. And although I might have actually gotten some housework done had I decided to stay here...it is equally possible that I would have been watching Foo Fighters videos on YouTube or some movie I've already seen 100 times. I'll take my Tuscaloosa trek over that...ANYTIME. Later!
This desire to show me her new digs coincided with my final vacation day this week...and she apparently could not bear the thought of her mother spending another day in her hot pink moumou. (Editor's note: "hot" describing the color pink and certainly NOT the moumou or the wearer of said sad little garment.) Never mind that another day of sloth had previously sounded like an excellent plan to me.
I decided to spend gas money to travel up and see the place that she will be residing next year with three of her Phi Mu sorority sisters...a place known by Big Dave as "The Taj Mahal" and by Jill as "The Barn" due to the fact that it is barn red in color. The subdivision is known as "The Retreat" and it houses approximately 275 houses that hold an estimated 1,000 students. It is brand new, has a pool that is amazingly large, tanning beds, and a workout room. All that is lacking is a pool boy named Raoul in a Speedo, and a tiki bar for it to seem like any random condominium at the beach. It is every college student's idea of a great place to live and every parent's nightmare.
Nightmarish in that these kids are living far better than we did in our starter homes...in COLLEGE. No "Early Salvation Army" decorating scheme. I doubt that there will be pictures of "Dogs Playing Poker" or a neon sign flashing "Live Nudes" or "Corona". Somehow beer can pyramids in the window just seem strangely out of place here. Which is both good...and sad.
Jill jumped over the deck (yes...you read DECK) and opened the house so that I could take some measurements in her private room. The private room with the private bathroom. No arguing over who cleans it because each of the girls has her own. I am pleased because this means that Jill will not carry on the legacy of having her roommates lock her in the bathroom until she cleans it which was the fate of one of Jill's direct relatives (that is so NOT her mother).
The closet is eight feet across. This will provide her with at least eight times the amount of room she had last year in the dorm. She has under the bed shoe boxes that will hold 48 pairs of shoes. Lord help us if that isn't enough. Her feet quit growing in the 7th grade...and she has most of the shoes that she's owned since that time. I have probably owned 48 pairs of shoes in my adult lifetime...total.
We spent approximately one hour discussing where her bed should be, and the pros and cons of placing her television where it makes sense versus where she thinks it would be most aesthetically pleasing. We also considered curtain options for the double window in her bedroom, baskets that would best fit in the shelves already in her closet, what size bathmat she will require, storage options, and whether dark wood, white, or black should be the furniture color.
This was done while her friend, Jack, measured endless possible areas, offered opinions, and tolerated our banter back and forth. I have decided that I like Jack. He obviously has a sister...as he did not run screaming from the room or even look uncomfortable during any of our escapades. He seemed to find us funny...although I'm sure that inside he was thinking..."shoot me...shoot me now." Oh...and I was particularly excited that he understands big words, knew to say "yes maam" every other breath, and can actually differentiate between "acceptable country music" and "please turn that crap off country music." (Which...just so you know...nearly ALL country music is the latter for me.)
I find it hysterical that their names are Jack and Jill. They are not dating...and after spending today with us...may no longer even be speaking...but I digress...
The kitchen area includes a long bar that will seat all four of the girls, and the large living room has a "wood-like-ish" floor. Well, it is actually flooring that looks like wood but is designed out of some kind of indestructible stuff that will survive not only our girls but the frat boys across the way. The trimwork is done in the "arts and crafts" style...and the windows are lovely. The added touches of a built in pantry, black appliances, nice carpet in the bedrooms, tile floors in the bathrooms, built in desks in the upstairs bedrooms, a huge laundry room, front porch, and the deck are quite unbelievable.
Well...not so unbelievable when you multiply Jill's rent times four. Yeah.
Anyway, after seeing it, I started to understand something...that upon leaving my house in three weeks...she will now become a resident of Tuscaloosa, Alabama. She will have a real address other than the Phi Mu house, and she will not be coming home for the summer next year. Her future visits will be between semesters, and I'd be willing to bet that some of these will be spent on a cruise ship, lake/beachhouse or ski slopes somewhere (assuming that she can afford it).
I realized today that my little girl is a capable young woman who has earned the right to live in the "halfway house" of adulthood - even if her "halfway house" looks far more like the "Taj Mahal" of college living than "The Barn" that one would expect. I also like that she is spending time with people who can carry on a conversation and are on the dean's list rather than people who are very cute but cannot figure out how to use proper grammar...much less the proper fork...because they are far more comfortable with one that is plastic.
She and I had lunch with her soon to be roommate, Emily. We chatted about turning the utilities on, having adequate help to move everything in, and renting a big truck to haul it all up there. Just hearing their excitement and their big plans was worth picking up the tab.
Even the trip to the SuperTarget in search of some items on her well constructed list turned out to be fun. After discussing the merits of big pillows and actually picking up two...we moved on to a shower curtain liner, a small table, looked at desks, a full length mirror, and baskets. Poor Jack and Emily went with us. He must have had a dreadfully boring day on tap for this particular trip to have been his choice for entertainment. In the end, we ended up with the shower curtain liner, the mirror, and two Coke Zeros. Time for said excursion? One hour, 10 minutes. Nice.
Anyway, I was honored that she asked me to come. And although I might have actually gotten some housework done had I decided to stay here...it is equally possible that I would have been watching Foo Fighters videos on YouTube or some movie I've already seen 100 times. I'll take my Tuscaloosa trek over that...ANYTIME. Later!
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Times Like These
I have been a Foo Fighters fan since I heard "Learn to Fly" several years ago. I didn't really think that much about it because I wasn't listening to anything consistently except for a few bands...most notably the group Collective Soul.
The name "Foo Fighters" was intriguing to me, and so I looked it up on Wikipedia (fountain of knowledge that it is) for a semblance of an explanation. What I found was that it was "a term used by Allied aircraft pilots in World War II to describe various UFOs or mysterious aerial phenomena seen in the skies over both the European and Pacific Theater of Operations." Actually, there was another "F" word in front of Foo Fighters in the military sense...that was later cleaned up for the "official records." I find it almost fitting that this particular "F" word appears to be among lead singer Dave Grohl's favorite and most commonly used. It is also the only thing I would change about the group's public image hands down.
Dave Grohl was formerly the drummer for Nirvana which disbanded at the death of Kurt Cobain in 1994 since most fans identified the band primarily with Cobain. The songs that Grohl recorded were written during his time with Nirvana...but reportedly his lack of confidence in his work when compared with Cobain's caused him to keep them to himself. Whether that explanation is true or simply rumor is unknown. But after turning down a job as the drummer for Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Grohl did the unexpected and recorded his songs under the name Foo Fighters.
With the exception of guitar work on one song, he wrote, sang lead vocals and played every instrument on every song on the first Foo Fighters album that was released in 1995. Quite incredible, if you think about it. Most expected him to catch another band and remain a drummer. Thankfully, he chose to move his project forward. When the album was successful, he was then faced with the problem of actually filling out the band when it was time to begin touring.
There was band member turnover because it was abundantly clear that Grohl was the driving force of the band...much as Cobain had been with Nirvana. But the fruitbasket bandmembers seems to have settled down now. The band is unique in that the current members are free to work on their own projects independent of Foo Fighters...and they do.
The primary reason that I adore Dave Grohl is that he dared to imagine his future differently than others did and he followed through. He did the unexpected and succeeded...following the "Road Less Traveled" so to speak. If you watch the videos for the band's songs...you'll see Grohl primarily in self-deprecating roles. He seems to be "real" and totally comfortable in his own skin...like a nice guy who is someone's brother who happens to be in a band.
I view him as someone approachable and down to earth. If he would clean up his language in interviews and concerts I'd be happier...but there is honestly no mistaking his genius. And although he yells a lot like most rock lead singers do...he can actually sing. In fact, the band toured a couple of years ago in a totally acoustic format. The last album, released in 2007 "In Your Honor" included both acoustic tracks and regular tracks. Again...still doing the unexpected...but in a positive way.
One day, I bought a CD at Target called "Red Room" that was incredibly cheap and had a ton of new artists on it along with a couple of songs I'd actually heard before. The best by far was the version of "Times Like These" that is still my favorite. It is a live version, but it is slower than the one on the Foo Fighters album, or any of the other live performances I've seen courtesy of YouTube. It is about as close to perfect as I've heard it performed.
The words are wonderful...and the music is in my humble opinion...brilliant. I love the fact that the song can be played fast and upbeat or slow and thoughtful. And it works both ways. I also love the lyrics...
I am a one way motorway
I'm the one that drives away
Then follows you back home...
I am a street light shining
I'm a wild light blinding bright
Burning off alone
(Chorus)
It's times like these you learn to live again
It's times like these you learn to give again
It's times like these you learn to love again
It's times like these, time and time again
I am a new day rising
I'm a brand new sky
To hang the stars upon tonight
I am a little divided
Do I stay or run away
And leave it all behind
(Chorus)
I honestly don't know what was in Dave Grohl's head when he penned this one. He may have been speaking globally about life...about something that we'll never figure out, or about choices we make in life. I personally believe that it was the latter.
I believe that the song refers to a period of decision...commitment...and hope. Almost as if he was trying to decide whether to take the safe way, or to take off in another direction into the great unknown. But hey, that's just my interpretation. All I know is that something about the song, the group, and specifically Dave Grohl just resonates with me. I admire his faith in himself...and appreciate that he didn't take the easier road. If he had...some of my favorite songs probably wouldn't exist. And THAT would be tragic...later!
The name "Foo Fighters" was intriguing to me, and so I looked it up on Wikipedia (fountain of knowledge that it is) for a semblance of an explanation. What I found was that it was "a term used by Allied aircraft pilots in World War II to describe various UFOs or mysterious aerial phenomena seen in the skies over both the European and Pacific Theater of Operations." Actually, there was another "F" word in front of Foo Fighters in the military sense...that was later cleaned up for the "official records." I find it almost fitting that this particular "F" word appears to be among lead singer Dave Grohl's favorite and most commonly used. It is also the only thing I would change about the group's public image hands down.
Dave Grohl was formerly the drummer for Nirvana which disbanded at the death of Kurt Cobain in 1994 since most fans identified the band primarily with Cobain. The songs that Grohl recorded were written during his time with Nirvana...but reportedly his lack of confidence in his work when compared with Cobain's caused him to keep them to himself. Whether that explanation is true or simply rumor is unknown. But after turning down a job as the drummer for Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Grohl did the unexpected and recorded his songs under the name Foo Fighters.
With the exception of guitar work on one song, he wrote, sang lead vocals and played every instrument on every song on the first Foo Fighters album that was released in 1995. Quite incredible, if you think about it. Most expected him to catch another band and remain a drummer. Thankfully, he chose to move his project forward. When the album was successful, he was then faced with the problem of actually filling out the band when it was time to begin touring.
There was band member turnover because it was abundantly clear that Grohl was the driving force of the band...much as Cobain had been with Nirvana. But the fruitbasket bandmembers seems to have settled down now. The band is unique in that the current members are free to work on their own projects independent of Foo Fighters...and they do.
The primary reason that I adore Dave Grohl is that he dared to imagine his future differently than others did and he followed through. He did the unexpected and succeeded...following the "Road Less Traveled" so to speak. If you watch the videos for the band's songs...you'll see Grohl primarily in self-deprecating roles. He seems to be "real" and totally comfortable in his own skin...like a nice guy who is someone's brother who happens to be in a band.
I view him as someone approachable and down to earth. If he would clean up his language in interviews and concerts I'd be happier...but there is honestly no mistaking his genius. And although he yells a lot like most rock lead singers do...he can actually sing. In fact, the band toured a couple of years ago in a totally acoustic format. The last album, released in 2007 "In Your Honor" included both acoustic tracks and regular tracks. Again...still doing the unexpected...but in a positive way.
One day, I bought a CD at Target called "Red Room" that was incredibly cheap and had a ton of new artists on it along with a couple of songs I'd actually heard before. The best by far was the version of "Times Like These" that is still my favorite. It is a live version, but it is slower than the one on the Foo Fighters album, or any of the other live performances I've seen courtesy of YouTube. It is about as close to perfect as I've heard it performed.
The words are wonderful...and the music is in my humble opinion...brilliant. I love the fact that the song can be played fast and upbeat or slow and thoughtful. And it works both ways. I also love the lyrics...
I am a one way motorway
I'm the one that drives away
Then follows you back home...
I am a street light shining
I'm a wild light blinding bright
Burning off alone
(Chorus)
It's times like these you learn to live again
It's times like these you learn to give again
It's times like these you learn to love again
It's times like these, time and time again
I am a new day rising
I'm a brand new sky
To hang the stars upon tonight
I am a little divided
Do I stay or run away
And leave it all behind
(Chorus)
I honestly don't know what was in Dave Grohl's head when he penned this one. He may have been speaking globally about life...about something that we'll never figure out, or about choices we make in life. I personally believe that it was the latter.
I believe that the song refers to a period of decision...commitment...and hope. Almost as if he was trying to decide whether to take the safe way, or to take off in another direction into the great unknown. But hey, that's just my interpretation. All I know is that something about the song, the group, and specifically Dave Grohl just resonates with me. I admire his faith in himself...and appreciate that he didn't take the easier road. If he had...some of my favorite songs probably wouldn't exist. And THAT would be tragic...later!
My Favorite Things - Part 1 of 2
For me, just the stringing together of those three words "my favorite things" brings to mind Julie Andrews in "The Sound of Music"...who compiled a list that seemed totally random at the time...and now even more so. Whiskers on kittens? I mean...soft fur on kittens...yes. Whiskers? Really? Am I alone in this?
So, as a tribute to things that I am a big fan of...I'm going to list a few of my favorite things. Trust me...I have absolutely NO inclination to break forth in song, to put these in any logical order, or to try to defend myself. They just are what they are.
1. The beach.
I have been a fan of the beach for many, many years...which is a shame, really, since I have a fair complexion. And frankly, "fair" is an understatement. Oh...I can tan, all right. But lately I've come to realize that the tan is actually a complex network of freckles that band together to keep me from crisping up and becoming a victim of spontaneous combustion. Through the years I have endured water blisters, peeling, sunburn, and dry skin just to have that "healthy" glow. Now, at 46, everyone says "skin cancer" every time I consider going out to the beach to read a book under an umbrella and a bottle of SPF 85 is forced into my hand. Just so you know...SPF 85 does not have that great Hawaiian Tropic smell that the oil does...and is almost sticky. What's the fun in that? So, for me...the beach is now enjoyed either before or way after prime sunning hours...or some random time like October...or better yet...January. Not that I'm just raring to jump into a bathing suit at any point in time, either.
2. Thin Mint Girl Scout Cookies.
As a Brownie Girl Scout in 1970, my mother was the cookie chairman. The protocol at the time was to receive a box of cookies that contained the five different types of cookies for sale, and then go door to door selling the cookies for fifty cents a box. There were no new offerings each year...just Thin Mints, Peanut Butter, Trefoils, Sandwich Cookies (chocolate and vanilla) and one other kind that I cannot remember now (and it wasn't the Peanut Butter Patties, either). So, being the competitive soul that I am...I went door to door with a piece of notebook paper and got preorders before preorders became known as preorders. I sold a ridiculous amount of cookies relatively speaking and managed to tick off most of the girls in my Jackson, Mississippi neighborhood. However, I became a huge fan of the Thin Mint...and even though the boxes contain 3,000 calories...I still buy at least one box every year. And eat every one of them.
3. Music.
I was introduced to music at a young age because everyone in the family was musical. I was in choir, singing groups in junior high and high school (and have a picture in the heinous harvest gold robe to prove it) and I've always been a fan of rock music. I morphed over to alternative as well in the 1990's.
The problem is...although I can sing on key...I have NO range whatsoever. Meaning...I cannot sing over multiple octaves like normal people can. I can go to a point, and then it turns into something only heard by dogs. I can lip sync with the best of them because I've had to in portions of almost all hymns in church. Well, BIG church. Contemporary praise songs are do-able because they only have something like six notes in them.
It also explains why I love rock music...you don't need a huge range to sing along.
I sincerely appreciate musical talent in others. My uncle Harry, and nephew (William) can play the piano beautifully. I love groups like Collective Soul and Foo Fighters because of the versatility that these bands have. They have songs that just speak to me.
I've even played the violin and the clarinet in this lifetime. I would add piano to that...but Mrs. Metcalf pretty much slapped my wrists with a ruler enough in 4th grade that I lost all desire to even try to pick them up off the keyboard. I must have weird wrists...I couldn't shoot a basketball either. I've always wanted to play the guitar...but cannot seem to muster up the desire, courage, and time to do so simultaneously.
I love how music can transport you to wherever you were when it was played most often. How you can be uplifted or excited and change your mood entirely based on what you are hearing. I love to see raw talent combined with a spark of the divine morph into something that soothes, exhilarates, or teaches. I love how certain songs seem like they were written just for me. I also love to hear sweet voices of little people like my niece and nephew who sang "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" while they were here. Teary? Absolutely.
4. Words.
I am a bonified word junkie. I love a witty twist of a phrase, a new way of saying something, or words that convey exactly what I am thinking...even if they are someone else's. I love song lyrics, poetry, and bible verses...blog entries, stories, and written explanations. I figure that this is the gift that God has given me...the passion and a consuming attraction to the written word. I believe that this is a noble gift in that He apparently thought enough of written words to see that we have the Bible as a resource to track His thoughts, history, and deeds.
I love going back and seeing where I was at any given time through words I've written, and I am glad that there have been times that someone has been able to read something that has entered my brain and found its way back out to my fingers...and has found it worthy of comment. But even if I wrote into a vacuum...and I have for many years...I'd still write. And I'd still read what others have written. I even like audiobooks. If I lose my eyesight...or hearing...I am SO learning Braille.
5. The Bible.
Where else can you find a book that tracks the history of a group of people, notes their failings, tells a story of redemption, and gives hope? For those who have never actually read this book cover to cover, you will be shocked and awed by the level of soap-opera worthy storylines, total nut jobs, people who seem like modern day people that you actually know, and unexpected twists and turns. The names are a bit much sometimes...but if any of you have checked a roll at a local elementary school lately...they aren't far off.
I have found that it contains guidance to just about any problem or issue that I have. And while it encourages me toward perfection...it duly notes that I am totally unequipped to take that path on my own. Although I spent many years believing that "church people" were perfect...and I knew that I wasn't...it was comforting to know that although being Christlike is the goal...life is the journey I take to get me there. I am not expected to be perfect...and it's a good thing, too...I am only charged with trusting God to teach me to be more like the One who is.
6. Photos.
Photographs have been a part of my existence since childhood. My grandmother photographed us in restaurants, at every family gathering, and at any point where we were dressed up and looked presentable. And today it is me who photographs in restaurants, at every family gathering, and whether we are presentable or not. In fact, my mother swears that the only picture that will survive for future generations is the one I took of her with no makeup (Christmas 2004) or in London in front of Westminster Abbey donning a Gilligan hat and multiple layers of clothing. Due to the sheer volume of photos I have taken...I highly doubt it.
I love photos in that they represent us at various stages of who we were along the way to becoming who we are. For many of us, we look back to a time that was happier, easier, and where we were thinner. For others of us, we look back and see someone that we wish had been wiser and made better decisions, was more confident, and had owned a hair straightener. (That would be me.)
I use photos to track the moments in time that deserve to be noted...trips, weddings, funerals, birthdays, graduations, births, reunions, concerts, holidays, vacations, or the first day of school. And I also use them to see the moments that are the everyday, mundane moments that I want to hold on to...sleeping babies, splashing in the pool, pets curled up on a bed, friends at a barbecue, my yard from my back door, my son and his friends playing Guitar Hero, or my husband brushing my daughter's hair. Time marches on...but the photos are a marker of what was...and what was often very wonderful.
7. Gardenias.
My grandmother wore a perfume called "Jungle Gardenia" and her room was alive with the scent of these sensitive but beautiful white flowers. In every home that I have owned, I have also owned gardenia bushes. I currently have three...and all three now bloom twice a year every year. This is irregular, I know. They have been doing it since 2004 - the year my grandmother died. Once in May when they are supposed to...and once in August...the month of her birth. She died in late July just before her 98th birthday. As I was scrapbooking and crying on her birthday that year, I looked out the window and saw a gardenia bloom just outside my window. I felt immensely better just seeing this reminder of her so vividly and so poignantly.
This year, after visiting Gammy's sister and her family in Pennsylvania this past May, I came back to three completely and totally loaded bushes. The buds were not even on the bushes when we left. I believe that she was happy we made the trip.
(To be continued...)
So, as a tribute to things that I am a big fan of...I'm going to list a few of my favorite things. Trust me...I have absolutely NO inclination to break forth in song, to put these in any logical order, or to try to defend myself. They just are what they are.
1. The beach.
I have been a fan of the beach for many, many years...which is a shame, really, since I have a fair complexion. And frankly, "fair" is an understatement. Oh...I can tan, all right. But lately I've come to realize that the tan is actually a complex network of freckles that band together to keep me from crisping up and becoming a victim of spontaneous combustion. Through the years I have endured water blisters, peeling, sunburn, and dry skin just to have that "healthy" glow. Now, at 46, everyone says "skin cancer" every time I consider going out to the beach to read a book under an umbrella and a bottle of SPF 85 is forced into my hand. Just so you know...SPF 85 does not have that great Hawaiian Tropic smell that the oil does...and is almost sticky. What's the fun in that? So, for me...the beach is now enjoyed either before or way after prime sunning hours...or some random time like October...or better yet...January. Not that I'm just raring to jump into a bathing suit at any point in time, either.
2. Thin Mint Girl Scout Cookies.
As a Brownie Girl Scout in 1970, my mother was the cookie chairman. The protocol at the time was to receive a box of cookies that contained the five different types of cookies for sale, and then go door to door selling the cookies for fifty cents a box. There were no new offerings each year...just Thin Mints, Peanut Butter, Trefoils, Sandwich Cookies (chocolate and vanilla) and one other kind that I cannot remember now (and it wasn't the Peanut Butter Patties, either). So, being the competitive soul that I am...I went door to door with a piece of notebook paper and got preorders before preorders became known as preorders. I sold a ridiculous amount of cookies relatively speaking and managed to tick off most of the girls in my Jackson, Mississippi neighborhood. However, I became a huge fan of the Thin Mint...and even though the boxes contain 3,000 calories...I still buy at least one box every year. And eat every one of them.
3. Music.
I was introduced to music at a young age because everyone in the family was musical. I was in choir, singing groups in junior high and high school (and have a picture in the heinous harvest gold robe to prove it) and I've always been a fan of rock music. I morphed over to alternative as well in the 1990's.
The problem is...although I can sing on key...I have NO range whatsoever. Meaning...I cannot sing over multiple octaves like normal people can. I can go to a point, and then it turns into something only heard by dogs. I can lip sync with the best of them because I've had to in portions of almost all hymns in church. Well, BIG church. Contemporary praise songs are do-able because they only have something like six notes in them.
It also explains why I love rock music...you don't need a huge range to sing along.
I sincerely appreciate musical talent in others. My uncle Harry, and nephew (William) can play the piano beautifully. I love groups like Collective Soul and Foo Fighters because of the versatility that these bands have. They have songs that just speak to me.
I've even played the violin and the clarinet in this lifetime. I would add piano to that...but Mrs. Metcalf pretty much slapped my wrists with a ruler enough in 4th grade that I lost all desire to even try to pick them up off the keyboard. I must have weird wrists...I couldn't shoot a basketball either. I've always wanted to play the guitar...but cannot seem to muster up the desire, courage, and time to do so simultaneously.
I love how music can transport you to wherever you were when it was played most often. How you can be uplifted or excited and change your mood entirely based on what you are hearing. I love to see raw talent combined with a spark of the divine morph into something that soothes, exhilarates, or teaches. I love how certain songs seem like they were written just for me. I also love to hear sweet voices of little people like my niece and nephew who sang "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" while they were here. Teary? Absolutely.
4. Words.
I am a bonified word junkie. I love a witty twist of a phrase, a new way of saying something, or words that convey exactly what I am thinking...even if they are someone else's. I love song lyrics, poetry, and bible verses...blog entries, stories, and written explanations. I figure that this is the gift that God has given me...the passion and a consuming attraction to the written word. I believe that this is a noble gift in that He apparently thought enough of written words to see that we have the Bible as a resource to track His thoughts, history, and deeds.
I love going back and seeing where I was at any given time through words I've written, and I am glad that there have been times that someone has been able to read something that has entered my brain and found its way back out to my fingers...and has found it worthy of comment. But even if I wrote into a vacuum...and I have for many years...I'd still write. And I'd still read what others have written. I even like audiobooks. If I lose my eyesight...or hearing...I am SO learning Braille.
5. The Bible.
Where else can you find a book that tracks the history of a group of people, notes their failings, tells a story of redemption, and gives hope? For those who have never actually read this book cover to cover, you will be shocked and awed by the level of soap-opera worthy storylines, total nut jobs, people who seem like modern day people that you actually know, and unexpected twists and turns. The names are a bit much sometimes...but if any of you have checked a roll at a local elementary school lately...they aren't far off.
I have found that it contains guidance to just about any problem or issue that I have. And while it encourages me toward perfection...it duly notes that I am totally unequipped to take that path on my own. Although I spent many years believing that "church people" were perfect...and I knew that I wasn't...it was comforting to know that although being Christlike is the goal...life is the journey I take to get me there. I am not expected to be perfect...and it's a good thing, too...I am only charged with trusting God to teach me to be more like the One who is.
6. Photos.
Photographs have been a part of my existence since childhood. My grandmother photographed us in restaurants, at every family gathering, and at any point where we were dressed up and looked presentable. And today it is me who photographs in restaurants, at every family gathering, and whether we are presentable or not. In fact, my mother swears that the only picture that will survive for future generations is the one I took of her with no makeup (Christmas 2004) or in London in front of Westminster Abbey donning a Gilligan hat and multiple layers of clothing. Due to the sheer volume of photos I have taken...I highly doubt it.
I love photos in that they represent us at various stages of who we were along the way to becoming who we are. For many of us, we look back to a time that was happier, easier, and where we were thinner. For others of us, we look back and see someone that we wish had been wiser and made better decisions, was more confident, and had owned a hair straightener. (That would be me.)
I use photos to track the moments in time that deserve to be noted...trips, weddings, funerals, birthdays, graduations, births, reunions, concerts, holidays, vacations, or the first day of school. And I also use them to see the moments that are the everyday, mundane moments that I want to hold on to...sleeping babies, splashing in the pool, pets curled up on a bed, friends at a barbecue, my yard from my back door, my son and his friends playing Guitar Hero, or my husband brushing my daughter's hair. Time marches on...but the photos are a marker of what was...and what was often very wonderful.
7. Gardenias.
My grandmother wore a perfume called "Jungle Gardenia" and her room was alive with the scent of these sensitive but beautiful white flowers. In every home that I have owned, I have also owned gardenia bushes. I currently have three...and all three now bloom twice a year every year. This is irregular, I know. They have been doing it since 2004 - the year my grandmother died. Once in May when they are supposed to...and once in August...the month of her birth. She died in late July just before her 98th birthday. As I was scrapbooking and crying on her birthday that year, I looked out the window and saw a gardenia bloom just outside my window. I felt immensely better just seeing this reminder of her so vividly and so poignantly.
This year, after visiting Gammy's sister and her family in Pennsylvania this past May, I came back to three completely and totally loaded bushes. The buds were not even on the bushes when we left. I believe that she was happy we made the trip.
(To be continued...)
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Vacation - Part I
The word "vacation" normally conjures up visions of happy, sunny, carefree days...days that magically roll into each other with ease...and a general state of calm. Out of the 52 weeks in a year...the vacation week is one that is supposed to be full of those things that one is not allowed to do during the normal course of life...a time when memories are made and family ties strengthened. A collective sigh of relief should refresh our spirits.
Well, that would be what happens to normal people on vacation. Unfortunately, I am apparently not normal.
I spent the first part of the week having a wonderful time visiting with my sister and her beautiful, precious children. This has been the good news.
And then there's the bad news...for instance...rain. Yes, I know we need it. Yes, I know it rains a lot in the summer. But is it entirely necessary to rain during the exact times that I want to be out doing other things?
The last time I shook my fist at the sky and then begged for mercy was in May 2006 in Europe. After three rain soaked days in London...three FREEZING COLD rain soaked days...I finally began official "sackcloth and ashes" mourning over the vacation. Day 4...as we were leaving...blue skies. Seriously, all that was missing were the animated birds circling my head and cute little Disney animals carrying my luggage on the tube during rush hour in London. Which would have been helpful considering that WE WERE CARRYING LUGGAGE ON THE TUBE DURING RUSH HOUR IN LONDON.
And then there's everyone's expectations. Everyone expected that their summer schedule would be exactly what they wanted it to be. Family time? Not happening.
My expectations for my week of vacation were simple. Hold cute children. Enjoy cute children. Talk to sister when cute children were asleep. Photograph cute children. Read to cute children. Not that demanding, right? Well, not exactly.
See, everyone in my immediate family went AWOL on me. Which left meal preparation, pet maintenance, basic services, and cleanup firmly in my camp. Jill went to the beach for three or four days...Friday through Monday. Brian was either asleep the entire time he was home since he is apparently growing or suffering from narcolepsy...or was with friends. Big Dave was working...and then had his first Sunday duties at church (5am - 1pm). Mom and Ralph left for Phenix City on Sunday afternoon. That left me, Dixie and Rebel as the Entertainment Committee.
Fortunately, Dixie - our shih tzu - was about as perfect a babysitter as you can imagine. Even though Tara wanted to hug, pet, feed, carry and dress the "doggie" she patiently stood there for most of it...or quietly skulked away to hide. This very doggie had sent Tara into fits of terror as recently as last November. Dixie deserved every one of those 63 treats that Alex and Tara fed her...and she is SO not getting yelled at for anything she does this week (as long as it doesn't involve a "gift" of any kind...)
Did I also mention that I have been suffering from a serious caffeine headache since Monday? Yes. I am definitely a candidate for caffeine rehab.
So, yesterday, amid all of the exhaustion (which I have NO idea where it came from), frustration, and PAIN, I logged onto Twitter and saw where a teenaged or early 20's kid was mocking Sarah Palin.
And something just snapped.
I made a comment. Me...Miss Non-Judgmental. Miss You Are Entitled To Your Opinion. Miss I Know That Liberals Are Good People Too (because I'm related to a number of them).
And then someone who has something like 25,000 followers checks me because I do so. Says I'm supposed to complain about the issues...not the person. Really? You mean...it's okay if a young person complains about Sarah Palin, but I'm not allowed to state that I think that it is idiotic that young people just follow the crowd? Really, lady?
Well, up I climbed onto the stump, assumed the crane position, and tried to defend my position with this lady. She seems like a nice person and writes "hugs" after all of her posts. All gazillion of her posts. I mean, I don't know what she actually does for a living since she is on the computer 24/7, but I'm sure that she's productive...at least on Twitter. People seem to like her. She just picked the wrong day to tell me to behave. It was about as effective as telling someone with PMS to just calm down. And about as pretty.
Did I mention that she said something about taking a poll about whether I was right or not? A POLL? OH, and the girl who made the asinine comment was the DAUGHTER of this lady...a fact that I actually knew and figured was the reason for her comment back to me. So, now I don't really care what her opinion is...but I also totally understand why she took exception with my comments. The only difference between the two of us...since we're about the same age and both mothers of daughters...is that I think that my daughter has to invest the time to formulate her own opinion before she broadcasts it to people that are older and smarter than she is. She needs to be able to support why she feels the way she does...or keep her piehole shut and her ears and mind open...until she can. Just throwing one's opinion out there without being able to defend it is brainless at best.
Ten minutes and about thirty tweets later...we parted ways by blocking each other. Works for me. A fine testimonial for Christian, patient, mature, adult behavior.
And yes, I do know that it was all my fault. But you know what? Since I quit following this lady...I am actually enjoying Twitter again. I can check it infrequently and not miss much. This totally works for me.
So, we'll see how the second half of the vacation week goes. I'm trying to be more realistic and not be such a whiner. And yes...I'm expecting things to improve. Here's hoping...stay tuned...
Well, that would be what happens to normal people on vacation. Unfortunately, I am apparently not normal.
I spent the first part of the week having a wonderful time visiting with my sister and her beautiful, precious children. This has been the good news.
And then there's the bad news...for instance...rain. Yes, I know we need it. Yes, I know it rains a lot in the summer. But is it entirely necessary to rain during the exact times that I want to be out doing other things?
The last time I shook my fist at the sky and then begged for mercy was in May 2006 in Europe. After three rain soaked days in London...three FREEZING COLD rain soaked days...I finally began official "sackcloth and ashes" mourning over the vacation. Day 4...as we were leaving...blue skies. Seriously, all that was missing were the animated birds circling my head and cute little Disney animals carrying my luggage on the tube during rush hour in London. Which would have been helpful considering that WE WERE CARRYING LUGGAGE ON THE TUBE DURING RUSH HOUR IN LONDON.
And then there's everyone's expectations. Everyone expected that their summer schedule would be exactly what they wanted it to be. Family time? Not happening.
My expectations for my week of vacation were simple. Hold cute children. Enjoy cute children. Talk to sister when cute children were asleep. Photograph cute children. Read to cute children. Not that demanding, right? Well, not exactly.
See, everyone in my immediate family went AWOL on me. Which left meal preparation, pet maintenance, basic services, and cleanup firmly in my camp. Jill went to the beach for three or four days...Friday through Monday. Brian was either asleep the entire time he was home since he is apparently growing or suffering from narcolepsy...or was with friends. Big Dave was working...and then had his first Sunday duties at church (5am - 1pm). Mom and Ralph left for Phenix City on Sunday afternoon. That left me, Dixie and Rebel as the Entertainment Committee.
Fortunately, Dixie - our shih tzu - was about as perfect a babysitter as you can imagine. Even though Tara wanted to hug, pet, feed, carry and dress the "doggie" she patiently stood there for most of it...or quietly skulked away to hide. This very doggie had sent Tara into fits of terror as recently as last November. Dixie deserved every one of those 63 treats that Alex and Tara fed her...and she is SO not getting yelled at for anything she does this week (as long as it doesn't involve a "gift" of any kind...)
Did I also mention that I have been suffering from a serious caffeine headache since Monday? Yes. I am definitely a candidate for caffeine rehab.
So, yesterday, amid all of the exhaustion (which I have NO idea where it came from), frustration, and PAIN, I logged onto Twitter and saw where a teenaged or early 20's kid was mocking Sarah Palin.
And something just snapped.
I made a comment. Me...Miss Non-Judgmental. Miss You Are Entitled To Your Opinion. Miss I Know That Liberals Are Good People Too (because I'm related to a number of them).
And then someone who has something like 25,000 followers checks me because I do so. Says I'm supposed to complain about the issues...not the person. Really? You mean...it's okay if a young person complains about Sarah Palin, but I'm not allowed to state that I think that it is idiotic that young people just follow the crowd? Really, lady?
Well, up I climbed onto the stump, assumed the crane position, and tried to defend my position with this lady. She seems like a nice person and writes "hugs" after all of her posts. All gazillion of her posts. I mean, I don't know what she actually does for a living since she is on the computer 24/7, but I'm sure that she's productive...at least on Twitter. People seem to like her. She just picked the wrong day to tell me to behave. It was about as effective as telling someone with PMS to just calm down. And about as pretty.
Did I mention that she said something about taking a poll about whether I was right or not? A POLL? OH, and the girl who made the asinine comment was the DAUGHTER of this lady...a fact that I actually knew and figured was the reason for her comment back to me. So, now I don't really care what her opinion is...but I also totally understand why she took exception with my comments. The only difference between the two of us...since we're about the same age and both mothers of daughters...is that I think that my daughter has to invest the time to formulate her own opinion before she broadcasts it to people that are older and smarter than she is. She needs to be able to support why she feels the way she does...or keep her piehole shut and her ears and mind open...until she can. Just throwing one's opinion out there without being able to defend it is brainless at best.
Ten minutes and about thirty tweets later...we parted ways by blocking each other. Works for me. A fine testimonial for Christian, patient, mature, adult behavior.
And yes, I do know that it was all my fault. But you know what? Since I quit following this lady...I am actually enjoying Twitter again. I can check it infrequently and not miss much. This totally works for me.
So, we'll see how the second half of the vacation week goes. I'm trying to be more realistic and not be such a whiner. And yes...I'm expecting things to improve. Here's hoping...stay tuned...
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Quiet Moments
I am sitting here on what is officially my "blog-cation" - something I decreed to myself so that I would be able to fight the obsessive desire to sit down and write. This is important as I have reserved this time for family that I do not get to see often enough, and I know myself too well. The intent was that I would recharge and have the mental resources to see what is going on around me on a more laid back level. Up until now, this summer has proven to be pretty much been a blur of activity and demands laced with some really fun times.
Right now, the dishwasher is running, and we are in that in between time between the excitement of the Pike Road Parade and the family gathering in Auburn in a couple of hours. We'll leave Auburn and head back here to see the fireworks later on. It will be a full day...but a wonderful one as well. Exactly what you would want a 4th of July celebration to be...
I especially love this because my sweet sister is in the U.S...and if she weren't here, she would be in France where they don't celebrate the 4th of July for obvious reasons. I almost think that they should, though, because the support of the French helped make it possible for our forefathers to make that break with England. Check your history.
She also visits on Thanksgiving, which again, is an uniquely American holiday. But Linda celebrates EVERY holiday with gusto. Her home is transformed into a "trick or treat" haven during Halloween, she hosts Easter egg hunts, and even celebrates Cinco de Mayo with pinatas. The hysterical part to me is that Mexico was actually celebrating victory over who...? Well, FRANCE. Yeah.
Since I can't really nap unless I want to be completely "blonde" for the remainder of the day, I am just enjoying this time to myself. I am also happy that I have so much abundance all around me. I have a wonderful family, lots of true friends, my health, a house that I love (although I would love it a lot more if Merry Maids came occasionally) and enough food to eat (in fact...I have MORE than enough food to eat). I know that I am blessed.
I am very grateful that I have a job from which to vacation from, the hope of happy days ahead, and the knowledge that I am redeemed. I have made mistakes, and I have had the good sense to learn from most of them. I have the bills paid for July, and I do not doubt that God will provide should something happen to my job. I see numbers like 10% unemployment...and I wince a little...but also know that sometimes God takes something away from us to teach us something. He uses the time when we are at our lowest to give us a new dream and a new opportunity well beyond what we might have hoped for ourselves.
So, while I hurt for those who are in flux, I also know that people are the only thing you can take to heaven with you anyway...and all of the energy we spend maintaining "stuff" usually keeps us from maintaining relationships. This is also the reason that I have no desire whatsoever to have a boat, beach house, lake place, or to have a showplace home. Not that any of the latter is even possible for me...but I think that I don't have them because I might become obsessive about them...and God knows this because He wired me this way. I just want to know people who have these so that I can help them enjoy their bounty!
So, as I go through the next few days...I hope that they will be moments that I celebrate and appreciate. Just like anything else...the freedoms that I have are mine because someone before me stood in the gap. And for all of those military families out there today...I am very grateful that you did. Happy 4th of July, everyone!
Right now, the dishwasher is running, and we are in that in between time between the excitement of the Pike Road Parade and the family gathering in Auburn in a couple of hours. We'll leave Auburn and head back here to see the fireworks later on. It will be a full day...but a wonderful one as well. Exactly what you would want a 4th of July celebration to be...
I especially love this because my sweet sister is in the U.S...and if she weren't here, she would be in France where they don't celebrate the 4th of July for obvious reasons. I almost think that they should, though, because the support of the French helped make it possible for our forefathers to make that break with England. Check your history.
She also visits on Thanksgiving, which again, is an uniquely American holiday. But Linda celebrates EVERY holiday with gusto. Her home is transformed into a "trick or treat" haven during Halloween, she hosts Easter egg hunts, and even celebrates Cinco de Mayo with pinatas. The hysterical part to me is that Mexico was actually celebrating victory over who...? Well, FRANCE. Yeah.
Since I can't really nap unless I want to be completely "blonde" for the remainder of the day, I am just enjoying this time to myself. I am also happy that I have so much abundance all around me. I have a wonderful family, lots of true friends, my health, a house that I love (although I would love it a lot more if Merry Maids came occasionally) and enough food to eat (in fact...I have MORE than enough food to eat). I know that I am blessed.
I am very grateful that I have a job from which to vacation from, the hope of happy days ahead, and the knowledge that I am redeemed. I have made mistakes, and I have had the good sense to learn from most of them. I have the bills paid for July, and I do not doubt that God will provide should something happen to my job. I see numbers like 10% unemployment...and I wince a little...but also know that sometimes God takes something away from us to teach us something. He uses the time when we are at our lowest to give us a new dream and a new opportunity well beyond what we might have hoped for ourselves.
So, while I hurt for those who are in flux, I also know that people are the only thing you can take to heaven with you anyway...and all of the energy we spend maintaining "stuff" usually keeps us from maintaining relationships. This is also the reason that I have no desire whatsoever to have a boat, beach house, lake place, or to have a showplace home. Not that any of the latter is even possible for me...but I think that I don't have them because I might become obsessive about them...and God knows this because He wired me this way. I just want to know people who have these so that I can help them enjoy their bounty!
So, as I go through the next few days...I hope that they will be moments that I celebrate and appreciate. Just like anything else...the freedoms that I have are mine because someone before me stood in the gap. And for all of those military families out there today...I am very grateful that you did. Happy 4th of July, everyone!
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Legacy
Earlier this week, I was at a Phi Mu recommendations meeting with the local alumnae. There were pictures and resumes of tons of girls who are interested in going through what used to be termed "Rush" but is now more politically correctly called "Recruitment." For those who have not experienced it, the term "stressful" does not even begin to cover it.
The girls in the sorority have spent an exhaustive week before it even begins learning names and faces, where to be, what to do, and how to act. Sleep deprivation is a common ailment. Once it begins, there are long days of streams of girls coming through the house and nights reviewing impresssions. Looking less than perfect is not an option, and putting your collective best foot forward is expected.
On the other side, the girls being recruited are trying to make a lifelong decision in a one week period with the added bonus of being at the mercy of the impression of the group. Months have been spent choosing the proper attire, getting recommendation letters sent by local alumnae, and fighting everyone for the coveted hair and nail appointments before the big move to campus. A week of reviewing invitations and choosing, being chosen, or both. It all culminates with "Bid Day" where one side is hoping for the choice girls and the other is hoping for their first choice. Figuring out the dance on both sides is difficult, and as soon as this year's group is in, it turns its sights toward the coming year's high school senior class. And on and on and on it goes.
So, we alumnae gather to try to share our impressions with the groups at the various colleges so that we can at least try to help them sift out the best possible pledge class for the coming year. Getting a good one is paramount to the organization's survival...and laziness, stupidity, or an affinity to acting out is generally not well tolerated. As I was combing through the forms of girls who are FAR more beautiful than we were, one of the most important items I noted was whether the girl's mother, sister, or grandmother had been a "legacy." That status meant that it was more likely that she had heard of our group and was more often than not more interested in following the family footsteps.
Fortunately, my daughter took that route, and she is now an active Phi Mu as well. Made me proud. But she made this choice for her own reasons. She pledged a group at a different school than I attended, and has been very happy there.
Last night, I was treated to a belated birthday outing (don't laugh...although my birthday is in March, and it is July, we are busy women) by my friend, Bonnie. As we talked about our girls - that are 12 hours apart in age...same year...same hospital - we realized that time is running out for the hard court press of motherhood and cramming more information in at the last minute is getting lost in the shuffle. Granted, the job never ends, but the mantle of responsibility for their behavior is sliding off of our shoulders onto theirs. And while we are excited about abdicating that particular responsibility, there is also an accompanying panic as we feel our influence temporarily slipping. We're hitting that wall where they have to choose to stop, scale it, or knock it down. We're on the other side, and all we can do is encourage them to try.
So, as we were discussing them, Bonnie said that one of her regrets was that she did not set enough traditions for her daughter to follow. She wishes that all of the time she spent investing in her would have also yielded more of an appreciation for things that she deemed important. In other words, she was wondering if she had left a legacy or not.
I certainly understand how she feels. But I don't think that it is just us...I think it is a realization that we want something for them akin to what we hadif it was good, and better than we had if it was not. However, we do not necessarily trust that we have been good enough stewards of what was entrusted to us.
For instance, she noted that when she turned 18 years old, she was so proud that she was finally able to vote, that she looked at as an event rivaling getting her driver's license. She even noted the family friend who had instilled the importance of voting in her. She worries that this next generation is missing the point entirely. In my opinion, it is probably because they are too worried about what image they are projecting, how much Coach they own, and what they will be doing this weekend. This is not good.
As for me, I have legacy reminders that pop up in just about everything I do. I can still crochet because Karen Daniel's grandmother taught me to do it when I was 10. I have gardenias in my yard and violets in my home because my grandmother did. I originally went to Wesleyan College because my mother, grandmother, and great-aunt attended there before me, and because Sally Mallory made me come with her on a college visit. But my legacy to Wesleyan didn't stop there...my great-great-great grandfather was the first President of the college. His daughter (my great-great-great aunt), was one of the founders of Alpha Delta Pi sorority. ADPi as it is commonly known...was the first sorority EVER. Phi Mu (the second sorority) was also founded at Wesleyan College...so I always felt a connection with that as well.
I have also seen certain things skip a generation. My mother and my daughter are incredibly alike in the areas that she is not like her Dad, much like I was a lot like my grandmother. I am sandwiched in between two beautiful women and am proud to be the link between them.
So, as we wonder what part of us the girls are going to take forward, here's hoping that it will be a legacy of love, faith, strength, patriotism, purpose, appreciation, mercy, and forgiveness. Sounds like a tall order, but we do have incredible girls. Incredible girls that are bounding toward womanhood at warp speed. And while it doesn't look like it right now, I believe that they are taking pieces of us along with them on their journey. I mean, we have certainly tried to be good mothers. We've had 19 years of trying to "pledge" them into the sorority of womanhood. Hopefully, they will bring our granddaughters into the fold with what we have tried to pass along. I mean, after all, they ARE legacies! Later!
The girls in the sorority have spent an exhaustive week before it even begins learning names and faces, where to be, what to do, and how to act. Sleep deprivation is a common ailment. Once it begins, there are long days of streams of girls coming through the house and nights reviewing impresssions. Looking less than perfect is not an option, and putting your collective best foot forward is expected.
On the other side, the girls being recruited are trying to make a lifelong decision in a one week period with the added bonus of being at the mercy of the impression of the group. Months have been spent choosing the proper attire, getting recommendation letters sent by local alumnae, and fighting everyone for the coveted hair and nail appointments before the big move to campus. A week of reviewing invitations and choosing, being chosen, or both. It all culminates with "Bid Day" where one side is hoping for the choice girls and the other is hoping for their first choice. Figuring out the dance on both sides is difficult, and as soon as this year's group is in, it turns its sights toward the coming year's high school senior class. And on and on and on it goes.
So, we alumnae gather to try to share our impressions with the groups at the various colleges so that we can at least try to help them sift out the best possible pledge class for the coming year. Getting a good one is paramount to the organization's survival...and laziness, stupidity, or an affinity to acting out is generally not well tolerated. As I was combing through the forms of girls who are FAR more beautiful than we were, one of the most important items I noted was whether the girl's mother, sister, or grandmother had been a "legacy." That status meant that it was more likely that she had heard of our group and was more often than not more interested in following the family footsteps.
Fortunately, my daughter took that route, and she is now an active Phi Mu as well. Made me proud. But she made this choice for her own reasons. She pledged a group at a different school than I attended, and has been very happy there.
Last night, I was treated to a belated birthday outing (don't laugh...although my birthday is in March, and it is July, we are busy women) by my friend, Bonnie. As we talked about our girls - that are 12 hours apart in age...same year...same hospital - we realized that time is running out for the hard court press of motherhood and cramming more information in at the last minute is getting lost in the shuffle. Granted, the job never ends, but the mantle of responsibility for their behavior is sliding off of our shoulders onto theirs. And while we are excited about abdicating that particular responsibility, there is also an accompanying panic as we feel our influence temporarily slipping. We're hitting that wall where they have to choose to stop, scale it, or knock it down. We're on the other side, and all we can do is encourage them to try.
So, as we were discussing them, Bonnie said that one of her regrets was that she did not set enough traditions for her daughter to follow. She wishes that all of the time she spent investing in her would have also yielded more of an appreciation for things that she deemed important. In other words, she was wondering if she had left a legacy or not.
I certainly understand how she feels. But I don't think that it is just us...I think it is a realization that we want something for them akin to what we hadif it was good, and better than we had if it was not. However, we do not necessarily trust that we have been good enough stewards of what was entrusted to us.
For instance, she noted that when she turned 18 years old, she was so proud that she was finally able to vote, that she looked at as an event rivaling getting her driver's license. She even noted the family friend who had instilled the importance of voting in her. She worries that this next generation is missing the point entirely. In my opinion, it is probably because they are too worried about what image they are projecting, how much Coach they own, and what they will be doing this weekend. This is not good.
As for me, I have legacy reminders that pop up in just about everything I do. I can still crochet because Karen Daniel's grandmother taught me to do it when I was 10. I have gardenias in my yard and violets in my home because my grandmother did. I originally went to Wesleyan College because my mother, grandmother, and great-aunt attended there before me, and because Sally Mallory made me come with her on a college visit. But my legacy to Wesleyan didn't stop there...my great-great-great grandfather was the first President of the college. His daughter (my great-great-great aunt), was one of the founders of Alpha Delta Pi sorority. ADPi as it is commonly known...was the first sorority EVER. Phi Mu (the second sorority) was also founded at Wesleyan College...so I always felt a connection with that as well.
I have also seen certain things skip a generation. My mother and my daughter are incredibly alike in the areas that she is not like her Dad, much like I was a lot like my grandmother. I am sandwiched in between two beautiful women and am proud to be the link between them.
So, as we wonder what part of us the girls are going to take forward, here's hoping that it will be a legacy of love, faith, strength, patriotism, purpose, appreciation, mercy, and forgiveness. Sounds like a tall order, but we do have incredible girls. Incredible girls that are bounding toward womanhood at warp speed. And while it doesn't look like it right now, I believe that they are taking pieces of us along with them on their journey. I mean, we have certainly tried to be good mothers. We've had 19 years of trying to "pledge" them into the sorority of womanhood. Hopefully, they will bring our granddaughters into the fold with what we have tried to pass along. I mean, after all, they ARE legacies! Later!
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