Just Little Things

Amazing how little things can tick you off while major things don’t phase you at all.  Miss a meeting and you feel bad, but walking in five minutes late gives you five times the stress and embarrassment.

In the same way it is the little things that enchant us and not so much the big items.  A simple smile makes more impact than a full production.  A gentle hug brings comfort that the fattest of wallets can’t.

Amazing.

Thursday 13 for February 21

Thirteen Random Thoughts

1.  Can’t help but notice the tornadoes are dropping around all over the south.  I wonder if mobile homes are trembling on their wheels at night.
2. Sixteen days, people, sixteen days!
3. Ever noticed how one person’s worries are another person’s expectations?
4. I heard today the three worst Presidents of all time were Harding, Pierce, and Buchanan.  Pierce had lost three children before he took office, Buchanan sat and watched the nation fall apart into civil war, and Harding was just corrupt all the way until a bullet took his life.  So who decides these folks were the worst?  Mrs. Harding?  Lincoln?  I always thought Andrew Johnson was one of the worst… why don’t I get a vote?
5. There are days you just have to pick up a banjo and pluck it.
6. I played my harmonica for the first time in months today.  It is amazing how something you used to find so comforting can become so foreign.
7. Watching two squirrels fighting for a nut is like watching people debate politics.  A lot of screaming, lunging, dodging, and bravado goes on but no one is actually worried about the nut, they’re just worried about who owns it.
8. How come the longer you sit in one place, the more stuff you gather?
9. Why is it so hard to part with stuff you know you will never use?
10. I think my stories are losing their punch.  Maybe the fizzling sound I hear at night is my talent fading away.
11. In one day I had three watches fixed.  One I adore, one I am giving back to my brother (it is rather nice and never worked for him so now that it is fixed, he deserves to have it back), and the other was in a box of other “useless” junk.  I love the fact all three work and keep time, especially the Bulova pocket watch.  Total cost: $13.86.  Sweet.
12. I was packing books into totes, getting ready to move them when I came across a book I had really enjoyed at one time.  Sat down and thumbed through it and realized it was like a long lost friend you run into at the grocery store and for a small slice of time you seem to warp back into a time when you both were important to the other one, leaving them behind but relishing the memories sparked.
13. I was told once I was crazy.  I think I am… crazy as a loon.  Loons always sound like they are having a wonderful time though… so maybe that isn’t such a bad thing.

Another Funeral to Attend

Sitting in a church constructed of metal, I listened to a preacher discuss the pain a family goes through when a child dies.  In this case it was a precious child of almost 11, who died last Saturday from complications caused by the flu, or at least that is what they think.  This child was not the kind of child who played with other kids at the club, but the kind of child who wanted to be an adult way before her time.  She would ask to do filing, or work the P.A. system, run an activity, or run interference for the director.  She never stopped talking, always having a question, and loved to have a chance to talk with the director to discuss with great dramatic flair her current crises at school.

She came into the club with the velocity of a whirlwind and left with a whisper.

The funeral was  better than most with a good memories of the child who has left us.  The coffin had two large pictures of her sitting next to her slightly turned head that was adorned with a floral wreath.   She had such a peaceful look which I found eerie since I never saw her without an impish smile turning up on the right side of her mouth.   I didn’t seem right that her remains were interred without the smile.

I am a person who likes to see the potential in a person and then figure out how to draw it out.  Funerals for children are the greatest frustration for me as so much hope, dreaming, and possibilities are stilled forever, robbing this place we call home of another chance to improve itself.

Regurgitation of Valentines Day Part Deaux

This second Valentine regurgitation is from the Lighter Side files and probably solicited more comments than most of the articles I wrote… ah, such sweet memories of hate emails…  Remember there is a P.S. at the bottom.

Next week is the date that strikes fear in every man’s heart…Valentine’s Day.  Don’t ask me why but the majority of the males of our species haven’t got a clue to what a Perfect Valentine Gift (PVG) is.  The irony of this situation is that the females of our species know the predicament the males are in.  They are compassionate creatures and in the true spirit of romance, demand that the males go find that PVG and are explicit in their description of the enormity of the impact that gift will have upon the relationship.  Granted, they will make this demand with their best coquettish smile, but the males aren’t fooled.

So for the next week you will see harried bipeds, the ones with the X chromosome, scurrying around card shops, candy stores, and gift shops trying to find the PVG.  At great risk to their egos, they sniff body lotions, bath soaps, and perfumes or simply stare catatonically at jewelry, wondering how something so small could cost so much.  They try to remember what the PVG was last year and wonder how close they can come to purchasing a similar item without accusations of being a carrier of the dreaded social disease youobviouslydidnotputanythoughtintoit.    

            It is my obligation to help out my fellow PVG searchers with a little advice.  Buy them chocolate.  Expensive chocolate.  They can’t be fooled by cheap imitations because they carry the Y chromosome and that allows them to spot cheapskates with an almost supernatural power. 

What?  Your counterpart is watching her weight and doesn’t want to be tempted by expensive chocolate?  Then the next best thing for your wallet is flowers.  Expensive flowers.  Not the flowers you can pick up at the cemetery when no one is watching, but those high-dollar ones that require you to sign a lien against your car to guarantee payment.  Don’t ask me how, but they know where you get them so don’t risk it… just fork out the bucks.

If you happen to be one of those lucky ones whose love has been blessed with allergies to flowers and chocolates, then the final resort is jewelry.  It must be diamonds, no zubic cheapconiums stones are allowed.  They will take it to be checked and since jewelers are sadistic creatures anyway, they will be more than happy to tell your love exactly what you paid for the PVG. 

I think that you get the idea.  Until we can find a way to make February 14^th disappear, we will be bound to hunt down and procure the Perfect Valentine Gift.  Don’t forget the card that must accompany your PVG and remember that Y chromosome requires them to flip the cards over to see what you paid for it.  Don’t blow your PVG efforts by cheaping out on the card!  Remember the operative word here is “expensive” because youobviouslydidnotputanythoughtintoit is nothing to laugh about!  Happy hunting. 

(FYI: In a recent study performed by the School of Relational Disorders at Cambridge, it was determined that youobviouslydidnotputanythoughtintoit has obliterated more romantic evenings than any other disorder known to man.  If the Y chromosome dominant portion of our species would only accept the fact that fishing tackle is extremely romantic and a lot of thought goes into the acquisition of the perfect bait casting reel then we could make great strides in the elimination of this social disorder.) 

Disclaimer: Before all the hate emails come pouring in from the Y chromosome carriers, I have never claimed to be a romantic nor have I ever claimed to have actually acquired a PVG.  After 25 something failed hunts, no trophies adorn my wall of fame… and it doesn’t look like that tradition will end this year either.

P.S.  I think I finally have found how to acquire the PVG.  It happened last year when it occurred to me the key is to have the Perfect Valentine who is more interested in the person and not the gift.  My advice this year to my fellow harried bipeds with the X chromosome is to find her; your perfect valentine and the rest of February 14th becomes moot.

Regurgitation of Valentines Day

I wrote this piece several years ago and it quickly became a favorite so I am going to post it on the blog.  Please read the p.s. at the end…

Advice for the Romantics Out There 

            Yeah, yeah, yeah, it is February again.  That means that all around this land there will be romantic evenings planned, the purchasing of the perfect gift that represents one’s love for their partner, and cards… lots of cards will be bought and sent thus saving the United Postal Service from financial ruin.  Perhaps you are one of those who sits for hours trying to come up with the ultimate scheme that will prove once and for all your undying devotion for your loved one.  You are in luck!  I happen to have just a few examples of such acts of devotion that will inspire you to break new ground on this day of amore¢.

            In 1863, Jack Thingwurst, of Muncy, Indiana, thought that his love should receive something from her soldier on this special day.  Starting in early January, Jack whittled his little pumpkin a heart from the wood off the stock of his rifle.  The carving had delicate inlays of bone, taken from the buttons of Confederate soldiers, depicting cupid, surrounded with doves, shooting an arrow of love into a heart.  When he finished the carving, he sent it by courier to Betty Jakoski, also of Muncy, in time for Valentines Day.  Imagine her surprise when she opened the package to find this exquisite piece of art, taken from her lover’s gunstock while he was off fighting.  Imagine Jack’s surprise when Johnny Rebs overran his camp and dispatched him quickly from this world when he couldn’t shoulder his rifle to get off a shot, but hey, such a small price to pay for love, right?

            In 1918, Howard Crumbacher, a confectioner of El Paso, Texas, made his love an individualized box of chocolates.  Each chocolate formed a letter that spelled out, “With All My Love, Howard” and since he used his love’s favorite nougat filling inside, it was a hit!  Unfortunately, Howard had just caught the flu bug that was going around and his love, Karen Johnson, of Carlsbad, New Mexico, caught it too when she munched down on the candies.  Howard survived to make more candy; Karen lived long enough to curse him as she passed from this life in a pool of sweat.  Isn’t love precious?

            In 1963, Helen Bickering, of Atlanta, Georgia, made a basket of cookies for the love of her life, none other than Elvis Presley, of Memphis, Tennessee.  Along with the cookies was a ten page letter of her undying love for the king of rock and roll and a promise that she would wait faithfully for him to come and sweep her off her feet.  Elvis never came, but he did eat the cookies and they were so good that he continued to eat cookies just like them until he finally died sitting on his throne.  Overweight.  Sweaty.  Totally rank.  Helen never stopped loving him though and sent him cookies every year at Valentines Day and even would drop a batch off by the grave after he had been planted in Graceland.  It was during one of these visits that she was accidentally run over by a Greyhound bus full of members of Elvis’ fan club, from Stevens Point, Wisconsin.  She died in the street, smashed cookies crumbled all over her broken body, just 93 feet from the bosom of the man she loved.  Sigh… stories like this just give me goose bumps.

            I think you can see that you have your work cut out for you if you are going to try to top one of these monumental acts of love.  Good luck to you and yours on this mushiest of days and I shall leave you with a Valentine blessing…

            May your expression of love be tender and sweet.  May your chocolates be void of coconut treats. 
May your card have your lover’s sentiments sworn         May they remember to remove the roses’ thorns.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

 P.S. This is the first of two such writings.  The second one will seem a little cynical but I will add a post script on it as well.

Just Thinking

I am just sitting here thinking

About the conundrums of life

How some folks rise amidst others sinking

Flailing about in daily strife.

This person seems to get the blessings

While that person gets only woe

Both are quick in their confessings

Of believing in a God they know.

So why is one reaping glory

While the other is reaping pain?

Doesn’t that shake their own story

And make their believing in vain?

It would seem the writer was right

About believing in something unseen

And how their hoping seems a bit trite

When this world is surely unclean.

But then I see the struggling pilgrim

Surrounded by troubles and fears

Slogging through their valleys grim

Because faith keeps their vision clear.

How are they not bitter at night

When their bodies are weary and worn?

Yet they look upward for some insight

And keep their allegiance sworn.

I think true faith can be found

In the hearts of the wearied soul

Who believe they can’t be bound

As long as love keeps them whole.

Honoring Mary

I went to my 90 year old great aunt’s birthday party yesterday to see one of the neatest women I have ever had the privilege of knowing.  She is one of those folks who has overcome so many adversities and never failed to keep on smiling when I have to think most of us would be contemplating a swan dive off of a bridge somewhere.

She married an abusive alcoholic who blessed her five children.  Her youngest son was hit by a car which mangled his leg which stunted the growth in that leg, making it shorter than the other.  Her husband died young of a heart attack leaving her to raise the kids by herself so she worked in the local school cafeteria to keep her children fed and clothed in their small four room house in Cross Plains.

When her youngest son was 21, he was killed in a horrific oilfield accident falling from a drilling rig.  She tried to raise her grandson since her daughter-in-law was much more concerned with partying than raising a child, but soon lost him when the girl took off to Missouri.  Mary kept working, sending whatever free money she had to them to try to keep the child in food and clothes.

Her other children turned out to be hard working successful folks.  They were at the party yesterday to celebrate their mom and when you talked with them it was obvious how much they loved her.

As I was making my way around the room, a voice called out to me and I turned to see the receptionist from the local school.  We chatted for awhile and discussed how much they missed Mary down at the school now that she was “retired” again.  We chatted about how this marvelous woman had gone back to work at 79 years old to be a Foster Grandparent reading to ESL kids or working with kids who were struggling with their reading.  She kept at it for eight years and only quit because of her failing health due to diabetes.  I brought up the fact that anyone I meet from Cross Plains I will ask if they know Mary Bates.  They always smile and say, “Miss Mary?  Who doesn’t know Miss Mary?  She always…” and off they go into a fond sentiment about Mary.  Looking around the room, you could tell how much the community loves her.

So my conversation with aunt Mary was brief.  I told her happy birthday and she reminded me with a sparkle in her eye that it really wasn’t her birthday until the 12th but wasn’t it nice for them to hold it on a Saturday so folks could come.

I asked her what she was going to do during her 91st year and suggested it was never to late to try sky diving in which she replied she had always wanted to try snow skiing.

I asked her if she was happy to be back in Cross Plains and she replied she loved her home in Brownwood but she missed having the kids and her friends from the neighborhood and school to talk to.  Oh, they take great care of her in Brownwood but it wasn’t the same as going to work with the kids.

The cake is beautiful, I said, and she smiled and said it was even more beautiful since they were allowing her to have a piece of it in spite of her diabetes.

I stood up from kneeling by her wheelchair as another person came up to wish her well and as I moved away I was informed by her daughter-in-law that they had found gangrene in her foot that morning due to the lack of blood flow.  They didn’t want to not take her to her party but afterwards she would be heading straight to have the problem worked on.

Another challenge facing this wonderful matriarch and there she sat, smiling, chuckling, enjoying life.

May we all reach 90 with such a love of this journey we call life.

13 Clues You Might Have the Flu

1. You find yourself begging strangers on the street to shoot you so you won’t have to live with the splitting headache one minute longer.
2. You have seen more contents from the inside of your stomach than you’ve seen during the past decade.
3. Your eyes feel like you have them mounted on sandpaper.
4. Can you say, “I ache all over?”
5. Your significant other walks in with a bottle of champaign on ice and dressed up to take you out for the night of your life and all you care about is the ice in the bucket.
6. You contemplate ripping the tongues out of all the children in your house so you can have absolute peace and quiet.
7. For lunch you fried an egg on your forehead.
8. You discover your bed sheets come in two options: soaked in sweat or almost soaked in sweat.
9. You curse the day you were born in ways that would make Job blush.
10. You find yourself looking at your toes to see if yes, you have in fact tossed up your toenails during your last vomiting campaign.
11. You wake up staring at an old South Park episode and wonder aloud why Kenny is the lucky one and gets to die.
12. Kids keep walking by and poke you with sticks to see if  you’re dead yet.
13. You have started addressing your toilet as “Honey or Darling.”  “Hey there darling, your ever loving fluid emitter is back…”

Hope everyone is staying well and flu free!  Drink those fluids!

A Pome About the Budget

The prez says we need the cash

To make our presence known

Over there in the Iraqi bash

Where trillions have already been thrown.

He has his budget all lined out

With plenty of geetus for defense

Who suffer from financial gout

From such a diet richly intense.

I think I would like a couple of billion

To address society’s woes

It wouldn’t be missed from the trillion

And it would help the poor,  I propose.

Besides I think we should all wonder

Where the trillion is coming from

And scream out like bloody thunder

If we have to borrow from someone.

Budgets are just a living suggestion

Of how our money should be spent

But this budget gives me indigestion

Cause the money spent will’ve been lent.

Lessons Learned From the Super Bowl

1. Don’t count perfection until it hatches.
2. A Tom Brady flustered is an imperfect Tom Brady.
3. Can you say, “Defense wins championships?”
4. Them Manning Boys are some good quarterbacks.
5. The game isn’t over until the last second is off the clock.
6. Prognosticators are guessing just like everyone else.
7. Cheaters win a lot of the time  but isn’t it sweet when they  lose.
8. Belichick’s expression remains sour whether he wins of loses.
9. Sometimes you might want to pay attention to what is happening to  your offense instead of spending all the time on the sideline with  your defense since the offense was having their butt handed to them on a tray.
10. There is a reason you play the game.  On any given Sunday, anything is possible.

I personally am glad the Patriots didn’t have a perfect season because of the asterisk that would be by their name.  A perfect season should be free from all the scandal.

So I will end my thoughts on the Super Bowl with, “Spygate this Belichick!”