Resolutions

Happy New Year to everyone!! If you are like most people you have a long list of resolutions. If you are like most people you’ll have broken those resolutions within the week. If you are like me you hate New Year’s resolutions! I feel that resolutions are ultimatums that we give ourselves- do this or else!!!
But starting a new year is a great time to rethink our lives and see if we want to make changes. One of my favorite sayings is “Hate something? Change something!” So go ahead -set some goals for yourself. Unlike resolutions which have you jumping over tall buildings in a single bound- goals are like climbing a ladder to the top, one rung at a time. It doesn’t matter how fast or how slowly you climb. The only thing that matters is that you just keep climbing.
Big goals are easy to break down into little goals. And each small goal you achieve gives you a feeling of success. That feeling keeps you motivated to continue the climb. It works something like this- I want to lose 60 pounds (BIG goal). I keep thinking about it and thinking about it. Sixty pounds, wow, that gets more overwhelming the longer I think about it. By Monday, I’ll have self talked myself into the impossibility of it and eat some donuts!
Now let’s break that down a little bit:
1- I will go for a walk 3x a week.
2- I will eat a good breakfast everyday.
3- I will eat more fruit less sweets.
4- I will do my yoga dvd 2x week.
5- I will write down everything I eat.
Do you get the idea? Instead of setting yourself up for failure you are making it easier to win! This technique works with all types of goals. You can even break the small goals down to tiny goals- I’ll eat one bowl of oatmeal with skim milk and Splenda every morning (#2). I will walk around the block once(#1).
Now you are a winner!! You can do anything! Just remember this quote-“Goals are stars to guide you NOT sticks to beat yourself up with!”
Be safe this holiday- I’ll see you next year! That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Would you like to walk home?

My ex mother-in-law used to tell us about the time two of her sons were fighting in the car. It had become a regular occurrence and she was tired of it! She pulled the car over, kicked them out and told them to walk home. They were about 10 and 12yrs old at the time. It was a nice day. The walk was about 2 miles on a country road. She drove off leaving them in a cloud of dust.
They remembered how lonely and abandoned it felt to watch her drive off. They remembered being mad at each other at first but as they walked along that wore off. They were hot, dusty, thirsty and repentant when they made it home.
She remembered that from that moment on, any disturbance in the car was easily stopped by the question, “Would you like to walk home?”
Fast forward 30 years- I am driving home with my children. My oldest three are fighting. I’m sick of it. The eldest is about 10yrs old. Since Grandma’s story is a favorite- I ask the inevitable question after trying several other techniques- “Would you like to walk home?” It has worked in the past.
Imagine my surprise when a defiant “YES” comes back to me! Now what do I do? I pull over and let my 10yr old out. We are about a mile from home. I drive off with the rest of my gang. By the time I’ve driven that mile, I have imagined all sorts of things. What was I thinking? It’s not the 60’s- it’s the 90’s. Yes, it’s a country road but what if someone nabs him? What if he goes swimming in the pond and has a problem? What if he takes a shortcut thru the woods and gets lost?
I turn around and go back for him, my heart racing. There he is still marching along the road. Thank you, God! I tell him to get in. “No way” is his reply. I yell at him- “Get in the van, NOW!” “NO!!” What the heck am I going to do? The only thing I can. I follow along slowly behind him to make sure he arrives at home safely.
A car on the other side slows, the window rolls down, the occupant is speaking to him. My heart races again, my mother feathers start ruffling but they drive off. This happens two more times. I can’t take it any more I’m in full blown panic. I pull up to my son and ask him, “Why are those cars stopping? What did those people want?”
“They wanted to know if I needed any help and if that lady following me was causing any trouble.” Yup, it definitely was not the 60’s anymore. Needless to say I never used Grandma’s technique again. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

The Star Spangled Banner

Last week a friend posted a story being told on you tube by Dudley Rutherford. He tells the story behind the writing of “The Star-Spangled Banner”. I thought that I knew the story. I only knew part of it. The entire story is something that everyone who lives in this country should know. I don’t think anyone can hear it and not change the way they think of our national anthem.
I have tried several ways of attaching/sharing it to my blog but I’m just not computer literate enough. I can pass on the address- www.youtube.com. The story behind “The Star Spangled Banner” told by Dudley Rutherford.
Taking the 10 minutes that accessing and listening to this is well worth it. I believe that it will change you. It did me. Please, please take the time to listen to the rest of the story.
As most of you know I have sons serving in the military. I have a daughter in law who may be sent over again. I am so proud of them. I’m so proud and thankful for all the sons and daughters through the years who have served so selflessly. “No greater love hath man than to lay down his life for another’s.”
Check out the story. May God bless those who serve and those who wait at home! That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Insane in the Brain

Hello blogging world…this is Kathy’s son Kevin. I have decided to overtake my mother’s blog for a day and share “the view from my side of the street.”
This holiday season started the same as many do. My wife decided that we needed to create a budget so that we don’t over spend for Christmas. I laughed at her, which is my common response anytime she brings up the word budget, but cordially went along with her plan. We started our shopping sometime after Thanksgiving and actually did a decent job sticking to “our” budget. We wrapped up our shopping and were perfectly ready for the holidays. Her family was going to Hawaii and mine lives out of state so we were going to do our own thing for Christmas. That was the plan, until 24 hours ago…that’s when the insanity broke out.
All of a sudden I got the urge to pack up my wife, our 2 boys and our entire Christmas and drive to my mom’s. I’m never spontaneous so my wife took my temperature and when she deemed me healthy decided to go along with my plan. The next thing I know we are packing up the car, doing some last minute shopping for people we didn’t anticipate to see this year and trying to decide what in the hell would possess us to pack up a 2 ½ year old and an 10 month old and drive 10 hours through the night to surprise some family. Family that we will inevitably regret going to see after we annoy, pester and piss off each other to the point of no return and then leave wondering why do I subject myself to this insanity?
The answer is quite simple…for 6 weeks a year we decide to live our lives with a new motto. What is this motto? Peace on earth, good will to men. For some reason every year as soon as Thanksgiving is over and we are all on Turkey overload, “tis the season” mode kicks in and we actually begin to care about other’s well beings. We decide that maybe peace on earth and good will to men is attainable. Yet as we throw away the Christmas tree our mood changes and all we can think about is returning the gifts that we hate and begin the process of looking forward to next year.
I’ve been called a scrooge for many years because I don’t get over excited about Christmas and decorations. Perhaps it is because I don’t want to be a hypocrite for 6 weeks of the year. What would happen if we made the choice to act the way we act for the holidays all year long? What would happen if instead of throwing our good cheer out with the tree we choose to keep good cheer in our hearts and cared about the well being of our fellow man all year long? For one brief moment, I succumbed to the insanity, got in the holiday spirit and now I’m sitting in my mother’s living room watching Christmas Vacation…absolutely loving it. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?
Merry Christmas and God Bless Us Everyone!

SUV's and the Superman Complex

My little area of the world has a moderate climate. Coming from the Northeast as I did- I have been very amused with the “extreme” weather forecasts. A snowstorm here is what we would call flurries back home. School and other activities are cancelled if there is an inch of snow. Our small town’s snow removal equipment is a pickup with a plow attachment.
However, I am very careful about driving anywhere. This is not because I’m nervous about the roads. It is because I am scared to death about the other drivers out there. This blog is for them. I doubt that any of them will ever read this but I want to say these things anyway. In the past few days I have witnessed several accidents and have been told about several more. I will try to make this simple.
We have had a few inches of snow over the past week. The days have been warm enough to melt some of it but the nights have been cold enough to freeze what has melted during the day. That creates ice. It particularly creates black ice. It is called black ice because you can’t see it. All you can see is the black road. It is dangerous! Drive carefully!
The temperature changes have also been causing fog. Fog makes it hard to see ahead of you. I came upon an accident scene that occurred because one driver was being careful and going slowly due to almost zero visibility. He was hit by a driver that was not driving carefully and slowly. That driver was driving along at the speed limit-65mph. He didn’t see the other car until he rear ended it. If you can’t see, slow down!!!
Driving an SUV or pickup (even if you have 4wd) does not make you Superman or woman!!! It doesn’t help at all in low visibility or ice situations!! Every single accident I have seen or heard of involved at least one SUV or pickup. I have literally watched them fly by me on the freeway and seen them off the road or flipped over a few miles ahead.
There have been deaths, serious injuries and much heartache this past week. All of it was caused by human error. It’s Christmas time people!! This is NOT how you want to spend it!! So slow down- drive carefully- be alert and maybe we’ll all manage to survive!
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Christmas Mourning

Almost three decades ago, just two weeks before Christmas, my first husband died unexpectedly at work. I had been out with a girlfriend doing our Christmas shopping all day. This was before cell phones so I was out of reach until I returned to an empty house with packages and a toddler in tow.
Not being home was very unlike him. The meat I had left out to thaw was still on the counter so I knew he hadn’t come home and then left. I called a few friends. They downplayed my growing concern but they didn’t know Ron like I did. He was a man of habit and routine. Something had to be really wrong for him to break out of his regular schedule.
All of a sudden, the phone and doorbell rang at the same time- I froze in my living room. I knew of a surety that I did not want to answer either one. That moment felt like forever although it was only a few minutes. I had just entered the time warp that accompanies mourning.
I answered the phone- it was Ron’s boss. I asked him to wait a moment so I could get the door. There was a police officer telling me that I was needed at the hospital. I went back to the phone and received the same message. I left my toddler with a friend and headed to the hospital.
Ron was already dead but hospital policy stated that only the attending doctor could give me the news. Again it felt like hours as I waited. I’m sure it was not. But it would be weeks before the fog that enveloped me would begin to dissipate. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.
My three year old was inconsolable. Even in his sleep he sobbed. And it was Christmas. After about 10 days I ventured out with him. I had not taken him to see Santa yet. We went to a large, noisy, crowded mall. We felt like one big open wound. I wanted to scream! I wanted to say to everyone there, “Can’t you see the world has stopped? How can you go on acting like nothing is wrong? Everything is wrong and it will never be right again!!!”
It was then I had an epiphany. I had formed the opinion that the old tradition of wearing black for a period of mourning was barbaric. Even the early 1900’s habit of wearing a black armband to signify one was in mourning had irritated me. Well, now I understood!! It was an outward expression of an inward broken heart. It said, “Treat me gently, please, I hurt so much.”
Since Christmas for most of us is the celebration of the birth of He who heals all broken hearts, let’s give the gift of kindness and gentleness to those around us. Having just been asked by Santa what he wanted for Christmas, that crying three year old on Santa’s lap may be answering, (as my son did), “Santa, I want my Daddy back.”
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Bah-Humbug!

The following is a quote from the book, The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran. “Then said a rich man, speak to us of giving. And he answered: You give but little when you give of possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.”
I was reminded of this last night when I brought cookies to some of the people that live in the complex we used to work at. Of course, they were appreciative of the cookies but they found more delight in the fact that I was visiting them. I recognized it so I did stay and visit with each one although that was not my original plan.
EVERYTHING around us at this blessed time is screaming out shop, shop, shop!! Then it’s- gotta go to this house, and that house, and again another place for parties. Let’s not forget the office parties and the school events! We can’t forget the stack of cards waiting to be finished and mailed. And the endless batches of cookies that have to be made.
We’ll be up all night at least once just to get all the gifts wrapped (one year I wrapped over 200 but that’s a different story). Everyone is cranky- our regular routines are disturbed- we are exhausted! MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! HO-HO-HO! BAH-HUMBUG is more apt to be the way we are feeling.
So I’m going to tell you something- S…l…o…w…d…o…w…n…! Take some deep breaths. Then write down everything you think you have to do before Christmas. Now go make a cup of hot chocolate. Sit back down with your list- place a star next to the very most essential tasks/activities. Hint- memory makers/traditions are essential. Sip your drink. Now, put a checkmark next to the tasks you can give to someone else. Hint- young children LOVE to do the cards, the people who receive them will be tickled pink. Take a few more sips. Now put a line thru the things that really aren’t going to matter. Hint- your sister’s best friends children’s concert can be skipped.
Try giving the gift of quality time- instead of purchased gift cards at great restaurants for your parents; make your own gift card good for a night out or in together. Make free babysitting cards for friends, backrub cards for your spouse, I’ll clean your room once for you cards for your children. The list is endless.
And take the time to stop and visit those in need of visiting- it will uplift and refresh you, too. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Crying- a strength or a weakness?

I just participated in an online poll for the first time. While this signifies that I am getting more comfortable with my computer, it also shows how ticked I was. Usually, I don’t care enough to use my time that way. The question was- “Is it alright for men to cry in public?”
This question disturbs me in so many ways but there is only one I will address here. My vote was yes. My accompanying comment was this- “It takes real strength to show our true emotions.”
Let me tell you a story. I spent 40 years not allowing myself to cry. I expounded much energy in making sure that NO ONE knew how I truly felt. I kept every little hurt tucked away in my “I don’t care” closet. I kept the big hurts tucked away in my “I won’t think about any of that” closet.
I stayed in several abusive relationships- spousal and others- because I denied that they were damaging me. How could they damage me? I was strong, invincible, nothing hurt me! People came to ME for help. I didn’t need to go to anyone.
In addition to that, I am a follower of Jesus Christ, I believe in forgiveness, turn the other cheek, they don’t know what they’re doing, etc.
The experts say that anger/hurt turned inwards is the definition of depression. And boy, did I become depressed, and more depressed, and even more depressed. I became so depressed that for almost a year I fought off suicidal thoughts on a daily basis. When I could no longer think of any reason not to do it, I reached out from the depths of my black, black hole and sought professional help.
The journey that followed was rocky indeed. It included medicine, therapy, and a complete change in my thought process. When asked why I didn’t ever cry I replied, “I’m afraid that if I start I’ll never be able to stop!”
Cleaning out emotional baggage is a lot like cleaning a house. You can throw all the clutter in the closet or under the bed. You can sweep the dirt under the rug. You can cover the holes on the walls with pictures. Everything can look OK but you still know it’s all there.
Or you can “spring clean”. In which case, you have to make a mess before you can actually clean. Everything MUST come out from under the bed and out of the closet. Then you can examine it. You can keep what you want to, throw away what you need to and put it all back in order. In other words, you can find healing and peace.
I thought I was being strong by keeping it all in. I’ve learned that it takes more strength to let it all out. I also found out that forgiveness and the other virtues I wanted to achieve came easier after I stopped bottling up my hurt. How can you forgive someone for a hurt that you are denying even happened?
As a matter of fact, I’ve been thinking about going back to therapy. I cry about everything now! I cry when I’m happy. I cry when I’m moved. I cry when I’m angry. I cry when I’m hurt. I cry when I’m sad. They never did teach me how to stop! And to tell the truth, I really don’t want to know how.
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

The Hokey Pokey

Last summer I saw a wall plaque that read- “What if the Hokey Pokey IS what’s it’s all about?” I laughed and then felt a little indignant since I have a clear idea of what “it’s” all about. Since then I’ve seen the same question in a few other places. So I’ve decided to take it on.
My husband and I spent 2 years teaching toddlers at our church. We loved it!! We played the Hokey Pokey frequently. The whole class loved it including the teachers and visiting parents (who were required to join in). Here are the things we learned from doing the Hokey Pokey:
1. We learned to listen carefully to instructions. They were apt to change regularly.
2. We learned to watch and follow the leader’s example.
3. We took turns being leader so we all had a chance to learn about leadership.
4. We learned to work in a group. There wasn’t a lot of room in our classroom. Playing the game meant watching out for those around you so you would not hit them and they could not hit you.
5. We learned that some of us just march to a different beat and that’s OK. There were always the one or two who put their feet in instead of hands or head instead of feet. No one was allowed to criticize them.
6. We learned to mind our own business. We concentrated on our own actions not others.
7. We learned to help one another. Our class ranged in ages of 18 months to 3 years. The older children would often help the younger ones. Kindness and gentleness was highly encouraged.
8. We learned that to continue in the fun we couldn’t get mad, whiny or throw a fit of any kind. That ruined the game for everyone! Those who did were removed from the game until they could “play nice”.
9. We learned that sitting on the sidelines because of our own actions wasn’t much fun.
10. We learned that when we all obeyed the rules we all had a great time!!
And that’s what it’s all about!!! YEAH!! That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Computer Class

I just finished taking a computer class. At the first class the teacher asked each of us why we were there. She wanted to know what we hoped to get out of the class. My reply was “I want to know as much as my 2 yr. old grandson.”
Let me tell you what happened. My son and his family had come for a visit. My grandson wanted to play the WII. I was babysitting the 5 yr. old daughter of a friend at the time. My son set them all up with a driving game. He had to do it because although I own a WII- I am extremely limited in my ability to run it.
Chloe was having her turn but her car was stuck between a wall and a tree. Tyler had been jabbering instructions to her but none of us could translate “jabber”. She handed the wheel to him and said, “Can you help me?” I started to explain to her that he was too little. Before I could get all the words out he took the wheel, backed the car out, drove it to the nearest road and handed the wheel back to her. He continued to “jabber” instructions the entire time. I picked my chin up from the floor and asked his parents if they’d seen him.
Before they headed for home a few days later, I had seen Tyler set up his own WII games, use his father’s laptop and play with his dad’s phone. He could turn the phone on, find his game or movie, play them or select scenes to watch. I was still learning how to text!
I was busy having children when the technological age broke wide open. I was way too busy to acquire all the new skills involved in keeping up. Besides that when home computers first came out they were touchy and temperamental. If you breathed on them wrong they crashed. My kids never worried about it because they had no real concept of what the machines cost!
During the class, I came to another huge realization about why children, especially teens are so adept. After each class, the teacher would say the magic words- “go home and play around with it, you’ll find out a lot more that way.” My first response to that was who’s got the time? Daaah! Kids and teens!!!!!
I heard a comedian on the radio talking about this very subject – he said that he had always thought that he didn’t want kids but he’s rethinking that decision. He thinks now that having one might be very cost effective and think of all the time he’d save being on hold with the help lines!
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Twelve Minutes

What can you do with twelve minutes? Recently, I found that the answer to that question is quite a bit. I was making cookies- lots of cookies! I had my Christmas music going, candles lit, ambience grooving, etc. Each pan of cookies baked for 12 minutes. So I found myself with a number of twelve minute breaks to fill. Here are some of the things I was able to do.
1. I did the laundry- put washed load in dryer, loaded washer, folded and put away the dryer load.
2. I filled the dishwasher and ran it- cleaned up dinner dishes and cookie mess.
3. I wiped counters and swept the floor.
4. I changed the sheets on my bed.
5. I checked my e-mail and answered some- this took 3- 12 minute blocks.
6. I did my 20 minute yoga DVD in 2- 12 minute blocks.
7. I dusted and vacuumed the living room.
8. I cleaned out the fridge- throw old things away, wiped up spills.
9. I did #1 again 2x.
This brought me to a real discovery place. I realized that there are many things in our lives that we perceive as taking a long time (such as housework). Because we view something as a huge time taker we put off doing it. Then the job becomes larger in reality but also in our minds. So we put it off some more. The truth of the matter is that we’ll waste hours not doing a few minutes worth of work.
Time is not something you find. It is not something you can make. Every one of us gets 24 hours each and every day. Time is something we spend just like money. And just like our money we choose how and where to spend it. Just like money- once gone- we never get it back.
So I give you the advice that Indiana Jones received from the ancient knight, “Choose wisely”. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

The Christmas List

One of my family’s Christmas traditions has been to help make Christmas better for someone else in need. I’d like to share one of those times. This particular experience was special for so many reasons.
One of my daughters had become close to a neighbor hood girl. She was 12. Her sisters were 14 and 16. Her mom was a single parent working a minimum wage job. Her father was in and out of jail regularly. He had no job so he gave them no money.
There was no car. They walked everywhere. Mom was a recovering addict but we didn’t know that at the time. I was a stay at home mom so all three girls found their way to our home on a regular basis. I encouraged this. They stopped by on their way home from school for cookies, milk and talks. We went to their sports and school events often providing rides. These girls were happy, close to each other and full of love for their mother.
Although we usually did our Christmas helping anonymously, this year we had no choice but to go through the girls. We had been in their home. It was clean, full of plants but not obviously lacking. My daughter was not one to notice what might be needed. So I confided in the three teenage girls that we wanted to help with Christmas. Could they come up with a Christmas wish list for them and their mom? They were so excited about doing it! Money was tight at our house that year so I was secretly hoping they didn’t want something really expensive.
I still have that list. I wept when I read it. Here it is: toilet paper, laundry detergent, dish detergent, shampoo, soap, something for their mom to put her craft things in and if possible could I get her a new bathrobe because she never had one. Not one thing for themselves! Everything on the list was to help out mom.
At this point, realizing how poor they really were, I went into the house when mom was working and made my own huge list. I called in the troops- everyone I knew- told them the story of the Christmas list and asked for whatever they could give. We received several cords of wood, blankets, mattresses, sheets, towels, new coats, gloves, hats for entire family, mom (and girls) received robes and slippers. At least a year’s supply of TP and detergents were donated. One generous donor gave a gift card so that mom could shop for her girl’s gifts herself. We brought it all together and delivered it while mom was still at work. The girls couldn’t wait until she got home!!
Seeing for myself that a lot of people giving a little each added up to a wonderful experience for three unselfish girls and their mother made this one of the best Christmas seasons for me and mine. We all have something we can give. Giving it brings such joy to the heart- remember that this Christmas season.
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Magic

He knows how. He did a good job of taking care of himself and his house after his divorce. But now he My husband does not do housework. That point must be perfectly clear for this story to mean anything. does the lawn, the wood, the garbage, the cars, etc. I take care of the house, bills, children, etc.
He will do housework if I ask him to but I rarely do. His jobs have always been time and energy demanding. What little time he has at home he needs for his responsibilities. He also works better if I let him plan his own time off. I’ll ask for a few “honeydos” ahead of time. If I leave him alone about them he’ll get them done in his time and way.
Now before anyone feels sorry for me, I need to say that while he doesn’t often do housework he ALWAYS cleans up after himself. He makes the bed if he’s the last one out of it. His dirty clothes are always in the basket- right side out and empty pockets I might add. He always rinses his dishes and puts them in the sink. When he makes his lunches for work everything gets put away. I have never had to pick up after him. This is huge! I really appreciate it.
He also never complains when the house is a mess. He knows that I will get to it as soon as I can and doesn’t bug me about it. If I leave a mess on the counter, it stays there until I clean it up. We both dislike clutter and mess so I never leave it long.
Which brings me to my story-my regular readers know what the night before Thanksgiving was like for me (see Thanksgiving reality). Thanksgiving Day went well. It was a little hectic because I had to clean up from the night before and remake three pies before making the actual dinner. By the end of the day, I was exhausted. I took a nap which ended up being all night.
I woke the next morning with a groan- none of the dinner mess had been cleaned up. I was going to get to it after my “nap”. I dreaded going to the kitchen and chiseling gravy off everything. I was angry at myself for not having done it before lying down. I rolled out of bed, tried to put my game face on and headed to the kitchen.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear but a shiny clean kitchen done by my darling dear!!!!! The table was back to its normal size, the extra table put away. Pots and pans were in their proper places. Counters were clean, dishes were put away. It was MAGIC!
It was also his way of saying thank-you, I love you and I’m so sorry for turning on the wrong burner and blowing up your pie all in one big gesture. What a guy- I think he’s a keeper!
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Night walking

A few months ago, tired of trying to carve walking time out of my daily grind, I went for a walk after dark. I loved it! I try to go every night now -weather permitting.
I live in the country on a dead end dirt road so safety from humans is a pretty sure thing. I walk with my big protective dog so safety from animals is a pretty sure thing. I take my cell phone so safety from myself (I tend to be a little accident prone) is a pretty sure thing. I do not take a flashlight. I do not take an Ipod.
I love the solitude and peacefulness of the night. I love the star filled sky. I love watching the cycle of the moon, waxing and waning as the month progresses. I love the night sounds, so different from those of the day. I can hear the electricity crackling in the power lines above me.
It’s incredible to walk on a full moon night, so bright and clear I can see everything around me. It’s also incredible to walk on a cloudy moonless night when I must choose my steps carefully and focus on just what’s in front of me.
I have some friends who think it’s a crazy idea but one older, wiser friend understood. As a matter of fact, she and her husband used to walk at night quite often. She said it was my time to listen. She also understood not using artificial light. She remarked that it’s hard to commune with nature when we are driving it away with outside sounds and lights.
I’ve thought about her comments a lot. It IS my time to listen. Of course, I’m listening to the many things happening around me as I walk but I don’t think that’s what she meant. I listen to what is going on inside me even more. I listen to my thoughts. I listen to my feelings. I take events of the day and replay them to carefully digest them. I take the time to properly sort and file them.
And I come home refreshed in body but more important to me is I am also refreshed in mind, heart and spirit. I’m learning how hungry I’ve been for such a time and how rarely any of us get time like this anymore. All too often, times we could use in this way, we fill up with sound and activity. Exercise time, commuting time, waiting time, etc. we fill up with Ipods, phones, computers, etc.
When did you have listening time? I’m giving you homework- 15 minutes of do nothing but listen time a day. Stay in an upright position so you don’t fall asleep. If you can, go outside. It will feel a little uncomfortable at first but if you do it for over a week, I think you’ll like it.
By the way, a little side effect I found- I sleep better! No tossing and turning while I try to shut my mind off. I’ve already listened to it. It’s happy to go to sleep with the rest of my body now! That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s your’s?

Shirley Temple

We don’t do Black Friday at our house. I went once. That was enough to last a lifetime. I will not condemn the practice however because I know many that do. We have always used the day after Thanksgiving as a quiet day at home. We eat leftovers especially pies. We watch movies usually a marathon of some type. And we put up our Christmas decorations, at least our tree and my Santa collection.
This year the movie marathon was Shirley Temple movies. The DVD set included her early movies. She was between the ages of two and six. I hadn’t even realized that she had started as early as she did. She did many shorts. Some of them seemed one step up from silent movies.
I was unconvinced that they would keep my techno savvy group entertained. The children of the Spielberg /Pixar generation absorbed in a scratchy, hard to hear black and white production? Would they get the jokes? Would it move too slowly? Would the special effects be too obvious? Were we going to spend the day with the boredom complaints?
I needn’t have worried. We loved them!! Even my action thriller husband sat on the couch laughing out loud at the gags and joke stunts. The baby burlesque shorts were adorable. Staging a bunch of 2yr.olds in diapers to parody the adult world at that time was brilliant. They poked fun at politics, Hollywood, the night club life and more. In one, a baby Pres. Roosevelt kept looking for something throughout the short. At the end he was asked what he was looking for- his reply was “my sanity” To which the 2 yr. old Temple said, “It’s just around the corner!”
That joke required an explanation but it didn’t interfere at all with their enjoyment. As we watched, I could hear all the today’s nay sayers comments in my head. The fact is that these films could not be made today. I’m surprised they can still be sold. There were scenes with 2 & 3 yr. olds kissing, bare bums a few times, a little bit of Mae West style hip movements and toddlers in just diapers, shoes and hats. Oh,my!
My twelve year old daughter kept saying, “They are soooo cute!! Baby kissing is so cute, Mom! Why is it so cute?” My reply was that it is so innocent. I think that innocence was the reason we enjoyed the films so much. The stories were timeless, the acting simple, the stunts believable and the kissing innocent even the adult kissing. I can’t begin to explain how refreshed we felt. We had journeyed back in time to a place where simple innocence still existed. We returned all the better for it.
And let’s face it, a classic is a classic and Shirley Temple was, is and always will be a classic! That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Thanksgiving Reality

How was your Thanksgiving? Mine was the Thanksgiving every one dreams about! You know that dream where you wake up covered with sweat and screaming- that’s the one I had. It’s actually a little hard to believe but I swear this is what really happened.
This is the first year that I was doing Thanksgiving at my house in over five years. It is also the first year that I was committed to be cleaning at our local senior center. It is the second year that the center was giving a town Thanksgiving. I spent over 14 hours in 2 days getting carpets shampooed and everything spit polished. I had hoped to have all day Wednesday to do my house but that didn’t happen.
This is also the first year that our area was hit with a snow/ice storm before Thanksgiving. It was accompanied by record low temperatures in the single digits. Our entire area is restricted. You can’t travel on the highway if you don’t have chains.
It was late afternoon by the time I started my Thanksgiving prep. First, my husband informed me that my vacuum cleaner was dead! He had tried fixing it but he couldn’t. I walked in to see my beloved Dyson in pieces all over the dirty carpet. Deep breath- I was ok. We couldn’t get to town for a new one, any way. I could ignore the carpets.
I started with dinner and pies. I was trying to stick to our old tradition of every one’s favorite so I was making- lemon meringue, pumpkin, chocolate cream, coconut custard and banana cream. I had determined to do it all by scratch, cooking the fillings, etc. Everything was going just fine, a little hectic, but fine until the girls erupted in a major fight. I took a second to pour my pudding into its pie shell and my custard in its pie shell. Then I put the custard one in the oven, the pudding one in the fridge and went to deal with the fight.
I was back in the kitchen ready to put dinner in the oven when the timer for the pie went off. As I was pulling the coconut custard pie out of the oven, I saw the rubbery banana chunks on its top. Oh no, I set it down and ran to the fridge, yup, the coconut was in the pudding. Deep breath- I was ok.
The pumpkin pie was great. The lemon gelled perfectly I put in the cooked pie shell, left it on the stove and went to finish the meringue. Dinner was also ready so we sat down to eat. That was our little miracle- it was the first time no one was near the stove all night.
There was a loud explosion type sound. We looked towards the stove, it was on fire!! My husband had turned on the wrong burner to cook the giblets. The glass pie plate holding my lemon pie had exploded! Shards of glass were everywhere and the pie was on fire!!
Deep, deep breath- I was ok, sort of. We put out the fire and cleaned the mess up silently. I muttered something about going to bed and left all the other cooking mess there. I was very grateful that no one was hurt but I was done!
Next year -we are going to the town Thanksgiving! I heard it was a great success! That’s the view from my side of the street ,what’s yours?

Thanksgiving Blessing

I found this poem at our local senior center. I have no idea what the origin is so I apologize to the author but since tomorrow is Thanksgiving it seemed very appropriate.
Twas the night of Thanksgiving, but I just couldn’t sleep.
I tried counting backwards. I tried counting sheep.
The leftovers beckoned- the dark meat and white.
But I fought the temptation with all of my might.
Tossing and turning with my anticipation.
The thought of a snack became infatuation.
So, I raced to the kitchen and flung open the door.
I gazed at the fridge, full of goodies galore.
I gobbled up turkey and buttered potatoes,
Pickles and carrots, some beans and tomatoes.
I felt myself swelling, so plump and so round,
Till all of a sudden, I rose off the ground!
I crashed through the ceiling, floating up to the sky
With a mouthful of pudding and a handful of pie.
But I managed to yell as I soared past the trees….
Happy eating to all, pass the cranberries, please.
May your stuffing be tasty, may your turkey be plump.
May your potatoes ‘n gravy have nary a lump.
May your yams be delicious, may your pies take the prize,
May your Thanksgiving dinner stay off of your thighs!!!
Happy Thanksgiving to all- remember moderation in all things- also that heart attacks can be brought on by eating too many fatty foods at one time!
Remember also that having a “gratitude attitude” can affect your health in positive ways. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Giving Thanks

I have a personal Thanksgiving tradition that I’ve been doing for a number of years now. Each year I send thank you cards to five people in my life that I have felt special gratitude for that year. I usually end each note with something like, “This Thanksgiving you are one of the blessings I feel grateful for.”
I’ve completed mine for this year but there are still five people that I would really like to give thanks to but because of the situations involved, I felt that they might be insulted. I decided that since none of them read my blog perhaps I could share my thanks here.
And although I often use humor to make my point, I want it understood that I am truly grateful to these people. This is NOT a joke!
1. My birth dad whom I have never known. First, thanks for giving me life. It’s been a roller coaster but I’ve held on for the ride so far. Also, thanks for staying out of my life. I don’t know what the exact circumstances were but I never had to be part of the “push me- pull you” tug of war that I’ve seen in so many children’s lives. Thank you.
2. Thanks to my children’s stepmother. Despite all the ugly involved, she took on the job and has stuck to it for 5 yrs. It has been through some of the worst circumstances but she has stayed. I know what that it takes to do that. Thank You.
3. To Dan who fired me from a job I thought and had been told I would have for a long, long time. I learned how many people in my small town cared about me. I had no idea the level of respect that Brent and I had created in this town until I was fired. And that respect came for the same reason I had lost the job- I stick to my standards. Thank you.
4. To my husband’s ex-wife for raising three terrific people that I love very much. Also, for whatever reasons, giving me a chance to have Brent in my life as friend, companion, work mate and lover. Living with him has been a choice experience. Thank you.
5. And finally, to my ex-husband, for giving me 8 of my children. But most of all, if I had not met and married him, I would have lost out on the biggest growth experiences of my life. Knowing and dealing with him have taught me more of life’s lessons than I could have learned in any other way. Thank you.
This Thanksgiving, these five people are some special blessings for which I am grateful. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Perfect Moments

I was just outside. It is night and just cold enough for me to see my breath. The almost full moon is high above surrounded by millions of stars. I was pushing the old wheelbarrow full of wood for the stove. I paused as I looked around our small farm- the winter’s wood supply split and stacked, garden spaces ready for springs plowing, dogs rolling in the leaves, and I thought, boy, it doesn’t get much better than this!
I call times like this- perfect moments. These are moments in life when we are so in the experience that time almost stands still so our mind can take a picture. It is a moment that imprints itself upon you. Nobody has a perfect life but everyone has perfect moments. They are different for all of us, as unique as we ourselves are.
I think that when we are able to see and enjoy these perfect moments our lives become fuller. Sometimes we have to slow down enough to notice. Sometimes we need to quit our bellyaching long enough to notice. Sometimes we need someone else to point them out.
A few weeks ago, I had four grandchildren sleep over at my house. They had been having a wonderful time. So had I. Than I mentioned the b-word (you know b-e-d). Within five minutes all four were crying and wanting to go home! I thought that was a perfect moment. Within 20 minutes they were all asleep. That, too, was a perfect moment!
Earlier today, I was the only car at an intersection to witness a policeman run a light that had just turned red. He saw me laughing and shaking my head. He had the decency to look sheepish and I had a perfect moment.
Other perfect moments in the past month have been: the ending to Toy Story 3, a phone call from a son, Thriller with my daughter-in-law, a rainstorm on our tin roof, an unexpected compliment, a good workout, sliding into a bed with new sheets, a message from a friend, my husband telling me that he would cook the turkey, playing ball with my grandsons, school lunch with my daughter, kittens venturing out of their room on tiny, toddling legs to find me, seeing old friends and homemade apple pie.
It’s kind of like counting your blessings but not really. Counting your blessings can be done after the fact but perfect moments are enjoyed as such while they are happening.
Anyway, that’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Building Bridges

A few months after Brent and I were married, a new grandson joined our family. The following morning my truck driving husband was going to be driving through Missoula, Montana where they lived. As excited as he to meet our new little boy, I made all the necessary arrangements at home and began my drive through the night to meet him there.
I spent most of my trip pondering about our new blended family. Anyone who has been part of a blended family knows the thin ice that everyone gets to skate on as part of the new life experience created. It certainly gives new meaning to the saying, “All because two people fell in love!”
I’ve talked to some people who have strapped on the skates and they all agreed with my next statement. The adult children have a harder time adjusting than the younger children. I have been part discussions about why this is. Most of us find it a little ironic because the adult children brought strangers home, too. They expected them to be welcomed into the family, didn’t they?
Anyway, I’m driving, thinking and praying about my role in this new family. Who am I? How much should I do? Where is the line between reaching out and butting in? How do I establish relationships with people that I know and love already because of my relationship with their dad but also realize that to them I am a stranger? The questions and doubts crowded my mind and heart. How am I going to fill in the gap between us all?
Then, a peace flowed over me as a still, small voice spoke in my mind. It said, “Build bridges.” Huh? “Build bridges”. I came to understand that it wasn’t my job to fill in the gaps. All that I had power to do was start on my side of the chasm and start building.
I pictured scenes of bridge building filed in my head and came to another huge realization. Bridges are built from both sides and joined in the middle at the coming together place! Wow! I was only responsible for MY side of the bridge. I was being told that MY job was to start building. And no matter whether any building was going on across the way- I was to keep building. It WASN’T my job to worry about the other side being built. I was only to worry about MY side.
Since that night I have come to the understanding that this principle is true in all relationships!! I only have to build from my side and stop worrying about the other side! It’s not my responsibility! Some bridges are being built faster than others, some aren’t being built at all but I continue to work on my side building, shoring up, rebuilding when a storm has torn some down, etc.
This has been one of the major lessons in my life. I’m so grateful for the knowledge. I’ve needed it almost everyday since that night.
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Short and Fat

I remember reading once about a woman who was asked, “What do you know today that you wished you knew years ago?”
I have never forgotten her reply, “I wish that I had known that the body which I hated in my 20’s was going to be the same body I longed for in my 50’s.” That had a huge impact on me. I was in my 30’s at the time and spending a lot of energy feeling bad about my looks. We do that to ourselves. I vowed then and there to stop letting my self image have so much control over me.
Now I am in my 50’s, I wish that I had the body I had in my 30’s but I also realize that in my 80’s I will probably be wishing I had the body I have right now. So I don’t beat myself up over it. Does that mean I won’t be working on the situation? No! It means that I won’t waste my time and energy stressing about it. Sometimes we can be so concerned about how we look that we let go of everything else and let it consume us. This can happen to us whether we are thin or fat or just in between.
I know people of all sizes that have let their weight and looks define who they are. Fat people who hide behind their size and let it stop them from enjoying the physical side of life. I know thin people who are obsessive about what they do or don’t eat and never enjoy any of it.
I try to be more concerned about my health than about my looks. I exercise to be healthy. I eat to be healthy. I have struggled to find that healthy balance in my life but I think I’m there. It feels good to be at a place where I can just accept myself where I am. Finding the healthy, happy medium is what we should all be doing.
Not too long ago I was at a place where a saleslady was trying to assess my size. I blurted out, “Honey, I’m short and fat- got any thing for that here?” She looked shocked.
But I think my favorite thing happened while I was at the zoo with one of my sons and his family. There was a sign explaining about camel’s humps. Apparently, the humps are not full of water as many believe. They are actually full of fat. A full humped camel can go up to 3 months without food. After I shared this info, I slapped my generous backside and stated, “I’m not fat- this is just food storage!!”
To which my son replied, “Gives a whole new meaning to the concept of years supply, doesn’t it?” Yes it does!!
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Making Lemonade

For years, my life’s motto has been the old saying- “When life hands you lemons -make lemonade”. I have made a lot of lemonade, let me tell you!! I also like some of the variations on this particular theme.
Such as the comedian who quips, “Why doesn’t life hand us some tequila and salt at the same time?” Or this from a card my sister sent me years ago- “Hang in there…sometimes life hands you lemons but then you can make lemonade. Of course, sometimes life pulls down your pants, runs a power sander across your naked butt, then pours lemon juice on your raw abraded buttocks…In that case, a cool citrus drink wouldn’t help but, darn it…you’ve got to hang in there anyway!”
It’s really just a way of declaring the fact that this journey we call life is going to be rough at times. No one who lives long enough can avoid it- things happen that we don’t like. Things happen that we hate. Things happen even when we are standing in the middle of the room screaming, “I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS!!!”
It seems to me that as we get older, we make some kind of peace with life’s lemons. We’ve seen them handed to everyone. We’ve seen ourselves and others survive the lemon toss. Instead of a “life sucks and then you die” attitude, we take on a “life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans” attitude. And we really come to know what the word “bittersweet” truly means.
But now that I’ve been in Oregon for 10 yrs., I’m thinking of adopting a new life slogan. The one I’m thinking about is more suitable to the “green” movement that is so popular in this state. It actually seems to be to be a little more appropriate to my own circumstances. Here it is- “Compost is just a pile of sh** that when mixed in with other stuff turns into something really good!”
So, I am trying to turn all the sh** in my life into something really good. I’m composting!!
At least for now- I just heard something this morning that I can see as being very appropriate in the future. “I just get up every day and do what my rice krispies tell me!”
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Traditions

We are rapidly approaching the holiday season. As a matter of fact, I think retailers have probably set a new record in the earliest Christmas displays ever! Remember when we would complain if the displays went up before Thanksgiving? Most stores have them up before Halloween this year!!! To me it takes the magic out of the Christmas season and makes it ordinary- like shopping for garbage bags.
Do you remember the opening song of “Fiddler on the Roof”? It is Tevye belting out “Traditions”. His belief is that traditions keep our lives in balance like the fiddler playing on the roof. I want to add my voice to his. Traditions DO keep our otherwise fluid, ever changing lives in balance. It hurts my heart that so many shared cultural traditions have been abandoned!! In my own disrupted family, I’ve seen the healing that sticking to traditions brings.
I would urge all reading this to get your old traditions out of the attic and shake off the dust. If you are a new family, create your own traditions. Your children will look forward to them every year. Once established you will find that they can act as an anchor during stormy periods, increase anticipation in calm times, and be a sure foundation during shaky moments.
Traditions can be big or small, holiday related or just for every day, apply to the whole family or to an individual, anything you want them to be. The key is the repetition that forms it into habit.
Growing up- Christmas meant my mother and grandmother cooking for what seemed like weeks. They made cookies, candies, and “tukie pie”. This was what we called a meat and potato pie that we ate Christmas and New Year’s eves. It meant midnight mass, new pj’s (to look good in the Christmas pictures, I think) and before dawn trips down the stairs. It meant staying up late to watch the television specials- Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer and Bing Crosby.
Thanksgiving was a long road trip to my Aunt Katie’s. There were lots of food and lots of cousins. We always watched TV football games, the Macy’s parade and the pilgrim story told in a cartoon. It was always the same routine.
Christmas’s for my children have meant helping provide food and presents for others less fortunate, trips to Goodwill’s where they were let loose with a list of family members and ten dollars, helping to bake tons of cookies to deliver to neighbors, card signing (every family member including babies signed outgoing cards)and our Christmas Eve reading of “The Polar Express”, “The Gift of the Magi” and the scripture story of the birth of Jesus. There was usually a betting pool going on when Mom would start to cry.
Thanksgiving meant pies!! Each family member would make their favorite pie. Because there were so many of us, we each made two. It was also part of the tradition to eat pie for breakfast the next day.
One Christmas, my family was disintegrating, my oldest son was gone and I was tempted to let everything slide. It didn’t help that my husband refused to join our Christmas Eve which gave an out to the older kids. Tired of fighting I was going to let it go. My little ones brought me the books and said, “Pleeeease!” So I did.
The next day when we received our Christmas call from our son, we could hear the homesickness in his voice. He explained that the previous night he had shared our tradition with his roommate during the time he thought we would be sitting down to begin. Then with a bit of panic he asked if we had done the reading. Boy was I glad I had! At that moment I realized how right Tevye was. Traditions do keep us balanced like a fiddler on the roof.
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

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Stupid Stunts

Recently while at a friends house I became interested in what was on the TV. They were having one of those countdown shows- you know the top twenty…. This one was about stupid stunts that people, (mostly men actually mostly boys) had done. Not only done but had also caught on tape!
I was laughing hysterically at some of these stunts! God bless my dear friend for allowing me to watch. I don’t think she was enjoying it quite as much as I but then she never had sons. She was finding it hard to believe that these boys could be so stupid. I, on the other hand found it very believable. I am the mother of five sons.
In my family, finding a wood tick was a treasure. The boys would run to our gas stove, turn it on and lay the tick close to the flame. Why, you ask, did they do this? Because somewhere along the way, it had been discovered that ticks pop when heated! Just like popcorn! The boys would be glued to the spot while waiting for the heat to do its thing and giggle crazily when it popped. It was extra fun if the tick was bloated and full of blood.
I have yet to find a boy or man for that matter who will not laugh his head off when seeing someone else get hit in the you know where place. It’s the weirdest thing. Go to the movies and every man will be cracking up at the classic ball between the legs stunt. But it’s not so funny when it happens to them! I don’t get it!
Get boys in groups of two or more and I think the collective testosterone fries brain cells. It at least seems to affect the “What will happen next?” part of their brains. It’s really true- they are incapable of thinking past the actual act that is being considered. The show I was watching proved it over and over again.
There was an incident in my family many years ago. We were living in a 100yr. old Victorian house that had needed much work. We only had one of its thirteen rooms completed at the time. It was the boy’s room. Imagine my dismay when while tucking them in their beds one night, I noticed about 10 small round holes in the plaster ceiling!
I asked what had caused the holes. They had been caused by the plunger. “WHAAT?” was my response. Apparently, they had been throwing the plunger at the ceiling to see if it would stick. Half the time it did. Half the time the wooden end of the plunger hit instead. Hence, the small round holes!
I was furious!! I can see that the game sounded like fun. I can see how cool it was when the plunger stuck to the ceiling. What I will never get is that after the first 2 or 3 holes were made, why didn’t it occur to one of them- oh, this might not be a good idea? It’s not rocket science!! But boys will be boys, fried brain cells and all!
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Elections

In the early 1930’s, my grandfather wrote a column for his small New England towns newspaper. It was called “The Easy Chair”. I feel it appropriate to share some of his words today:
“Election is over! The Easy Chair is proud of the people of the town, the State, the nation. As we see it, to vote is the thing. The United States of America will never be ruined because a large body of citizens vote for a man whom another large body of citizens consider the wrong man.
We wish we held the power to impress upon the mind of every voter in the town and in the state, the deep significance of that vote, the true importance of voting, the grave responsibility of the voter. Indifference, stagnation, lethargy is the spirit which will kill our form of government and not mistaken voting.”
Last week I urged you to vote. I hope that all my readers did. In going over the election stats all over the country, I noticed the “clean sweeps” but what stood out more to me were how very many of the elections were “neck and neck”. This was an election that in which whether a vote was cast or not could very well have made the difference in who came out the winner.
I have a feeling that the same will hold true in coming elections. As my grandfather expressed in November 1934- making the wrong choice will not have as much of an effect on our country as will making no choice at all.
I am reminded of that wee small boy in Whosville who thought his voice couldn’t possibly make a difference. Remember everyone making all the noise they could possibly make to save themselves from being dropped into boiling oil? No one but Horton could hear them until that wee small boy joined in!
I am also reminded of an old saying. It stated that “Indecision is a decision”. If you voted yesterday, kudos!! If you didn’t, in my book, you’ve lost your right to complain about the government for a whole year!!
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

M-O-M

Years ago, one of my daughters gave me a winter headband for Christmas. She had painstakingly sewed on buttons spelling out M-O-M. She was concerned that I might be embarrassed to wear it. I assured her that I loved it and would indeed wear it. I have- all over the country.
Mom is my favorite name. It brings to those of us blessed to be called it many rich memories……..long pregnancies followed by what seemed like even longer births or for those of us who did not birth our children, even longer waiting times.
There were nights of no sleep that were forgotten with that first sleepy smile directed right at you. There were the constant demands that were accompanied by sloppy kisses, awkward hugs and lisped, “I wuv you’s”. Endless piles of laundry were ignored when the plea “play with me, mommy” was uttered.
With the name of Mom comes the magical power to kiss away boo-boos, mend broken hearts, and bring about world peace (at least in your little world). With that name comes the incredible privilege of being the first audience to see that oh, so, unique dance or song. You are the first to see the amazing feat of a 3ft. high lego tower or a living room wide block city. “Look at me, Mom!” echoes thru your home and can catch you at the most inconvenient moments. But you drop everything to comply.
You will see reams of paper develop into works of art that rival Picasso’s and your constant companion is the nagging fear of running out of refrigerator display space!
Then your children enter school. That first day of kindergarten is followed by that first day of high school. The days that seemed to be never ending at one point are now flying by! Why is it we only truly learn to appreciate things once they are gone?
The house is empty. The alone time you used to crave now threatens to overwhelm you. You try to remember who you were before. You try to reinvent who you are now. You try so hard to find yourself in the vast nothingness that surrounds you at times.
The voices of the past continue to haunt you occasionally at unexpected moments- like when you find a headband with buttons spelling out M-O-M. You realize that what you’ve gained has far outweighed what you might have given.
Then one day, you understand that God in his wisdom has it all worked out. I have found another name that I like just as well. If you promise NOT to tell my kids- I’ll tell you what it is. It’s Grandma!!
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Taking the Scenic Route

My husband and I will have our 5th anniversary this February. Quite a lot has happened in that time. Events over the past few months placed us facing the exact same choices that we faced us five years ago.
When we decided to get married one of the many decisions we had to make was one involving where we would live. Our choices were:
1. My family could move in with him. He was living in the same place he had with his ex-wife. The property was beautiful but a lot of work. The house was old and shabby. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to live with the memories involved.
2. He could move in with me. I had recently moved into an almost new place out in the country. I loved the house and really didn’t want to move my whole family again. The location wasn’t the best but no memories existed.
3. We could have found a new place but he was on the road and I worked two jobs. We weren’t that interested in looking.
We chose door #2. So, he moved in the newer house with my family. His parents moved into his place. Things didn’t work out there so we moved two months later to a completely different place. And then another place and another place and another place until we are now at the shabby little place on the farm!
The other choices facing us had to do with his job. His choices at the time were:
1. He could keep his own truck business contracting out as an owner-operator. This would have him home weekends.
2. He could park his old truck and drive for someone else doing long-haul. This would have him home never.
3. He could haul locally for one of the big food industries in our area. This would have him home every night.
4. He could get a non trucking related job.
We chose door #1. When that became impossible, we tried options #2 and #4. He is now doing #3.
We joke with our friends and family that it’s a good indication of how bad the last 5 years have been to make this house look damn good to me and that job look damn good to him. One friend’s take on it is that we took the scenic route to get here. And that is the point of my story.
At one time or another most of us do take the scenic route. It is usually much longer than the freeway. The roads are bumpy and rough. There are sharp curves to contend with. The speed limits are slower. You have to stop for pedestrians, dogs, balls, etc. You have to keep a lookout for speed traps and school zones. It can seem that you will never get there.
But along the road are views and experiences that can take your breath away. You meet people that you might never have met. You sample food that you might never have tried. You’ve learned things that you could only learn on the slow, scenic route. Eventually you reach your destination- pocket poor but experience rich. And I have begun to wonder if perhaps that was the real plan after all!
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Global Warming

While driving along the highway a few days ago, I was passed by one of those tiny electric cars.( I have a least one son who is laughing right now at the thought of my going slow enough to be passed by a toy car as he calls them.) We’ll forget that part because what I want to ask that particular fossil fuel saver is, “Where did the electricity to charge your car come from?”
Here in my neck of the woods, there is a variety of electricity generating methods. There is a nuclear plant, a coal fired plant, dams and windmills. Now if you are like me ,you would think that the “green” people of the world would definitely chose wind and water generated electricity, wouldn’t you? Both of those sources being natural, of course, would make them preferable.
This is not so. The greenies oppose dams and windmills. That’s right. I said oppose. If I understand the arguments correctly they go something like this. The dams are detrimental to the fish and other aquatic species. The windmills, however, are ugly. They block views and need large power lines to transport the wind generated electricity.
Hmmmmmm…… So again, I ask that car driver, where does YOUR electricity come from?
A few years ago, my husband and I were listening to a report on a global warming protest in Washington,D.C. It was early spring and a surprise snowstorm had taken place during the protest. This fact didn’t change any minds according to reports. I looked at Brent and said, “I bet they were very glad to get to their warm motel rooms and order Starbucks.”
Now, reading this you may assume I’m against the green movement. That is not true. I AM against hypocrisy, though. Back in the 70’s there were many who were green but they put their money where their mouth was, so to speak. They lived without electricity, running water and other fuel consuming devices. They heated and cooked with woodstoves, went to the bathroom in an outhouse, used homemade candles, etc. I knew people like this. They lived their convictions.
I don’t see much of that today. Instead, I see a number of people who want to complain about existing problems but don’t like any of the solutions and will not come up with viable solutions of their own. In fact, what I see is a bunch of 2 yr. olds throwing temper tantrums because they don’t want to decide between chocolate or vanilla ice cream. They want both. When that is not possible, they get angry and want neither.
If they really want to be impressive, they should go back to horse and buggies or better yet, Fred Flinstone cars. That would solve another national dilemma, the increase in the morbid obesity rate. In the meantime, stop with all the hot air- there’s a global warming problem, you know.
That’s the view from my side of the street today, what’s yours?

Grief Work

I did a twelve hour road trip this past week. I listened to country radio stations the entire trip. This was a huge thing for me not because I don’t like country but because I do. Let me explain that a little.
About 4 and ½ years ago, my world disintegrated! It had been crumbling for a few years but in one day it blew apart scattering pieces everywhere. I was devastated. As if that wasn’t enough to deal with, the aftershocks continued for quite awhile. To be perfectly honest, they haven’t stopped yet. I don’t know if they ever will.
I think I cried every day for a year. The second year it might have been every other day. Most country songs made me sob. I couldn’t listen to them. Some hymns did the same thing. There were other types of music that were unbearable. I avoided public places because I would hear certain songs and fall apart.
It was about then that I gave up TV because I could no longer watch the shows I had before. Many of my favorite activities became unbearable. I couldn’t sing or dance, things I used to do while mopping floors or playing with my children.
This is all part of the grieving process and I realize that I am not unique. So many of us have had to bear grief so overwhelming that we aren’t sure we would ever feel anything but inner pain again. And that is why I am sharing this today because at some point it does stop hurting quite so bad.
You will breathe normal again. There will be moments when you aren’t thinking about it. You will once again be able to see the beauty all around you. You will be able to go on. You will realize one day that you haven’t cried for a week. That you actually smiled without forcing yourself too.
And you will be stronger for surviving! Remember that old saying, “That which does not kill us makes us stronger”! I have found that when the worst things you can think of happen, it really makes everything else seem so trivial, so bearable. You have become a survivor and no one can take that away from you.
Then one day, the sun is shining, the world looks wonderful and you catch yourself singing loudly to the country music station on the car radio as you bebop down the road. And it takes you a few minutes to recognize that peculiar feeling you have. Its happiness and boy, have you earned it, baby!
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Underdogs

This story is true. It was told to me by a friend. She and her husband were both witnesses to the event. I personally know them to be trustworthy and believable. I want to make sure this point is perfectly clear before I tell the story.
It happened on a beautiful fall afternoon. While sitting in their living room watching a glorious sunset, they noticed their big, black cat walking slowly to the sliding glass door. It dropped what appeared to be a dead mouse on to the patio. The cat stretched out lazily beside the tiny mound of gray fur.
Within a few seconds, they realized that it was a mouse but it was anything but dead. It jumped up, turned to face the cat and stood on its hind legs. Its arms were boxing towards the cat’s nose in a “want a piece of me?” type move. The cat and couple all stared unsure of what they were seeing!
The tiny mouse jumped at the cat’s head in an attempt to bite. Due to the amount of hair on the cat’s face, the mouse was unable to penetrate the skin. It slid down the cat’s face and upon landing assumed its boxing stance again, pummeling the air with its fists.
By now, the cat wisely chose to walk away. The mouse watched until the cat had turned around the corner of the house. Only then did it run away with its tail raised in triumph.
We love underdogs. They can be teams, countries, people or racehorses. They can even come in the form of a small rodent. I’ve thought about why we feel this way. One reason is probably because at one time or another we have thought ourselves to be an underdog. Most of us have taken on something that was bigger than us maybe a job, a new family, an illness. Challenges come in many different shapes.
We admire the courage it takes to fight any battle but it takes a different kind of courage to fight when we know we are already licked. Those are the stories we love to hear about, people who took on the system or cancer or addiction or abusive backgrounds, etc. We want to know that the impossible IS possible.
And sometimes it is- Cinderella went to the ball, Secretariat won the triple crown, David beat Goliath, and a small mouse took on the cat and lived.
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Loanshark China?

China raises interest rates and our stock market takes a plunge. Why does such a decision in China have such an effect on us? I’m no expert. As a matter of fact, I’m just a homemaker but as I understand it, China is the United States biggest financial backer. In other words, the US owes big time money to the Chinese government.
What I don’t understand is why more people aren’t concerned about this! The last time I checked, China was still under communist rule. I thought we were against communistic policies. Our budget has created such a deficit that we had to get the money somewhere so when China offered we accepted, hook, line, and sinker.
The image of a loan shark and his thugs come to my mind. You know the scene. Some poor slob gets in over his head with gambling debt. In desperation, he turns to loan shark Louie. They call them sharks for a reason- the whole set up is predatory in nature. The poor slob has sold his soul. It is almost impossible to get out of the game. He will keep owing more until they break his legs or kill him.
We, the United States, are the poor slob. I have a real problem with that! We are supposed to be a super power, able to hold our heads up anywhere. How can we do this when we have sold our financial soul to China? We will continue to owe more and more until they break our legs or kill us.
Didn’t there used to be a saying that he who ruled the purse strings ruled the nation? Indebted to another nation beggars the question of who really is in charge.
We mustn’t forget our ancient history. China was a super power centuries before anyone even knew there was an America. Thousands of years ago, they were a leading civilization in innovations and warfare. Conquering other countries was almost a pastime for them. They believed themselves to be superior to all other nations and people. They still do.
As stated, I am not a political mastermind. I don’t know how this all happened but I suspect it was one justified choice after another on the part of our politicians. They are the ones who should know better. But maybe they are too close to the situation to see clearly.
Here’s an interesting fact-do you know that if you put a frog into hot water, he will jump out immediately. However, if you put the frog in cold water and slowly turn up the heat, he will sit in the pan and boil to death.
I think many of our country’s leaders are slowly boiling to death. My hope is that there are enough of us out there jumping out of the hot water to effect a change before the loan shark’s thugs are put in action.
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Being Unemployed

I am collecting unemployment benefits for the first, and I hope, the last time of my life. How I arrived here is a long and confusing story. I will not tell it here. The fact is I am one of the statistics we hear about regularly on the news. It is an almost unbelievable journey.


I read recently that losing a job is ranked #3 on the list of major stress indicators. It is preceded only by the death of a child and divorce. Wow! As if we didn’t all feel bad enough already! When you lose a job you deal with the following issues: rejection, loss of income, loss of benefits, (all of a sudden, you have no insurance or money to pay for your medication), loss of identity, loss of a social support (you might not like all your co-workers but they have been a big part of your life everyday), loss of structure (suddenly all your days are like Saturdays- no time clock to punch), the list goes on and on.

And if this isn’t enough to make you postal, you are now dealing with the inanity of the Unemployment Department bureaucracy! In our state, when we sign up for UE benefits we must also sign up on a job skills matching website. The webpage has a number of categories to click on. Each click brings up a list of skills. You check each skill that you have. Now, while I don’t have a long work history, I do have a lifetime of learned skills. I breezed through the lists and was left feeling pretty good about what I have to offer.

That is until I had my required meeting with my UE job coach. She efficiently brought up my skill list on her computer and asked me about each one. This is what I found out:

The fact that I have served in my church for over 30 yrs. In positions such as PR, daily teacher, leader of several organizations, have organized weddings, funerals, church functions of all kinds, have given regular care to shut ins, new moms, etc. (the list is endless) does not count one iota because I was never paid for it. She pressed a button and wiped it out.

The fact that I helped run my husband’s trucking company including keeping the books and paying bills- click- erased. Again ,it did not count because I was not paid.

I have remodeled countless homes. I even built one with my ex. All the measuring, sawing, hammering, painting, papering, decorating, landscaping, etc. she made it disappear with that now dreaded click!

Here is the clincher- the fact that I raised 9 children including the fact that I homeschooled them for a number of years does NOT in any way, shape, or form, qualify me to work in the childcare business!!

In essence, my entire life just doesn’t count for anything. She clicked it away with her mouse.

I am qualified, however, to work in a cleaning position based on the fact that I had my own cleaning business for 3 yrs. Here’s where it really gets me- they have not asked for any proof of this fact. I could have made it up for all they know!

Too bad I didn’t know this- I could be interviewing for my dream job if only I had said, well, of course, I was paid. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Ripples

My husband is a truck driver. A few years ago I traveled with him for almost a year. As you can imagine, being together 24/7 in a truck cab about the size of a large walk in closet created some interesting situations. We had to do some major creative problem solving to keep from killing each other. We couldn’t walk in to the next room or take a walk or any of the things we had done before when upset.


One week he had been temperamental for at least three days. Everything I said or did annoyed him. Finally tired of it I asked him what the matter was. He snapped back that he was tired and hungry. My response was immediate. “Oh, I guess I missed that memo.”

He stared at me, “What are you TALKING about?”

“You know, that memo, the one from God that states its O.K. to be rotten to people when we’re hungry or tired. Thanks for letting me know. That will make my life so much easier from now on.”He looked sheepish and started being nicer immediately.

Now, I’m not sharing this to snitch on my husband although that is a perk! I’m sharing this because there are so many of us that think being nice to people is an option. If we are hungry, tired, busy, in a hurry, upset, hurting or any number of things that cause us to be having a bad day it’s okay to be mean.

Okay, we aren’t perfect. There are times when we are feeling down for what ever reason. I get that. But if we can’t be pleasant, can’t we at least NOT be rotten to those around us? What gives us the right to dump our “miserable” on someone else’s lap? Have we all forgotten the “do on to others as you would have others do on to you”?

Have you ever dropped a rock in a body of water and seen the ripples? They start small and get bigger and bigger and bigger. When we drop our pebble of “miserable” in we make those around us miserable and they make the people around them that way and so on and so forth.

This works the other way too. We can make ripples of happiness by dropping our “nice” pebbles in the puddle. If you don’t believe me, try this experiment. Pick a day and during that day make eye contact with everyone that you come in contact with and smile. That’s it. Look in their eyes and smile at them. Do this to people you pass on the sidewalk or in a store or even at your job. I think you’ll be really amazed at the things that will happen.

After all, we are all taking this human journey together, aren’t we? It seems to me that being nice to each other is the least we can do. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Perspectives

We had just completed one of our many moves. It had been an unexpected and unwelcomed move. I was tired, sad and feeling very displaced. I was trying not to let these feelings get to much hold on me. I’m pretty good at pity parties and I just didn’t want to go there.

The new house, town and neighborhood weren’t what we were used to. I felt poor and was embarrassed by our circumstances. I began pulling away from family and friends without really noticing. Then I received a gift from heaven in the shape of a small boy.

My children had been making friends with the children next door. One day, they asked my permission to bring them in. I hesitated and asked them to play out doors. “But, Mom, they really want to see the house.” I gave the okay.

The family had five children ranging in ages between twelve and one. They were Hispanic. Their English skills varied. The youngest two only spoke Spanish. My children gave them the tour. It ended in the kitchen where I was pouring milk to go with the cookies I had made earlier. Cookies overcome any language barrier!

They entered the kitchen as one would enter a great cathedral. Eyes widened in awe, voices lowered to whispers, steps hesitantly on the floor as I invited them to sit down. They spoke in their native tongue and although I don’t understand Spanish it was clear that they wanted the oldest to ask me something. I encouraged her to ask. “This house is very big. Does just your family live here?” I answered yes.

The next question, “Who owns all those books in that room?” I assured them that we did. “Are you a library?” I do have a lot of books but I am not a library. I did invite them to borrow them.

Now, they all were asking questions one tumbling after another. “How many bedrooms do you have?” “How many TV’s do you have?” “Is that your own computer?” And then the biggest question of all from the little 6yr. old boy- “Are you rich?” There was complete silence as they waited for the answer. I looked around at my home without the sad, displaced eyes that had only been seeing what we had left behind but now with eyes these children had helped to open. These eyes saw what we still had. I smiled at him with eyes now filled with tears of gratitude and answered his question.

“Yes, dear, we are rich.” Rich or poor, healthy or sick, busy or bored, etc. are some of the many things in life that are determined by our perspective.

Do you know what the snail said when he was riding on the snail’s back? -----------“WHEEEEEEEEE!”

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

The Constitution

I found a book this summer. It’s what is commonly referred to as a “coffee table” book. That means that it is large and colorful. It is approximately 11x 15 and the illustrations are amazing. The print is also large. It is a flowing Old English type of script. It is indeed a beautiful book. It looks much like a child’s book.


It reads as easily as a child’s book. The large print, the beautiful pictures and the simple text make it enjoyable to read as well as look at. The title of this book is “The Constitution of the United States of America”. It has the entire Constitution including Amendments. When was the last time you read the Constitution? I recommend that you get your hands on it and read it soon. It is simple enough for even a child to understand. It is plain enough to be beautiful.

The first page of this book has a picture of a backbone. It states “This is a backbone. Man cannot stand erect without one. Neither can a country. The backbone of the United States of America is her Constitution.”

The next page has the simple, beautiful words: “We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.” How perfect those words are!

Many of the Articles and Amendments are only a few sentences long. There are four amendments that state clearly who has the right to vote. Amendment XV states that you may vote regardless of “race, color, or previous condition of servitude.”

Amendment XIX states that the right to vote “shall not be denied…on account of sex”. Amendment XXIV declares that the right to vote cannot be denied to people because they have not paid taxes. And Amendment XXVI gives the right to vote to citizens “who are 18 years or older”.

Politicians would have us think that understanding the laws is too difficult for most of us. They would have us think that we shouldn’t worry our small little brains with the running of the government. We ourselves may convince ourselves that we can’t do anything to change the way things are done.

I would say to you -read the Constitution. IT IS SIMPLE. I would say to you that it is not the Constitution alone that is our country’s backbone but also, the people willing to stand by it. Election Day is in a few weeks. Exercise your right to vote, it DOES make a difference. Let the people in Washington know there are people willing to stand by the Constitution and abide by its simple concepts.

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Teenagers

I just heard the greatest line- “Here, take my advice, I’m not using it!” I love it!! Anyway, the best advice I ever received as a parent of teens was the following: “Parents are the teething ring that teenagers cut their adult teeth on.” This incredible bit of wisdom came from an old Readers Digest. I memorized it.


There were times when I chanted it under my breath, “parents are the teething ring that teenagers cut their adult teeth on, parents are the teething ring……..”

If you don’t have teenagers right now, this will probably mean nothing to you but trust me it will someday! So print this and put it somewhere safe to take out and read later.

If you are the parent of a teenager right now, you may be curled up in the fetal position, groaning with pain “Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch!” Because being a teething ring HURTS! Being a parent of a teenager HURTS!

But those of us that have had babies know how important it is to that baby to have something to chew and chew and chew on to help those teeth cut through. Heck, those of us who have had puppies know the same thing. We also know that if we don’t provide puppies with something to chew on the results can be disastrous especially to Great Grandma’s table leg! Something to chew on is essential if you are a baby, puppy or a teen.

One wise mother’s response to my quote was, “We really wouldn’t want them to go to someone else to chew on.” No, I don’t think we do. Teeth can come in crooked if the wrong things are chewed on.

Another mother’s response, “I guess my heart must look like the old teething ring- plenty of teeth marks but now that mine are all adults, I can honestly say that every mark was worth it.”

I love the quote because being a teething ring does hurt but chewing is so very essential for those “adult” teeth to come in straight and true. I also know that the teeth come through and the chewing stops and the pain forgotten.

That’s the view from my side of the street , what’s yours?

Communication

We have an amusing family story about my newly wed grandparents. Wanting to be the best wife ever, my very young grandmother had asked her husband about his favorite foods. Chocolate cake was his all time favorite dessert. So, she began making chocolate cakes. For weeks she made every kind of chocolate cake known to man. He ate them but never with the gusto she expected. Finally, sick to death of chocolate cakes, she made a yellow cake with chocolate frosting. She placed it on the table unprepared for his response. “Oh, honey, you made my favorite-chocolate cake!”


When Brent and I were married, we had some similar experiences. I am a New England woman. I cook good old fashioned New England food. My husband is a complete Westerner. He is a meat and potatoes kind of guy. We had been together for a few months when he made a face after taking his first bite of my famous baked beans. “Why do you keep putting sugar in the beans?” he complained.

The entire family stared at him in shocked silence! “How else would I make them?” was my reply. He proceeded to tell me how to make “western beans”. The next time I made beans, I followed his recipe. My kids took one bite and complained, “These taste funny, Mom. Where is the sugar?”

There have been a number of foods that we use the same name for but cook differently. I finally came up with a bit of a solution. Now, the conversation goes something like this, “What do you want for dinner tonight, dear?” I’ll ask.

“Tacos” is the reply.

“What do tacos look like to you?” I ask. He responds and we are on the same page.

I’ve come to apply this in other areas of communication. “I’m going to work in the yard on Saturday.” He will state. Since his idea of yard work and mine differ, I’ll ask him what the job looks like to him. There we are, on the same page again.

I’ve begun noticing that many situations that arise with people outside the home are caused by the same assumption. We think that we are talking about the same things when in reality we all come from such different backgrounds that we may really be talking apples and oranges.

Last week, I was on the phone with a client who wanted me to clean her empty apartment. During the conversation she asked, “How handy are you?”

My reply was, “I’m right here in town.” It took a few minutes to realize that she was referring to my fix-it skills not my close proximity! And it got me wondering how many misunderstandings could be avoided if we patiently asked the question, “What does that look like to you?” instead of getting angry and thinking people are stupid.

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Moving Mountains

The Bible tells us that if we have enough faith we can move mountains. I think that many of us envision a magical poof and the mountain is gone. After all, God can do anything, can’t He? We look at ourselves critically believing that we don’t have enough faith to move an anthill never mind a mountain. And who wants to move a stupid mountain anyway?


I see mountains being moved everyday in the lives of those around me. I see mountains being moved in the world around me. I see mountains being moved in my life. The mountains I see being moved are moving slowly. Sometimes only a shovel full of dirt at a time gets moved. Sometimes a huge machine swoops up its share. Sometimes, friends and family bring their shovels and help.

Moving a mountain is hard work and can seem almost impossible at times. We get overwhelmed as the daunting task looms over us. Yet, with our bit of faith we plod on, shovel full by heavy shovel full. It may take us a lifetime to accomplish but we persevere having the faith to believe that someday the mountain will be gone.

The mountains I see being moved are the mountains of addiction, mental illness, hatred, prejudice, poverty, abuse, violence, insecurity, handicap, ignorance, divorce, the list is long indeed. ALMOST ALL OF US HAVE A MOUNTAIN IN OUR OWN LIFE THAT WE ARE TRYING TO MOVE.

All of us know someone who is working hard on their mountain removal. We try to help each other all we can but the fact remains that most of the shoveling must be done by the person whose mountain it is. We can help one another but it is only as we struggle and sweat over our own digging that we call out for help from above. It is then that our faith as well as our backs are strengthened.

I don’t know about you but I think that it takes much more faith to remove our mountains one shovel full at a time. The “poof, there it goes”, idea might be appealing but it would be to tempting to let the mountain grow again. The struggle to remove the mountain bit by bit gives us the calluses that remind us of the work we did and don’t want to do again.

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Technology

First, an apology to my faithful readers for no blog on Wednesday, my computer took off. Actually, it took 2 days off. It apparently went into some kind of stress overload. No matter what I tried the day to access, its reply was “insufficient resources”.


Then it got really scary for me- it would not shut off! I’m not kidding. I spent 20 minutes trying every way I could to shut it down. It wouldn’t do it! I finally had to pull the plug and wait for the battery to die. I rushed it over to my “computer emergency room” to be worked on. The doc never will found out what happened but he was able to bring it back to life. Yeah!!

Which brings me to today’s subject- technology. I was dragged kicking and screaming into the new age of technology! I was probably the last person on the planet to own a microwave or at least in the non 3rd world countries. My first cell phone came about 6 years ago. I’ve only upgraded to a new phone twice in that time. I added texting a few months ago. I’m still using a big fat TV which gets no channels because we don’t have a converter box and I refuse to get satellite.

Why? I’ve thought a lot about that. The last few days I remembered one of the reasons I resisted all of it for so long. Technology changes your lifestyle whether you want it to or not. You become dependent on it. After a while you forget how you used to do things without it.

For instance, having a microwave meant if you forgot to take something out for dinner it was no big deal. Pretty soon, you stop taking things out for dinner. Soon after that you stop planning for dinner at all. Now, the question “what’s for dinner?” can cause actual panic attacks. We used to have it covered.

Cell phones mean your kids can call you anytime at all! Going shopping used to be a quiet break from home. Now home just follows you along. Spouses and kids left at home used to have to think for themselves to solve any problems that came up. Now, you’re standing in the checkout line at Wal-Mart listening to the kids arguing on the other end about whose turn it is to pick the TV show. Next they are fighting about the phone. And there you stand helpless, stressed and pissed!

IPODS mean that you never have a quiet moment just to think and feel. No wonder many of us have sleep problems. Our brains are meant to have process time- if we don’t allow it during the day it will do it on its own during the night.

I didn’t realize how dependent I had become on my computer until it was gone. I headed for my office a number of times before I remembered it wasn’t there. I fought it for years but it happened in spite of my best effort. I am a technology addict!!! I’m not sure how I feel about that!

That’s the view from my side of the street today, what’s yours?

Touching

Guess what was on the morning news this morning? The results of a number of scientific studies now prove that human touch is good for us! A gentle touch on someone’s arm can calm them during a stressful moment. A hug is better than medication. A shoulder to cry on is better than a therapy session. And a shoulder massage can make the whole miserable week bearable.


They have actually been able to show that touch lowers the heart rate and breathing rate. It also counters the stress substances our body sends out with another substance that our brain sends out in response to touch.

I think most of us know this instinctively. We soothe babies with touch. We fix boo-boos with kisses. We welcome strangers and friends alike with a warm handshake. We touch coma victims.

I just read about a man pulling a young woman out of a burning car. She had extensive injuries. He couldn’t do much for her while waiting for help but in his own words, “I kept my hand on her shoulder so she would know she was not alone.”

At the time of my first husband’s death, I needed to buy a shirt for him to be buried in. Not used to buying men’s dress shirts, my best friend’s husband went with me to the local mall. It was two weeks before Christmas. The mall was teeming with shoppers. I was overwhelmed by my feelings of vulnerability. I clung to his arm like a little girl. It kept me grounded.

Several of my childbirths were difficult. Again, it was my husband’s touch that kept me grounded. During one particular birth, I could not hear or acknowledge anyone around me but I felt his hand on my back. It was something to focus on.

I am a toucher by nature. I have been known to give perfect strangers an arm touch or a hug. I have noticed over the years that some of us have become so used to NOT touching that it has become uncomfortable. I have learned to ask for permission first. I had begun to think maybe it wasn’t worth doing anymore.

But this morning news report has changed that. I will keep touching. Maybe if more of us begin to “reach out and touch someone”, some of the anger we see all around us will diminish and smiles may appear. Hey, we have science on our side.

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?