THOUGHTS AT THREE A.M.

STROLL DOWN MEMORY LANE MIGHT HELP CHILDREN!

I've only been up for a few minutes.It is quiet in the house. The only sound right now is the hum of the refrigerator,and the bubbling of the fish tank.Outside these walls, there is no light or sound that betrays that anyone is awake, or even here. I am alone with my thoughts, and my Lord,content for it to be so. I stretch and sip my ice water,and I thank HIM,as ever and always for this beautiful day. Although to most, this would not be held in high regard, because it is a rainy, overcast, cool day,and yet in such, my heart soars.There is no bright sunlight to hurt my eyes, or burn my skin, or heat the atmosphere to the point that I am sweating and uncomfortable. It must be the Irish in me. Ireland, I was told by my brother, was windy and cool and Grey all the time he was there. I hear another sound, and glance past the gap in the kitchen curtains, and see the flag and the wind-sock rustling in the breeze,and see the source of the sound...my wind chimes swinging wild and free. Not just to and fro, but stirred all around. Jingling and tinkling and bonging. From small and delicate to huge and hulkingly sturdy I love them all, and each one makes it's own special sound. They make me smile. Just glancing past the window screen puts me in mind of those days when I was young when the kitchen door would stand open to the breeze, while we would be cooking and filling the house with smells of sugar syrups and fruit while canning. Days before the heat bothered me overmuch, when in the summer we would cook and bake, every day, and there was no such thing as air-conditioning in the home. We pinned up our hair, and rolled up our sleeves and sweat with fans running everywhere, while we peeled and cored and pared apples and other fruits,and when that was well begun, we would go on to other foods, like potatoes that would go into salads, or with pot roast that would be eaten that same day. Sometimes the kitchen would fill up with neighbors dropping by who would sit and grab a knife and help out while they drank coffee or tea and talked about the goings on in the area. Mr. White was down sick again,poor thing, or Mrs.Wilson had a baby,and Oh, it was just a miracle! And while the talking and the working was going on, so often the Jewel Tea man would come and rap softly on the screen door, and ask, did anybody need anything? And he would be welcomed in, and sat down with a cup of coffee or tea, or ice water, and show off his blankets and teas and coffees,spices and flavorings,mints and candies, crackers and baby clothes...and so much more.Throughout all this, little kids who had been playing outside would run in,make a bee line to the bathroom, one right after another,and then line up at the kitchen sink each to grab a glass of water, guzzle it down, and run back out again, even when fresh baked cookies were being brought out of the oven at the time, they rarely stopped to beg one, for fear they would be seen to be idle,and then put to work somehow. They had been given that empty threat to keep them busy outside, so the work wouldn't be slowed by having to tend to childish wish fulfillment born of boredom. Kids didn't need to be sitting in the house on nice days, wanting to be entertained. They needed to be outside in the sunshine and fresh air,playing at tag or hop-scotch, or riding bikes: exercising their bodies,and using their imaginations devising games, while in the house, the older children,and the adults could speak freely about life lessons that adolescent girls needed to hear, but their younger brothers and sisters did not. Occasionally a break in the work would come naturally, as through the screen door would come the sound of laughter of such complete delight, someone would have to peek, and then all would group around the door, to see and tow-headed little boy, rolling in the grass with a bunch of puppies, licking him to pieces...or to see a whole bunch of little children laughing at the sight of a mommy duck and her chicks waddling across the lawn towards the pond. And in that golden moment, someone would say, :" Oh, for a camera..." And then a young mother, or a group of mothers would have to excuse themselves from the group to rescue the child...or was it the puppies? or the children...or was it the ducklings? Before a chase scene ensued.

And then,during the time when mothers would be reminded they needed to take their brood home and prepare them lunch,hastily scribbled recipes would be written or a fresh jar of jelly or preserves wrapped in an old tea-towel would be given as thanks for the help,and the chaotic scene would end, going back to just you and your grandmother, or mom, and your own lunch would be set out, and your grandma's radio show would be turned on,while you sieved the last bit of the batch of grapes for the jelly,before you sat at the table,letting your aching arms rest while you sat quietly through the soap opera, and let your soup cool. Once the half-hour long show was over, you could ask questions that might have come to mind during the visits,and grandma would answer, but for right now, her attention was only on her story. Which was good, too. It gave a young girl time to think about all she had seen and heard. A chance to come to the realization that life is a mixture of good and bad moments woven together, but with a foundation of love and purpose, one makes of their own life what they put into it. It can't all be nothing but laughter and golden sunshine, and will never be all doom and gloom. Things happen, and you can't change that. But how you choose to face your life is what makes the difference.  Hold those golden moments tightly as a treasure, to warm you when the gloom comes to call, and when the bad times come, as they surely will, spend just a few minutes thinking back to those times when you watched those puppies frolicking on the lawn with that tow-headed boy and the sound of his laughter will lighten your heart.

And then, praise God for those memories,for He made them possible.

OUI?

LIVING ON A SHOESTRING VERSES LIVING AN ABUNDANT LIFE!

Once again, I see someone who is starting over. Well, actually she's been in this position for some time, and it never fails to amaze me how slowly others do these things. I'm not putting her down. I don't put anybody down who has to start over from nothing. I have been  there too many times for me to say anything other than, "what can I do to help?" But,they frustrate me.They will sit there in whatever shelter they have been able to acquire,whether it is two rooms or a whole house, and whatever they move in with...their fourteen boxes and a dishwasher, or whatever, and two months later, you go by to see how they are making out,and nothing is changed. The boxes are still unpacked, sitting  exactly where they left them the last time I was there. They are still sleeping on the floor,with no beds for the kids, or themselves, using sheets and stuff to cover the windows,eating out of cans with plastic and paper for silverware and dishes. Clothes and papers and garbage strewn everywhere, so you have to kick a path to go from room to room, and yet, if they have gained anything at all, it is usually a big screen t.v., and cable, a dog/puppy or cat/kitten or both wandering throughout at will, creating yet more noxious mess,and complicating an already tight budget with the pet food costs. I try to be supportive, and gently mention that the CAP agency has an outlet store that would be willing to help them find furnishings; beds, tables, chairs, dinnerware and cups and so forth to fill in the gaps,at little to no cost to them,and they turn up their lip at my suggestion. As though second hand isn't up to their standards. Well. Maybe not, but personally I would rather my child sleep in a second hand or used bed, than to be bedding down on the floor. Or couches,or two chairs pushed together, anything to keep them from sleeping on the floor, like it's some kind of flop house! If not for the parents sense of well being and comfort, at least for the children's sake, this woman should be putting forth an effort to make it home. I know she's traumatized,but let's face it. Situations don't get better if you crawl into a cave and lick your wounds and just wait for things to change. Action must be taken as soon as humanly possible to overcome the loss,and wipe it from your child's memory...and your own!

I'm speaking from experience here. I have had to start over many times in my life, the most recent being almost 14 years ago, when Yon son and I moved into the place we have now. We had only the car to move with,upon which we piled a t.v. and two beds. That is basically all we had, beyond our clothes and personal effects. We hit the outreach store, and yard-sales, and within a month, we had two sets of tables and chairs, for the kitchen and dinning room,couches, chairs and lamps and end tables. We got curtains on the windows and bookcases for our books and plants,and everything was unpacked,orderly and put away, and the boxes were gone. We had dishes, pots and pans and silverware to eat with, and food to cook decent meals with,and with no more money,( and probably a great deal less) than the ones I am currently concerned about. No, we didn't have a big television, nor did we worry about getting cable. What disturbs me about this whole affair is, she is more interested in having something to sit and stare at, when all around her is work to be done to make a proper home for her family, and she is so busy dwelling on the past, she has no interest in going forward. Her priorities are so messed up, that she apparently thinks she has done well to get the cable and television. Meanwhile, she's living in a dump of her own creation,and seems to be content to let it remain so. But I know she's not happy with it. Anytime I talk to her about it, she weeps. I am just as sorry as I can be for her,but I am no longer in a position, physically, to help her,and right or wrong, I suspect that if I could roll up my sleeves and dive in there and start unpacking boxes and organizing things,and contacting agencies to find the furniture necessary,she'd just sit there and let me do it all,rather than to be inspired to do it herself.

Of course, I am only a friend, not family, so it's really none of my business how she chooses to live,but it hurts me to see this going on. It's not like she moved out of a palace into this hovel, but she had a much nicer home before,and even though she was never a Betty Crocker,she used to at least make half-hearted attempts to keep the place livable.  She kept it clean, basically, and her children had clean clothes, and at least two hot meals a day. Now it's all catch as catch can, and the children string dry cereal and Cheeto's from one end of the place to the other,and she just sits there. Worst of all, I can see our friendship rapidly eroding, because we seem to have less and less in common all the time. I can hardly bare to see this going on. I'm thinking, I don't even want to go back there. I can't stand the smell. Under those conditions, how does one remain friends? I still love her personality, but I don't have the fortitude to be around her.If I could, I would overlook the mess, but it's so awful, it makes me sick to my stomach. To tell the truth, I haven't been there for some time, but Yon son has. Just a day or so ago, he happened by, and came home and told me about it. Nothing's changed.

So, I'm thinking, maybe what I'll do, is call and talk to her, like we used to talk. And this time, I won't pull any punches. Tell her straight out why I won't be over to visit, and encourage her to get up and start working on that home, for herself, for her kids, and so that we can still be friends.

But first, I am going to do a lot of praying about it, because I hate to hurt people's feelings. However, don't you think it's better that I wound her pride just a little bit, and take a chance that she will respond? I know it is highly likely that she will be offended, hate me for telling her the truth, and never speak to me again, but don't I owe it to our friendship to take that chance?

OUI?

THE PERSON YOU ARE, REALLY!! AND WHO IS HE OR SHE?

When you were born, you had certain proclivities,and inherited talents, but you are not the person you were born as.No. Since then you have learned to walk and talk, and understand intangibles and symbolism. Hopefully, reading and writing were in there as well, at least at a level that makes it possible for you to surf the web...although some have not quite yet mastered the ability...(or is it the common everyday politeness?)...to leave a comment. After all, either you agree, or disagree, or if you have no opinion either way, just how difficult is it to click on (0)comments,leave your info, and say so? (Just a simple, I have no response to that, but Howdy anyway!) would be very nice of you. digression over... As you grew, interests and skills became a part of you, but at certain times, they too changed, as you progressed. As a teen, your family and friends began to know where they could find you, such as the drug store soda fountain...the library, or your best friends place,but in time, that too changed. The soda fountain disappeared, you bought books at the book store instead of borrowing from the library, and your best friend moved away,or got a girlfriend, boyfriend, whatever...and you found other people to hang out with. Or, you fell in "Love",and you new interesting person commanded all your time, and you made the mistake of choosing your lover over your friends,and now, you have all new friends, or none at all! But, Hey! It happens! All too often. Then, there is the kind of person we read about in books. You can set your watch by what time they get up in the morning, what they eat is just a given, and you know where they are going to be,what they will be doing, and who they will be doing it with, at almost any time of the day or night! This person  does not exist, unless they live in a pool of their own stagnation, or a cave,or some sort of institution. IE: Hospital, convent, seminary, or prison.Or, they have been trained from early on that this is the way they must live, they are now set in their ways, and haven't had an original thought since they discovered video games.I am sure there are other exceptions, but I am speaking from experience,socializing, research, and imagination. So the idea that you can find someone you knew ten years ago by going to that little place they could always be found then, now, may be a good place to start looking, but don't expect to walk in and see him sitting on that same chair he always occupied when you ran around with him. Individuals change. Life makes us change, or we perish. However. That being said, there is one thing about every human being that will never change. Their nature. Selfish, or generous. Slothful or vigorous.Disposition sunny or morose. Cold or passionate. Disorganized or neat. Clean or dirty. Verbose or quiet. Commanding or a shrinking violet.Drunk or sober, they are what they are,and you cannot change them! What is most confusing and even frustrating about this aspect of the human being is, without fail, they will recognize the irritating or undesirable facets of their nature, and when they are attracted to someone, will try to cover them up with a facade,so that you can't see them for who they really are. But once into that relationship, slowly the facade starts to crumble, and the true nature comes to the fore, when it is usually too late to end the association without someone getting hurt. Alternately, life sometimes causes pressure of one stripe or another, and under pressure, one usually reverts to the true nature. This is the whole reason behind the time honored "engagement period" following the "dating period" of courtship. This is the reason that parents go ballistic when their young daughter meets an older man, falls head over heels in love instantly, and announces they are getting married, right away! Whether they know it or not, this is the reason that mothers fill their daughter's heads with dreams of a fairy tale wedding,in the church, with the perfect dress, bride's maids wearing "unique" dresses,and all that goes with it! It takes an extraordinary amount of money, time, money, patience, money,and stamina to search out and arrange every niggling detail of a big wedding! Oh! And did I mention money?

Ideally, this is the way it works. First off, the man must think enough of his intended to buy her a ring. Not just any ring, but the perfect ring. Real gold and diamonds, so that she doesn't have to take it off whenever she gets her hands wet. It won't do for her to be engaged or wed to the kitchen sink or the shower caddy for a while,just because he's too cheap to buy the best! He has to have a plan for the future,like saving up for a house or a condo, or if they both want just to rent, and avoid the hassle of ownership, then at least be able to sign a lease,and furnish it well,to her likeness, stem to stern, side to side, top to bottom,including an agreed upon, nursery or no nursery! If no nursery for now, but maybe down the road, then both must take responsibility for avoiding an OOPS! Again, HE must pay for it should he decide to make the terrible decision to make this a permanent fix,AND warn her in advance. No secrets or surprises! In fact, the bride should make the arrangements to have them both tested for fertility just before the wedding.

I can hear it now. Oh, but Featherhead! Your making this too hard! With all these conditions,a lot of couples won't make it to the altar! AHA! Now your getting the picture! You know, for years now, they have been moaning on the Today show and in talk shows that it's too easy to get married,and too hard to get divorced. And all along, I have been shouting at the t.v.,"No it's not, if you do it right!" This is it! This is what's been needed! The acid test...the trial by fire! And that's not all! I'm just getting started! You want your marriage to last forever? Then pay attention! When he gripes and gets mad because you both need to meet with the pastor/preacher several times before the wedding, that should be a RED FLAG! Something is not right here! Is he,or she, only pretending to share your beliefs? Don't let it slide! Address it! Confront! Fight? Argue? Good! Keep in mind, they only get worse after the wedding! Break up? Excellent! Pat yourself on the back! You just saved yourself years of agony! And, it's the same for the rest of the list. Late for the cake tasting? Habitually late for every,or even, nearly every shared appointment along the line? Another RED FLAG! Can you count on this person to be there when the chips are down? Well, this may sound petty, but if he, say, can't show up to help decide whether to have white,yellow, or marble cake, then what can they be counted on for? And if he doesn't care what cake to have on your special day, then how many thousands of times are you going to hear, "I don't care" when you ask him what he wants for dinner? I can testify that after a few years, that answer will turn your stomach, and irritate you to the nth degree!

So now that I have laid out the ground work,and set the parameters, you take it from here. Consider all those things that are so important to have to look back on as far as remembering the day you and your special person became one. The invitations. So sweet. The flowers, so beautiful, fragrant,and elegant. The colors of the dresses, napkins, flowers, The bouquet! The music,so romantic,setting the mood just right. The reception...the food and drinks,and all the loved ones who came so far just to see this event. When you open that big white book, on those rainy days, when you need wonderful thoughts to pick you up and make you feel all loved and cared for again, what will you be remembering? Perfection, or "we got 'er done?" I can tell you, you will rue the day you just "settled" for anything, particularly, your mate. Don't just marry because you want to be married,or you think..(or have been told) this is your last chance, like nobody else would want you. That is a lie. And, even if it weren't, it is far better to remain single and enjoy life, than to marry, and be miserable.

And, finally. I wasn't going to mention this, but it is a legitimate consideration. It may be all romantic for him to breathe " I love you" and your heart swells, and locked in a heated embrace you go sliding to the floor or the couch,there to consummate your love,but if, and when you get to the wedding night, and that scene will have already played out,a reenactment will be no big deal. It won't be special,neither to him, nor to you! And worse, he will always know that about you,and decent men have a name for women like that. And you know what it is, don't you? Well, if you turn a blind eye,and deaf ear to all I have warned you about, nevermind. Some day you and he will have an argument, and he will call you that, and then you will know,  won't you?

OUI?

A NEW STORY OF JESUS:TOLD FROM AN OLD MAN'S DREAM...

It was foretold to us that in the end times," your sons and your daughters shall Prophesy, your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams..." Acts 2: 17

I am not sure when it was this dream was related to me. Yet, I know it came from a preacher...and one whom I trust, in the midst of speaking  about time, and how different our time is from the way God perceives time.

I was walking down a tree lined road when I became aware that Jesus walked by my side. I was so thrilled, I fell to my knees and began to worship him, but after a moment, he reached down and pulled me to my feet, and asked, " Would you get me a cup of water? I am very thirsty." Well, what was I going to do? Tell him NO? Of course not! I said Yes, Master! But I don't know the area, I'll have to search for a well... and he smiled and said, I can wait. So I began to run down the road, casting to the right and to the left looking for a well a little feverishly, anxious to do all I could for him. At last I spotted a well a ways off from the road, and hurried towards it, but when I came upon it, I realized there was a widow- woman there in some distress. She had with her two little children, just babies, and began to tell me how much she needed help to carry water to a place of shelter for her and her children for the night. I couldn't turn my back on her, so I complied with her plea, and as we went to find this place of shelter, she told me that she had no food for them,and so I said I would do what I could to help gather some food before I left them. By the time I got them settled with water, and a small lean-to, found them something to eat,and made a small cooking fire, night had fallen, and I was so tired, I slept there.  After a night filled with wild animals circling our little encampment, it seemed only right I should stay on, and provide a safer structure for this little family,be their protector,and as time went by and the house was done, and we scratched out a little garden, I lost track of my original mission. I took this family as my own, and over time I grew our little place into a working farm with herds,and produce enough not only to cover our own needs, but enough to sell at the town market place. One day as I went down the road to the city with produce to sell, I again saw My Lord, leaning up against a tree! Before I could fall at his feet and beg forgiveness at having let him down, he said to me" So. Have you found that glass of water yet?" It was as if virtually no time had passed at all since I last saw him!

The point being, years and years to us, may seem as only moments to the Lord! In fact, that very thing had been the scriptural basis for his talk.

"A thousand years with the Lord is as a day, and a day as a thousand years..."

So, go back and read Genesis again. Rather than the creation taking a week, let us think instead, as each day being a thousand years...so it took God six thousand years to create and populate the world. Now, that makes more sense, don't you think?

OUI?

THE WRITERS TRICK: FOCUSING, WHILE LETTING GO, AT THE SAME TIME!

It's very similar to directing your dreams. You pile into bed, pillows just so, cuddle down with your cuddle-cat, real or toy, and just before you turn out the light, you set the stage. Where you want to be, with whom, and the basic scene.As you feel yourself slipping into  rest, eyes falling shut, limbs heavy, bed starting to spin....however it is you do it, you try to hang onto that scenario, and with any luck at all, in part, this will be involved in your dream...or dreams. But then, as with all things related to sleeping, focus as you might, your dreams may have absolutely nothing to do with anything you wanted to dream about. Or, they might!

It's the same identical thing, when writing. You can write a perfect outline. Have a rock solid ending and some strong idea's as to the plot and motivations as you move your characters thru the story. But somewhere along the way, a notion hits your fancy that just tickles you to the core,and you go with it, only to write yourself into a corner, taking the whole thing into a direction you hadn't anticipated at all. Of course, you can re-read what you have written, and decide that the story has gone awry...delete,delete,delete, and force yourself back on course, meanwhile you are heartbroken knowing that the words you are taking off the page would have been such a delight to the reader,and you will never find a place to put that particular turn of phrase again, and then sit there for half an hour staring at the page,mentally kicking yourself for not keeping it, and at the same time, trying to re-boot your focus. At this point, finding a way past that point can be one of the hardest things a writer will ever have to do. Almost as difficult as killing off a beloved character, but not quite. After all, they are both, "your baby".

That is when it is time to let go, and drift for a while. Allow yourself the latitude to dream,before hitting the delete button. I save it, set it on the back burner for a while, and go make a cup of coffee or tea, and sit and gaze out my favorite window, and let my imagination take me away from the problem at hand.

This morning, I looked out on a whole new landscape.As I sat there sipping my mocha, I saw a gray pre-winter scene, where only yesterday it had been autumn. All the brightly colored leaves have been raked from the trees by the wind and rain that have prevailed the last three days.Those same winds that have jangled my big wind-chimes on the back porch, and howled around the house and trees, urging the black squirrels along in their final quest for nuts to be sorted and stored. Now my vision to the Avenue is totally unobstructed, there are no shaking limbs festooned by green and colorful fetters to block my sight any more. All that is left are the bare trees, dark and dripping,shaking upraised arms to the sky, tossing their naked tendrils as stiffened hair; no longer in a tender bowing motion to come out and play, but now, rather in the fashion as a warning that now the landscape is an inhospitable one. A still one, where no child plays with a ball, tossing it into the hoop on the corner lot. I can see clearly three blocks now,but other than the wind tossed trees, there is little to see. Stillness greets me, but for the occasional vehicle that drives by, or the few bundled figures staunchly braving the wind and cold,heads down, hands stuffed into pockets. On the next corner,a couple in olive drab parkas, a stride or two apart, carrying their angry words into the icy gusts turn, utter secret blasts to each other, which are quickly caught away by the howling blare,and then their heads go down, and they press on, out of sight. Two corners away, I can see the grocery store parking lot, where a figure in a bright red coat minces along,a light quick step. A lady who shouldn't have worn a thin jacket, and high heels to go shopping, but now must hurry into the store before she freezes. As gray as the scene is, as still as it seems, above all of these black twisted tree limbs and scudding gray clouds, there is a layer of pink and white and blue sky, peeking at me,and up there I catch a sudden glimpse of an eagle, wheeling over the river. His huge wingspan spread out to glide in ever tightening circles as he zeros in on his dinner. Then he stoops,and dives, and he too is gone from sight.

And right about this time, Yon son comes into the Kitchen, and turns on the light,and the fan starts up,and my reverie is over. I blink, and sip from my cup, and find myself refreshed,however reluctant I am to leave my solitary thoughts,still, it had to happen some time.And now, I can make that decision. Alter my focus,and begin again!

OUI?    

THOUGHTLAND FARCE; PUPPY,PUPPY, PUPPY!!

Yeah! I am sure you have heard of it...the hot new search, getting all those hits,and all that buzz and attention! Oh! How cute! Hm. Now, I like puppies too. We love baby dogs and baby cats,and people just flock to see the pictures of all those adorable fuzzy babies, don't they? Yeah! And, folks are just going to go right on loving to see them, especially now, when the wave sweeping the nation is to buy into this campaign to spay and neuter all our adult dogs and cats. Pretty soon, pictures on the Internet is going to be the only place your going to see puppies and kitties. It all goes back to this attitude, I love puppies and kittens, but I don't want the work and responsibility of owning a dog or cat, myself. That is our young adult generational mind-set.Anything that one must care for, in an ongoing basis, is just too much trouble. Unfortunately, this attitude does not stop with animals, but is now bleeding over into the entire fabric of our society,to the point that parents don't much care for their own children! I am seeing this happening first hand, all around me, and even though I know it was foretold in prophesy, I really didn't expect to see it happening, so soon, in such numbers.

But I digress.All of this cuteness,as amusing and diverting as it may be, is designed to take your focus off the important things you should be doing,and placing it on nothing of value.It starts small, but then it becomes an all encompassing drive, much akin to an addiction, to seek more and more things to look at,and waste your time and take your attention off of your research, or that important information you started out to find.Such sites have redirected your focus on the information highway from the important, down to the strange. Videos are just popping up everywhere, and I myself have been sent emails directing me to check this or that out, because it is so "awesome"....I'm just not going to believe my eyes!

And sometimes, it almost works.Temptation is great. But then I control myself, remind myself of my purpose on this computer,and the Internet, and amazingly, the feeling goes away. I come back to my ethics and the foundation for which I am committed to dedicate my energies,and resist checking out that infantile video of teenagers doing idiotic things, and cute puppies,and other falderall that has no purpose in that which I want to achieve, and go back to work.

Understand me now. A bit of fun is quite alright, but don't let it become hours and hours of wasted time, money,and energy, and find yourself not accomplishing anything. Personally, I couldn't sleep at night, if I didn't accomplish something productive every day.

And I sleep really, really well every night!

OUI?

STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS: I MET A GUY AT THE DOCTOR'S OFFICE.

Good grief. You would think I would be past the age where I have this sort of nonsense going on! All my life, everywhere I went, I have had people staring at me, and for the most part, I have gotten used to it,but there comes a time in a persons life when enough is enough. Yes,well, the staring goes on, but I thought the scenario where a guy zero's in on me, smiling from ear to ear,and comes over, and starts chatting with me would have come to an end. Surely, I thought, when I began having to use a wheelchair and my son to take me places, that would be the turning point where this sort of thing would no longer happen, but far from being a deterrent, they then found a willing chatter with my son, and he being the happy, outgoing, fun fellow he is, not only engaged them in conversation, but would introduce himself,and even try to introduce me to them! Frequently, however, we would be in line at the bank, or at the check-out counter at the grocery store, and I could insist that we hurry along to get things done,and leave this stranger in the dust. Then, once we were away from him, I would instruct him, in no uncertain terms NOT to encourage total strangers in their attempts to make my acquaintance. It took me years to make him understand that a lady must be careful who she takes up with,and that for my own personal safety, I prefer to be introduced by a mutual friend than to allow myself to be "picked-up" in public places. Being a young man, Yon son had a hard time understanding this, and being also the type of person that, if you push the right button, his whole life is an open book, made it doubly hard to persuade him that just because he has traded pleasantries, names and a handshake with a fella, does not then qualify him as a mutual acquaintance! But now, having worked with the public a few years,and having  been married twice, and knowing that not all persons walking the streets are trustworthy, it has been a long time since I have had any problem in that department, until this week. In my Doctor's office, there is a strange set up, where once you get called back to be seen, you don't go back through that door until the doctor has set you up with the nurses/receptionist's station, they make calls for referrals, tests, and appointments, and you can find yourself in this little tiny area for several minutes, with two or more people waiting to be taken care of. I had seen the Doctor, and he accompanied us out to the desk, and left his instructions, and there we waited to have arrangements made,and meanwhile, here comes the Doctor again, with yet another patient. This guy didn't make a sound until all of a sudden, he is just talking up a storm with all and sundry,and with a side-long glance, I see he is smiling at me. Oh, Lord,I am thinking, no, no, no. Don't let Yon son bite on this one, please. But, he does. Not only does he start talking to this fellow, but sure enough, before it's over, he's doing the manly thing, giving his name, and shaking his hand,but then he goes on to tell him where he works,and is just about to turn around,looks at me, and something stopped him from going further,and the man says, and this is your mother? And Yon says, yes, and then the blabbermouth nurse says, my name,and offers me my next appointment card. No, she didn't just say my name, she says it nice and loud and clear! This guy now has all the information he needs to track me down! I snatched the card from her helpful little hand,and say "Thank you ! Goodbye!" And Yon son does the honorable thing, bless his little pointy head, and says good bye to them,and to him, and he pushes me out the door,which is being held open by another nurse just coming in.
"There now," Yon chirps as he hustles down the wide hallway with me," That wasn't so bad, was it?" And I am going "Grrr!"

And so, I wait. Just by the smiles and the vibes,and the way he kept trying to make eye contact with me, tells me that unless he goes into the hospital for his test,and things don't go well, and he has a longer, more involved stay than just overnight, I shall in all probability be hearing from this man. Not that I wish him any ill. I don't. But, neither do I want to be an object of his quest...looked up, chatted up,and put upon by a bombardment of phone calls, or worse, notes brought home by Yon son, wishing to correspond with me. I don't know him,and judging by the evil gleam in his eye,and his wiggling eyebrows, don't want to know him. He strikes me as the type of man who will presume too much, upon too little acquaintance. (Sigh) I am not as young and strong as I used to be, when I found it no problem to elude "gentlemen" in whom I have no interest,and of whom I have no knowledge, and therefore, no confidence in being in their company. It is a strain just going to see the Doctor. Just how on earth would I be likely to get to know a person with whom I would have to meet in public several times before I would feel comfortable inviting to my home?

It is out of the question. Absolutely out of the question. Unless, of course, he has a computer,and we can correspond that way, I just don't see it happening. After all, a lady cannot be too careful. And first, foremost, and always, I am a lady. A lady who has no desire to be caught in an awkward,uncomfortable, or even dangerous position. One does that, by avoiding obviously sticky situations. On the other hand,neither do I want to hurt someone's feelings. That is why I really am hoping that this man does not try to contact me. I realize that it takes a lot of courage to pursue someone, and I would dislike intensely to make him feel as though there was something wrong with his looks or behavior to make me reject him. And yet, if he contacts me, I shall be forced to do so. This is preying on my mind, because he won't understand, given the forward way most women are now, why I can not possibly allow even the most lukewarm of friendships to come to be. It's just too bad, that's all. It's a shame that, times being what they are, you just can't trust people,throw caution to the winds and invite them over for dinner and bible study as though you've known them all your life. Men can do that, but ladies just can't. Not if they have a brain in their head,and value their lives.

So, I shall do what I always do when faced with such a dilema. I'll take it to the Lord in prayer,and he will take care of it for me.

OUI? 

WHAT DO THE SYMBOLS OF THE FOURTH OF JULY MEAN?!

Once again this was a question posed by a referrer that I followed back, and frankly, I was taken aback that anyone in this country would ask such a question. But, then I remembered, this is the world wide web, and so, it is not necessarily an American asking. Therefore, I shall endeavor to respond, beginning with the basics. Our flag. The symbol of peace,freedom of religion, freedom of speech and unity of each state bonded together with all other states in the union. We have a pledge of allegiance each school child says every morning in school, that says it best.

"I pledge allegiance to the flag, of the United States of America,and to the republic for which it stands, One nation, Under God, indivisible, with liberty and Justice for all." 

The flag itself was first made by Betsy Ross, with 13 red and white stripes,as I recall the story, the red to commemorate the blood we shed, (or our forefathers shed) and we are still willing to shed today to protect our country- to gain our Independence as a nation,and the white,symbolizing the purity and peace of the love of God,and his blessings upon this land. In the upper left hand corner of the flag, we have a field of blue, decorated with white stars, one star for each state in the union. The number 13 is significant, being the number of states we began with, which were placed in a circle on that first flag, and now, with Alaska and Hawaii, we are up to 50 states.

You have only to know the words of our national anthem to understand the fireworks we shoot off every fourth of July, which is the day we commemorate the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

"Oh, say can you see, by the dawns early light, what so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming? Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight, or'e the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming! And the rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air, gave proof through the night,that our flag was still there! Oh say, does that star spangled banner yet wave, or'e the land of the free? And the home, of the Brave! "

Written by Francis Scott Key, as he stood across the bay on shipboard, watching the shelling of Fort McHenry on Chesapeake bay, one of the forts defending Baltimore against the British.During the night of the bombardment, Key's anxiety was at a high pitch, and when in the morning he discerned the American flag still flying over the fortress he gave vent to his feelings, in " The Star Spangled Banner"!

And finally, the three figures marching along, with drum, fife and flag,also called the spirit of 1776, is just what it says it is. Though we may be injured, limping and bleeding, we will still pull ourselves together and march to defend our homes, lives and liberties,because in the chest of any true American, beats the heart of a Patriot!

And, in the words of Lee Greenwood," I'm proud to be an American,where at least I know I'm free, and I'm proud to remember the men who died, to give that right to me, and I'd gladly stand up next to you, and defend Her still today!'Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land! GOD BLESS THE USA!"

OUI?

STREET CORNER FLOWER BUCKET SHOPS!!

The Job Corps call themselves the hardest job you'll ever love. They don't know what they are talking about! You think you have, or have had in the past a tough job? Well, maybe. But I have had jobs that I took, just to keep a roof  over our heads, Yon sons and mine, food on the table and clothes on our backs. That said, the selling flowers on the corner springs to mind. Now, in order to understand the whole situation, I must tell you that I had only been out of the hospital from having had my gall bladder removed for about a week. I still had staples running down my middle, like a rail-road track,and wasn't due to have them removed for several days, when my husband at the time, (numero duo) somehow managed to get us in dutch with the landlord,and we were told we had to move. We had no car, and I wasn't supposed to do anything but rest in bed,and sit up for about half an hour at a time, and no way was I supposed to drive a car! As luck would have it, a new friend stopped by,and wanted to know if we would be interested in going to Portland, Oregon, and I said "Yes!" The next day, we piled our personal belongings into his car, along with Yon son and our dog,and away we went! We drove four days, straight through, and yes, I did half of the driving...(thank God for pain pills) and found ourselves in Portland, with no money, no car, because it belonged to that other guy, and no job. Our new pal dropped us off at the mission, and went on so we signed up for assistance, and were immediately put into a nice, small apartment, where we could have the dog, and we had a voucher for food. I didn't care. We had a place to wash up, and cook food, and lay down and sleep,and I did a lot of that for the next 24 hours. But, when I got up from my long nap, suddenly, I realized two things. One was, I needed a job,and the other was, I needed to get the staples out of my mid-section. They were starting to pull, really bad, because they were being grown in! What could I do? I laid down on the bed,with a pair of toe-nail clippers, and a pair of tweezers,and a flashlight, and clipped and pulled and ripped those things out,and then used alcohol and band aids,and within an hour or so, I stung like heck, but the staples were gone. The very next day, there came a knock on our door,and who should be standing there, with his arms full of flowers, but our pal, who brought us there,and then dropped us,and disappeared! He thrust the flowers at me,and I just melted. He proceeded to explain that he didn't mean to just drop us, but he had to make some connections, for himself, to have a place to stay,and to look up an old business partner. Both of which were successful, and did I want a job? I waited just long enough to know that my husband was not going to step up and say he should be the one to work, not I, because of the smarting train tracks down the middle of my body,but when that didn't happen, I said Yes,again. So, the following Thursday,I left  Yon son with his step-father, and was picked up by our pal, I'll call him Bill, to go to work. He took me to a home, with a big yard,and a big basement, where everyone sat around the living room, while the Boss explained the situation. The work-week was from Thursday to Sunday.Thursday was set-up day. If you came in on Thursday, and helped the crew set up the flowers,and helped pack the vehicles, you might only get out to your corner for an hour or two, but then you've earned the right to work the rest of the week. Boss buys the flowers,and then we buy them from him. You are a sub-contractor, in business for yourself. You keep track,and pay your own taxes. This is a totally cash business, and if you take any checks, you eat them. Then he promised to explain more later, but we had several boxes of fresh flowers to cut and get into buckets full of water and flora-life, and there's no time to waste talking. Everyone was given a flower knife,and told to take at least twenty buckets for their corner,and a push broom, and set them aside, but don't let go of your flower knife! As we spilled out into the yard, a medium sized truck was backing into the driveway, and established members of the crew were already pulling long heavy boxes off the truck and taking them to the basement doorway, Where the boss was set up with a big paper cutter. Those of us who were just standing around wondering what to do, were split up into two groups, one for the yard, and one for the basement. those in the yard took stacks and stacks of buckets, separated them one by one, washed them out with the hose,and  gave them to others who placed the buckets in rows, with spaces between,another would be given a big bucket of flora-life,and a small paper pill holder, and was instructed to drop a scoop in each bucket, and as each bucket received it's shot of flora-life, another hose filled the bucket half-way or a little more with water, hard enough to make the stuff foam. While the buckets were being prepared, down in the basement, there were cutters, pickers and takers,and in the middle of it all, was the boss and his paper cutter. As the boxes were being slid down the stairs, the cutters cut the ropes off the boxes and took the lids off,and pulled back the layers of paper to reveal the stacks of flowers,and the box was shoved on to the pickers. The pickers would pick up a bunch of flowers in each hand, and line up the ends of the flower stems, to give to the boss,who took the whole thing in one bunch,and  with one whap, cut the ends off the bunch, and immediately gave the bunch to whomever was behind him to take and put in water NOW! That person was to run up to the yard, and put his or her bunch of flowers in the first filled bucket they could. This chaos went on until all the boxes were empty, and all the buckets,including the baby buckets were crammed full. Oh! I forgot to mention the baby buckets. Along with flowers, there were, somewhere in all that mess of flora, fern, wood fern, plum fern,and some odd-ball fern,to use for making your bouquets more beautiful.Also, mixed in there somewhere, was baby's breath, or gypsaphalia. They did not go into the buckets in the yard, because they required special treatment. They got cut, and put into big buckets of hot water, and a splash of bleach, to be bumped, until the snowy white flowers all popped out. You took the whole bunch in your two hands, and literally bounced it up and down, hard, to force the hot bleach water up into the blooms,and they bloomed before your very eyes.Pop..popopopopop!But, once it had been bumped, the baby's breath had to be rinsed and re-cut, and put in with the fern. The rest of the baby buckets were for small flowers, like baby roses, and daffodils,Shasta daisies,and other funny flowers. Then, once everything had been cut,and put in water, then the boss would come and look at what we had,and start setting apart the corners. Everybody got a mixture of everything. The major flower we sold was carnations, because it lasts longer than most other flowers, but we also had roses, long stemmed, every color available, and mums, ranging from daisy mums, to pom-pom mums, to the classic mum, in colors of white, yellow, purple and bronze, and gladiolas,and even some exotic flowers like bird-of-paradise,and antherium. Surveying this truly dizzying array of bucket after bucket of flowers was a learning experience for me in itself, because I had no idea that carnations came in so many colors all by themselves.We had tons of white and red, all by themselves, but then I didn't know at that time that a number of bunches of white had been cut,and put down in the dye-room, so that by Friday we would also have blue, from baby blue to teal, and a pale purple. No carnations come out blue, without being dyed, either by absorption, or dip-dyed. Naturally, carnations come in pink, white, red, casadias,yellow, purple and orange. Casadias are a solid color, with another color trim, which also includes, amongst most florists, the peppermint, white with red flecks through it, and sometimes the reverse as well. Then, the truck was moved,and each vehicle was backed into the driveway,and we all helped to pack every corner. Most of the them were station wagons, with only the front seat left upright,and filled with between seven and ten crammed full buckets of flowers, as well as a stack of about twenty empty buckets,along with that corner's push broom, roll of wrapping paper, rubber bands,and for some corners, the owner had to have a door hawkers license. Each individual had to have the flower knife, a pair of clippers, comfortable shoes, pockets,and a change purse or money bag. For those who had their own vehicle, they were told where to go to set up,and once you were there, you didn't leave for any reason, until it was time to close..or break it down, as it were. Those of us who did not have a vehicle, were loaded on the truck, by corners, and dropped off and picked up after sundown, which was closing time. As soon as the truck dropped me off at the corner, which was located on a busy intersection, on the corner of a gas station, I was able to ask the man if I could use his water,and he consented.Then, Bill showed up and helped me put up my display. First we filled half the buckets with water,and un-bunched the flowers. The other half of the empty buckets we inverted,and used to put the bucket flowers up high enough so that the traffic stopped at the lights could see these amazing flowers. Most of the buckets ended up being red, AND...red and white, red and pink, red and orange, red and purple,then as quickly as possible, I found a place to put my paper and rubber bands, and opened up the bunches themselves, to start making bouquets. Each stem had to be stripped of leaves down at the water line and below, and you had to do it quickly, so you could finish that bouquet and go on to the next...and of course, they had to be decked out with fern and baby's breath,and then the whole thing banded up, so it displays prettily, and the stems re-cut before you put it back in water,because after 5 minutes the stems heal,and if they are not re-cut, they can't draw water, and they just die of thirst.After helping me get set up,and making a bouquet, he was off to help someone else,and I was on my own,with one last parting shot. Don't forget, he said, Out there is your audience. Don't turn your back on them,and keep busy and smile, or they will think you are bored! Then he indicated the mess of stems and leaves that he had just helped me make on the pavement. When you close at sundown, remember. You are allowed to be here because the owner or operator of this business has been promised that you won't leave one leaf, stem or flower petal on the ground when you are gone. That is why you have a push broom. When you go to throw out your extra water, you will wash the corner with the water,and inspect every inch of ground to make sure your broom picked it all up! If you get hungry, barter with a good customer to give them Another bouquet for free for a taco or a burger,and a cold soda, whatever you want. If you need to go to the restroom,  again, barter with a good customer to baby sit your flowers for another bunch of flowers, while you run to the bathroom! So, there I was. Already tired from the set up, in pain from my railroad tracks, and my stomach already growling,but my major problem was thirst. But yet, I had 5 bunches of roses to open, clean and arrange,and I couldn't wait!I have always loved flowers, and roses especially, so I spent from roughly 1:30 until sundown, cleaning and making bouquets of roses,and other flowers,and having a ball! I got my breaks, a huge glass of iced tea and a burger in just the way Bill had said to do,and everyone I made that deal with was just as happy as toads to do that for me, and no one ripped me off while I was in the bathroom, or left to get me food or a drink,and then didn't come back. All of them were just wonderful to me. That first day, I can remember coming back in, a little downhearted, because it had rained,and I was soaked to the skin,and I had only made about $47...until the boss said, that's not bad for a Thursday,and I looked around at the rest of the crew,and they were all soaked to the skin, too. Even the ones who had vehicles! And one girl came in all wailing and upset because she had tripped carrying a bucket of flowers,and dumped the whole bucket,and all Bill said was, water dries,and flowers roll...and that was the end of that problem. Besides that,the boss sent me home with...$45! I stayed at that job for about a year, until we had to come back to the Midwest, because my mother was ill. But during that year, I had so much fun, even while standing out in the rain, the hems of my pants dragging in the puddles behind me, while I rushed around to make an arrangement for a customer, while two others looked around, waiting to buy something. But there were a lot of perks to this job.Almost every night, the boss would take the whole crew someplace, like Sambo's to eat, and we could order anything we wanted,and he would pick up the tab.Often he would send Bill around to pick up every body's children, including mine,and they got to have dinner with their folks, and then the boss would chose one child give him the bill and a wad of money, and send them up to pay the tab.And Oh! the grin on that kid's face when they came back with the change! Every Sunday morning, the whole crew met at Howard Johnson's for brunch before heading out to their corner,once again, children and spouses included,and after he paid the bill, he would take all the children to a local amusement park for skating and rides and then,that night, we would all meet at the Con-Tiki room for steak dinners and Mi-Ti's,and then with a great flourish, he would announce who was "top man " for the week,and everybody got paid. Say what you like about the hardships expected of us to bear, the man knew how to take care of his people! The boss found me a white Chevy station wagon, and sold it to me for practically nothing, and my corner always had Tons of roses, because you always sell what you love!After three weeks, I had my car, and after four weeks, we moved into a new apartment,which was more like a nice cabin. I had my own porch,and could park my vehicle right in front of my door. Oh, the looks on my neighbors faces, when they saw me drive in on Thursday nights, with my car full of buckets of flowers!  But, I found out why even those with vehicles were soaked to the skin that first night. Your car becomes part of your display,and the  drop -down back door is your work station for your paper, to roll your flowers in. Even if you could sit in the car while it's raining, you still don't want to sit there while the wind picks up and half your flowers go flying off, and you sure don't enjoy the feeling of not being able to catch someone  before they can run off with a bucket of your flowers! And, after a year of living there, I can say without hesitation, Oregonians don't tan, they just rust! And Portland is the most beautiful city I have ever seen!

OUI?

SOMETIMES, YOU CAN GET SO CAUGHT UP...!!

In your plants and garden, movies and music, books and current goings on, you can forget about things that you would really like to be doing, too. For instance, I have left off working on my hooking for months,since before Christmas...ah... hooking rugs, that is. It's been one of my favorite hobbies for years,and yet, things just pile up,and here it is, June,and it's still sitting on the shelf..the top-most of the media tower here in the dining room,and yet, I have not given it any thought, in all that time. It was brought to mind again, when someone mentioned some handiwork they had finished,and while commenting, I thought, DUH! Why haven't you finished your rug? well, the answer is, I haven't made time for it, that's why. For most of my peers, now is the time when they have slowed things down and have gone off traveling, or just sitting around, doing nothing, taking life easy. Yet, here I am, and there aren't enough hours in the day for all the things I want to do. Don't misunderstand me now, I am not upset about it. In point of fact, I am just as happy as a little toad! I have to smile about it, because I haven't changed, with all my limitations. I am still just as busy as I was twenty years ago, when a woman who used to come and visit me, because our boys went to the same school, came in and said, what are you doing now? And before I could ask what she meant by that she said, you're always doing something! By the way she said it, I knew she meant it as almost an insult, but I took it as a compliment. Why not stay active and busy and interested in life? I've always heard that those who lose interest in life, don't have it very long. However, that doesn't mean it's a good thing to have so much going on, that you can't accomplish the tasks you set out to finish.

So, now I shall endeavor to rearrange my schedule, and fit in time to work on my rug. I haven't looked at it in a while, but I am pretty sure it has a teddy bear in the middle. It's going to be so cute when I get it done! With any luck at all, it will be in time to give to my daughter-in-law for her birthday in July!

OUI?