Ring in the New!

Getting ready to ring in the New Year, naturally one would think, resolution time! Not so much, been there done that, it's just not for me! Sure I want to start off the new year on a positive note, although I don't believe I ended the old with even the slightest of negativity.  In my mind, there is always room for improvement, of course, nothing ever stays status quo, we always strive for the next level, whatever it may be.  Goal setting (resolutions) has a tendency to fall by the wayside, leaving you with the feeling of letting yourself down.  Not for me, instead I will approach each day in my usual fashion, with  a zest for life, as we travel this road but once.  My mantra......improve the moment, make it last a lifetime.

With that said, exploring why I won't set resolutions in stone are numerous:  as a child, I was an avowed veggie hater, corn, raw celery and carrots, the exception. Daddy's abundant vegetable garden  supported the family from one season to the next, through a preservation technique called canning.  For the most part, life was fantastic, peas, green beans and brussel sprouts, the only exceptions wreaking havoc on my young mind.  Well, maybe birds did as well, but that is a whole different story!

Understanding veggies through the education and preparation processes enabled me to accept and actually adore them.  No longer the dimpled olive drab colors resulting from the canning technique, green beans and peas are now my friends.  Brussel sprouts on the other hand, are best when left as I remembered them in youth: using them as ammunition during the end of summer season garden clean up fight!  Along with over ripe tomatoes, neighborhood bullies were defenseless!

At the other end of the spectrum, the mouth.  Not any mouth but my mouth.  Try as I may, it always opens, but on a positive note, it's under control. Needless to say, no resolution regarding the mouth will ever be made, I know my limitations, it's useless.

Many of my colleagues announce, " new year, new diet!" Right, never lasts! With numerous fad diets, diet Gurus, super foods, super diet pills, body wraps and anything else used to make a fast buck, no thanks,!   One thing I am certain about: life is my passion, no resolutions necessary.  Whatever my lifetime has given me, I give to others and it always returns!

So on the eve of this New Year, choose wisely, love, live and laugh, improve the moment and make it last a lifetime! Happy New Year!

 

 

 

 

 eve of this new

'Tis the Season, time to Say...Bye!

 Two forty five in the early morning hours, wide awake and it is my day off.  Never could understand why this happens.  On days I HAVE to arise, this NEVER happens!  With a full moon aglow, navigating the darkened rooms, easy.  As I quietly make my way to the living room, the soft warm comfy glow of the Christmas tree beckons.  Perhaps, I will sit and enjoy its final night, for daylight brings the tedious task of packing away the holidays trimmings for another year.

Laughing to myself, I realize I am carrying my pillow and blanket, sneaking towards the room all aglow.  As if coming full circle, childhood memories of snuggling near the tree, hoping to catch a glimpse of Santa, invade my wide awake mind!  Funny how I would always awaken in my bed, "Santa" would somehow transport me back there before he and the "Mrs." filled the room with presents.

Now settled on my couch, I open my little iPad, perhaps the wee hours will lend some inspirational moments, to the black hole consuming my mind.  Hmmm, nothing!  Searching frantically for the remote, I carefully turn the TV volume down, wouldn't want to wake Papa Bear!  Ahh, the soft glow of the fireplace, warms my innards, even if it is on the holiday TV channel.  Turning up the volume just a bit, I now hear the crackling of the burning Yule Log.  Seemingly cozy, I return to my thoughts..........nothing jumping out at me but I listen.

Loving the quiet solitude of the night, I await the hoot of the owl!  This majestic bird of prey lives deep within the preserve of my back hard, yet silence surrounds me! Perhaps it is too cold even for my feathered friend.  Better yet, the hunt might already be over and with a full belly, he too is hunkered down.

As I watch the "flames" dancing across the screen, seemingly unimportant thoughts begin to swirl,
creativity begins to build, only to be squashed by the loud snoring of Papa Bear in his den.  NOW, I understand why I was wide awake.  Okay, maybe an early morning spot of tea, will suffice.  I can always snuggle back down after.......maybe? Tiptoeing to the kitchen, I turn on the stove.  As I wait for the whistle of the kettle, I peer into the preserve, moonlight casting ominous shadows, one can tell the chilly winds are a blowin'!

Christmas over, yet the holiday spirit still very much alive, Clement Moore's "'Twas the night before Christmas," pops through the black hole:
 " he spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk
and laying his finger aside of his nose
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

......but I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

What this really means: snoring has stopped, is Papa Bear joining me to bask in the warmth of the holiday season?  Excuse me, I stand corrected:
"Clasping his hand around the remote,
With the press of his finger, my flames are now smoke,
This warm holiday spirit must be a joke,
It gotta be Spring, Papa Bear just awoke!

Reflections, Lessons Learned

Early morning onversations with old friend David, are always a welcome start to my day.  Remembering years back, he would be the first Guest to arrive at our wee restaurant in the cozy and picturesque village of Baltic.  Nestled in the valley alongside the waters of the Shetucket River, this small village, a melting pot of society and ethnicity.

Not much has changed.  Fred's News Restaurant, a warm and unforgettable memory, the building still standing guard, the neighborhood, no longer alive with hungry patrons heading to the inviting little "town hall epicenter" of a restaurant. Closing my eyes, conjuring up images of early morning Guest, ready to begin their day or report breaking news, discuss hot topics or partake in poignant conversations, sadly the empty building a stark reminder of past times, times shared by a family that grew larger each year.

Without rehashing old events, there is something to be said for a place like the former Fred's News.  In today's society where people talk even less, communicate through social media, a society whose wake up call is a constant bombardment of negativity, where people watch, tweet, and type their way to unsubstantiated conclusions, we need people who listen, not just hear but actually listen.

Remembering explanations to and from my kids, both parties throwing the accusatory words, "you're not listening to me," usually brought either party back to reality.  Sadly, today's society neither wants nor is in touch with reality.  Whether the fiscal cliff, the end of the world, insufficient holiday sales, what's new and exciting with Reality TV shows and what other forms of repetitious nonsense will pop up to challenge our couch potato mentality,remains to be seen. Shocking tragedy, however has served the same purpose. It is by all accounts, the most horrific and senseless actions that are societies reality checks and why?

We talk of the end of the world, where pestilence, fire, and disaster will reign, what of these families, their lives shattered and torn, their children, their futures, their hearts and souls ripped apart by actions that could have been avoided. Perhaps we as a society, a people, had we listened would have heard, noticed and acted upon the signs.  With that said, will we learn or will history repeat itself?

We Ask Why?

As I sit in the quiet darkness, the warm glow of holiday lights giving the room a sense of calmness and security, I close my eyes, trying to make sense of the horrific event of the past week. I cannot nor do I want to forget, I simple want but one answer, WHY? My feelings of gut wrenching terror, insanity, and mindless insane furor have subsided, leaving me with black emptiness, loneliness, pitiful confusion and tear stained cheeks, but still the answer eludes my being.

Visions of fresh young faces, smiling, tugging at our hearts, forever frozen in time, their innocence of youth painfully branded into our minds. With their protectors by their sides, souls  now at peace, their images cry out to the masses, resounding across the cosmos, searching, searching........the answer eludes them as well.  We find solace in knowing, nothing more can harm them, forever protected within the arms of their heavenly Father.

We are not alone in our emptiness, all one has to do is watch.  Coverage of a society in mourning is continuous.  We could find comfort in knowing we are not alone, should we? Again, I do not nor do I want to, I simply want but one answer, WHY?

Out of this horrific and senseless chaos, a survivor, the chosen one.  She cries softly,"Mommy I'm okay but all my friends are dead." In the arms of her parents, they hug, cry for mercy and give thanks to our God, yet they feel guilt, but why? I say, "do not ask why, she is our hope, our reminder in the battle of good versus evil, she is our messenger...do not let history repeat itself, we must learn from our mistakes, it is never to late.  This young and frightened weary child, triumphant in her battle, may very well be the answer we so longingly search for, perhaps,she knows why.  We SHOULD!

Interesting, Intriguing and Definitely NOT Famous!

Throughout the years, opportunities to meet interesting people have presented themselves in many ways.  Most assuridly there have been the rich and famous, others not so much.  Yet it is this group of relatively unknown characters, I find most interesting and in some respects, intriguing.

Ironically, we faithfully search the web, peering, laughing and sometimes bookmarking our favorite videos, all in the name of entertainments, ours and those we pass it on to.  For some,  this claim to five minute infamy might be just that, five minutes.  For others, cult status may be achieved, with millions of "hits" worldwide, they are pressured to perform.

As I ask the memory banks to cough up bits and pieces of interesting people I have met, sounds of a distant train whistle signal the early morning Lakeland pass through .  Quite some distance from here, the soft breezes carrying the sounds, awakening the neighborhood,it also reveals my first memory of meeting someone I thought to be quite interesting, unique and one of a kind.  My mother, mortified, made it inherently clear, this encounter was not to be repeated, ever.

As a child, living close to the railroad, our house was perched on a hill, the railroad passed below, but a favorite pass time was sitting in the grass counting all the cars, waiting for the engineer to wave or blow the horn, the other assistant standing in the caboose would give that final parting wave. A small station not too far up the street allowed the train at times, to slow to a crawl.   As I watched fascinated, the door of the boxcar opened ever s slowly.  A gruff and grubby looking gentleman peered from within, throwing something out, then in flash, jumped as well.  Moving closer to the white picket fence surrounding the yard, I watched with keen interest.  In comparison to my size, this man seemed massive. Collecting his belongings, he began walking up the hill towards the house.  I don't believe he saw me, but I was going to make sure he did!

My immediate job as the yard watcher was to wait for the older neighborhood kids to return from school, but this massive world traveler, lumbering towards my yard, towards me, was so much more important!  Damn near gave the poor man heart failure by yelling "hey who are you?" Now that I think about it, I don't think he wanted to be seen nor did he see me,  I remember running along the fence, through the rose trellis, standing on the steps and in rapid fire succession, questioning the weary traveler.  As a four year old on a mission, this guy did not have a prayer!

As I opened the kitchen door, my new found friend in tow, words of questioning praise suddenly turned into a look of horror on my mother's face.  "Mommy, this is my new friend, he says he is hungry, he says he will work for food but I told him you wouldn't mind 'cause you are a good cook, Daddy says so, and...............I never had a chance to finish!  In a flash, my mother grabbed me, I think.  The man never got food, never spoke a word but ran as fast as he could back towards the railroad tracks, my mother hollering making sure he was gone.......for good.  As for me,  the lesson learned "don't talk to strangers" made me realize, strangers are fascinating, just CAREFULLY pick and choose! For months, I would watch, hoping he would return and wave.  Maybe he could become our friend and tell me all about riding the trains, maybe?

Magical and Mystical Holiday Happenings

Magical and Mystical Holiday Happenings!
 
Sitting here in the wee hours of the morning , the soft glow of Christmas tree lights, warming the room, casting shadows in every direction, I glance upward noticing the ceiling; it looks as though I am sitting under a canopy of evergreen branches.  The whiteness of the ceiling suggesting snow, yet the soft pattering sounds on the rooftop tells a different story.  Early morning coolness along with this soft rain, will shroud the landscape in a blanket of fog so thick even my beloved preserve will be starkly quiet. The little creatures never know when a much large raptor might be lurking!
 
As my mind begins its usual antics of thoughts swirling, fighting for recognition, the shadows create a feeling of secure warmth and sense of comfort.  Turning on holiday music, just loud enough for me, after all it is just a tad past three and Papa Bear is fast asleep,  but my mind has decided he is the only person that is going to be allowed to sleep! Trying to put the thoughts and happenings of the day to rest and get into a two day off relaxation mode, I let my mind run free. One particular thought keeps swirling round as if riding a holiday carousel but not being able to grab the elusive brass ring, so the swirl continues.
 
In the minds of children and adults there are many magical places but the holiday season conjures images of a jolly old elf in his red suit, much smaller elves scurrying 'round, multitudes of toys, colorful, intricate and carefully piled high, awaiting delivery to a child.  A picture perfect image that has been created for years in the minds of many. Perhaps it is this vision of happiness, security and loving warmth that allows the imagination free reign.
 
 Last Christmas season I found a small green and blue shoe, know as a croc.  It's owner had dropped it beneath the massive holiday wreath adorning the walls of the great Wilderness Lodge, where magical dreams are born and enjoyed year round.  As its wee owner returned from their excursion into the land of fantasy, it somehow disappeared into the blackness of the night sky, leaving unanswered questions about the tiny owners magical journey.
 
Yesterday's drive to the "Magic Kingdom" was anything but magical.  That shroud of fog previously mentioned was blanketing every inch of the tropical landscape.  My four o'clock drive was as if I was being hurled through space , the blackness swallowing my every move.  An occasional faint beam, suggested stealth movement of others encompassed within this nasty phenomenon.  As I drove through the massive gates of the Wilderness Lodge, a soft glow beneath this moisture laden blanket returned warmth and excitement to my heart knowing I had arrived, safely!  As I creep along the tree laden drive, sparkling little jewels peered at me in all directions.  This region is alive with miniature white tailed deer, they quietly munch the green grasses at the edge of the Lodge drive.  Once parked the fog again engulfing me as I take the long walk to the entrance, I am being followed. Peering through the fog all I see are the eyes.  It's quite comforting, much like an escort service, they are insuring my walk through this dense eerie blanket, is not alone. As I approach the massive entry, they sense I am safe, retreating into the blanket of blackness.
 
Very much similar to the late night walk through this gorgeous lobby, the early morning trip, equally as pleasing.  Quietness engulfing the spirit, one can breathe in the haunting and majestic magic of this place, it's rocking chairs empty, beckoning early morning visitors to enjoy breakfast in front of the dancing flames in the massive stone fireplace. Holiday decorations awash in thousands of tiny lights, soon the inhabitants of this place will awaken, the hustle and bustle will begin, hungry Guests will fill my "fish camp" then disappear into the early morning fog,their magical journey just beginning.
 
Walking the quiet hallway to my office, keys in hand, just the quiet hum of cooling units lets me know everything is working, I can still hear the faint holiday music in my now clean, sparkling empty dining room.  I peer through the door, everything in order, a clean fresh smell tells me the night time cleaning "elves" are finished.  I look in the opposite direction, kitchen lights on, my early bird bakery people are creating magic as well.  Just a few feet from the office door, something lay on the floor, perfectly left awaiting my arrival.  Hmm, can't be but it is, two Mickey head adorned green and blue crocs, slightly larger than the tiny one found last year.  Looking in all directions, I see no one! As a small shiver passes through my being, I pick up the crocs, a bit worn, letting me know their owner has walked much, no longer being carried by his Dad.  Entering my office, still surprised by my early morning find, perhaps I should place them in the exact place as last year's little one.  Sneaking out the back way, I open the massive wooden door.   No one is here yet, I place the worn green and blue crocs beneath the majestic green wreaths that adorn this entry way.  Feeling quite silly, my thoughts tell me otherwise.  Their owner has been transported on a magical Christmas journey, his shoes await him.
 
An hour later,  welcoming Guests, I peer out to the walkway, hard to believe but my green and blue crocs once again have disappeared.  Perhaps retrieved upon returning from a magical mystical journey of fantasy at the most magical place on earth!

Should of had a V-8!!

A recent trip to a local coffee shop franchise, proved more frustrating than refreshing. Liquid refreshment in the form of an early morning eye-opening, heavenly aroma of fresh brewed coffee, a more vivid memory in my dream, in comparison to what had just crossed my palate.  If a beverage, any beverage is perfectly pleasing to a palate, a few neccessities are essential, however, one might be able to overlook some of the mandatory requirements, should the service received be exceptional and the chosen beverage either be piping hot or icy cold. 

Sadly, my idea of a great way to start the day, was just that;  an idea that beckoned the tired body to arise, shower, primp in record time, head out the door, the early morning sunrise absolutely gorgeous and the landscape awash in a refreshing, sparkling dew.  Closing my eyes for a  moment, fresh brewed scent of just ground hot coffee tickling my senses, or at least the expectation was creating this vision, however, in one brief moment.....it was lost!

Trying to analyze what had just occurred and the reason for my disappointment, I was hit with the disturbing thought of a society moving towards acceptance of anything, just because it can.  As a throw away society, we just replace it with something else, if not perfect, well then move on.  What happen to trying to be the very best, producing the very best and excepting nothing less than the very best or at least the very best effort in trying to create or produce something....ANYTHING!

As the fear of mediocrity tries to make its very best attempt at overtaking my being, my mind senses a battle on the very near horizon, between excellence and just so so..  Excellence of course is just that, excellent.  So-so or mediocre on the other hand, more harmful or injurious in nature, simmering, brewing and at the precise moment, the take over occurs.  Those that have accepted mediocrity, fail to admit status quo, excuses for the behaviors and finger pointing are now the norm, we throw it away and try something else. 


Daunting as it may sounds, are we becoming a sloth like society? With technology evolving faster, we rely on machines.  Instead of speaking, the younger generation prefers social media, earbuds firmly implanted, eye contact is no longer necessary, many uneasy at the prospect of speaking to someone they have just met.  Case in point, my early morning search for a refreshing fresh-brewed coffee:  "sugar extra cream please," a sigh, followed by an unsettling pause,  my young friend is now staring at the computer screen seemingly confused, no conversation begins, I wait.  About forty five seconds pass, and as if mesmerized by the computer screen, my young friend, without eye movement from the screen and an irritating lack of social skills, begins; "what do you want?"   A patient person, repeating my order, realization smacks me upside the head, someone has no idea where the buttons are....could be a long wait! 

Insomnia at its Best!

A late night, thought I was tired, inner clock says, "nope!". Stupid thing! I tried laying down, sitting up, watching TV, reading a book, a real one with pages, not electronically, but after studying for hours, I nixed the book thing. Wanting to write, but nothing popping out and unable to remember the thought process from earlier in the day, perhaps the boob tube will cause me to drift off into la-la land. I do believe the problem is: watching TV creates a sense of doing nothing, at least in my mind, especially in this moment. Perhaps I am bored, the mind needs a challenge, but then again, it has been challenged all day. Hmmm, maybe it needs me to just shut up, turn it off, give it up........relax! But I am not tired, my derrière IS, resulting from sitting all day studying, but the rest is ready to roll!

Not the first time this has happened, about four years ago we would of chalked it up to menopause, unless it's a carry over and has now become post-menopausal! Which brings up another totally different thought process (sleep appears to be even farther away now!). Weight gain, emotional roller coasters, hot flashes, night sweats and insomnia and my body says, "let's go with the insomnia!".

In retrospect, I had hoped for hot flashes, since most of my adult life, I was always chilly. One of the multitude of reasons for the move to my tropical paradise. Emotional roller coaster might not have been bad either, I definitely could of used it as payback to the many who have ticked me off with their emotional issues! As for menopausal weight gain, luckily I have escaped that! Although now that gravity has reared its ugly head, a few pounds here and there, just to puff out the wrinkles might work! Scratch that idea, extra weight in the heat of a Florida summer WOULD cause hot flashes and probably emotional problems as well! So back to where we began, insomnia. Not a bad thing, on the positive side, I can pack a whole lot more into my day and my "calendar" has round the clock entries. On the flip side: "ain't nobody else in this place with the same issue," loud snoring coming from the couch, as proof positive on that statement. My better half felt sorry I could not sleep, "I'll keep you company," he announced as he arrived in the living room, pillow in tow. This "men-o-pause" thing should affect......men! Is this an emotional roller coaster rising up inside of me........just maybe! Nice!

Fourth of July Reflections

 
Summer’s major holiday, July 4^th has come and gone, yet perhaps a bit of reflection surrounding our nation’s birthday is due. With a multitude of historical documentaries bombarding the airwaves reminding us of the sacrifices made, all in the name of freedom, one question need be asked: Did we learn from our mistakes and those of others? Simply put, is history destined to repeat itself?

As a product of the “anti-establishment” hippie generation, we were the people that sought answers to this question. Moshe Dayan, an Israeli military leader and politician, who became a crusader for peace once said, “Freedom IS the oxygen of the soul.” Quite the profound statement and a true testament to ALL mankind. A mirror image of our great country, America, freedom in all its grandeur, has many faces. The United States, our country, our community, is a unique mass of inhabitants with dreams, hopes, opinions and beliefs just a diverse. We live, work, worship and socialize where we choose, we speak without fear of condemnation, we heartily disagree with those not sharing our views, but will defend their right to do just that.

As we gathered together this recent July 4^th, sharing laughter, food and a lively round of golf, a sense of warmth consumed my inner being. Not the kind of warmth associated with this tropical paradise, but a warmth akin to pride. “There is something magnificent is having a country to love” says American born poet James Russell Lowe,. We say “thank you, Mr. Lowe, that goes for community as well,” and by the way, Happy Birthday America!

Fire up the Ark!

Fire up the ark, the parched and deeply cracked soils of the dried ponds, lakes and streams are once again breathing life, gulping in the torrential rains of this unruly, unpredictable and lazy tropical storm, known as Debby. The earth is alive with activity, the skies as well, with clouds traveling at dizzying speeds, dumping deluges of water and spawning tornadoes wrapped within the menacing storm clouds. This normally quiet, passive tropical paradise with its endless nighttime skies, alive with shooting stars, warm summer breezes and brilliant moon lite nights, its silhouettes of graceful palms, swaying gently in the warm humid air of a tropical evening, is currently in a state of madness, a frenzy, a definite cleansing!

Flooding of "biblical" proportions has covered the area. We are thankful not to have beachfront property, although as I look out my kitchen window, water is lapping at the edge of the yard about fifteen feet from the house. The beach is coming to us! Luckily the yard is pitched so it is doubtful the water will arrive anytime soon. What has arrived is the mass migration of creatures living within the flood zone, otherwise known as the tropical preserve, with is rainforest canopy no longer protecting the residents. They search for the elusive dry spot...........don't they know, I am not into sharing my spot!

Two small children of a very ticked off Mother Nature, are welcomed. They zoom, they flit and fly about between the pounding rain, seeking refuge and food. Having found both beneath the roof covered driveway of our yard, these adorable ruby-throated hummingbirds zoom from one potted flowering plant to another. If in the world of little hummingbirds, there is a lottery, they have just hit the jackpot!

Earlier today as cabin fever began to lead to a mushy soaked sogginess of the brain, we ventured out into the neighborhood. The roads overflowing with water and critters primping, preening and playing in the coolness of the cloud covered skies. If only for a moment the rains subsided, the trees and grasses breathing, soaking in all this freshness, seemed to instantly turn a sparkling and radiant emerald green. In all it's fury, the howling winds, the pounding rains have washed the landscape, it is renewed, most of it has survived unscathed, perhaps with a few less leaves in their canopies.

Mostly it is the material children of the earth that have been battered. Those that did not heed the warning to "batten down the hatches"will begin the process of cleaning up the results. For the most part, this community was spared. Water, water everywhere, but no trees succumbed to the winds. Others less than a mile or two west of us, hit with a smaller tornado as a reminder of what could have been much worse!

As evening set in, the airwaves reporting the entire region again under a tornado watch! Rains for the moment have subsided, winds still gusty, clouds still menacing, Debby refusing to leave, she too "in love" with this tropical paradise or perhaps she seeks revenge on those that have abused her Mother, Nature that is!

A Different Approach

Is it always human deaths that are the cause of sorrow? Beloved pets are sometimes mourned as deeply, they too leaving an emptiness hard to fathom. A childhood playmate, a constant companion, a faithful friend, pets become a part of our lives, asking for nothing but food, shelter and love. As they pass away, most certainly a tremendous void can be left.

Our beloved Fred the Dog, passed away as he approached, by human standards, his teenage years. Truly an "old man", crippled by arthritis, many stomach ailments, failing eyesight and numerous other afflictions of old age, Fred's quality of life, long gone, yet in our hearts and mind, a distant happy memory. He was our boy, the happy go lucky puppy, a beloved family member, whose passing tore at our heart strings and left an emptiness in our lives. We vowed, "no more pets, this is much too hard!". We have been true to our vow, yet freely talk of our fun times and fantastic memories of Fred the Dog.

It is only now we joke of our children's first pets. The good Lord put gold fish on this earth for a reason. It can teach a child responsibility. Having a living thing in your bedroom, staring at you through the lens of a fishbowl, can either bring companionship, or in the case of a young child living in fear of monsters in the dark, that google-eyed orange monster, can create midnight paranoia in the most stable of households. It is no wonder, their deaths are easily accepted, a quick flush and burial at sea is completed.

The local funeral home was located across the street from our residence, affording the kids a front row seat of just what "calling hours" entailed. As youngsters having to stay within the boundaries of their own yard, peeking through the fence, they watched the solemn procession of families and friends of the deceased. Questions almost always arose: " Mommy what is in that big box they just took out of that long black car?" "Mommy, why are people crying and why so sad?" Answering these questions, not wanting them to be traumatized in their thoughts and understanding of death, was a challenge.

Yet they understood more than I gave them credit for. True to form, their deceased goldfish's final resting place was not a quick flush, but a proper burial, with miniature casket and final farewell prayer, in the "backyard cemetery." At one point, funeral home processions became their obsession! One weekend jaunt to Gramma's house required carrying one's suitcase as though there were a corpse in it, much to the dismay of the old ladies in the neighborhood. Those sweet young children, that always visited and listened to those older ladies gossiping their afternoons away, we're suddenly viewed as evil, disrespectful and rude, although never a mean word was uttered! They must of all been related In some way, shape or form, to my great aunt, "the casket thrower!"

But my kids will always be just that, my kids.  They fondly talk of their former pets with love and happiness, death at the time was heart-wrenching, yet with each year that passes, the long ago emotions have mellowed, their bitterness waning and evolving into precious and comforting memories.

Just Sleeping?

Mom was crying, Daddy trying to comfort her. For a time, I associated the late night phone call, with sadness. It had made my mother cry! Big Memere, had died. At that early age of seven, death had never crossed my path.

Big Memere, as she was affectionately called by my sister and I, was our Great Grandmother. Although she spoke only French, she understood everything we said. Whenever she saw us, a big hug and kiss and with the thickest of French-Canadian accents, it was always, " oh babies!". Mom and our Memere, Big Memere's oldest daughter, would then carry on in French. Although they assumed we didn't understand, these visits were frequent and through sheer repetition, we could almost always get the gist of the conversations.

Although my Mother's immediate family was just her mother, her extend family was huge. Big Memere and Pepere had sixteen children. With multiple sets of twins, survival of both babies born in the first two decades of the twentieth century, we're slim. By the time my sister and I entered this world, Big Mem and Pep had only had eight surviving children, four boys, four girls.

Our Memere had been married, we never knew her husband and no one ever spoke of him, unless we missed that part of the French conversation. Hmmm, could of been a good thing, all we knew was that he was mean and had left our Memere and Mom. Mom's brother Roland died at age ten, during the outbreak of polio in the 1930's. Mom and Memere missed him dearly, their words were always so kind when his name was mentioned.

Now, my mother's sadness was the result of her grandmother's death. After much deliberation it was decided, although young, I would be allowed to attend big Memere's wake. Thinking back, I can still visualize my great grandmother. Hands folded, rosary beads intertwined amongst the arthritic looking dead fingers, every wrinkle on her older than dirt face covered with makeup, this did not look like the Big Memere, who welcomed me with open arms, let me sit on her lap, as she sat rocking in her chair next to the old green kerosene stove. Not the best looking woman I had ever seen, but her smile always radiated warmth and welcome.

Big Memere, the matriarch of this clan, had helped raise my mother. Some of her younger children were within a couple years of my Mother's age, making them more like siblings than her aunts and uncles. Mom was devastated by Big Memere's passing.

As we made our way to view the body, a small kneeler had been place alongside the coffin. Mom and Dad knelt down, instructing my sister and I to stand on either side of them. Looking back the quietness of the moment disturbed me. Hearing quiet heart wrenching sobs, I carefully turned to see it wasn't my Mom, she had composure. Mom whispering softly to Dad, "she looks wonderful, beautiful, she is at peace. Yikes, Big Memere had a heart, large, open and beautiful, her inner peace, gorgeous. To say she looked beautiful, it was then I realized, death made Mom blind, if only for a few days, my Dad as well, he agreed with her! At least at age seven, that's the way I had perceived the moment.

Those heart wrenching sobs heard above the soft murmurs and prayer within the room, coming from Aunt Anna. Actually my great aunt, she was one of Big Memere's surviving children, her outward appearance left no doubt she belonged to Big Memere! My sister and I always thought of her as somewhat mean, the total opposite of her mother. Years later we dubbed her the "casket thrower," as she always made a scene, sobbing uncontrollably, "throwing" herself atop the casket or so it seemed. Most seemed to ignore her, although I do remember a stern look from my grandmother and a few short words in French, not meant for our ears!

Trying to remember that event more than half a century later, few things stand out. Fact of the matter is, she looked as though she were sleeping and certainly not any "prettier!" Aunt Anna, not by choice a middle child, tried to steal the show and my first "brush with death" certainly did not scar me for life nor did I have nightmare following this event!

Death, Dying & Taxes!

When I decided to ask friends and acquaintances about death, dying, it's effects on them, their memories and perceptions, I truly did not grasp the scope of my project! The response, outstanding for the most part, the memories, so forthright, honest and amazingly poignant.

Over the course of time, this project will reveal, stories, memories, the grieving process, coping and understanding the meaning of these feelings locked within. For some, it is an emotional roller coaster.  Many cope, while others have locked their secrets and loneliness within their hearts. Perhaps understanding each or all of these feelings, whether good, bad, indifferent or overwhelming, allowing them to surface, may for some, be a re-birth into life. Not meant to be a cure, but a means by which we realize, some of what we perceive to be abnormal or dark inner feelings, may quite possibly be normal. By chance this is not the case, releasing and sharing what consumes your thoughts or breaks your heart, how you perceived certain events , in this case dying, may just surprise you.

In all it's morbidity, death and let us not forget, taxes are inevitable. If we look at the multitude of processes that seem to be part of our lives, many things are inevitable or as I prefer to call it, uncontrollable.

For argument purposes only, we can, to a certain extent, prolong dying. As we know it, this event is inevitable but perhaps a bit controllable. Taxes on the other hand can be controlled, are inevitable and even after death, they loom!

A very poignant thought comes from a wonderful, smart and beautiful young woman, Jessie, affectionately known as Boo, who at times, has a wisdom beyond her young years. "Attending the funeral of my best friend's father, I saw people weeping and sobbing, with horrible painful expressions. At that moment in time, something, as if a revelation appeared in my mind, flooding me with optimism and hope. I suddenly saw death as a good thing , the human body as a portal, carrying our soul, death occurring, when the body was no longer needed. Leaving it behind, we continue our journey. I saw myself as a light, an energy that never dies. It is at that precise moment, I realized, if something is inevitable, then it must be a good thing. In the beginning it may be misconstrued as we are unaware of the ultimate reason, we cannot answer the question, why? My heart and mind tell me, it is good, it has to be good, whomever or whatever created this universe, in my opinion God, left no room for deliberations!"

It isn't Just About Hitting that Little White Ball!

Recently the question was asked, "is playing golf just about hitting the little white ball?"  Confused, my first thought was, "that's a stupid question!" Wanting to give a more politically correct answer, I suppressed that first thought, grinning through clenched teeth, prohibiting the sarcastic answer from flipping off the end of my tongue.  I've noticed in recent years, I lack self-control when I surmise a stupid question had been asked.  Hopefully that lack doesn't extend to other body parts as well!

In light of numerous political debates, which leave you wondering what the hell the question was in the first place, I will answer the question: "is playing golf just about hitting the little white ball?" NO! Expanding on that emphatically answered NO, one must understand competition.

For the sake of naysayers, all this malarkey is for professional golfer wannabes, reasons for excluding the "big guys/girls" also known as PGA professionals, will soon reveal themselves.  Almost a quarter century back my wonderful husband decided to take up the game of Golf.  One year into his project, he poked, prodded and pleaded, "please play golf with me!"  Thinking I'd rather watch paint dry but loved the idea of being outside soaking up all the Vitamin D, I relented. Alas, we are hooked, but there is so much more to golf than just smacking the little white ball!

Brain vs. Brawn:  Golf is a game of mathematics.  Clubs have certain degrees of loft, they are made that way for a reason!  Standing, gripping and ripping (John Daly's famous swing), keeping one's head down, letting the club do it's job, understanding stance, are just a mere "tap in" compared to the complete game of Golf.  If you are agile, understand all the above, then perhaps your game is both brain and brawn working together much like a fine tuned machine.  Knowing what you are supposed to do and how far you can hit each club, tends to be more brain power and self-control.  Constantly hitting a long and wrong shot, using a club as a projectile when your "game" has left you, leads one to believe, all brawn no brain.  However, we all have bad days!

Wardrobe:  Well, you've got to look good!  Pockets and lots of them are a necessity!  Unlike my usual playing partner who sticks his pencil under the edge of his hat, loosing it each time he removes said hat to wipe his sweating brow, I prefer to carry one either in a back pocket or just leave it in the cart if we are riding the course.  Preferring to walk, most Florida courses require riding, speeding up the game!  Once out of the Starter's sight, my walk begins.  Pockets are a must!  These days, it's all about comfort and cotton.  Loose fitting breathable clothing always wins out over "looking good!"

Ball hawking:  for those unfamiliar with this golf term, please read on!  If hitting the ball "long and wrong" seems to be your normal approach, subconsciously you are a ball hawker.  This unique form of golf requires patience, a fearless approach, love of bugs, reptile (snakes) and high tolerances for pain, as thorns and vines wrap around you legs and any open skin available.  Another type of ball hawker requires navigating ponds and the purchase of special equipment; a fine example of re-cycling would be a clam rake.  Again a sharp eye and quick reflexes are just a few of the skills necessary to perfect this aspect of the golf game.  Here a twosome is preferred, one to do the actual raking of the water's edge, the second would be the reptile spotter (snakes and alligators!)

As they meet at the 19th hole for a recap of this versatile game, much like a trade deadline in the major leagues, bartering begins: "I'll give you a sleeve (3 balls) of Bridgestones for just one of your Titliest ProV1, PLEASE?" "If you tell me your favorite spot to ball hawk, I'll consider it!"  This is going to be a long afternoon, let the games begin!

Florida's Highways and Byways!

Although gas prices seem to be on the downhill track of a very steep roller coaster ride, they are still "up there!" probably shouldn't whine about it, in the blink of an eye, the ascent could once again begin. Taking advantage of the recent decline, a five hundred mile road trip to southern Florida was just completed. We have been fortunate that over the years, exploring our vast country has been a great opportunity, others may never see. Five hundred miles round trip, not particularly far, in fact, in this case, we were still in the same state, Florida!

Having lived in the northeastern climates much of my life, usually meant driving westward to seek out new and exciting places. As a former resident of New England, we had a tendency to think of the area as one big state, saying "I lived in the Connecticut section of New England." in fact some states in the great country are larger than the entire New England region. It's all relevant, two hours of driving on the interstate in Connecticut could mean stuck in the gridlock of the major metropolitan corridor, while here, two hours on the Florida interstate system, traveling to another of its larger southern metro areas, might mean you've covered over one hundred forty miles in the blink of an eye, especially if I am driving. Open road, all windows open, radio blaring, pedal to the metal, Mr. Bill "white knuckling" anything he can hold on to, we are heading south!

Not many roads crisscross this long state,the center still being a wide open space or a watershed area, finding a direct point to anywhere is an issue, unless you live on either coast. Most small towns are exactly that, microdots in the middle of nowhere. Getting to route sixty, we head south towards the county seat of Bartow, an historic and eye pleasing, small city. Before we actually reach the perimeter of Bartow, we head east. Wahneta is a minute village, ninety-nine percent Hispanic, located on the southeastern outskirts of Winter Haven, yet it seems as though it is a village that time has passed by. You'll find this is the norm in some of the remote regions of this elongated state. Finally route sixty, not much better than the previous thirty minute drive. Having driven across the great plains a number of years ago, seeing nothing but cattle ranches, turf farms and an occasional Dude Ranch, totally brought back memories of that area. Only thing missing were the giant corn fields. At one point, we gazed upon miles and miles of perfectly manicured citrus groves. One would imagine during orange blossom season, bees and humans are in a state of frenzy as the distinctly pungent smell of sweet citrus flowers hangs heavy, creating an aroma and a state of mind simple referred to as "orange blossom intoxication!"

Yeehaw Junction, yes, that is the correct name, will be our last populated town for a while. Having passed this way before, on the way to Vero Beach, I was pleasantly surprised this area still existed. The residents, albeit few and far between, are hearty souls. Miles and miles from anywhere, on the outer reaches of cell phone coverage, only once have I seen a resident, even then, this leathered and weathered skinned older gentleman, with the wide brimmed cowboy hat and puffed jaw full of chew, might possibly have been "just passing through!"

These farm lands of central Florida are vast flat lands, receiving irrigation from numerous lakes and waterways crisscrossing the tabletop flatness, stretching as far as the eye can see. Although the preferred mode of transportation for skimming over the swamp lands and clogged waterways of the area, is an air boat, I've yet to ride in one. Speed and danger appealing to me, I will add that to my bucket list!

I find the drive along Florida's Turnpike, interesting. One meandering streams is clogged with aquatic life. The beautiful water hyacinth, with its gorgeous and delicate purple flower, looks almost like a carpet of color, floating and basking in the tropical sunlight. For all its beauty, this delicate looking flower is sinister, blocking sunlight to the waters below, actually smothering and killing all life on the stream and eventually spreading across the waterways. Boats traveling these streams and ponds, must proceed with caution. To avoid further propagation of this species, boat propellers must be cleaned regularly.

When I think of this southern state, tropical always comes to mind. Somehow the further south you go, this word, TROPICAL, is so much defined. If possible, even the flatness of the landscape, is almost submerged into the blueness of the ocean gently tickling the shores. Coconut palms, swaying in the warm breeze, suggest a way of life that is refreshing yet slow and refined by day, but as the scorching sun sets, the nightlife begins.

We are staying on the edge of the inter-coastal waterway. From my balcony, I see the vastness of the Altantic Ocean. The only things separating us from this sheer blue calmness is the waterway. Looking to my right, the inter-coastal opens up to the sea, just a mere stones thrown away. What fascinates me are the luxury boats up and down this narrow body of water. Even the smallest are sleek, fast and just "toys" for the numerous rich and famous that populate this section of the southern coastline and  extremely fun to watch. Maybe it's just me, lounging on a boat, sipping a glass of fine wine or being served dinner on deck while floating along, now that IS the good life!

Time moves forward at warp speed, it is already the next day, time to head back up the coast. Without many choices of highways, Mr. Bill not feeling in tip top shape, we shall head back the way we came. Once we approached the familiar Yeehaw Junction, we opt to go further north, our westward drive will begin in Kissimmee. Not that the scenery is different,  it's just a different way. Approaching central Florida, our home base area, the first noticeable difference, traffic! Not that the southern peninsula area wasn't busy, but the snowbirds have headed home and the highways and local roads just seem more normal and less congested. Central Florida, a tourist mecca year round, people driving in areas they are not used to, this is more like.....yikes, watch out for rubbernecking! Although this is my stomping ground, driving it every day, with gridlock more the norm, my immediate memory tells me, the further south you go, the less hurried way of life,  Miami being the exception, but if it's pure tropical sunlight, anti establishment you yearn for,  there is always the Florida Keys, that will be MY next stop!

Moving on!

Funny how tuck away memories stir up emotions. Hadn't thought about the little restaurant that was once called Fred's News, in quite sometime. Most certainly a day does not pass, memories of the folks that frequented the little place, hop into the forefront! If we have said it once, we've said it a million times, "it's the people we miss!"  Often we wondered, does this small town, tucked away in amongst the rolling green hills of the Shetucket River Valley, feel the same?

For years we were "The Constant Place," in the lives of the many lovable and ever so quirky people that became so appropriately known as the Fred's News Family. Yet, deep seeded within the minds of many, were thoughts that this was a very liberal self indulgent family,who only thought of themselves. Although no one ever said those exact words, at times hurtful insinuations were heard. Sometimes sarcastic barbs often hold the true feelings of the person trading the jabs.

As business owners, we thought it most important to invest in our town, specifically the young people. With weekly day trips planned throughout the summer months for any of the young people, we often visited the beaches of Long Island Sound or the fresh water state parks of inland Connecticut. A chance for the town to get a much needed respite from the youthful antics, if only for a day, but more importantly, it introduced many of the underprivileged young people to life beyond the small village. Thinking of it as a chance for a seed to be planted in the minds of the young, they would want to explore, learn and perhaps years later, they too would invest in their town. As the summer months waned, the town saw a need to sell the local school bus fleet to an outside, for profit company, ending all hopes for the next year's summer field trips. Having served on both Board of Education and Finance, I understood the decision, but heartily disagreed.

As time passed, nothing much changed within this or the lives of the citizens in the town, progress seemed to pass by this town, the neighborhoods falling deeper into despair. Mr. Bill's efforts to beautiful the town with his sweet smelling, vibrant array of glorious flowers, grew larger and larger every years. Although it was a labor of love and  a chance to show all how beautifully quaint the little town was, ironically there was still deep seeded resentment by some.  We truly loved this place, staying involved, trying to update and show others, perseverance pays.

There comes a time when the body and mind grows weary.  Our children grown, none wanting the "family business," but that was fine.  We had taught our children to grow, to wander, to experience and most of all, be passionate in whatever they chose to do.  Having made our mark, a so called legacy, the mind, body and soul yearned for more.  It was our time to "practice what we had preached" for so long.  More importantly, it was me! Still young enough for a second career, Mr. Bill wanting to retire, there would be no argument from me!

Looking back, I truly think the people of the town thought of us more as a fixture, "The Constant Place" was most assuredly going to be there forever.  We see it as "out of sight, out of mind!"  For the most part, this is true, with an occasional message that warms the heart and soul, letting us know we were truly appreciated.

Perhaps, my thoughts are sometimes harsh, the heart is not.  Only now, we know, we truly did leave a legacy, still,  it was time.  Without overstaying our welcome, we moved on.  Visitors from the north do come, sometimes we wish for more.  The question is always asked, "when will you return?"  I always answer, "when will you come visit?'

Sentries of the Earth

A very slow start to the rainy season, but in all actuality ,the monsoon like afternoon rains are really a few weeks away. Today, just as the past week has been, thick clouds move in rapidly, you can almost see the thunderheads forming above. As the rains begin to fall, the hardened grounds beckon every drop. This tropical peninsula, a giant sandbar, is now more like hardened and weathered cement.

As we walk the pathways along the golf course, the stately magnolias, live oaks, and Spanish moss laden and hauntingly beautiful cypress trees seem to have risen skyward, as if looking and begging for moisture. Craggy, gnarly root systems, bulging upward through the hardened ground, fan out in every direction, seeking the elusive elixir of life, water. These roots fascinate me, they have seen how cruel Mother Nature can be, depriving them of their life blood, yet these hardened weather worn veins have experienced this before. Their talon like grip on the hardened ground suggests only survival, nothing more, certainly nothing less. A true partnership with the earth, they stand hearty and tall protecting the very ground on which they stand, from the blistering rays of the scorching fireball high in the mid-day sky.  Much like the skeletal system on the top of our hands, these weathered roots suggest the guardians of the forest, these majestic trees, have age. They have withstood all that the forces of nature have thrown at them. They are a giant high rise community, home to generation after generation of forest creatures.

Walking further along the picturesque paths, we notice, a few of the smaller trees have given in to the forces surrounding them. With a strong foundation a necessity, these much younger trees have lost their battle in the survival of the fittest. Eerily they lean, almost begging their elders for support, their root system, talons much too short, have surrendered. All too soon, critters of destruction will move in, sucking what meager life remains from the bowels of the foundation. This circle of life, within the tropical rain forest is such a fragile system. I believe it's beauty radiates forth for a reason. The fallen ones stand as a reminder to the hordes of humans that destroy, taking for granted, using and abusing these majestic sentries standing guard over the lands. Sadly, if we do not nourish and replenish, our world will be filled with regrets.

A Free-Thinker...I am, I am!

A recent conversation embroiled with opinions, ultimate reasons, accusatory shouting matches, non-believers and believers, career minded and some not so much, those of both sexes, including male chauvinists of all age ranges, was perhaps one of the most satisfying, invigorating and lively conversations I have participated in for quite some time. Throughout my career I have tried to avoid subjects directly related to religion and politics unless in a group of clergy or politicians.  The conversation mentioned contained neither group but all subjects were fair game. Truly a great eye-opening experience!  Sadly, not all involved in this lively debate, cherished the moment as much as me.

For the record, we must first say: One must approach these moments with an open-mind, heart and an ability to absorb what others are trying to say even if they continue to say,"no, that's not exactly what I mean!" If someone is asked to vote on a motion, in a democratic society, it is usually a given that one will vote yay, nay or just abstain, or so one would think.  Letting the chips fall where they may, you can't take back your vote.  Pondering this thought for just a moment, I surmise many in the room looked around to see how the majority voted and rather than stand by their convictions, said "oh well, what the hell, I will go with the majority, they must be right!"  Over the course of the next few weeks, the defeated dug their heals into the trenches, preparing for battle, taking bits and pieces out of context, seeking to rally the masses and reverse decisions.  All's fair in love and war, past history not being learned, their mistakes, unfortunately altered all future hopes of moving forward and the situation remains at status quo. 

Coining a new phrase, "return to the age of the dinosaurs," those who stand by their decisions, resigned.  Those, who at some point were most outspoken, did a complete three sixty, crying wah, wah, wah and now again rub shoulders with those they sought to vilify.  When I was asked my opinion, staunchly defending my beliefs, I replied, "how hypocritical, I am not a hypocrite nor do I intend to be branded as one.  If we are "returning to the Age of the Dinosaurs," please accept my resignation.

So be it, decisions made, life goes on.  Never one to dwell for long on the could of, should of or would of, lively conversations with constituents is always good for the soul.  Perhaps a cleansing, certainly not a time to "clean closets" but to voice opinions, present facts and at the same time welcome and accept opinions.  Dinosaurs, much like trying to "teach an old dog new tricks," welcome and accept nothing, forcing negativity into the forefront, hopes dashed, free-thinking society must "free-think" elsewhere.  Sadly, repeating, rehashing, rephrasing, reiterating, dinosaurs refuse to change.  Should they re-read history, many refusing to learn from their past, repeat mistakes, extinction is sure to follow. 

Death is inevitable, yet one should never adopt the policy of "sticking your head in the sand." or becoming submissive to those who opt for grandeur through title. As eons pass us by at warp speeds, adaptation is necessary for survival, but acceptance of the status quo, refusing to "think outside the box,"  is a very boring journey!

Reminders.........the Simplicity and Sweetness of Life

Today, a reminder of why we migrated south to this tropical paradise known as Florida.  Although the early morning, just cool enough, allowing the sweet citrus vapors to drift through open windows, the partly cloudy skies would soon give way to a sweet Mother Mary Novena Blue,  a brilliance that radiates images back to the earth so breathtakingly striking, one yearns for more!  With stiff breezes bordering all out windy, one forgets that this land is tropical rain forest HOT for much of the late spring, summer and early fall seasons of the year.

This southern sky, with it's infinite expanse, tells a story.  Today's clouds, so descriptive, would have allowed a soft blanket in the grass on which a body could observe these tremendous marshmallow like puffs floating quickly by, had it not been the thought of the multitudes of ants at ground level.  Nice thought, however, a walk at the edge of the preserve or seashore will have the suffice.

As the afternoon sun begins its descent toward the western horizon, the stiff warm breezes continuing, we decide, sitting outside amongst the gorgeous display of fragrant gardenias, majestic royal purple petunias, perfectly showcased by the emerald green and white flowing spider plants cascading downward, would be a great ending to a near picture perfect day in the outdoors.

Rehashing the events of our day, sipping icy cold sweet green teas, we are treated to not one or two but three of Mother Nature's elusive and endangered  raptors in flight.  The swallow-tailed kite only makes its appearance mid-March through mid-May, it's striking black and white plumage so vivid against the tropical setting sun.  As we watched these birds in flight, realizing how rarely we are treated to their company, we must learn more about our southern feathered friends.  Built for speed, these birds only number around three to four thousand, will soon be leaving for their winter feeding grounds, some as far south as Brazil.

A quick search of the Internet reveals, the Audobon Society tracks these graceful birds of prey as they cross-cross the southern skies, from their breeding homes in the southeast to their winters in South America.  Drops in their numbers caused by disappearing wetlands, pesticides and sport shooting, the Society's plea for help tracking these majestic and distinguished looking hunters would be our pleasure and a sincere a heartfelt thanks and commitment to our environment and those whose time, patience and diligence will insure these and all the creatures that share this planet, will continue to flourish.

Deja vu...Oh yes...Been There done That!

Deja vu, the illusion of having previously experiences something being encountered for the first time.  Its origin is French, its meaning, literally already seen.  Deja vu becoming the go to word around 1900-05.  Always interested in word origins, my mind tells me time to check it out. With a tad bit of research, my findings, interesting yet just a bit more of useless info added to my already overcrowded brain. Although I do not consider myself a hoarder, my brain signals, IT IS!

Sounding much like a hauntingly, even sensually romantic question, "Mon cherie, croyez-vous en déjà vue?"would be appropriate if whispered softly in a passionate moment.  Yet translate that beautiful phrase to English, "My love do you believe in the already seen?" Not quite the same effect, you might as well just quip, "Hey baby have ya been there, done that?"

That bit of useless trivia behind us, I decided to search further, our friend deja vu also has a scientific name; Promnesia.  This term, describes the phenomenon of deja vu, coming from Modern Latin, who I might add, derived it from the Greeks mean, pro-"before" plus mnesia-"memory." Keeping that thought, let's look at the origins of amnesia.  This little word became vogue around 1780-90 (can't remember exactly!), the Neo-Latin tongues stole it from the Greeks (again) and is a variant of the word amnestia meaning "oblivion".  My mind in a tizzy, delving deeper into this mystery of words, amnestia, for the record was not in the dictionary or at least not mine. Ironically, perhaps they forgot it!  Deciding to use word search, amnestia, is mentioned.  2437 Amnestia is a main belt asteroid and was discovered on September 14, 1942 by, can't seem to remember, in the city of Turku on the southwest coast of Finland at the mouth of the Aura River, in the region of Finland Proper. Turku is believed to have been first settled around the 13th century, (they can't remember either) and the predominant language spoken is Swedish! They seem to have forgotten they are in FINLAND!

With all this info meaning absolutely nothing, deja vu still intrigues me.  Having had moments of " Mon cherie, croyez-vous en déjà vue?" okay "been there done that!"  words intrigue me.  How we say them, what we insinuate, what is perceived, everyone processes words and phrases, differently. We perceive certain languages to ooze of sensuality, French, Italian and Spanish, the first to come to mind.  When spoken fluently, these words of passion are beautiful, yet it is the thinkers, the free-spirited, the brain hoarders that questions everything and accept nothing as status quo that truly intrigues us all. 

Oh No the Big 60!

Five and a half hours and counting, to the birthday, another milestone so they tell me.  A barrage of the usual questions have begun to appear, some pretty standard, others, let's just say,"not so much!"   I prefer Mark Twain's comment regarding the aging process, "wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been!" All that aside, I don't really think of age as a number, instead, it's how you feel.  For the most part pretty good!  The usual aches and pains, no more than the previous fifteen years of my life.  Warmer weather has been a tremendous help on the old bones.  Things have a tendency to work much better when they are warm versus all scrunched up under an afghan trying to keep warm.

Social media a great way to say Happy Birthday and post all the cutesy little messages.  Those that have passed this way before me are the first to send their condolences, "oh  no the BIG 60!" "Wow, when you gonna collect Social Security?" Bodily functions seem to warrant conversation space as well!  Please spare me, everyone is well aware of the fact that when you drink and eat, you pee and poop, so goes the natural cycle of the body. So what does bother me?  Gravity! Oh bugger, I should live on the moon.  Weighing next to nothing, no pressure on the bones and perky body parts, NICE!

Looking forward, I have no plans to retire.  If I were to, I would merely be recycling myself.  My mind, always in a continuous state of perpetual motion,  constantly reminding and nagging the body, "you G-damn wimp, keep up!"  My brain was probably a reject from a Marine drill instructor, my body doesn't listen to ME either!

Occasionally, I look back, time has passed at warp speed, my children in the infancy stages of middle age, yet they will always be the kids.  Pride and admiration for my kids rush forth, swelling within my heart.  Some near others far, they will always be my kids.  I will worry, I will call, offer advice when asked, allow the memories tucked neatly away to bring smiles that warm me to the very core and I will look forward to new exciting ways of living the life that continues to beckon and impress me.  Never having been one to wallow, it is a senseless waste of time.  Life is all about can do and will do.  So instead of "when ya gonna retire?" I prefer, "What ya gonna be when you grow up?"  I don't really know but I'll let you know when I get there!

Relaxing Within

Fairfield, Iowa is billed as the safest, greenest and happiest town in America.  Transcendental Meditation being the reason, yet before we jump to conclusions and pass judgment, we need to look beyond only what we see no farther than the end of our nose.  On a recent broadcast of Oprah, the Next Chapter, we were introduced the citizens of this small town and their extraordinary way of life.  For those that view this lifestyle as the following of a certain ethnic or religious group, I say poo-poo to you.  If one's mind, body and soul are aligned, it must truly be a wonderful experience.  How often we are pulled in a multitude of directions, worrying needlessly and wishing the mind would stop launching hurdles every time we round the next corner. A pure dream come true to be able to wind down, sort things out and proceed with a feeling of inner well-being that would shine forth in our ever so cluttered material world.

Elizabeth Gilbert's book, Eat Pray Love, relates her struggle to become just such a person.  In a marriage of one-sided happiest she sets forth on a mission to truly search her soul and find out is there is such a thing as true inner peace.  I adore this woman's determination and what an opportunity,  travelling the world, experiencing cultures most just read about, what a lucky and fortunate woman.

In past years my family always asked, "Mom what do you want for your birthday?"  Pondering a bit, I would reply, "a simple Happy Birthday and a hug!"  Pressured for a more materialistic answer, my response was always. "there is nothing I need, but if you must, I would like a day off.  Truly a day off, no decision making, no mediating, no NOTHING! (double negative but it drives the point home.)  The caveat being, when the day is finished, the next always arriving, do not tell me of the previous day's problems, issues or anything else, unless of course it is a major life threatening issue.  For the record, never having received this gift, the hug and poignant Happy Birthday message was and always will be lovingly exquisite.

Questions always remained unanswered. "what would you do with such a day, had your wish been granted? Simply put, "relaxing from within, processing thoughts and breathing in my surroundings,  perhaps a personal transcendental meditation!"

Stumble ,Stumble,Crawl,Crawl!

As I sit here pondering.......pondering what, I'm not sure. Although there is a lot going on inside the cranium, it seems the thoughts are being sucked through the black hole into the depth of my brain, I think. Sounds silly, even to the point of ridiculous, however, "it is what it is!" Perhaps the events of the day are to blame, sure as hell "it ain't me babe!" Dear God, shades of Sonny and Cher! We'll blame that little gem on 107.7FM. Stuck in a traffic gridlock today,scanning the airwaves, "I've Got You Babe" fills the fume laden air I am now sucking in. That was also compliments of some piece of crap Geo idling directly in front of me. From what I could see this vehicle was held together by bungee cords, two wrapped around the remnants of a muffler and one holding the back hatch closed. Interesting though, the bungee cords and car color matched....dingy blue.

Sitting in traffic with an occasional false hope of movement, temperature hovering close to ninety (much too early for these temps), my immediate neighbor to the right, a brightly colored vehicle of blood red is being driven by a surly and strange looking middle aged man, unkempt appearance, literally dirty blonde hair and a scraggly beard,reminding me of the pirate movie "Yellowbeard". Having just gotten off the phone with my little buddy, Jack Henry, his prized birthday present of a pirate ship, only seemed to make my neighbor "Yellowbeard", all the more realistic. Scenes from the movie racing through my tired brain, the slow painful movement of traffic can only mean one thing, "stumble, stumble, crawl, crawl!" Aye Mate, ye's a tad off your rocker, ain't that the truth!

It has been a warm winter, snow birds and tourists have flocked to this tropical paradise in droves. We have welcomed them with opened arms, they are the mainstay of this economy. It is moments like this, my weary mind in a frenzied state of TGIF (clarification: my work week Friday), I want to drive like the wind. My love of late afternoon tropical setting sun, warm breezes rustling the majestic palms and swaying Spanish moss laden cypress trees, is now being invaded by a death star burning oil as well as my lungs,(that would be the dingy blue Geo), Yellowbeard's identical twin (blood red car on the right) and let us not forget, Sonny crooning to Cher.

In the distance, I am now able to see the flashing lights of a law enforcement vehicle. Could be a state trooper or a county sheriff, regardless they both give tickets, often. Trust me on this one, the voice of experience knows all too well the sick minds of the "County Mounties!". bored beyond belief, tired a sitting in traffic, not being able to reach my CD carrier, horrible tunes on the radio, I begin talking to the air, "wonder if this is a bad accident?" It is then I decide to call 511. If for no other reason than to occupy my mind. "Thankyou for dialing 511,please say or press one for menu options." Naturally I say one. What comes next is NOT a menu option. Hola(hello), por favor and a number of other Spanish directions are penetrating my brain. Hmm, must of said something other than one. During that fifteen second Spanish language spiel and with limited Spanish comprehension skills, I could of sworn I heard the word queso(cheese), but then again it might be the hunger pains now ravishing my body or the effects of the death star belching and puffing its toxic fumes, even Yellowbeard is beginning to look normal. He can't be all that bad, looks like he's sucking down a Dunkin Donut's iced coffee, lucky bastard!

As the flashing lights get closer,traffic once again seems to be moving, this time for real. I see no accident nor the remnants of one. Instead, one puffy,proud as a peacock sheriff, aiming a radar gun into the oncoming traffic is spoiling my much needed tension release easy drive home, now that really ticks me off. Yet there is some consolation, the tag team of troopers is now in the process of pulling over the disease ridden death star, also known as the dingy blue Geo. Half expecting to see the trooper emerge from his vehicle with a gas mask (he is going to need one), I am pleased to hear a number of frustrated drivers honking their horns and thrusting their thumbs up sign as they applaud the troopers choice. Much like a pack of wolves in the midst of a hunt, they have culled the herd, preying on the weakest and are now going in for the kill! Even the scraggy beard, dirty blond neighbor a.k.a Yellowbeard, seems delighted. Stumble, stumble, crawl, crawl is now a distant memory. Windows opened, radio blaring(Adele filling the airwaves), life is good, the world alright and TGIF!

Orange Blossom Oblivion!

Although the official Spring season not arriving until March 20th this year, the weather this past week, absolutely gorgeous.  Nights just cool enough, a sweater necessary to ward off the chill, perhaps a warming fire pit as well, would do the job.  But it is the season of the senses here in Florida, one can get a natural high from the scent of the orange blossoms, even more pungent in the dark coolness of the Florida nights.  Breathe in, breathe out, close your eyes and dazzle your senses, amazing the effects of the sweet orange blossoms.

Daytime, an additional delight as butterflies and hummingbirds join the masses of bees, all hurriedly darting back and forth from flower to flower.  The gardenias, sending the senses into a sweet delirium, making outside chores and lazy afternoon lounging, a delight.  Many of our northern friends not quite understanding the reasons we anxiously await the arrival of Spring here in this tropical paradise.  They question us with that "deer in the headlights" look, "isn't it always green and flowery in Florida?"  Truth be known, no.  Although there is always something growing, cool weather flowers helping to make the brown landscapes and barren trees more tolerable, it is basically a time for Mother Nature to take a much needed vacation.  Obviously, this year, she must have shortened her vacation, the winter season much milder than the previous three or four.  Perhaps her plans for a summer vacation have come into play instead.  Old timers saying, "Yep, mild winter, could be a brutal summer!"  Forever an optimist, maybe Mother Nature is taking a vacation at Disney World this summer and not conjuring up a brutal hurricane season or rains of monsoon like proportions!  Hey she needs a bit of time off too!

The reason for the season and the true meaning of Equinox is "equal night."  It is the time when all the world has equal hours of sunlight and nighttime, the sun being positioned directly over the equator.
For our earlier ancestors, it meant a time their foods would be restored.  I am sure it is no coincidence the Egyptians built the Great Sphinx so that it points directly towards the rising sun on the day of the Vernal Equinox.  But then, was it just the Egyptians that built these wonders of the world.  Earlier drawings show a people with elongated shaped heads and necks.  Warp speed to the future, I do believe I saw creatures with the same features in "Star Wars" or was it "Lost in Space?"  Regardless, basking in sunlight, soaking up the sights and sounds of a Florida springtime, I am sounding more and more like I am ascending (a high) into Orange Blossom Oblivion!

A Rainy Day Thought

Daylight savings time, usually associated with Spring, more hours of being awake, the world renewed, we think all things new and rejuvenated. Here in Florida, the winter months of less sunlight hours only seems to accentuate the additional time in which to view the beauty of this tropical paradise. As with most springtime seasons, the world of "sleeping beauty", Mother nature herself, has opened her delicate eyes, reaching towards the heavens as the rays of warmth radiate forth. She stretches her delicate appendages as grasses turn to emerald green, the redbuds swollen, burst forth and the vivid colors almost seems to splash the earth with a rainbow of colors. Yes, the sights and scents remind us of the beauty that surround us and dazzle every delicate breathe we take. There is nothing more heavenly than the scent of the orange blossoms and gardenias. The delicate sweetness these gorgeous blossoms produce, send honey bees and intricately colored butterflies into a frenzy.

Today's springtime shower, washing away all the remmnants of the yellowish lime green pollen that has coated any and all available surfaces, once again the fresh and new world, is spotless. After a dry warmer winter than normal, the young tender shoots and swollen buds soaking up, almost gulping the refreshing moisture that the ominous storm clouds have produced. A brisk walk in the spring shower, fueled by the southwesterly winds is very invigorating. An umbrella from the heavier downpour is all one needs to enjoy watching the creatures play in the quickly rising pools and swift running streams, instantly created by the over abundance of water on the dry harden grounds. The winds of spring have begun to clean the preserve of the dry rotted mulch left from the leaf drop of the previous autumn season. We can now see the chipmunks, squirrels and little mice emerge, but then so can our favorite hunters, the owls and the osprey. A fine and delicate balance our friend Mother Nature has created, survival of the fittest or at least the fastest!

A good day to sit on the porch, perhaps reading a favorite book or just writing about a bunch of little nothings that we always take for granted. Looking at a rather large Sunday newspaper with its weekly magazine, a small comment catches my eye, Springtime in Paris! Now that fuels the thought process. The trees that line the banks of the Siene must be swollen by now, the blossoms waiting to burst forth. The ornate architecture of each building waiting to be decorated with the multitudes of window boxes, blossoms spilling forth, adding color to the dark and gothic structures that stand guard protesting the secrets of the City of Lights.

Perhaps it is just the spring season that brings this endless amount of energy, but then a certains someone reminds me that is pretty much me, everyday! Perhaps it's just the need to pack so much into my daily life that produces this energy, for sure is not sugar consumption! A walk in the rain, a walk in the sunlight, both produce the same invigorating feelings. I am reminded of a conversation with a friend who has a physical disability, "what I used to take for granted, I now hold closest to my heart. Good, bad or indifferent, rain is rain, but a walk whether in the sunlight, rain or alone, I long for a walk, a long walk!"

Friendship...At a Cost

"Words are easy, like the wind; Faithful friends are hard to find," a quote from the master, William Shakespeare. The relationships we build must be nurtured, their very survival dependent upon a rock solid foundation.  Without trust, neither friendship nor marriage survives.  But the question always remains; once that trust is compromised can any relationship survive?  Perhaps, depending on the  individuals involved. Wondering what provoked this train of thought, all you have to do is look and listen to the media. As with most "news worthy releases," its all about money, always is. We as a people love controversy, exploitation of other's misfortunes, whether created by the individual or just plain old fashioned gossip and a need to have the "scoop" on someone.  While we bask in the glory of "breaking the story," we fail to realize nor care that blood has been drawn.  For what reason the sharp edge sword rears its ugly head truly baffles me.

Case in point, Tiger Woods.  He was wrong, admittedly so, yet there have been others too numerous to count or remember that have committed the same misdeeds, but then he was the games' savior. Tiger has paid the price, he continues to do so, sadly only a few of his friends speaking out in his defense.  The game needs Tiger just as he needs the game.  During the span of this young man's career, he has been befriended by those whom he thought he could trust, sadly for the love of money, jealousy or wanting to break the story, a man he counted on and confided in, now rears his ugly head.

Just as the publics' thirst for more Tiger stories of infidelities, illegitimate off-springs, wild rough sex encounters and the like have begun to wane, his former swing coach Hank Haney announces a tell all book about his Tiger years, will be released a week before the Masters.  Poor taste on Mr. Haney's part, great marketing perhaps, but poor taste.  Did his fame come from being a great swing coach or was it because he coached one of the greatest golfers of all time?  His face and name no longer in the forefront, his decision to be hurtful should once again fill his bank accounts, so much for friendship. Advertisers and investors thrilled, the audience will triple but questions must be asked, why will they watch?  Will Tiger falter and those who desire the game of golf be returned to the elite few, finally have their way? Will they watch, encouraging him or will they pray he humiliates himself? 

As with all rich and famous, we love and envy them, we embrace their lives, placing them on the highest pedestal, we forget they are human just as are we!  Aside from all their money, we want them to be role models, we want our children to "grow up and be just like them." We forget, we are our childrens' role models. We throw slurs, we propagate rumors, we bask in the glory of "breaking the story" and we place the blame for society's misdeeds on anyone other than ourselves.

Angel Notification

Looking at the beauty surrounding us, we often take for granted everything! Just as the sun rises and sets we sleep, we work, play and each day the process begins anew. More often than not we think only of daily activities, planning perhaps but on the scope of largeness and the infinite possibilities that lie before us. or that are even presented knowingly and unknowingly to us, we often do not recognize or acknowledge their existence.

Perhaps my daily travels offer more contemplation time, yet when trying to rest the weary body, much like the newborn baby whose inner clock flip flops, my contemplation time is in the darkness and silence of the wee night time hours. More than likely it is just the stubbornness of the mind that has been fighting for front line recognition all day, now as the body drift towards dream time, the brain says "I don't think so! My time to be heard."  The body, too tired to resist says, "okay make it quick!"  Realizing much of my skills as a communicator rely on being precise, making quick decisions and providing up to the minute information, allowing things to proceed at a rapid pace, the tangent personality that has been suppressed during the entire day, now has free run.  Not good!

Sleepy time usually means exhaustion, flop into bed, instant sleep for thirty to forty five minutes, awakening to an imaginary inner alarm clock, my brain, giving me that little devious smile announces, "excuse me, but you didn't let me wind down and share my inner thoughts, again.  A large part of me remains unused, sleeping or being totally ignored for most of the day, while the body does its thing, now YOU must pay for this abuse!"  No longer able to fight this naughty childlike tantrum, I open my eyes and "let the games begin!"

Earlier conversations from the day, all fighting for recognition, screaming to make their point come flying to the forefront and as if the spinning wheel stops, the first one pops out. Angels are the first to appear. Thankfully, this was a happy upbeat conversation. Simple asked by a young lady, "Do you believe in Angels?" "Of course I do, why do you ask?" I question.  With a seriousness and sincerity well beyond her years, she begins, "I do too, but I question my faith." she reveals.  Again, the look, I see the wheels of thought rapidly turning.  As they grind to a halt, the question of affirmation is re-asked, "have you ever seen an angel?" 

With the death of my mother, the security of knowing you always had a parent you could talk to, was laid to rest.  Mom was almost eighty-three and had outlived my Dad by twelve years.  In the scope of time, she was sick only a relatively short period.  During that time, she forced me to learn, this decision was out of my hands.  She was torn, leaving her daughters and grandchildren was not going to be easy, but she took comfort in knowing, she would be reunited with the love of life, our Dad.  Happy at the thought, as her soul ascended to her heavenly body, she would once again be whole.  No pain,  no suffering, Dad and her reunited would be as one.  Her faith, unshaken, she would prepare herself.  If questioning thought invaded her weary mind, she justified them.  Sharing, she feared, Dad would "see" her as frail, hair falling out in clumps, and her outward physical appearance altered by a mastectomy.  "Mommy, Dad will see you as you are, a beautiful spirit, an undying love, he awaits Mommy, are you afraid?" I softly questioned.  Mustering all her strength, her voice barely audible, she squeezes my hand, "Yes my youngest daughter, I am afraid.  Afraid of leaving all of you, afraid it might not be as I hoped, but my faith has brought me here, it will get me through.....and...with a tightness in her hand and a gentle calm in her eyes, she reveals, "Thank God Daddy was a leg man!"

About a month or so after Mom had passed, the homestead sold, my sister Patty back in Arizona handling the details of the estate, receives a call.  Although nothing is there, the caller ID reveals the name of our Dad, Arthur McKenna.  Thinking she is crazy, she looks again, "how can this be? The phone was turned off a month ago, taken from the house.  Who even knows me?"  She collects her thoughts, "I must take a picture  of this!"  Sending it via email to me and her nephews, she is at a loss for words.  As with all things, they happen for a reason!    Mom and Dad reunited in the heavens above, Dad let us know.  Think what you may! Yes, there are angels, perhaps not always seen and yes, I believe in angels.