Age Related

Another birthday, another year, so goes the cycle, can't stop it, so why dwell on it? A recent media poll reports, the majority of Americans, forty and over, at not focusing or planning for long term health care.  Why?  Many report, they don't think about growing older, they feel great, are too busy and a large part of the process, much too expensive.  The last part of that statement IS reality!

Out of sight, out of mind, seems to sum up the theory of why we adults do not plan.  The report however, does not mention certain facts: Americans are putting off having children, which in turn means, the expense of raising a family comes later in life for those that choose this road.  We then justify our decisions with, "my kids keep me young."  A truthful statement,  or is there a more sinister, darker double meaning? Is the expense justifiable at this point? Will the funds be available when needed? Not wanting to play my "conspiracy theory" card, certain historical facts suggest the possibility, the funds will  be misappropriated. So, what's a body supposed to do? A question we find troublesome, the answer even more so.

The report polled a number of people, with the majority not having a plan, for whatever reason.  One honest answer came from someone who as suffered from a number of chronic illnesses much of her adult life.  In this case, her need was clearly understood by all parties involved, particularly the person with the illness.  But questions still loom for those aging but clearly unaffected by the aging process.  Unfortunately, the right answer might be to take an individualistic approach at best.

In the United States, "aging gracefully" implies that we maintain our physical beauty, remain self-sufficient and stay as active as ever.  For many the general consensus is:  we shouldn't age at all, we value independence and individualism.  With that thought firmly imbedded in our psyche,  dare we suggest this be a reason long term health care plans are not a priority for the millions approaching their "golden years?"

**Yet in other cultures - such as that of Japan - the same pressure to stay forever young doesn't exist, says renowned University of Wisconsin-Madison aging expert Carol Ryff. With a team of U.S. and Japanese researchers, Ryff is now examining the consequences of cultural differences like this for people's emotional and physical health as they get older.

Whatever thought process or statistical analogy we believe or base our needs upon, perhaps re-visitingthe idea of long term health care should be a priority.

** source: University of Wisconsin

Oh What to Watch?

Although recent television broadcast have been less than thought provoking and offer little or no stimulation  for the brain, I do enjoy creative writing and frantically surf through the multitude of channels searching for "the Holy Grail" of entertainment.  TV shows that fall into the category of reality shows, fill the void and round out the evening programs but offer little in the way of brain stimulation.    A number of seasons back, the birth of reality TV offered a different type of mind stimulation. Some adventurous, others a glimpse into the privacy of growing families, but mostly everyday life.

Through channel surfing and at times out of sheer boredom, we watch families grow to outrageous proportions, marriages crumble, nannies tame spoiled brats,  couples switch families, outrageously rich become famous for their outrageously rich lifestyles, offspring of the rich folk achieve stardom by  becoming tabloid fodder, then sought after by paparazzi  and mimicked by impressionable young minds, believing this to be normal, but why? Simply because they have the means (money) to make this all happen!

Of course, the Bachelor or Bachelorette are just everyday people trying to fall in love, isn't this the way everyone finds their true soul mate?  Right, and Survivor has survived way too long, the Donald needs a new hairstyle, Honey Boo Boo is in the same category as Toddlers and Tiaras (strange, rude and nasty families) and hopefully alien life in search of a planet to inhabit will realize, "whoa this ain't the place!"

Strangely enough and also thankfully, there are bright spots.  Half hour comedy spots for the most part a superbly written.  We can enjoy their antics, relax and realize, they are very much like our neighborhoods.  Same thoughts, quirky personalities, crazy emotions and list goes on.  Kudos to the creators and writers whose thought processes and creative instincts keep the shows rolling but do not drag.  A personal favorite, Big Bang Theory.  It's perception of nerdy characters is well written, diverse and hilariously funny. Ironically, I must admit, within my own circle of acquaintances, lives the cast of this show.

All This From the Super Bowl?

Super Bowl Sunday, in all its glory has once again been laid to rest.  Hype leading up to this year's  big game, pretty much status quo with one exception.  A recent news broadcast,  from one of the big three networks, asked a very simple question: DOES GOD DECIDE WHO THE SUPER BOWL WINNER IS?  If you want an answer filled with innocent thought, not yet tainted by worldly views, perhaps the mind of a child is best suited to answer.  This is exactly what ABC Nightly News did.  

Answers were poignant yet innocent and should one read anything into this, somewhat inquisitive ............." We'll, it's an important game isn't it?" Others preferred the direct approach, signaling either shyness or silliness on the part of the adult asking the question.........."Nope!" From the mind of a gently spirited young girl we learned, "God takes care of all the animals and fish." Perhaps the most vocal, a young boy, "yes he does, important things like that are always decided by God."

.

Sunday morning conversation in the adult world, "go 49 ers!"  Not wanting to interrupt this group in deep conversation, almost to the point of coming to blows over "the Game," I waited.  As one drew a long breath, readying for the final argument as to why his team would be the victor, I interjected, "DOES GOD DECIDE WHO THE SUPER BOWL WINNER IS?"

Facial expressions, body language and to some point verbalization, suggested an
uneasiness had consumed the group.  What I found most interesting, no one stepped
forward to answer the question. Repeating the question gave new meaning to the
phrase, "dazed and confused."  Deciding to ease the confusion that seemed to consume the group, I explained the reason for this question, none had watched the news
broadcast. Throughout the day I watched and listened, a seed had been planted.  I simply wondered, would it grow or wither and die.

Certain topics of conversation are more approachable that others, many shy away from those they feel create controversy.  I wanted an answer but the topic of what was perceived to be religion created a mine field many were not willing to cross.  Interjecting an additional topic, directly related to both God and football, opened a clear path across the mine field.  "Would I be able to get an answer from Tim Tebow?" was the question now on the table.  With this additional seed sown, it was clear, withering and dying we're no longer an option.  

The power of prayer or meditation can be defined as a wish or request for something.  In my world it gives me strength, a time to reflect on inner feelings, sort out emotions, seek answers  and rationalize what I may have known all along.  As a friend once stated, my religious views are evolving.  As a child my parents planted the seed, many additional seeds followed.  None have withered and died, my life is filled with the love of my family, friends and yes, my Maker. My faith and prayer provide me with all things...........the desire for all things comes from with in.   There will always be unanswered questions, perhaps if we give great thought, ask them differently, the answers we so desperately seek, will appear.

Aging....Can't Stop It ..So Enjoy!

Somebody once mentioned that age, numerical that is, didn't bother them.  But as the sixtieth occurred they said, with a touch of dry cynicism and a bit of melancholy, "this one hurts!"  On the flip side, a young woman began sobbing, dabbing her mascara ladened eyes, "I am turning thirty today, my goodness, I feel old!" Was I suppose to feel badly for her, show sympathy or offer some encouraging words? At double the young one's age, I think not!  As the sniffles continued, she began waving her hands, as if overcome by heat and with a voice reminiscent of Scarlet O'Hara, she wailed, "my babies are growing up, my oldest is almost nine, what am I going to do?" Really? My "babies" are a tad bit older than her for God's sake! However, in answer to the forlorn question, " ain't nothing you can do sweet cheeks!"

At a recent hors d'oeuvre party, many of the Guests were "seasoned," (old).  Should one judge them by appearance, the consensus would be unanimous , "old poops," as their thoughts, words and actions affirmed the message my brain was sending.  The differences in each gender were quite mind boggling and I found myself constantly seeking reassurance from my brain that this was not a typical cross-section of an active over fifty-five golfing community.   Trying to pinpoint what caused such narrow minded thinking,  their original geographical place of birth, revealed much about their food choices, their hard nosed opinions and why the question of my political affiliation was asked.

Knowledge gained from this recent social event, worrisome.  The existence of old fart males believing their female counterparts have limited brain functions and should only voice opinions when asked by THEM, is alive and well!  As my better half mused, "well my love, thankfully we won't be attending functions with that crowd again? Your points were well made, just wasted. They don't and won't understand!"  But damn, I felt good sharing and to some extent, scaring those with archaic opinions and a "drop the bomb" mentality.

Foods we eat have a direct affect on our brains, elderly middle America has eaten way to much corn
and wheat, adding the cheese, we now have a back up in bodily functions, allowing waste products to spew forth from their mouths.  Making mention of the fresh fruit and vegetables available at the local Farmers' Market, one would of thought I had two heads. Perhaps that too has something to do with my place of birth or political affiliation!

Random Environmental Thoughts

With constant bombardment by the media, social networks, environmentalists and the many others jumping on the environmental bandwagon, a lackadaisical approach towards reducing our carbon footprint is considered unacceptable. My first thought is: and......it should be? As billions of humans smother this planet, living in harmony with all things is a necessity: as......it should be!

Reaping the rewards of what our world offers is painstakingly hard work.  Healing the wounds, protecting the remaining functionality and beauty of this planet IS the responsibility of everyone.  What we fail to realize is the need for harmony, which can clearly be defined as the interweaving of all living things with a common purpose, survival.

Although all living species have survival ingrained  in their DNA, the opposite end of the spectrum is destruction.  We as humans, seem to be hellbent on annihilation of other living species and at times, even ourselves.  

Changing our mindset, not an easy task. Can we continue to rape the lands, creating excessive waste, believing it will  not affect this planet and its inhabitants?  The answer so much simpler than the solution, NO we cannot!

Statistics tell us we are NOT a naturally harmonious species, conquering and dividing, a way of life.  Very much a people with reactive personalities, individual needs and wants quickly satisfied, the long range effects not always a part of the though process, leaving lasting and in many cases, irreparable wounds. Yet thankfully, signs of remorse are now emerging, we do realize we want to leave our children a world worth living in. Perhaps it is the few diligently educating those that will change the mindset of the masses.

A Testimonial in Belonging

January always signals the final arrival of the annual mass migration of snowbirds to their winter nests.  For the most part they are a welcome addition to this southern land, pumping millions of dollars into our economy.  For those that live and work in this peninsula state, forgive us if we sometimes grumble. As a permanent transplant from a much colder climate, I too once felt the sometime resentment of these mostly hospitable and gracious southern people.  As a former resident of one of the most populated corridors in the States, traffic congestion was a way of life. How silly are we to think, the northeast cornered the market!

As most northeastern snowbirds arrive, they flock to the coastal areas of this tropical land.  Our landlocked species from the Midwest and central Canada, fill in the midsection of central Florida.  It is this midsection, we now call home.  Not that a coastal home wasn't considered, but the practical side of being a permanent transplant, better known as the "clipped winged snowbird wannabe', was purely a matter of economics.

As the only gainfully employed member of this golfing twosome, the older half now retired,  economically speaking, central Florida has it all. Fantastic weather, ask the MOUSE, he too calls this region, home.  Economically speaking, the past few years have not been kind to many, but many still flock to this region, need we ask why?

We had long considered being snowbirds but decided, much like an icy plunge into the cold waters of the northern Atlantic Ocean during the winter months, it was feet first and all in!  Having just passed our fifth anniversary, we consider ourselves Floridians.  Once asked by a newly arrived clipped winged snowbird wannabe,"when will I get that sense of belonging?"  Without hesitation, I ask, "did you bring your medical records?"

Our neighborhood, highways and byways are alive, we renew old friendships, welcome those that sometimes experience that nervous unexplained feeling of homesickness, urging them to relax, open their eyes and understand, change does the body, mind and spirit good.  Allowing it to invade your being you experience a re-birth, a sense of belonging!

It's Just a Cold, for Goodness Sake!

Symptoms of the common cold may include cough, sore throat, nasal congestion, runny nose, and sneezing. More than 200 different types of viruses are known to cause the common cold, with rhinovirus causing approximately one third of all adult colds. For this reason, colds are a frequent and recurring problem. Adults typically have two to four colds per year. The common cold occurs most frequently during the fall and winter months.

As luck would have it, I have three out of the five afore-mentioned symptoms, more than likely the fat rhinovirus, the culprit.  Runny nose, sneezing and nasal congestion of extreme proportions have consumed my airway. Total blockage, deafness, heart stopping sneezes and a nose that Rudolph would die for.  Not to mention, I am cold, yet it's not cold out.  Perhaps an inner cold with one major exception, the God blessed nose, it's on fire.

Admitting I am a "woosie,"  I sense impatient defeat.  Nasal sprays, decongestants, eucalyptus lozenges, Vicks are just temporary relief.  I have taken Airborne, which for the record does dry up the runny nose, but everything else as well, so if sleep does come to the body,one awakens with lips stuck to to your teeth, tongue so dry, you feel like the neighborhood dog searching for the nearest waterhole on a steamy August afternoon!

Supposedly consuming large amounts of liquids is good.  So say those that do not have a cold!  Just when a comfy position is acquired and sleep is imminent, nature sounds it alarm, blow the ballasts!  This vicious cycle continues into the wee hours, decisions need be made; do I once again try to get comfortable, use more cold remedies, get up walk the halls of the house, plot bodily harm on those  within these walls that can breathe and sleep, therefore providing a partner to share my miserable feeling or do I suffer in silence? Perhaps sharing my misery with the world will suffice.

Writer's Block...Unplugged

Our ability to search the web for God knows what, is a mere lesson of sizable proportions, probably becoming more understandable when compared to something along the lines of Carl Sagan's "infinite possibilities." 

 Remembering a conversation years back when trying to understand the the depth of eBay auctions;  "as I racked my brain, trying to figure out something that would not appear for sale, enema popped out ( forgive the pun) of the swirling boiling mush of a brain, that is thankfully locked tightly within my skull!" When dissecting that statement, a first thought might be, who cares? But, upon further consideration  and curiosity, I typed "enemas."  The rest is history!

Knowing I should let my weary bones rest, the evil child within my brain once again begins its temper tantrum of stupid thoughts.  As I sit in the darkness of my living room, snuggled deeply within the favorite corner of my couch,  the struggle of thoughts surfacing and the powering down of the body, begin their mighty battle.  

Typing "dictionary" into search, a multitude of choices appear before me.  Having used this before, my immediate choice is  MERRIAM-WEBSTER  online.  I had thought about bookmarking this site, but then questioning myself; 

"How will I know if  any newer sights have been added?" I left it as status quo.  

"Writer's Block" now literally staring at me, I hit the search tab:  "a psychological inhibition preventing a writer from proceeding with a piece." I think it should say ,PEACE,  I'd like to be able to sleep.  M-dubya*as she prefers to be called, is loaded with great trivia for the evil child gnawing at my brain.

 Other phrases that rhyme with WRITER'S BLOCK were numerous, some silly and some I had no idea.  Searching for "alpenstock ," just because it rhymed and M-dubya*suggested I do so, I learned:  "long iron-pointed staff used in mountain climbing."  Perhaps one day I will have the opportunity to give the alpenstock a try.  As for now,  the evil one has learned something new, although trivial.  It should suffice, but taking sinus medication as a chaser, should do the trick.

*M-dubya: my friend MERRIAM-WEBSTER!

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!