I'm sorry about how late this post is today. Believe me, I have been trying!! I got that same error message again and haven't even begun to figure out what is going on. So I ended up coming down the basement to watch the OSU game and we have an older computer down here. The blog came up and the button for posting came up, so here I am.
Just as a little note -- in case something would ever happen and you would access the blog on a given day -- know that something is WRONG. Keep trying. At that point, it would be very helpful if you would send me your email address to knelsen@uakron.edu and then I'll be able to let you know what has happened.
At this point, the cursor won't go anywhere but here, so I'm beginning again a few lines down. Oh brother!
Now a whole section just disappeared! This has not been a fun day so far. At any rate, let me rephrase what I tried to say up above. If you access the blog and there is no new posting, it means that I've got technical difficulties that I can't surmount. Like upstairs.
So hang in there with me and take a few moments to send me your email at knelsen@uakron.edu and then I'll be able to notify you as to what is going on and when the posts might resume.
Thanks so much. I'm absolutely tapped out from trying to get this thing working and also from preparing the Thanksgiving meal yesterday, etc., so hope you'll excuse me from writing any more today.
Thanks be to God for all of his goodness, for his patience with an impatient people, for the bounty we receive, and for our loving families and friends!
See you (I hope) on Tuesday.
Take care.
Light of Christ
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Friday, November 29, 2013
It's Black Friday
I hope your Thanksgiving yesterday was wonderful. Full of family, good food, and conversation!! There's always a bit of a nostalgia about the holiday though, because we can't help but remember the family members who are either unable to be with us or those who have passed away.
There are so many memories that Thanksgiving conjures up for us. The food usually tastes the same, but maybe the dressing isn't quite as good as Grandma's was. Or maybe one recipe was traded for another, and you like the new one but sort of miss the old one.
Today is our Thanksgiving with the four grown children and the grandchildren. It's always a bit of chaos but always great fun. Especially to watch the grandchildren relate to one another. There is always a moment, something funny that happens, that absolutely no one could predict. At Halloween, for example, my eldest son misspoke in attempting to get his son's attention (whose name is Drew), and called him, "Greg," which is his younger brother's name. That really created a roar of laughter from everyone.
My grandfather in his later years called people by the wrong name all of the time. That same age-related confusion has plagued a lot of people in our family, and then when I do it, it drives me crazy!! Usually, I catch it as soon as the name comes out of my mouth, but the scariest times are when I don't. We're very Alzheimer and dementia aware these days. So your first thought is, "Am I _____." And then you dismiss it, saying that it was only the one time and it might happen again, but not often.
So as far as today is concerned -- the stuffing is ready for the oven, the turkey is in the dutch oven, the upside down pumpkin cake is baking in the oven, the cheeseball is ready, the jello with cranberries is ready, and the only thing I actually have left to do that requires some labor is peel potatoes. I can manage that.
We're coming around to the first anniversary of this blog. It began at the very beginning of January 2013. I hope that you stay on board, because if you do, I'll keep on writing Tuesday through Saturday without interruption (or at least not many interruptions).
By the way, on a side note, I've attended two of the class reunion committee meetings so far. We had talked a few months ago about somehow rewarding anyone who might show up with their class sweater. They were absolutely the most blah looking things I've ever seen. Mine disappeared YEARS ago. Well, of the 16 of us who gathered at the November meeting, TWO of the 16 still have their sweaters!! Can you even believe that? One classmate looked at them with amazement on her face, and whined, "WHY?"
What did we expect when we chose beige and brown as our class colors?
Be sure to find Martha Stewart's guide to creating a memorable Christmas -- her Advent planning. It's always worth a laugh or two. In her current issue of "Martha Stewart Living," she shows a number of "holiday" trees. They are "holiday" because they sure aren't Christmas. Not one angel, not one crèche scene, not one star, not the magi, nothing. There are alphabet ornaments for her toddler grandchildren. There are menorahs. Just nothing with "Christ" in it. What kind of PC world are we creating here? Why bother calling it Christmas?
Take care.
There are so many memories that Thanksgiving conjures up for us. The food usually tastes the same, but maybe the dressing isn't quite as good as Grandma's was. Or maybe one recipe was traded for another, and you like the new one but sort of miss the old one.
Today is our Thanksgiving with the four grown children and the grandchildren. It's always a bit of chaos but always great fun. Especially to watch the grandchildren relate to one another. There is always a moment, something funny that happens, that absolutely no one could predict. At Halloween, for example, my eldest son misspoke in attempting to get his son's attention (whose name is Drew), and called him, "Greg," which is his younger brother's name. That really created a roar of laughter from everyone.
My grandfather in his later years called people by the wrong name all of the time. That same age-related confusion has plagued a lot of people in our family, and then when I do it, it drives me crazy!! Usually, I catch it as soon as the name comes out of my mouth, but the scariest times are when I don't. We're very Alzheimer and dementia aware these days. So your first thought is, "Am I _____." And then you dismiss it, saying that it was only the one time and it might happen again, but not often.
So as far as today is concerned -- the stuffing is ready for the oven, the turkey is in the dutch oven, the upside down pumpkin cake is baking in the oven, the cheeseball is ready, the jello with cranberries is ready, and the only thing I actually have left to do that requires some labor is peel potatoes. I can manage that.
We're coming around to the first anniversary of this blog. It began at the very beginning of January 2013. I hope that you stay on board, because if you do, I'll keep on writing Tuesday through Saturday without interruption (or at least not many interruptions).
By the way, on a side note, I've attended two of the class reunion committee meetings so far. We had talked a few months ago about somehow rewarding anyone who might show up with their class sweater. They were absolutely the most blah looking things I've ever seen. Mine disappeared YEARS ago. Well, of the 16 of us who gathered at the November meeting, TWO of the 16 still have their sweaters!! Can you even believe that? One classmate looked at them with amazement on her face, and whined, "WHY?"
What did we expect when we chose beige and brown as our class colors?
Be sure to find Martha Stewart's guide to creating a memorable Christmas -- her Advent planning. It's always worth a laugh or two. In her current issue of "Martha Stewart Living," she shows a number of "holiday" trees. They are "holiday" because they sure aren't Christmas. Not one angel, not one crèche scene, not one star, not the magi, nothing. There are alphabet ornaments for her toddler grandchildren. There are menorahs. Just nothing with "Christ" in it. What kind of PC world are we creating here? Why bother calling it Christmas?
Take care.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Cozy Wednesday
The kids are off of school today thanks to the wintery weather we had yesterday. This time the forecasters had it right on the dot -- the serious snow started here at around 3:00 p.m., just like they predicted.
So it's one of those hot chocolate, play with the toys, watch a little TV like Jake and the Pirates and Sophia the First, cuddle in a blanket and relax days. A cozy day for the children and those of us lucky enough not to have to venture out into the cold today.
I do feel bad, however, for those who were trying to reach family members for Thanksgiving. There are a lot of them stranded at the airports right now, trying to find a flight to wherever they are going. Apparently, the weather over most of the U.S. will be fine tomorrow, but the snow came at just the time when so many are heading out. The whole mess underscores the "reason for the season" which is that family and Thanksgiving are uniquely united.
Thanksgiving was observed in the early years of our country, but there was no formal proclamation to that effect until Abraham Lincoln set the last Thursday of the month of November as the official Thanksgiving. In his proclamation, he invoked the name of God many, many times. Thus, although Thanksgiving is a holiday set by the government, its link with our faith is undisputed.
For me Thanksgiving means doing a lot of cooking, cleaning, and preparing. It does NOT mean going to the mall, any store whatsoever, or standing in a line in the frigid cold waiting to get $20 off a TV. For me, the day of Thanksgiving is special, but so is the day after and the weekend after. It's a time to just take some time to relax and appreciate everything in my life, all the gifts, the special people, the blessings. Then on Saturday, it's time to watch the annual battle between Michigan and Ohio State. It's always a good game, rooted in tradition and high on emotion.
At some point when our kids were grown and the dynamics of them trying to go to more than one house made it difficult, we changed things up and it's stayed that way. We have everyone over for the full meal on Friday. That way they can come over and enjoy themselves and not have to rush off somewhere else, and they can come over hungry. It's worked out well and I have no regrets. As my husband observed today, Friday feels like Thanksgiving for us.
As you prepare for the holiday, as you get out each ingredient to prepare the meal, as you fire up the stove, hook up the mixer, pull out the roasting pan, and smell the wonderful aroma of pies, turkey, and dressing, take a moment to thank God for his bounty. The Akron-Canton Food Bank called yesterday and their message is that one in seven is hungry right here in our area. That is definitely something to consider and they are a very worthwhile group to support.
Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!!
So it's one of those hot chocolate, play with the toys, watch a little TV like Jake and the Pirates and Sophia the First, cuddle in a blanket and relax days. A cozy day for the children and those of us lucky enough not to have to venture out into the cold today.
I do feel bad, however, for those who were trying to reach family members for Thanksgiving. There are a lot of them stranded at the airports right now, trying to find a flight to wherever they are going. Apparently, the weather over most of the U.S. will be fine tomorrow, but the snow came at just the time when so many are heading out. The whole mess underscores the "reason for the season" which is that family and Thanksgiving are uniquely united.
Thanksgiving was observed in the early years of our country, but there was no formal proclamation to that effect until Abraham Lincoln set the last Thursday of the month of November as the official Thanksgiving. In his proclamation, he invoked the name of God many, many times. Thus, although Thanksgiving is a holiday set by the government, its link with our faith is undisputed.
For me Thanksgiving means doing a lot of cooking, cleaning, and preparing. It does NOT mean going to the mall, any store whatsoever, or standing in a line in the frigid cold waiting to get $20 off a TV. For me, the day of Thanksgiving is special, but so is the day after and the weekend after. It's a time to just take some time to relax and appreciate everything in my life, all the gifts, the special people, the blessings. Then on Saturday, it's time to watch the annual battle between Michigan and Ohio State. It's always a good game, rooted in tradition and high on emotion.
At some point when our kids were grown and the dynamics of them trying to go to more than one house made it difficult, we changed things up and it's stayed that way. We have everyone over for the full meal on Friday. That way they can come over and enjoy themselves and not have to rush off somewhere else, and they can come over hungry. It's worked out well and I have no regrets. As my husband observed today, Friday feels like Thanksgiving for us.
As you prepare for the holiday, as you get out each ingredient to prepare the meal, as you fire up the stove, hook up the mixer, pull out the roasting pan, and smell the wonderful aroma of pies, turkey, and dressing, take a moment to thank God for his bounty. The Akron-Canton Food Bank called yesterday and their message is that one in seven is hungry right here in our area. That is definitely something to consider and they are a very worthwhile group to support.
Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!!
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Goofy Computers
I don't know about you, but technology stuff keeps creeping into my life whether I seem to choose it or not.
Back in the day when I was working at The Signal in Canal Fulton as the editor, the powers that be dictated that we start using a computer to send our copy to Lisbon, Ohio, the home base for the paper. So we got computers and went to a half-day of training near West Virginia. By Friday of that week, I was to have saved all of the stories we wrote onto a disk and drive the disk to Lisbon. I made it but my neck was in bad shape.
Somehow from the tension of sitting at the computer and trying to learn everything in the space of a few days, I'd aggravated a nerve in my neck/shoulder area. It was so bad, I couldn't sleep at night. I went across the street to the doctor's office (at that time), and told the doctor, "I have computer neck." He laughed but it turned out that I wasn't going to be the only one by a long shot.
The neck really didn't clear up until I went to work for The University of Akron and they didn't have any. So my neck got a nice, needed rest before computers started showing up there and by that time I was much more comfortable.
Today I note that my email is in a different format from yesterday. Why? I haven't the foggiest idea. I got an error message today saying that the browser I've used forever isn't supported. Why? I haven't the foggiest idea. Lately, every time I try to write the posting for the day, I get a message saying that I need to log in again. Why? I haven't the foggiest idea. So you get the picture.
We are all captives of technology in some way, aren't we? My new "digital" camera is yet another device I had to figure out since it can't really work on it's own without eventually hooking to the computer via cable in order to dump the contents. My GPS unit is the same. The printer is also hooked to the computer, because we tried going wireless and being that we live down in a hole, the reception just wasn't adequate.
Remember back in the day when you turned on the computer and it was trying to connect? That horrible nails on the chalkboard sound that went on, and when it went on too long, you knew that your goose was cooked.
I don't have a smart phone. Mine is quite smart enough and it makes calls out which is all I care about. I don't have a laptop. I don't have a tablet. I don't have an I-pod or any sort of music apparatus along those lines. And guess what? I don't care. So there technology!! Go find another sucker out there!!!
Well, have a nice day now. Sorry to be so late in this posting. I went to the store right away this morning so I'd be able to drive the car down the hill with the groceries. That worked out okay, but it's really coming down now and it's sticking from what I can tell. So I'm parked up top of the hill!!
Take care and be careful, friends. I'll write again tomorrow, but perhaps we'll just take a break on Thursday so we can all enjoy our family, friends, and faith!!!
Back in the day when I was working at The Signal in Canal Fulton as the editor, the powers that be dictated that we start using a computer to send our copy to Lisbon, Ohio, the home base for the paper. So we got computers and went to a half-day of training near West Virginia. By Friday of that week, I was to have saved all of the stories we wrote onto a disk and drive the disk to Lisbon. I made it but my neck was in bad shape.
Somehow from the tension of sitting at the computer and trying to learn everything in the space of a few days, I'd aggravated a nerve in my neck/shoulder area. It was so bad, I couldn't sleep at night. I went across the street to the doctor's office (at that time), and told the doctor, "I have computer neck." He laughed but it turned out that I wasn't going to be the only one by a long shot.
The neck really didn't clear up until I went to work for The University of Akron and they didn't have any. So my neck got a nice, needed rest before computers started showing up there and by that time I was much more comfortable.
Today I note that my email is in a different format from yesterday. Why? I haven't the foggiest idea. I got an error message today saying that the browser I've used forever isn't supported. Why? I haven't the foggiest idea. Lately, every time I try to write the posting for the day, I get a message saying that I need to log in again. Why? I haven't the foggiest idea. So you get the picture.
We are all captives of technology in some way, aren't we? My new "digital" camera is yet another device I had to figure out since it can't really work on it's own without eventually hooking to the computer via cable in order to dump the contents. My GPS unit is the same. The printer is also hooked to the computer, because we tried going wireless and being that we live down in a hole, the reception just wasn't adequate.
Remember back in the day when you turned on the computer and it was trying to connect? That horrible nails on the chalkboard sound that went on, and when it went on too long, you knew that your goose was cooked.
I don't have a smart phone. Mine is quite smart enough and it makes calls out which is all I care about. I don't have a laptop. I don't have a tablet. I don't have an I-pod or any sort of music apparatus along those lines. And guess what? I don't care. So there technology!! Go find another sucker out there!!!
Well, have a nice day now. Sorry to be so late in this posting. I went to the store right away this morning so I'd be able to drive the car down the hill with the groceries. That worked out okay, but it's really coming down now and it's sticking from what I can tell. So I'm parked up top of the hill!!
Take care and be careful, friends. I'll write again tomorrow, but perhaps we'll just take a break on Thursday so we can all enjoy our family, friends, and faith!!!
Saturday, November 23, 2013
The Cost -- $12.78
Yesterday we observed the 50th anniversary of President John F. Kennedy's assassination in Dallas, Texas. The culprit from all evidence is one Lee Harvey Oswald, a naïve and skewed individual who held strong Marxist beliefs. Oswald purchased through a mail order catalog a rifle that had been used in WWII. It was an Italian Carcano and included a scope. Oswald was a trained marksman from his days in the Marine Corps, and was familiar with the gun which he had also taken to target practice and was observed doing so by a father and son.
The cost of the gun -- $12.78. That same $12.78 is worth $96.49 today. Money his wife and children surely could have used while staying with a kind woman who reached out to a Russian woman and her children. Money Oswald earned at the Texas Book Depository filling orders, and the building he used as a sniper's post in order to kill the president.
The cost to John F. Kennedy's family -- two children were fatherless, a wife was left a widow, a mother left without yet another son, brothers left without an elder brother. Sisters left without their brother.
The cost to our country -- this is just me talking here but I've been thinking a lot about this lately and in all honesty, nothing has been right since. I've been going along more or less pretending that we could have that optimism again, that someone would inspire that kind of hope and belief in something bigger than ourselves, that service to our country was noble and worthwhile. There have been a few little flickers but it's never been the same. I was starting to get hopeful again as a senior in college when Robert Kennedy was running. He was definitely different than his older brother but his message resonated with me. He was a unifier. And then one morning in June 1968, when the clock radio went off in our room at 707 Beall Hall, something was clearly wrong. They were talking in the past tense about someone very famous, and slowly I began to realize that it had happened again. This time, it was a hand gun and the perpetrator was one skewed individual who from his writings would appear brainwashed.
The cost to the world -- John Kennedy was probably the greatest goodwill ambassador we've ever had. His trip to Berlin, for example, drew thousands and thousands. The founding of the Peace Corps was yet another way for America to help others in faraway places help themselves. At a speech yesterday given by Dallas' mayor, he noted that after the president's death a little girl in Nigeria recited the president's entire inaugural address from memory and her father sobbed. His funeral was a who's who among the leaders of the world, who after finding out that Mrs. Kennedy would walk the funeral route, said they would do the same.
We so need a leader who can bring us together, who can help heal some of the wounds, and who can be that bright light of inspiration that President Kennedy was. There are many people today whose lives took a different course because of what he said when he was inaugurated. The Christian principle of living for something bigger than us -- for giving rather than getting. For working hard for the cause of peace.
Today I'm going to pray that such a leader is out there and that God will help all of us respond to his call.
The cost of the gun -- $12.78. That same $12.78 is worth $96.49 today. Money his wife and children surely could have used while staying with a kind woman who reached out to a Russian woman and her children. Money Oswald earned at the Texas Book Depository filling orders, and the building he used as a sniper's post in order to kill the president.
The cost to John F. Kennedy's family -- two children were fatherless, a wife was left a widow, a mother left without yet another son, brothers left without an elder brother. Sisters left without their brother.
The cost to our country -- this is just me talking here but I've been thinking a lot about this lately and in all honesty, nothing has been right since. I've been going along more or less pretending that we could have that optimism again, that someone would inspire that kind of hope and belief in something bigger than ourselves, that service to our country was noble and worthwhile. There have been a few little flickers but it's never been the same. I was starting to get hopeful again as a senior in college when Robert Kennedy was running. He was definitely different than his older brother but his message resonated with me. He was a unifier. And then one morning in June 1968, when the clock radio went off in our room at 707 Beall Hall, something was clearly wrong. They were talking in the past tense about someone very famous, and slowly I began to realize that it had happened again. This time, it was a hand gun and the perpetrator was one skewed individual who from his writings would appear brainwashed.
The cost to the world -- John Kennedy was probably the greatest goodwill ambassador we've ever had. His trip to Berlin, for example, drew thousands and thousands. The founding of the Peace Corps was yet another way for America to help others in faraway places help themselves. At a speech yesterday given by Dallas' mayor, he noted that after the president's death a little girl in Nigeria recited the president's entire inaugural address from memory and her father sobbed. His funeral was a who's who among the leaders of the world, who after finding out that Mrs. Kennedy would walk the funeral route, said they would do the same.
We so need a leader who can bring us together, who can help heal some of the wounds, and who can be that bright light of inspiration that President Kennedy was. There are many people today whose lives took a different course because of what he said when he was inaugurated. The Christian principle of living for something bigger than us -- for giving rather than getting. For working hard for the cause of peace.
Today I'm going to pray that such a leader is out there and that God will help all of us respond to his call.
Friday, November 22, 2013
A Christmas Candle
The only movie coming out this Christmas that has the true message is "A Christmas Candle." Rick Santorum, candidate for president in the 2012 race, is CEO of the film company that has made the movie. He believes that "A Christmas Candle" will become one of the classics that people want to watch year after year.
The film opens in 400 theaters this week. IF attendance is good, it will open in many more of them. The film is set in the late 1890 at the dawn of electricity in a small town, Gladbury, England. The townsfolk remember a story about a candle and a miracle that occurred many years before. Now, with the advancements of science, the miracle is getting a back seat.
There is a trailer online if you google or bing the title of the film. Then you can decide for yourself if you want to attend. The movie is vying against Hunger Games and the like so it has an uphill battle.
I think maybe I'll convince my husband that we need to go and support this Christian effort. The movie is rated PG for thematic elements, whatever that is, but I doubt very much that there would be anything offensive for a family.
Maybe you'll want to check it out. There are quite a few made-for-TV movies that carry a Christian theme, but not many that make it to the big screen.
Thanks to all of you for reading the blog yesterday. The numbers are up and I appreciate that. I'll keep writing if you keep reading. All the honor and glory of our efforts go to God.
The winter air is coming today so stay warm and cozy. Talk to you tomorrow, dear readers.
The film opens in 400 theaters this week. IF attendance is good, it will open in many more of them. The film is set in the late 1890 at the dawn of electricity in a small town, Gladbury, England. The townsfolk remember a story about a candle and a miracle that occurred many years before. Now, with the advancements of science, the miracle is getting a back seat.
There is a trailer online if you google or bing the title of the film. Then you can decide for yourself if you want to attend. The movie is vying against Hunger Games and the like so it has an uphill battle.
I think maybe I'll convince my husband that we need to go and support this Christian effort. The movie is rated PG for thematic elements, whatever that is, but I doubt very much that there would be anything offensive for a family.
Maybe you'll want to check it out. There are quite a few made-for-TV movies that carry a Christian theme, but not many that make it to the big screen.
Thanks to all of you for reading the blog yesterday. The numbers are up and I appreciate that. I'll keep writing if you keep reading. All the honor and glory of our efforts go to God.
The winter air is coming today so stay warm and cozy. Talk to you tomorrow, dear readers.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Rainy Thursday
It's getting close to Thanksgiving and that can only mean one thing in my house -- it's time to clean the kitchen cabinets again.
This is a yearly thing for me. The hood over the stove gets cleaned more often because it needs it, and sometimes the more used cabinets get a bit of a go-over, but November is always when I wash down the cabinets. This year it will be a one-step process - cleaning with Murphy's Oil Soap. It's kind to cabinets and it's fast. But rather than getting started (it's 8:38 a.m.), I'm sitting here writing the post for today. Maybe it's because I'm procrastinating? Sure, could be. I'm retired; procrastinating could even become a way of life if I let it!!
When my mother wasn't doing very well because of her high blood pressure, doctors thought her best bet was taking it easy. That was how they looked at it back then in the 1950s, so we hired a cleaning lady to assist my mother in taking care of the house. There were hardwood floors in every bedroom upstairs, carpet in the living room and dining room and linoleum in the kitchen. Lucy, our sweet and wonderful cleaning lady, used Murphy's Oil Soap on the hardwood floors maybe every couple of weeks and did a thorough dusting in between. I could always tell Lucy was at the house by the smell of the soap. It has a very distinctive odor that one cannot forget.
So today will be a trip down memory lane for me, because as soon as I open the Murphy's Oil Soap bottle, I'll be back at 3971 Wooster Road again and Lucy will be at the house doing the floors.
My class reunion is this coming September -- I think I shared that with you a couple of times -- and I'm co-chair of entertainment. We always used a questionnaire to gather information about our classmates but honestly, the questions were boring and didn't delve into the stuff that makes a reunion special. Murphy's Oil Soap is a case in point. Open that bottom -- out pours memories. So one question I'd like us to consider using is, "If you could go back in time to Fairview Park in 1964 and visit one place, where would it be and why?" We'd get some stories, wouldn't we?
Some might say they'd like to go back to their old house. Some might say the high school itself. Some might say Fran's Sweet Shop; others might say the old Fairview Shopping Center. It might be interesting. We go to our reunions because in some sense we try to capture what was.
I'm taking my cue from Murphy's Oil Soap.
Have a wonderful Thursday and enjoy yourself. God is in his heaven; all's right with the world. Say a prayer for our country today!!
This is a yearly thing for me. The hood over the stove gets cleaned more often because it needs it, and sometimes the more used cabinets get a bit of a go-over, but November is always when I wash down the cabinets. This year it will be a one-step process - cleaning with Murphy's Oil Soap. It's kind to cabinets and it's fast. But rather than getting started (it's 8:38 a.m.), I'm sitting here writing the post for today. Maybe it's because I'm procrastinating? Sure, could be. I'm retired; procrastinating could even become a way of life if I let it!!
When my mother wasn't doing very well because of her high blood pressure, doctors thought her best bet was taking it easy. That was how they looked at it back then in the 1950s, so we hired a cleaning lady to assist my mother in taking care of the house. There were hardwood floors in every bedroom upstairs, carpet in the living room and dining room and linoleum in the kitchen. Lucy, our sweet and wonderful cleaning lady, used Murphy's Oil Soap on the hardwood floors maybe every couple of weeks and did a thorough dusting in between. I could always tell Lucy was at the house by the smell of the soap. It has a very distinctive odor that one cannot forget.
So today will be a trip down memory lane for me, because as soon as I open the Murphy's Oil Soap bottle, I'll be back at 3971 Wooster Road again and Lucy will be at the house doing the floors.
My class reunion is this coming September -- I think I shared that with you a couple of times -- and I'm co-chair of entertainment. We always used a questionnaire to gather information about our classmates but honestly, the questions were boring and didn't delve into the stuff that makes a reunion special. Murphy's Oil Soap is a case in point. Open that bottom -- out pours memories. So one question I'd like us to consider using is, "If you could go back in time to Fairview Park in 1964 and visit one place, where would it be and why?" We'd get some stories, wouldn't we?
Some might say they'd like to go back to their old house. Some might say the high school itself. Some might say Fran's Sweet Shop; others might say the old Fairview Shopping Center. It might be interesting. We go to our reunions because in some sense we try to capture what was.
I'm taking my cue from Murphy's Oil Soap.
Have a wonderful Thursday and enjoy yourself. God is in his heaven; all's right with the world. Say a prayer for our country today!!
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
The People We Meet
One of the best places to meet nice women is Joanne Fabrics. They have this aisle where shoppers wait to get checked out, and sometimes it moves a little slow. There hasn't been one time when I haven't met someone kind and funny, and I actually look forward to checking out because of it. The most common question is, "What are you making?" The answers are interesting and varied, and I always learn something.
Yet another article in this month's Liguorian Magazine hit the nail on the head. It spoke about how we have to have instant access to everything, and how we tend not to ask another living human being about much of anything. We just google it and away we go. That includes medical advice and countless other queries that we want to make. There's nothing wrong with using today's technology for assistance -- there are things I've learned by using google or bing that I would have had a hard time finding out any other way. So kudos to these search engines for that.
But there are times when we need to keep ourselves connected to others, times when a phone call would serve just as well as a text message or a tweet. There are times when the sound of a human voice or the company of a real human being is preferable to cold machinery.
We need to take stock of ourselves from time to time, especially to determine for ourselves if we are spending too much time with machines and not enough time with people. If our family members are complaining about it, that would be a clue. If we don't seem to have time to get anything done, that would be a clue. If we are staying up at night later than we should, that would be a clue. If we fly into a panic when a device isn't working, that would be a clue.
Today's technology is supposed to add to our lives, not take away from it. So I include myself in this admonishment -- tune off sometimes and just breathe in some fresh air, take a walk, read a real book, stop at the library, listen to some music, write a letter, make a card, make a phone call. Experience life firsthand. Thank God for His goodness.
P.S. I forgot. Tomorrow morning, Wednesday, there will not be a new posting. I'm going to my class reunion committee meeting tonight and then spending the night at my sister's house in Westlake. Won't be back until around 2:00 in the afternoon on Wednesday. But I'll be back -- ready to go strong -- on Thursday morning. Meanwhile, take care, my friends.
Yet another article in this month's Liguorian Magazine hit the nail on the head. It spoke about how we have to have instant access to everything, and how we tend not to ask another living human being about much of anything. We just google it and away we go. That includes medical advice and countless other queries that we want to make. There's nothing wrong with using today's technology for assistance -- there are things I've learned by using google or bing that I would have had a hard time finding out any other way. So kudos to these search engines for that.
But there are times when we need to keep ourselves connected to others, times when a phone call would serve just as well as a text message or a tweet. There are times when the sound of a human voice or the company of a real human being is preferable to cold machinery.
We need to take stock of ourselves from time to time, especially to determine for ourselves if we are spending too much time with machines and not enough time with people. If our family members are complaining about it, that would be a clue. If we don't seem to have time to get anything done, that would be a clue. If we are staying up at night later than we should, that would be a clue. If we fly into a panic when a device isn't working, that would be a clue.
Today's technology is supposed to add to our lives, not take away from it. So I include myself in this admonishment -- tune off sometimes and just breathe in some fresh air, take a walk, read a real book, stop at the library, listen to some music, write a letter, make a card, make a phone call. Experience life firsthand. Thank God for His goodness.
P.S. I forgot. Tomorrow morning, Wednesday, there will not be a new posting. I'm going to my class reunion committee meeting tonight and then spending the night at my sister's house in Westlake. Won't be back until around 2:00 in the afternoon on Wednesday. But I'll be back -- ready to go strong -- on Thursday morning. Meanwhile, take care, my friends.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
The Kennedy Legacy
The scores of television specials about John F. Kennedy started a week ago. Although 50 years ago I lived through that whole series of events, something always makes me want to watch the next program about his life and his death.
People always say that everyone old enough to understand what was happening knows where they were on November 22, 1963. I was in Mr. Peat's physical science class, in a tiered classroom at the end of a hallway. One classmate asked to go get a drink of water at around 2:30 or something like that. When he returned, he told us that he'd heard that the president had been shot. Of course, my mind was swirling. Shot. Where? How bad is it? Will he live?
Class let out a short while after we got the first snippet of news, and being that it was the last class of the day, I headed down the long hall and turned toward the wing where my locker was. The double doors of the art room were down that hall and just as I approached the art room, the double doors swung open hard and Joan Heffelfinger came out into the hall saying, "The President is dead." She was a polite, serious student who got along with everyone. I didn't doubt what she was saying, but my mind didn't want to hear it.
A different Joan and Barbara took the bus home, like I did. We didn't have school buses in Fairview. We rode the municipal bus that traveled between North Olmsted and downtown Cleveland numerous times a day. The bus stop was at W. 213th and Lorain Road and we didn't use money; we used bus checks. These were minted coins we bought at the school office for use on the bus. Joan, Barbara and I were sober and sad. We just didn't feel like riding the bus that day. It must not have been terribly cold, because we decided to walk home from W. 213th Street to W. 193rd Street. We crossed the street and started on our trek. St. Angela's is at W. 210th and Lorain, so a scant three blocks after we'd started, we decided to go inside the church and pray. We stayed about 15 minutes, I think. Then we started walking again. I don't know what was said, but we did talk on the way home.
When I got home, my sister was waiting for me (I lived with my sister and brother-in-law following the death of my mother when I was 14). She had been home alone and heard the news on the radio. She was just stunned; we all were. And thus, on that late fall afternoon in November 1963, we started on a three-day journey of loss and then a state funeral with dignitaries from all over the world.
No one is perfect; we all know that. We've all sinned and fallen short, but in the last months of his life, John F. Kennedy had changed. He had started reading the Bible. He spent much more time with his family. He and Krushchev were writing back and forth, their letters carried by secret couriers. He was going to bring the small numbers of military personnel home from Vietnam. He had kept us from nuclear war. And he was a very sick man, a man who had had other experiences of serious illness. He was in constant pain.
At the time I didn't imagine it, but these days I see a wonderful reunion with his baby boy, Patrick, who had died just a short time before. For John F. Kennedy was a man who truly loved children.
His life should be for us a call to service. From his days as a Navy officer, to his days in the Senate, and then his 1001 days as president, John Kennedy served his country and he was proud of it.
One of my classmates visited Washington, D.C. with her parents when John Kennedy was in the Senate. They walked into the rotunda of the magnificent Capitol Building and were just aimlessly walking around. A young looking man walked over to them, introduced himself, and asked if they would like a tour. He showed them around the building, pointing to this and that, all the while explaining the importance and the history of the building. They had just met John F. Kennedy, the Senator from Massachusetts who took the time to show a family from Ohio the beauty of Washington. In 1963, his body lay in that very rotunda.
People always say that everyone old enough to understand what was happening knows where they were on November 22, 1963. I was in Mr. Peat's physical science class, in a tiered classroom at the end of a hallway. One classmate asked to go get a drink of water at around 2:30 or something like that. When he returned, he told us that he'd heard that the president had been shot. Of course, my mind was swirling. Shot. Where? How bad is it? Will he live?
Class let out a short while after we got the first snippet of news, and being that it was the last class of the day, I headed down the long hall and turned toward the wing where my locker was. The double doors of the art room were down that hall and just as I approached the art room, the double doors swung open hard and Joan Heffelfinger came out into the hall saying, "The President is dead." She was a polite, serious student who got along with everyone. I didn't doubt what she was saying, but my mind didn't want to hear it.
A different Joan and Barbara took the bus home, like I did. We didn't have school buses in Fairview. We rode the municipal bus that traveled between North Olmsted and downtown Cleveland numerous times a day. The bus stop was at W. 213th and Lorain Road and we didn't use money; we used bus checks. These were minted coins we bought at the school office for use on the bus. Joan, Barbara and I were sober and sad. We just didn't feel like riding the bus that day. It must not have been terribly cold, because we decided to walk home from W. 213th Street to W. 193rd Street. We crossed the street and started on our trek. St. Angela's is at W. 210th and Lorain, so a scant three blocks after we'd started, we decided to go inside the church and pray. We stayed about 15 minutes, I think. Then we started walking again. I don't know what was said, but we did talk on the way home.
When I got home, my sister was waiting for me (I lived with my sister and brother-in-law following the death of my mother when I was 14). She had been home alone and heard the news on the radio. She was just stunned; we all were. And thus, on that late fall afternoon in November 1963, we started on a three-day journey of loss and then a state funeral with dignitaries from all over the world.
No one is perfect; we all know that. We've all sinned and fallen short, but in the last months of his life, John F. Kennedy had changed. He had started reading the Bible. He spent much more time with his family. He and Krushchev were writing back and forth, their letters carried by secret couriers. He was going to bring the small numbers of military personnel home from Vietnam. He had kept us from nuclear war. And he was a very sick man, a man who had had other experiences of serious illness. He was in constant pain.
At the time I didn't imagine it, but these days I see a wonderful reunion with his baby boy, Patrick, who had died just a short time before. For John F. Kennedy was a man who truly loved children.
His life should be for us a call to service. From his days as a Navy officer, to his days in the Senate, and then his 1001 days as president, John Kennedy served his country and he was proud of it.
One of my classmates visited Washington, D.C. with her parents when John Kennedy was in the Senate. They walked into the rotunda of the magnificent Capitol Building and were just aimlessly walking around. A young looking man walked over to them, introduced himself, and asked if they would like a tour. He showed them around the building, pointing to this and that, all the while explaining the importance and the history of the building. They had just met John F. Kennedy, the Senator from Massachusetts who took the time to show a family from Ohio the beauty of Washington. In 1963, his body lay in that very rotunda.
Friday, November 15, 2013
O'Reilly's Book
A couple of weeks ago, my husband returned from BJs Wholesale Club with a present for himself -- a Keurig coffee machine. He knows full well that I like coffee too, but it doesn't really agree with me all that much, so my preference is tea.
Since he treated himself, he admitted to feeling guilty and so he'd bought me the book, "Killing Jesus," by Bill O'Reilly and Martin Dugart. I finished it yesterday. Would I recommend it to you, my faithful readers? Yes, I would.
O'Reilly/Dugart do a good job of framing the situation that Our Lord finds himself in. They explain the workings of Roman society and the intricacies of how Jews lived and navigated around their own 600+ rules, the temple, and the festivals including Passover. You will find out how laws were broken in order to crucify Jesus at the behest of the Jewish hierarchy.
The title does provide me with an opportunity to explain one important thing -- Jesus was not KILLED. Jesus gave his life for us. The Bible quotes Jesus as saying, "It is finished." Jesus did his father's will by becoming fully human while being fully God and coming to earth. He lived the life of a typical Jewish boy in a small Jewish town. He learned a craft -- carpentry -- alongside his father. Did he know right from the beginning of his life that the ending would be the cross? I don't know; I doubt it. But I do know that no one took his life from him -- he gave it.
The pressure on Jesus was tremendous. He outwitted the most gifted thinkers in Jerusalem with his answers, and many of those answers guide us to this day like, "Render to Caesar that which is Caesar's and render to God that which is God's." He prayed in the garden awaiting the guards he knew were coming for him. Bet you thought they were Roman guards. I did. They weren't; they were Jewish temple guards who came and got him after he received a kiss from Judas, the traitor, as a signal to them that this was the man they were seeking. And while he waited in that garden, he wanted his beloved apostles to pray with him, but instead they fell asleep. Like Peter's three-times denial, they fell asleep three different times. And all that while Jesus is so fearful of what is to happen that he sweats blood. Was he afraid of the physical torment? Of course, I'm sure he was. But there was something much greater that awaited Jesus on that cross. He felt the total weight of all of the sins ever committed by humans. My sins. Your sins.
It is humbling and sad and sorrowful all at the same time. It should be the first thing we think of every single morning -- we were ransomed by the blood of God.
It puts everything into perspective, like for example, how short our lives really are in the big picture -- God's overall plan for humanity. It puts our sufferings into perspective too.
There are a few places in the book where my understanding differs, but I'm no Biblical scholar. I think you would find that the book is worth the read.
Thanks, my dear readers, for joining me on this day.
Since he treated himself, he admitted to feeling guilty and so he'd bought me the book, "Killing Jesus," by Bill O'Reilly and Martin Dugart. I finished it yesterday. Would I recommend it to you, my faithful readers? Yes, I would.
O'Reilly/Dugart do a good job of framing the situation that Our Lord finds himself in. They explain the workings of Roman society and the intricacies of how Jews lived and navigated around their own 600+ rules, the temple, and the festivals including Passover. You will find out how laws were broken in order to crucify Jesus at the behest of the Jewish hierarchy.
The title does provide me with an opportunity to explain one important thing -- Jesus was not KILLED. Jesus gave his life for us. The Bible quotes Jesus as saying, "It is finished." Jesus did his father's will by becoming fully human while being fully God and coming to earth. He lived the life of a typical Jewish boy in a small Jewish town. He learned a craft -- carpentry -- alongside his father. Did he know right from the beginning of his life that the ending would be the cross? I don't know; I doubt it. But I do know that no one took his life from him -- he gave it.
The pressure on Jesus was tremendous. He outwitted the most gifted thinkers in Jerusalem with his answers, and many of those answers guide us to this day like, "Render to Caesar that which is Caesar's and render to God that which is God's." He prayed in the garden awaiting the guards he knew were coming for him. Bet you thought they were Roman guards. I did. They weren't; they were Jewish temple guards who came and got him after he received a kiss from Judas, the traitor, as a signal to them that this was the man they were seeking. And while he waited in that garden, he wanted his beloved apostles to pray with him, but instead they fell asleep. Like Peter's three-times denial, they fell asleep three different times. And all that while Jesus is so fearful of what is to happen that he sweats blood. Was he afraid of the physical torment? Of course, I'm sure he was. But there was something much greater that awaited Jesus on that cross. He felt the total weight of all of the sins ever committed by humans. My sins. Your sins.
It is humbling and sad and sorrowful all at the same time. It should be the first thing we think of every single morning -- we were ransomed by the blood of God.
It puts everything into perspective, like for example, how short our lives really are in the big picture -- God's overall plan for humanity. It puts our sufferings into perspective too.
There are a few places in the book where my understanding differs, but I'm no Biblical scholar. I think you would find that the book is worth the read.
Thanks, my dear readers, for joining me on this day.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
The Martha Stewart In Me
Necessity is the mother of invention. I agree with Plato on this one. Unless we are forced by some exigent circumstances, we go along our merry little ways unchallenged.
Back in the 1980s and 1990s when my sons were getting old enough to get themselves into real trouble, I was stressed. During the day I coped with it pretty well, but it was at night that apparently all of my fears and worries for them came to a head. I clenched my teeth. Pretty soon, I was getting some jaw pain and headaches, and my jaw was making noises.
I consulted my dentist and he could tell that I'd been clenching my teeth at night. This differs from the grinding that some people do. I don't grind which is much worse, but the clenching doesn't do a body any favors either. So he sent me to a specialist who made me a bite guard. And that bite guard worked for a long, long time until recently it started to fall apart. Knowing full well that the device cost $400, I did a little investigation to find out what a new one would cost and my best estimate is around $800. Wow.
So I thought -- maybe I don't even clench my teeth at night anymore. Maybe I don't need a new bite guard at all. That lasted one night and by the next morning I knew I was still doing this ridiculous thing -- had this ridiculous habit.
Martha Stewart immediately came to mind. Martha doesn't really have to worry about spending $800 on a bite guard, but this is a woman who in one issue of her magazine demonstrated how to DYE old tennis shoes. Really? And the dye she used was blue. If I ever did such a thing, I know exactly what would happen. For at least the rest of the summer, I'd have Smurf blue feet, and can you imagine how svelte I'd really look in sandals?
But you have to give Martha credit. She does seem to work hard. That gave me a little verve -- which might be a combination of vitality and nerve? Don't know. Sounds good, doesn't it?
I had a bite guard that I bought on a whim at the pharmacy when I was going to try and replace the other one a while back. It was like sports shoe cushioning and thick and bulky. It made me gag. But being kind of cheap, I'd kept the thing. It was one of those boil-it-and-it-will-fit kind of deals. I took the monstrosity out to the kitchen where I could really get a good look at it. Got out some scissors and a serrated kitchen knife and started to do a little clipping here and there. Cut off the sides that fit into the back molars to avoid the gagging. And I trimmed the part that fits over the front teeth. Ouila! A new bite guard.
It's been several days now and the bite guard is hanging in there. I don't have headaches. My jaw isn't sore and I'm not out any money. When this one starts falling apart, I'll just buy another cheap one and go to work in my bite guard laboratory and create another one. Perhaps by then I'll be even better at it and maybe I'll even get out my electric Dremel Multi-Pro (drill, sander, crafter).
Martha -- and you thought that dying tennis shoes was bold!! However, I noticed that on the humorous list that someone compiled about how Martha prepares for Christmas, I see that on December 13 she collects dentures which it says, makes excellent pastry cutters, particularly for decorative pie crusts. Hmmmm. And that's the day after, "Take dog apart. Disinfect. Reassemble." The day after she, "Installs plumbing in the gingerbread house." But my personal favorite -- December 11 -- Lay Faberge egg.
May the light of the Lord shine upon you. Thanks for reading.
Back in the 1980s and 1990s when my sons were getting old enough to get themselves into real trouble, I was stressed. During the day I coped with it pretty well, but it was at night that apparently all of my fears and worries for them came to a head. I clenched my teeth. Pretty soon, I was getting some jaw pain and headaches, and my jaw was making noises.
I consulted my dentist and he could tell that I'd been clenching my teeth at night. This differs from the grinding that some people do. I don't grind which is much worse, but the clenching doesn't do a body any favors either. So he sent me to a specialist who made me a bite guard. And that bite guard worked for a long, long time until recently it started to fall apart. Knowing full well that the device cost $400, I did a little investigation to find out what a new one would cost and my best estimate is around $800. Wow.
So I thought -- maybe I don't even clench my teeth at night anymore. Maybe I don't need a new bite guard at all. That lasted one night and by the next morning I knew I was still doing this ridiculous thing -- had this ridiculous habit.
Martha Stewart immediately came to mind. Martha doesn't really have to worry about spending $800 on a bite guard, but this is a woman who in one issue of her magazine demonstrated how to DYE old tennis shoes. Really? And the dye she used was blue. If I ever did such a thing, I know exactly what would happen. For at least the rest of the summer, I'd have Smurf blue feet, and can you imagine how svelte I'd really look in sandals?
But you have to give Martha credit. She does seem to work hard. That gave me a little verve -- which might be a combination of vitality and nerve? Don't know. Sounds good, doesn't it?
I had a bite guard that I bought on a whim at the pharmacy when I was going to try and replace the other one a while back. It was like sports shoe cushioning and thick and bulky. It made me gag. But being kind of cheap, I'd kept the thing. It was one of those boil-it-and-it-will-fit kind of deals. I took the monstrosity out to the kitchen where I could really get a good look at it. Got out some scissors and a serrated kitchen knife and started to do a little clipping here and there. Cut off the sides that fit into the back molars to avoid the gagging. And I trimmed the part that fits over the front teeth. Ouila! A new bite guard.
It's been several days now and the bite guard is hanging in there. I don't have headaches. My jaw isn't sore and I'm not out any money. When this one starts falling apart, I'll just buy another cheap one and go to work in my bite guard laboratory and create another one. Perhaps by then I'll be even better at it and maybe I'll even get out my electric Dremel Multi-Pro (drill, sander, crafter).
Martha -- and you thought that dying tennis shoes was bold!! However, I noticed that on the humorous list that someone compiled about how Martha prepares for Christmas, I see that on December 13 she collects dentures which it says, makes excellent pastry cutters, particularly for decorative pie crusts. Hmmmm. And that's the day after, "Take dog apart. Disinfect. Reassemble." The day after she, "Installs plumbing in the gingerbread house." But my personal favorite -- December 11 -- Lay Faberge egg.
May the light of the Lord shine upon you. Thanks for reading.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Our Fragile Times
Life sometimes has a way of forcing us to deal with difficult things. It's like you're going along and everything is fine, you feel strong, you feel competent, and one little thing happens to make you turn into a sniveling scared person.
Years ago, we had a little mouse problem. Okay, it was a mice problem. Eventually, we caught about nine of them as I recall. They were getting into the basement somehow, and we've never figured out how. I was starting to get really upset, feeling creepy-crawly, and like my inner space had been violated. But at least the problem was down in the basement.
One night while sitting at my night stand, probably trying to make my pain-in-the-neck hair do something other than go straight, I just knew that there was something wrong. I turned around just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of movement in front of the closet on the opposite side of the room. There were just two humans in the house, and my husband was watching TV in the living room. I shrieked, stood up, felt trapped because the mouse was between me and the door, and I yelled, "Help. Help. Somebody help me."
The "somebody" finally showed up; he was very nonchalant about the whole thing and I was freaking out. He looked about five feet in one direction and five feet in the other and said that the mouse was nowhere to be seen. Of course, it was nowhere to be seen. I had just traumatized it with my screaming. But my powers of observation were a little better than his and I figured it out -- the mouse had gone into the closet. My husband was tired and he figured we could just deal with it in the morning. In the morning?
So I'm supposed to sleep in my bed knowing that there might be a mouse in the closet just waiting for the opportunity to come out and show itself? No way!! I told him that we could empty out the closet and I would help get the shoes out of the way. So he began handing me shoes. Pretty soon, he says, "Oh, here it is." I thought he'd do something, but he thought he'd just get one of our cats and have them solve the problem. The first cat he grabbed walked right away. The second cat did the same. Finally, he got one that showed an interest. It ran into the closet and cornered the mouse.
Then my husband says, "Ohhhh." And hiding behind the door, I say, "What?" He says calmly, "I think it's dead." And I said, "No, it's not. It's not dead." And he said, "Well, it's lying on its back and it's not moving. I think it had a heart attack." So now I'm a little more calm and he has me get a dustpan. He noticed a puncture mark in the mouse, and we knew then that one of the cats had already struck. The mouse's time was numbered. I almost felt sorry for it -- almost.
So still somewhat edgy the next morning, I headed out to my car to go to work. It was very dark in the garage, so it must have been winter. As I turned the key to start the car, something caught my eye on the dash where the heater vent was. A white moth crawled out, its little feelers going this way and that. I completely went nuts, screamed and hollered, and scared my husband half to death.
He said, "What is wrong with you?"
So he gives this kind of halfhearted attempt to get the moth but it disappears. I didn't want to leave for work, saying, "It's going to show up while I'm driving to work and I'm going to have a wreck."
It ended up being in the very back of the car, where the window meets the body of the car, and it was difficult to get out but he finally did get it.
And I thought about what he said, "What is wrong with you?" Yeah, what was wrong with me? I found out that I was emotionally fragile when it came to mice in the house. Everything felt out of control, and then within the confines of my cozy car, I felt invaded yet again. THAT'S what was wrong with me.
So I've gotten a little wiser -- I know that I have these little issues, and I know that it could happen again. Now that my husband doesn't hear as well, I'll just have to scream much louder!!!
Have a great day!
Years ago, we had a little mouse problem. Okay, it was a mice problem. Eventually, we caught about nine of them as I recall. They were getting into the basement somehow, and we've never figured out how. I was starting to get really upset, feeling creepy-crawly, and like my inner space had been violated. But at least the problem was down in the basement.
One night while sitting at my night stand, probably trying to make my pain-in-the-neck hair do something other than go straight, I just knew that there was something wrong. I turned around just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of movement in front of the closet on the opposite side of the room. There were just two humans in the house, and my husband was watching TV in the living room. I shrieked, stood up, felt trapped because the mouse was between me and the door, and I yelled, "Help. Help. Somebody help me."
The "somebody" finally showed up; he was very nonchalant about the whole thing and I was freaking out. He looked about five feet in one direction and five feet in the other and said that the mouse was nowhere to be seen. Of course, it was nowhere to be seen. I had just traumatized it with my screaming. But my powers of observation were a little better than his and I figured it out -- the mouse had gone into the closet. My husband was tired and he figured we could just deal with it in the morning. In the morning?
So I'm supposed to sleep in my bed knowing that there might be a mouse in the closet just waiting for the opportunity to come out and show itself? No way!! I told him that we could empty out the closet and I would help get the shoes out of the way. So he began handing me shoes. Pretty soon, he says, "Oh, here it is." I thought he'd do something, but he thought he'd just get one of our cats and have them solve the problem. The first cat he grabbed walked right away. The second cat did the same. Finally, he got one that showed an interest. It ran into the closet and cornered the mouse.
Then my husband says, "Ohhhh." And hiding behind the door, I say, "What?" He says calmly, "I think it's dead." And I said, "No, it's not. It's not dead." And he said, "Well, it's lying on its back and it's not moving. I think it had a heart attack." So now I'm a little more calm and he has me get a dustpan. He noticed a puncture mark in the mouse, and we knew then that one of the cats had already struck. The mouse's time was numbered. I almost felt sorry for it -- almost.
So still somewhat edgy the next morning, I headed out to my car to go to work. It was very dark in the garage, so it must have been winter. As I turned the key to start the car, something caught my eye on the dash where the heater vent was. A white moth crawled out, its little feelers going this way and that. I completely went nuts, screamed and hollered, and scared my husband half to death.
He said, "What is wrong with you?"
So he gives this kind of halfhearted attempt to get the moth but it disappears. I didn't want to leave for work, saying, "It's going to show up while I'm driving to work and I'm going to have a wreck."
It ended up being in the very back of the car, where the window meets the body of the car, and it was difficult to get out but he finally did get it.
And I thought about what he said, "What is wrong with you?" Yeah, what was wrong with me? I found out that I was emotionally fragile when it came to mice in the house. Everything felt out of control, and then within the confines of my cozy car, I felt invaded yet again. THAT'S what was wrong with me.
So I've gotten a little wiser -- I know that I have these little issues, and I know that it could happen again. Now that my husband doesn't hear as well, I'll just have to scream much louder!!!
Have a great day!
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Tell the Stories
An article I was looking at in the Liguorian Magazine is really worthwhile. It talks about the stories of our families, the wonderful, compelling, sometimes humorous stories that make people real, human.
As the article mentions, tweets just don't make the grade when we want to know more about the lives of the saints or the saints in our families. Those unforgettable characters that brought a special grace to our lives, or influenced us to fight the good fight. Stories require rounding out, details, sights, smells, tastes, hugs.
As I've talked about before, one of the wonderful things about working at The University of Akron for 23 years was being able to take continuing education classes for free -- one per semester. I took a fiction writing class a number of different times over a period of years. One of those times, a lady in the class misunderstood the purpose of the class because she wanted to chronicle the life of her father. She wanted to preserve the stories that wove such a rich tapestry of his view of the world, flaws and all. So she didn't want to write fiction at all -- she wanted to tell his stories for the rest of her family.
At each class, we would read our assignments out loud. Hers drew the loudest laughter and reaction of any of them. I sometimes found myself wiping away tears from my eyes because of her astute telling of the stories of her father. He was a very suspicious, superstitious man, having grown up in the Depression and also coming from another country. Once, he apparently sold a mattress to the neighbor. That in itself is pretty strange. Who buys used mattresses?
Well, at any rate, once the transaction was complete and the neighbor took possession of the mattress, the man had second thoughts. He was one to hide things in the house -- money being one of them. He began to wonder if he had hidden any money in this particular mattress. So he started watching out the window and observing the family at every chance, hoping to notice if they suddenly seemed to be bringing goods home, if their lifestyle had changed. He obsessed about it. And it was hilarious.
At one point, she wondered out loud if her stories were actually making her father look bad, making him into a rather sordid character. None of the class saw it that way. After a while, I was pretty sure I knew her father quite well. He was a man who had been deeply hurt by the Depression.
In another instance, she told the story of a train ride she took with her suspicious father in the old country. He was always thinking the worst of other people. Apparently, at some point during the train ride, there was a delay since a large boulder had fallen on the tracks. She said, "I'm pretty sure my father willed that rock to fall down from the hillside." See what she was getting at? His negativism was a total disruption in his life, and perhaps as much as anything, she didn't want any of her family members to follow that particular lead.
It doesn't matter if you are a fabulous writer or even if you can write a perfect sentence. Write down the stories of your family. Put all of it down on paper, because otherwise all of this great lore will be lost. No one will remember what Great Uncle George did that one Thanksgiving. Or how Grandmother Smith screwed up the Christmas dinner. Or how little Susie loved Jesus so much when she was little that she sacrificed to give her money to the poor. Why do we love The Christmas Story? Because it is a story -- a story about a particular time in a family's life. It is a picture painted in words and brought into the movie, enriched by the narration of the author himself. It evokes feelings.
Write down the stories. Save the memories, especially the ones that pertain to our faith life. My grandmother died in church in Cleveland, Ohio. Wouldn't I love to know more about her and her love of God? There are no stories to fill in the gaps or answer my questions.
Start small. And then keep going.
As the article mentions, tweets just don't make the grade when we want to know more about the lives of the saints or the saints in our families. Those unforgettable characters that brought a special grace to our lives, or influenced us to fight the good fight. Stories require rounding out, details, sights, smells, tastes, hugs.
As I've talked about before, one of the wonderful things about working at The University of Akron for 23 years was being able to take continuing education classes for free -- one per semester. I took a fiction writing class a number of different times over a period of years. One of those times, a lady in the class misunderstood the purpose of the class because she wanted to chronicle the life of her father. She wanted to preserve the stories that wove such a rich tapestry of his view of the world, flaws and all. So she didn't want to write fiction at all -- she wanted to tell his stories for the rest of her family.
At each class, we would read our assignments out loud. Hers drew the loudest laughter and reaction of any of them. I sometimes found myself wiping away tears from my eyes because of her astute telling of the stories of her father. He was a very suspicious, superstitious man, having grown up in the Depression and also coming from another country. Once, he apparently sold a mattress to the neighbor. That in itself is pretty strange. Who buys used mattresses?
Well, at any rate, once the transaction was complete and the neighbor took possession of the mattress, the man had second thoughts. He was one to hide things in the house -- money being one of them. He began to wonder if he had hidden any money in this particular mattress. So he started watching out the window and observing the family at every chance, hoping to notice if they suddenly seemed to be bringing goods home, if their lifestyle had changed. He obsessed about it. And it was hilarious.
At one point, she wondered out loud if her stories were actually making her father look bad, making him into a rather sordid character. None of the class saw it that way. After a while, I was pretty sure I knew her father quite well. He was a man who had been deeply hurt by the Depression.
In another instance, she told the story of a train ride she took with her suspicious father in the old country. He was always thinking the worst of other people. Apparently, at some point during the train ride, there was a delay since a large boulder had fallen on the tracks. She said, "I'm pretty sure my father willed that rock to fall down from the hillside." See what she was getting at? His negativism was a total disruption in his life, and perhaps as much as anything, she didn't want any of her family members to follow that particular lead.
It doesn't matter if you are a fabulous writer or even if you can write a perfect sentence. Write down the stories of your family. Put all of it down on paper, because otherwise all of this great lore will be lost. No one will remember what Great Uncle George did that one Thanksgiving. Or how Grandmother Smith screwed up the Christmas dinner. Or how little Susie loved Jesus so much when she was little that she sacrificed to give her money to the poor. Why do we love The Christmas Story? Because it is a story -- a story about a particular time in a family's life. It is a picture painted in words and brought into the movie, enriched by the narration of the author himself. It evokes feelings.
Write down the stories. Save the memories, especially the ones that pertain to our faith life. My grandmother died in church in Cleveland, Ohio. Wouldn't I love to know more about her and her love of God? There are no stories to fill in the gaps or answer my questions.
Start small. And then keep going.
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Prayer
"Come to me and I will make you fishers of men," Jesus said to his fishermen apostles.
The lake is full of fish; the nets are ready. The fishing poles are baited. The temperatures are perfect. The Lord has need for you.
Think I am going a little batty? We watched Billy Graham last night (we'd taped it for a later viewing) and he is still every bit as genuine and compelling as he ever was. He moved me to tears within the first 10 minutes and several times thereafter, especially when he talks about what Jesus has done for us and how much he loves us. When he talks about forgiveness and belief, commitment.
The two people who were profiled in the special commemorating Graham's 95th birthday were so well spoken. They explained their circumstances very clearly and it was obvious how much God healed them through their faith in Him. They were lost and now they are found.
I am not much of a fan of rap music, but the rapper on the program is bringing the message of Jesus to the young who follow this form of music. He is taking the music of some of the people to the people.
Billy Graham is at peace. He is ready to go home, but he wanted to give one last sermon. He knows that the United States needs a spiritual reawakening and I think he was hoping upon hope that his message would resonate and would call people back. And although sometimes I think differently, Graham doesn't see that we as a country are worse than we used to be. He believes that because we know so much more about what goes on, it would seem that way. He sees sin in all clarity, as though he is looking at a satellite view of the world and the pockets of sin covering the planet. As a man who knew from an early age that the world would pull and tug at him and could be his undoing, he chose to keep himself in full devotion to his Lord to the exclusion of all of the noise. His message has never wavered; his words are so often the same. It's kind of like John the Baptist, a voice crying out in the desert, "Prepare ye the way of the Lord." He calls for repentance, for a turning away from sin.
One of my favorite hymns is "Save Us Oh Lord," by Rev. Bob Dufford, SJ
Save us, O Lord, carry us back, rouse your power and come.
Rescue your people, show us your face, BRING US BACK.
O shepherd of Israel, hear us. Return and we shall be saved.
Arise, O Lord, hear our cries, O Lord, BRING US BACK.
How long will you hide from your people? We long to see your face.
Give ear to us. Draw near to us. Lord God of hosts.
Turn again; care for your vine; protect what your right hand has planted.
Your vineyards are trampled, uprooted and burned. Come to us Father of might!
The Lord has need for you. Listen for his call.
The lake is full of fish; the nets are ready. The fishing poles are baited. The temperatures are perfect. The Lord has need for you.
Think I am going a little batty? We watched Billy Graham last night (we'd taped it for a later viewing) and he is still every bit as genuine and compelling as he ever was. He moved me to tears within the first 10 minutes and several times thereafter, especially when he talks about what Jesus has done for us and how much he loves us. When he talks about forgiveness and belief, commitment.
The two people who were profiled in the special commemorating Graham's 95th birthday were so well spoken. They explained their circumstances very clearly and it was obvious how much God healed them through their faith in Him. They were lost and now they are found.
I am not much of a fan of rap music, but the rapper on the program is bringing the message of Jesus to the young who follow this form of music. He is taking the music of some of the people to the people.
Billy Graham is at peace. He is ready to go home, but he wanted to give one last sermon. He knows that the United States needs a spiritual reawakening and I think he was hoping upon hope that his message would resonate and would call people back. And although sometimes I think differently, Graham doesn't see that we as a country are worse than we used to be. He believes that because we know so much more about what goes on, it would seem that way. He sees sin in all clarity, as though he is looking at a satellite view of the world and the pockets of sin covering the planet. As a man who knew from an early age that the world would pull and tug at him and could be his undoing, he chose to keep himself in full devotion to his Lord to the exclusion of all of the noise. His message has never wavered; his words are so often the same. It's kind of like John the Baptist, a voice crying out in the desert, "Prepare ye the way of the Lord." He calls for repentance, for a turning away from sin.
One of my favorite hymns is "Save Us Oh Lord," by Rev. Bob Dufford, SJ
Save us, O Lord, carry us back, rouse your power and come.
Rescue your people, show us your face, BRING US BACK.
O shepherd of Israel, hear us. Return and we shall be saved.
Arise, O Lord, hear our cries, O Lord, BRING US BACK.
How long will you hide from your people? We long to see your face.
Give ear to us. Draw near to us. Lord God of hosts.
Turn again; care for your vine; protect what your right hand has planted.
Your vineyards are trampled, uprooted and burned. Come to us Father of might!
The Lord has need for you. Listen for his call.
Friday, November 8, 2013
The Face of Jesus
We went to our favorite donut shop yesterday for a treat -- Lieberman's Bakery in Massillon. There was only one customer inside when we arrived at around 8:00 a.m. The three women who work at the counter were all oohing and aahing at a canvas the man was showing them. Of course, I was curious but I didn't want to appear nosy.
The man then turned the canvas around for my husband and I to see, and it was the face of Jesus. He said that an eight-year-old created the painting. In many ways it reminded me of the old masters. The lighting on the face, the eyes, the skin tones. It was clearly an excellent painting and he volunteered that he paid almost $500 for it.
He carefully covered the unframed work of art with his jacket and left saying, "I just thought maybe you'd want to see this." The women thanked him for coming in. I responded, "You made my day."
After he left, I mentioned to the women the special that was on TV about four years ago, "The Face of Jesus." It was an excellent program, showing how several men over a period of years used NASA and Air Force technology along with the Shroud of Turin to recreate the face of Jesus. And at the end the face of Christ is revealed. If you ever see that it is going to be on, please take the time to watch or DVR it for a later viewing.
So we returned home, had some donuts, and later I was doing the Jumbles (the game in the newspaper using scrambled letters). One of the four words for yesterday was SHROUD. Yep. Honest.
Isn't life something? I'm so happy that the man chose to come to the bakery with his painting. And I'm so happy that God put us in the bakery at the very moment that he was there.
We are going to be entering into the period called Advent. It is a joyful time in the many Christian churches. The Lions will put up their creche scene in front of the old Exchange Bank again. We will start lighting a candle a week at church. Holding Christ in our hearts, Christmas will be the celebration that it is meant to be. And we will grow in faith and in love.
The man then turned the canvas around for my husband and I to see, and it was the face of Jesus. He said that an eight-year-old created the painting. In many ways it reminded me of the old masters. The lighting on the face, the eyes, the skin tones. It was clearly an excellent painting and he volunteered that he paid almost $500 for it.
He carefully covered the unframed work of art with his jacket and left saying, "I just thought maybe you'd want to see this." The women thanked him for coming in. I responded, "You made my day."
After he left, I mentioned to the women the special that was on TV about four years ago, "The Face of Jesus." It was an excellent program, showing how several men over a period of years used NASA and Air Force technology along with the Shroud of Turin to recreate the face of Jesus. And at the end the face of Christ is revealed. If you ever see that it is going to be on, please take the time to watch or DVR it for a later viewing.
So we returned home, had some donuts, and later I was doing the Jumbles (the game in the newspaper using scrambled letters). One of the four words for yesterday was SHROUD. Yep. Honest.
Isn't life something? I'm so happy that the man chose to come to the bakery with his painting. And I'm so happy that God put us in the bakery at the very moment that he was there.
We are going to be entering into the period called Advent. It is a joyful time in the many Christian churches. The Lions will put up their creche scene in front of the old Exchange Bank again. We will start lighting a candle a week at church. Holding Christ in our hearts, Christmas will be the celebration that it is meant to be. And we will grow in faith and in love.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Trust
From very long ago, nearly 40 years past, I knew how important it was to be able to trust. Children who are shuffled here and there, who are promised this or that, and who are never quite sure what might come next don't often fare well in this life. For from the very beginning, they have lost the ability to trust.
Once when my son was a little boy, a doctor decided that he should stay another day in the hospital for a test. The thing is, the doctor's nurse had made it clear to me that it would be a one-day stay, and I had told my son that very thing. He was banking on getting out of the hospital the next morning and his little boy "nerves" were starting to get to him already. For me this was a time when I had to draw a line in the sand, and I infuriated the doctor by not following his "orders." He turned out not to be the best doctor anyhow. So we went home as planned. I told the doctor point blank, "It is more important at this moment for my son to be able to trust me than anything else. We can always do another test." His condition was not life threatening whatsoever, or things might have been different.
In that moment of explaining to the doctor that we'd like to check out the next morning, I saw a side of him that was not very flattering. He just didn't have the understanding that we needed at that moment. And at that moment I lost trust in the doctor.
Later, we sought the counsel and help of a wonderful doctor at Children's Hospital in Akron. His demeanor and methods were entirely different and so much more professional. We got to the root of the problem and got it solved.
Going through life not trusting anyone produces another result in so many cases. The individual who does not trust can become untrustworthy him or herself. If he doesn't see the good in others or believe that others are being honest with him, then what would be the motivation for being honest with someone else? The scarring that comes from being a kid being disappointed again and again, lied to, or worse is frequently forever.
Our priest talks a lot about forgiveness. He thinks that forgiving is at the heart of healing, spiritual or physical. He speaks about his own struggles with forgiveness and how he tried to forgive with the mind but it was never enough. He needed God's help to forgive from his heart.
That's why, for me, being around children is so special and such a responsibility all at the same time. Children are so open. People always talk about the resiliency of children, and there is some truth to that. But I don't believe that they are quite as resilient as we think. They might appear to sail through something rough, but they are also great at masking their hurts.
My granddaughter sometimes wants something. It might be as simple as her pronouncing, "We're going to see Mommy." But the truth is we're not going to see Mommy right at that minute. So I usually say, "Well, we're not going to see Mommy right now." And then she thinks about it and says, "Maybe later." And she's good with that, but I try to be honest with her. I want her to be able to trust me.
Trust between parents and children, trust between husbands and wives, trust between people at work, and the most important trust -- trusting God -- is a huge part of our lives. Without that trust, the joy of life evaporates. We all must seek to be trustworthy people, and that might mean forgiving someone who broke trust with us in the past. Not easy to do -- but it's a good first step in healing.
Once when my son was a little boy, a doctor decided that he should stay another day in the hospital for a test. The thing is, the doctor's nurse had made it clear to me that it would be a one-day stay, and I had told my son that very thing. He was banking on getting out of the hospital the next morning and his little boy "nerves" were starting to get to him already. For me this was a time when I had to draw a line in the sand, and I infuriated the doctor by not following his "orders." He turned out not to be the best doctor anyhow. So we went home as planned. I told the doctor point blank, "It is more important at this moment for my son to be able to trust me than anything else. We can always do another test." His condition was not life threatening whatsoever, or things might have been different.
In that moment of explaining to the doctor that we'd like to check out the next morning, I saw a side of him that was not very flattering. He just didn't have the understanding that we needed at that moment. And at that moment I lost trust in the doctor.
Later, we sought the counsel and help of a wonderful doctor at Children's Hospital in Akron. His demeanor and methods were entirely different and so much more professional. We got to the root of the problem and got it solved.
Going through life not trusting anyone produces another result in so many cases. The individual who does not trust can become untrustworthy him or herself. If he doesn't see the good in others or believe that others are being honest with him, then what would be the motivation for being honest with someone else? The scarring that comes from being a kid being disappointed again and again, lied to, or worse is frequently forever.
Our priest talks a lot about forgiveness. He thinks that forgiving is at the heart of healing, spiritual or physical. He speaks about his own struggles with forgiveness and how he tried to forgive with the mind but it was never enough. He needed God's help to forgive from his heart.
That's why, for me, being around children is so special and such a responsibility all at the same time. Children are so open. People always talk about the resiliency of children, and there is some truth to that. But I don't believe that they are quite as resilient as we think. They might appear to sail through something rough, but they are also great at masking their hurts.
My granddaughter sometimes wants something. It might be as simple as her pronouncing, "We're going to see Mommy." But the truth is we're not going to see Mommy right at that minute. So I usually say, "Well, we're not going to see Mommy right now." And then she thinks about it and says, "Maybe later." And she's good with that, but I try to be honest with her. I want her to be able to trust me.
Trust between parents and children, trust between husbands and wives, trust between people at work, and the most important trust -- trusting God -- is a huge part of our lives. Without that trust, the joy of life evaporates. We all must seek to be trustworthy people, and that might mean forgiving someone who broke trust with us in the past. Not easy to do -- but it's a good first step in healing.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Theresa
Theresa McLaughlin's funeral was yesterday. She was 85 years old and died on November 1, 2013, All Souls Day.
Hers was a life of service. She attended what is now Canton Central Catholic and went on to Mercy Hospital's nursing school. For many years she worked in a physician's office and then went into private duty nursing.
Theresa raised three children in Canal Fulton, in their home on Mapleview, the one with the huge oak in the front yard -- two daughters and one son. She loved her family, her church, and especially, Theresa loved God. This was a woman who exuded warmth and compassion. She was a member of the church's bereavement committee, and knew something about grief having lost all of her siblings and in 1999 her husband, Bill. He died on Thanksgiving Day. She was also a member of the Altar and Rosary Society and often said the Rosary, a very misunderstood set of prayers that commemorate various times in the life of Jesus.
A quiet woman, she often served in the background, and never sought notice. She was gentle and kind and when she saw something that needed to be done, she did it without fanfare. In the later years, she spent time visiting others in nursing homes, especially at The Laurels in Massillon.
Two of her children live a distance away, but one, her daughter Colleen, lives in Uniontown. She and her mother were often together and they had a close relationship, one that was so obviously full of love. One of Theresa's grandsons did the second reading at her funeral yesterday, Colleen's son, and he did a masterful job, reading from the Book of Revelations.
One of the strong pillars of SS Philip & James, Theresa and her husband helped to create a strong foundation. She will be very much missed.
Father Kevin said that Theresa's way of serving others reminds him of St. Theresa, the Little Flower. St. Theresa realized at a very young age that she didn't need to try and do big and huge things, but she could do many, many small things throughout the day for her precious Lord. This saint teaches us much about living in the short life that she had. She died at her convent in France of tuberculosis at age 24.
I really liked Theresa McLaughlin. We talked a number of times over the years, and she was a neighbor as well as a friend. My middle name is Theresa so we also shared that. When we are asked in this life to do the will of God and help to call others to him, the Lord certainly must have smiled at Theresa. Yesterday during her Mass, I imagined what Theresa might be seeing, the joy that she must be feeling. And God saying to her, "Well done, good and faithful servant."
Hers was a life of service. She attended what is now Canton Central Catholic and went on to Mercy Hospital's nursing school. For many years she worked in a physician's office and then went into private duty nursing.
Theresa raised three children in Canal Fulton, in their home on Mapleview, the one with the huge oak in the front yard -- two daughters and one son. She loved her family, her church, and especially, Theresa loved God. This was a woman who exuded warmth and compassion. She was a member of the church's bereavement committee, and knew something about grief having lost all of her siblings and in 1999 her husband, Bill. He died on Thanksgiving Day. She was also a member of the Altar and Rosary Society and often said the Rosary, a very misunderstood set of prayers that commemorate various times in the life of Jesus.
A quiet woman, she often served in the background, and never sought notice. She was gentle and kind and when she saw something that needed to be done, she did it without fanfare. In the later years, she spent time visiting others in nursing homes, especially at The Laurels in Massillon.
Two of her children live a distance away, but one, her daughter Colleen, lives in Uniontown. She and her mother were often together and they had a close relationship, one that was so obviously full of love. One of Theresa's grandsons did the second reading at her funeral yesterday, Colleen's son, and he did a masterful job, reading from the Book of Revelations.
One of the strong pillars of SS Philip & James, Theresa and her husband helped to create a strong foundation. She will be very much missed.
Father Kevin said that Theresa's way of serving others reminds him of St. Theresa, the Little Flower. St. Theresa realized at a very young age that she didn't need to try and do big and huge things, but she could do many, many small things throughout the day for her precious Lord. This saint teaches us much about living in the short life that she had. She died at her convent in France of tuberculosis at age 24.
I really liked Theresa McLaughlin. We talked a number of times over the years, and she was a neighbor as well as a friend. My middle name is Theresa so we also shared that. When we are asked in this life to do the will of God and help to call others to him, the Lord certainly must have smiled at Theresa. Yesterday during her Mass, I imagined what Theresa might be seeing, the joy that she must be feeling. And God saying to her, "Well done, good and faithful servant."
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Reunion
As my class of 1964 prepares for its 50th class reunion this coming September, the time we spend working on the preparations is a reunion in itself.
We want to reach every classmate so that each one receives an invitation, and so in that spirit, I started contacting some of the friends that meant so much to me growing up in the Fairview Park schools.
One of them is a friend who was in elementary school with me at some point. You know, now that I'm thinking about it, I can't remember when she joined us!! She left Fairview behind after college and moved about as far away from Ohio as she could. She moved from California to the east coast about three years ago and she is a furniture designer. She was always creative and talented!! I sent her a message and she answered that she is definitely planning on being at the reunion.
Another one was in my class from kindergarten on. She became an elementary school teacher and spent her years teaching at a Catholic school. She loves golf and she is on Facebook which is how I've more or less stayed connected with her these last few years. I emailed her and she is coming to the reunion, AND she is willing to sing!! Isn't that great? Because one of the things we are definitely going to do is feature the musical talents of our class members. There were 82 people in what we called Chorale during our senior year, made up of sophomores, juniors and seniors. There were many students in band. So this long-time friend is willing to go front and center without a moment of hesitation!!
Yet another classmate has really had a tough go the last few years. Her husband passed away suddenly and she has had to go through quite an upheaval to get herself back together and that included selling vehicles and businesses. Plus, she moved to Hartford, CT from upstate New York to be closer to family. I don't think it is an accident that I contacted her about the reunion. God works in our lives in all kinds of ways, and perhaps this reunion is one of them.
One of my classmates starting out in kindergarten has agreed to being the co-chair of entertainment with me. He was always such a character in school. He was very intense and if he was in stress over something, he would shred his pencils and leave all of the mess under the desk. In kindergarten, he really liked the taste of the paste that comes in those huge jars. He'd go up maybe two times for another gob of it before the teacher would realize that he'd eaten it. Hilarious! He always won the poster contests, and gee whiz -- no surprise he had his own advertising agency. So we'll be able to come up with something interesting and inclusive. I love seeing people coming together creating what some like to call synergy.
The last couple of weeks I've really been sensing how blessed I am because of my wonderful family and friends. How thankful I am!! From birthdays to retirements to more birthdays, I've been so happy to spend time with the people who mean so much to me.
I've been reading O'Reilly's book, "Killing Jesus," this last week. I'm about halfway done. He talks about John the Baptist and how very basically he lived. How he lived his life for one purpose -- to prepare the way for the Lord. How humble he was.
And then yesterday we watched a one-hour television program on CNBC about Pope Francis. This is a man of the people. He did not set himself apart but immersed himself into the Argentine neighborhoods and listened to the people, especially in Buenos Aires. He knew that there is a time to pray and there is a time to act. His life is an inspiration and it certainly resonated with me.
Reunions -- I'm seeing this event in September as something more than a social event. It's a reflective. It is joy!!
Thanks for listening today. See you Wednesday.
We want to reach every classmate so that each one receives an invitation, and so in that spirit, I started contacting some of the friends that meant so much to me growing up in the Fairview Park schools.
One of them is a friend who was in elementary school with me at some point. You know, now that I'm thinking about it, I can't remember when she joined us!! She left Fairview behind after college and moved about as far away from Ohio as she could. She moved from California to the east coast about three years ago and she is a furniture designer. She was always creative and talented!! I sent her a message and she answered that she is definitely planning on being at the reunion.
Another one was in my class from kindergarten on. She became an elementary school teacher and spent her years teaching at a Catholic school. She loves golf and she is on Facebook which is how I've more or less stayed connected with her these last few years. I emailed her and she is coming to the reunion, AND she is willing to sing!! Isn't that great? Because one of the things we are definitely going to do is feature the musical talents of our class members. There were 82 people in what we called Chorale during our senior year, made up of sophomores, juniors and seniors. There were many students in band. So this long-time friend is willing to go front and center without a moment of hesitation!!
Yet another classmate has really had a tough go the last few years. Her husband passed away suddenly and she has had to go through quite an upheaval to get herself back together and that included selling vehicles and businesses. Plus, she moved to Hartford, CT from upstate New York to be closer to family. I don't think it is an accident that I contacted her about the reunion. God works in our lives in all kinds of ways, and perhaps this reunion is one of them.
One of my classmates starting out in kindergarten has agreed to being the co-chair of entertainment with me. He was always such a character in school. He was very intense and if he was in stress over something, he would shred his pencils and leave all of the mess under the desk. In kindergarten, he really liked the taste of the paste that comes in those huge jars. He'd go up maybe two times for another gob of it before the teacher would realize that he'd eaten it. Hilarious! He always won the poster contests, and gee whiz -- no surprise he had his own advertising agency. So we'll be able to come up with something interesting and inclusive. I love seeing people coming together creating what some like to call synergy.
The last couple of weeks I've really been sensing how blessed I am because of my wonderful family and friends. How thankful I am!! From birthdays to retirements to more birthdays, I've been so happy to spend time with the people who mean so much to me.
I've been reading O'Reilly's book, "Killing Jesus," this last week. I'm about halfway done. He talks about John the Baptist and how very basically he lived. How he lived his life for one purpose -- to prepare the way for the Lord. How humble he was.
And then yesterday we watched a one-hour television program on CNBC about Pope Francis. This is a man of the people. He did not set himself apart but immersed himself into the Argentine neighborhoods and listened to the people, especially in Buenos Aires. He knew that there is a time to pray and there is a time to act. His life is an inspiration and it certainly resonated with me.
Reunions -- I'm seeing this event in September as something more than a social event. It's a reflective. It is joy!!
Thanks for listening today. See you Wednesday.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
All Souls Day
Today is All Souls Day, and we remember those who have died and gone on. At 1:00, we'll have a Mass and all those from our parish who lost a loved one will have the chance to especially remember them and light a candle in their memory. It will be a guitar Mass.
Then tomorrow the Bishop comes to officially welcome and install our new pastor, Father Kevin McCaffrey. Kids from the grade school that make up their "choir" will be singing and three of us from the 10:00 folk group will play guitar to ensure a nice, full sound.
Then tomorrow, our littlest grandchild, Drew, turns six. Already. He is a delightful small person, funny and honest and interesting. His crop of blond hair and the beautiful blue eyes are going to melt some girl's heart one of these days. But right now, he is quite content to notice that boys are better than girls at baseball, for one thing. He notices what the other kids bring to school for lunch and drinks, and he wants to fit right in. He is really proud because he has started to learn how to read.
I've still got to make a cheese ball, make a card, wrap presents, and all sorts of things, so today we're not going to dilly dally around on the blog too long.
Ever have one of those nights when you just don't sleep very well? Last night was one of them for me. I started nodding off down the basement while watching TV after dinner, and that started the whole process. Then I woke up at around 4:00 or something like that and just couldn't get back to sleep. When I finally did, I overslept (for me) and now everything seems messed up. The best cure is to try hard not to fall asleep at any time today and to make it to bedtime without a nap.
Funny, when I was a kid I wanted to be able to stay up and watch TV until late. When I was a teenager, we had the typical pajama parties and we all went home exhausted from staying up. When the kids were little, it would have been so nice to sleep in once in a while, but the couple of times that I accidentally did that, I paid for it. Once my older son took some pills that he got into by climbing onto the counter via the stove door and getting into a cabinet. Fortunately, it was his own vitamins that he ate; my pills were in child guard bottles and he couldn't get them open. Poison control said he'd flush the vitamins out of his system just fine. One other time I overslept and I literally ran down the stairs to see if everything was all right. They were too quiet. As I made my way into the kitchen, I thought I saw something on the floor under the kitchen table and chairs. I did. It was a pile of blond hair. My older son gave his brother a haircut and cut his own hair at the same time. He also plucked one half of his brother's eyebrow. They looked just great for their Christmas pictures that year!!
Now that I'm retired, it would be wonderful to have a really good night's sleep, but sometimes that just doesn't work out!! Crazy, isn't it?
Have a good day despite the gray skies and the rain. See you on Tuesday morning.
Then tomorrow the Bishop comes to officially welcome and install our new pastor, Father Kevin McCaffrey. Kids from the grade school that make up their "choir" will be singing and three of us from the 10:00 folk group will play guitar to ensure a nice, full sound.
Then tomorrow, our littlest grandchild, Drew, turns six. Already. He is a delightful small person, funny and honest and interesting. His crop of blond hair and the beautiful blue eyes are going to melt some girl's heart one of these days. But right now, he is quite content to notice that boys are better than girls at baseball, for one thing. He notices what the other kids bring to school for lunch and drinks, and he wants to fit right in. He is really proud because he has started to learn how to read.
I've still got to make a cheese ball, make a card, wrap presents, and all sorts of things, so today we're not going to dilly dally around on the blog too long.
Ever have one of those nights when you just don't sleep very well? Last night was one of them for me. I started nodding off down the basement while watching TV after dinner, and that started the whole process. Then I woke up at around 4:00 or something like that and just couldn't get back to sleep. When I finally did, I overslept (for me) and now everything seems messed up. The best cure is to try hard not to fall asleep at any time today and to make it to bedtime without a nap.
Funny, when I was a kid I wanted to be able to stay up and watch TV until late. When I was a teenager, we had the typical pajama parties and we all went home exhausted from staying up. When the kids were little, it would have been so nice to sleep in once in a while, but the couple of times that I accidentally did that, I paid for it. Once my older son took some pills that he got into by climbing onto the counter via the stove door and getting into a cabinet. Fortunately, it was his own vitamins that he ate; my pills were in child guard bottles and he couldn't get them open. Poison control said he'd flush the vitamins out of his system just fine. One other time I overslept and I literally ran down the stairs to see if everything was all right. They were too quiet. As I made my way into the kitchen, I thought I saw something on the floor under the kitchen table and chairs. I did. It was a pile of blond hair. My older son gave his brother a haircut and cut his own hair at the same time. He also plucked one half of his brother's eyebrow. They looked just great for their Christmas pictures that year!!
Now that I'm retired, it would be wonderful to have a really good night's sleep, but sometimes that just doesn't work out!! Crazy, isn't it?
Have a good day despite the gray skies and the rain. See you on Tuesday morning.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Last Night
Trick or treat turned out to be one of the best ever, even as reports of high winds, lightning, thunder, and postponements dominated the weather reports.
For some reason, last night the neighborhood kids seemed to have more fun than ever and were more enthusiastic than ever. Even though they were absolutely soaked.
We set a record. My projection of five children visiting our house was way off because we may have topped out at around 20, a new record for sure. The neighbor gave out treats this year too, and so that may have been part of the reason since it drew children toward the cul-de-sac.
The children were coming to almost every door at our house, a definite drawback to having the house turned around with its front towards the woods and its back towards the cul-de-sac. So we gave out treats on the porch and at the front door too, and sometimes I was running back and forth between the two.
I gave the kids three treats each, and told the one group, "I'm giving you more candy because it's so nasty tonight and we probably won't get very many." And one boy volunteered, "I know, that's what everyone says." He didn't mind hearing it again though. Another boy wore his soaked clothes like a badge of honor, "Nothing's going to stop us," he proclaimed. The rain gave the evening an edge to it, and it was a warm edge, a constant warm rain. My grandchildren were going to sit it out this year, but suddenly after dinner everyone got their shoes on and headed out into the wetness. About 40 minutes later they returned, wet but happy and smiling. My granddaughter couldn't wait to get her shoes off. She said there were puddles in the bottoms of them. My little Incredible Hulk's costume was drenched but he was delighted. We got everyone warm and had hot chocolate and Krispy Kreme donuts heated up in the microwave.
By 8:30, the house was quiet and calm again, and the cats emerged from their hiding places. The goblins and the Incredible Hulks were back home again, as well as the princesses and the pirates. Another Halloween in a small town. Another sense of history of times past, to Halloweens in the 50s. And NO ONE could get over the fact that my brother and I said, "Please help the poor." Honestly, I think they believe I came from another planet sometimes.
Today one of my grandchildren will be celebrating the Fall harvest or some such thing. There are to be no costumes, no mention of ghosts or goblins, no Halloween decorated plates and napkins, nothing. Like last night never happened. It's the PC life again, and isn't it so darn silly?
Hope all is well with you today!! We're going to have cold temps the next few days, so get out the gloves and hats again.
For some reason, last night the neighborhood kids seemed to have more fun than ever and were more enthusiastic than ever. Even though they were absolutely soaked.
We set a record. My projection of five children visiting our house was way off because we may have topped out at around 20, a new record for sure. The neighbor gave out treats this year too, and so that may have been part of the reason since it drew children toward the cul-de-sac.
The children were coming to almost every door at our house, a definite drawback to having the house turned around with its front towards the woods and its back towards the cul-de-sac. So we gave out treats on the porch and at the front door too, and sometimes I was running back and forth between the two.
I gave the kids three treats each, and told the one group, "I'm giving you more candy because it's so nasty tonight and we probably won't get very many." And one boy volunteered, "I know, that's what everyone says." He didn't mind hearing it again though. Another boy wore his soaked clothes like a badge of honor, "Nothing's going to stop us," he proclaimed. The rain gave the evening an edge to it, and it was a warm edge, a constant warm rain. My grandchildren were going to sit it out this year, but suddenly after dinner everyone got their shoes on and headed out into the wetness. About 40 minutes later they returned, wet but happy and smiling. My granddaughter couldn't wait to get her shoes off. She said there were puddles in the bottoms of them. My little Incredible Hulk's costume was drenched but he was delighted. We got everyone warm and had hot chocolate and Krispy Kreme donuts heated up in the microwave.
By 8:30, the house was quiet and calm again, and the cats emerged from their hiding places. The goblins and the Incredible Hulks were back home again, as well as the princesses and the pirates. Another Halloween in a small town. Another sense of history of times past, to Halloweens in the 50s. And NO ONE could get over the fact that my brother and I said, "Please help the poor." Honestly, I think they believe I came from another planet sometimes.
Today one of my grandchildren will be celebrating the Fall harvest or some such thing. There are to be no costumes, no mention of ghosts or goblins, no Halloween decorated plates and napkins, nothing. Like last night never happened. It's the PC life again, and isn't it so darn silly?
Hope all is well with you today!! We're going to have cold temps the next few days, so get out the gloves and hats again.
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