-

The hyphen. Such a small little thing. We may call it a dash or a couple of other things, but that doesn't really matter.



It's what the hyphen does that matters.



Per Wikipedia: "The hyphen ( - ) is a punctuation mark. It is used both to join words and also to separate syllables of a single word."



When this country was first founded it was to create a new and different land. Far far away from the oppressive British monarchy. Over time America came to represent the shining light of all that was good about a country. And people wanted to come here. To be an American. They left their homes and families and traveled great distances to be a part of this country. And while most of the big cities where immigrants settled did create their own little countries (think Little Italy in New York City) in their neighborhoods, outside of those neighborhoods they learned English, and spoke English, and tried to be an American.



Somewhere along the way it fell out of vogue, this only being an American. We had to use a hyphen to connect two words: Italian-American, Jewish-American, African-American, German-American, Irish-American. Such a tiny little mark was making a huge difference suddenly. Now, we were not wanting to run away from our beginnings but bring them along and acknowledge them. On the surface I have no problem with that. My ancestors made me who I am. A Native, German, Irish, English, Scottish, French(?) American. I probably left something out since my background is somewhat varied. I'm proud of all of it.



But I am really only an American. I think that is what all my ancestors wanted for their descendants. I think that was the intention. They left their countries for this new country where we could be free. And they were proud to be an American.



Somewhere along the way the hyphen learned to do division. I think when everyone started sticking that one little mark in front of "American" our country started dividing up into groups. Particularly when the other culture comes first. I think that is very telling. Would it carry the same weight if we said we were American-German or American-Mexican? I think that we have started dividing ourselves up again by our cultures. We aren't "just" Americans anymore.


I guess I was thinking about this because of some language issues. The question keeps coming up every time I read something like instructions or road signs printed in multiple languages. Or whenever a discussion comes up about English being the official language.

I'm going to visit Italy later this year. I will spend the summer and fall trying as hard as I can to learn the basics of the language. So I can communicate with them in their native tongue - as they should expect. I can't imagine visiting someplace, much less moving there, and having an expectation that they would speak English simply because I do. Just seems arrogant to me - not a good guest.

I realize that America is a melting pot. Our background is a rich tapestry of influences from all over the globe. It is something that makes us unique. It sets us apart. But if we're going to be a successful merging of all these differences, why does everyone keep trying to point them out? The best cake is one where you can't taste all the individual ingredients. All the parts come together to make the whole.

Maybe we need to go back the drawing board.

Happy Birthday!

My mom called a little bit ago, before she'd read today's Random Thought and asked me if it was about my nephew. You see, he turns 16 today. A very important day! I told her no, I'd decided to wait until he was 18 to publicly embarrass him.

I changed my mind.

I thought about all the times I've said never to pass up an opportunity to tell someone you love them. None of us know where we'll be in 2 years. Not even sure about tomorrow.

So, not be overly flowerly and girly (there is SOOOOO much I could say here!!!)but,

Hayden, I love you and Happy Birthday!

My, how time flies.....

Correction

To everyone who receives the email version - the musical is "Oklahoma" not "The Sound of Music". I had something else on my mind while typing! Sorry for the error.

A Gift to Me

Sometimes we have to take care of ourselves. It isn't that I'm not well cared for by others but there are some gifts that you can only give yourself.

I tend to be one of those people who can't say no. (As that has made me sing the song "I'm Just a Girl Who Can't say No" from the musical "Oklahoma" it has been a long week.) And after I say yes, in true Southern fashion, I want to please. I want to make sure everyone is taken care of. I typically go above and beyond.

Problem is, I become the "go-to" person. And since I don't say no I end up doing more and more and more.

So, for my birthday this year I am giving myself a gift. The gift of permission to say no. And to say no without guilt. Most all of my current obligations will be over on June 30. I've already not re-upped for one of them and the other automatically goes to someone else for the next two years. There is still much to be done between now and then - I'm the discussion leader for the accouting and auditing update at the CPE day so the preparation for that half day will be substantial - but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Now this has been hard for me. One of my first posts on Random Thoughts was "Letting the Bully Win" and it was based on my experiences with one of these organizations. One where about 6 or 7 other members have decided, like me, to not come back next year. And that does give me pause. Am I doing the one thing that I really don't want to - am I letting this one overbearing personality run me off? Will the bully win if I'm not there to present opposing views and give the other members things to think about?

I finally had to decide that after 4 years I have to come first. This organization survived decades without me and it will continue, without me.

So, what comes with the gift of permission to say no? What added bonus? The gift of time. Time to start working on my writing again. When we were looking at houses during the move 7 years ago my focus was always on which room would be my writing room. What would the view be? Where would I see my inspirations? And, aside from a few short stories, I haven't written much. Time to get back into the kitchen. We spent 15 months completely gutting and redoing our kitchen into a good, functional space to put my training to use. (Side note, for those that don't know it I was in the middle of working on a culinary arts degree when we moved and my husband and I literally redid the entire kitchen ourselves. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall and everything in between. That is why it took 15 months.) Time to read the hundreds of books in my library that are waiting their turn. Time to play on the Wii if I feel like it. Time to do what I want because I want.

Now, I'm not dropping out of everything, and I don't regret one minute that I've spent on my pursuits. This is a small town and "outsiders" have to work hard sometimes to find their way into things. But I've met some of the most wonderful people and made new friends. I've also seen groups that I'd like to be involved in

some day.

Think about what gifts you might need - gift of forgiveness for a past misdeed, gift of acceptance for yourself, the gift of patience. There's any number of gifts that you may need to give yourself. You see, unlike a new scarf or pair of shoes, no one else can give you these gifts. They can only come from within.

Which is why I think they are so much more valuable.

Labels

WARNING Contents in coffee cup are hot!

Product may contain peanuts

Do not exceed recommended dosage!

Serving Size: 1 bag

Some labels are good. Labels can give us any amount of valuable information. Sometimes we think the labels may be silly (isn't coffee supposed to be hot??) but someone still deemed them necessary for one reason or another.

Lately I've been hearing a lot of labels being tossed about in the hunt for a Supreme Court Justice. Labels regarding gender, ethnicity, race and sexuality. All these discussions of who would make a good political appointment that center around things besides their qualifications. I keep hearing "we need a Hispanic", "the President should appoint a homosexual", "the Court needs a black female".


I've got an idea. How about all the resumes get stacked up without names or any identifying information and a selection gets made based on nothing more than....



wait for it



their qualifications for the job!! Wow! What a concept! Appointing a Supreme Court Justice based on their ability to interpret the laws.


I guess I live in a very idealistic world. I think that in 2009 labels should be unnecessary in our conversations. People should be men and women not a black man or Hispanic woman. Not a gay man or a white woman.


Why is it necessary to use these labels?

At one time in society then maybe there was a need. But not now. We're all equal under the law - at least for most things. We can all apply to and attend college. Any college. We can all apply for the same jobs - any job. We don't have the same boundaries that existed 60 years ago. The only boundaries that exist now is in our abilities and our drive. Sure, I could apply to MIT but I won't get in. I didn't work hard enough in science in school. And the cost is a bit much. But if I were accepted I could certainly work extra jobs to pay for it if it meant that much to me.

There was an ad on television the other night for a vo-tech college. At the end "women and minorities are strongly encouraged to apply". I know that diversity is the "big thing". I'm all for it - in the right context.

People who want to participate in something should. But don't ask someone to join your group just because of WHAT they are. People should be asked to join a group based on WHO they are. What skills they bring to the table. Their qualifications.

That goes for everything. Supreme Court Justices included.

Out of My League

This was my entry into the Flower Show. The one that I wrote about a few weeks ago in the Naunie's Roses post.

Now, here is the explanation behind my entry. The theme of the flower show was "Essence of a Victorian Wedding" and my entry was in the dining room, labeled "Reception: Celebrating with the couple after the Ceremony". So I created the top tier of a wedding cake. Complete with notes that the magnolia leaves were representing the great swirls of white icing on most Victorian cakes. I did the trim with lantana out of my own yard.

Pretty much every other entry there - 23 others - were basic flower arrangements in a vase or some other container.

That was it. Second place in one division was literally a dozen roses - pink and beautiful - in a vase with some filler.

I knew I was in trouble when I took my entry and saw all these glorious arrangements. I started feeling like going with the theme had not been my best decision. After the judging the show was open to the public for 2 hours. Well, my husband and I got there about 30 minutes into the show. My magnolia leaves were now really turning brown and the lantana not quite so perky as in the morning. I asked when I could take my entry home. I was told that I should leave it until the end of the show, but I just couldn't. It REALLY didn't look like it belonged with the rest.

To my husband's credit he pumped me up by saying all the right things to say. "You showed creativity and imagination. Theirs were just a bunch of roses." And while I am proud of my entry and proud of myself for entering and trying, I have to admit to a little embarrassment. But, like I was reminded, some of these women wait all year for this day and I had one of my worst weeks in a long time last week and put my entry together yesterday morning. I finished it 10 minutes before the deadline. But I honored my commitment to the committee and did what I thought was a good effort.

Below is my 4th place ribbon. As expected. There are 4 entries in each division. Everyone gets rewarded for participating. But that's OK. I tried.

Moms Are Special

I've said before that the title of this post is one of my husband's favorite phrases. Moms are special. So, it is with his mother that I'd like to start this tribute to three of my favorite moms.

I thanked my mother-in-law once for giving me the greatest gift I'd ever received. Since she primarily shops for me at TJ Maxx, she was a little confused. Of course I meant my husband. She raised a wonderful man that I cannot imagine life without. But it is her life and how she raised her family that is impressive.

She was born very poor. Her father was killed in an accident when she was about 3 years old, with a twin brother and a sister that was maybe 5. Her mother moved back to live with her mom in a small house with an outhouse. My husband will tell you the outhouse was still operational while HE was growing up. Her community was very small and rural. It still had a one-room schoolhouse. At 16 she left to move to the Big City with her 8th grade education (that's as high as the school went) and basic skills to find a job to help support her family. And she did. She worked odd jobs and lived in a boarding house.

Then she married her first husband and had a child at 19. After a few years of moving around the country, working where ever there were jobs and family to support them, there were some problems and she did something almost unheard of in the late 50s and early 60s. She divorced him. Now she was a single mother with a small child and still only had an 8th grade education. But she worked hard and made a life for the two of them. Then she married my husband's father and had two children and was a stay-at-home mom. Until that didn't work out and they divorced.

It was back to working whatever jobs she could find. Pizza parlor, dry cleaners, whatever she could do. She also earned her GED. With a teenage son that probably could have used a lot more guidance and male influence. His dad left the family and was not a part of his life after that.

But what emerged from this was a man that respects women and has an incredible work ethic. He will do what he needs to do to support his family - emotionally or monetarily or however. He doesn't care. If that means doing the grocery shopping because I'm working 7 days a week - so be it. His schedule now is more flexible so he takes cares of the house while I work. At other times during our marriage I don't think he knew where the vacuum cleaner was stored, but he was working the 7 days a week to make a nice home for us.

So, while neither of us is perfect and the last 20 years have had some rough spots, my husband is a blessing to me and I see a lot in him of the woman who raised him. And I thank her.

The next special mom on my list is my sister. I can't imagine raising children in today's world. When my mom was growing up people didn't even lock their doors at night. My sister and I grew up with the whole don't take candy from strangers and don't tell someone on the phone that your parents aren't home. Bad things happened to kids, but not all the time. Now, she has to worry every time one of them turns on the computer what kind of cybernut is out there. The daily news is, unfortunately, full of stories about children that don't end well.

So I admire her. I admire her first and foremost for even having children in the first place. Not something I could do. But I am impressed and more than pleased with the children themselves. They are good kids. They are involved and fun to be around. They do well in school and they love their aunt. They are just special people that I can see doing wonderful things when they get older. They bring a joy to my life. My sister is fortunate that she also married a wonderful man and together they are doing an incredible job.

And I thank her.

Now, my mom. The best for last.

My mom is awesome. I've learned a lot from her over the years. Although I may not have always said it. We didn't have all the mother/daughter dramas while I was growing up, but we had a few. Didn't see eye to eye on a few things. Boys mostly. But that's another story.

My mom married my dad while she was still in college. I was a quick addition to the family and my dad got a job in another town so we moved. She hadn't finished her education but there were provisions back then for teachers who were in the process so she started working. But I watched her not only finish her degree but also go on to get her Master's degree, plus hours above. And she did this over the summers. It took her a long time. I can remember times where Daddy would take my sister and I out or try to keep us quiet so Mom could study. I remember being on campus in the summers and waiting outside the classroom a few times while Mom was working on her education. And I remember a great sense of pride when she graduated.

She never gave up. She had a goal and she worked and worked until she attained it. An admirable trait under any circumstances. One that I think I picked up.

But, more importantly, it is the way that Mom has lived her life. How she has faced what has been thrown at her that I admire most.

Mom's life started out fairly easily. My grandfather was a successful farmer in a small town and my mom's family was very well known and respected. The conventional wisdom was that she would also marry a farmer, stay in town, continue playing the organ for the Methodist Church, and raise her family there. Live a life like my grandmother lived.

Mom had other plans. The choices she made didn't really lead to the life that had been envisioned for her. I think it took a lot of gumption for a 17 or 18 year old to make those bold decisions to go a different path than the expected. But it was still a good life for a long time. We had a nice house (although it didn't seem so small when I was growing up as it does now), nice cars, family vacations every summer. Mom worked but had the summers and school holidays off to be with us. My sister and I worked some growing up, not because the family had to have the money but for our own spending money and the "extras" in life. It taught us valuable skills about being organized and managing money. Saving for the important stuff.

Mom went through a lot in the years before my dad died. We all did, but her especially. I watched her be strong. Tough in an impossible situation. Trying to make difficult decisions. Life wasn't turning out quite as planned once the kids were out of the house.

I watched her again be strong with her second husband. She had been given the opportunity to live a life that she'd wanted, and deserved, and then it all got snatched out from under her. My stepfather fell ill and life changed. She really put him and his needs first for that last year and half before his death. They traveled all over but that meant she had to do all the packing, carrying the suitcases, the planning, the driving. She did everything so that he could enjoy his remaining time. And he appreciated it, don't misunderstand. Then I watched her, very literally, bury a man she loved.

But I've seen what all she was has gone through. The emotions when no one was looking. The chinks in the armor.

I admire my mother. She has been handed a lot in life and she has handled it. She's stronger than I think she realizes and I wish she would give herself more credit. I watch her now, trying again to rearrange her life for unexpected circumstances, and I try to support and encourage. I wouldn't blame her if she never left the house but I'm always hoping she will. There's still a big world out there and now is the time to do new things or make some changes. To be secure in herself, and put herself first for a change. She's been a wife and mother. Now she just needs to be herself.

She's taught us lessons through her life. How she's lived it and who she is.

And for that, I can't thank her enough.

I am grateful and thankful for all three of these mothers. They've brought so much into my life. So, on this day set aside for mothers everywhere, I say Thank You, I Love You, and Happy Mother's Day!


(And that goes for all the mothers and stepmothers out there who have blessed my life - my grandmothers, aunts, cousins, friends. I hope you all have a most wonderful day!)


Moms are Special.

The Reluctant Role Model

Several years ago Charles Barkley, of NBA fame, got into some trouble with the law. I don't remember now if it was drugs or drink or speeding. But it was his first time and an interviewer asked him how he felt about all the kids and people he let down. His response was that he didn't really care. He had never asked to be a role model and no one should look up to him.



Problem is, most people don't ask to be role models. You don't really wake up one morning and think "Today is the day I become a role model." I suppose there are those people that make a conscious decision to join a group like the Boys and Girls Club or Big Brothers/Big Sisters and know that becoming a role model is a byproduct of their involvement, or can be at least.



No, for the average Joe, being a role model for someone is usually accidental. And usually unexpected. Which means we REALLY have to be careful what we do! You never know who might be watching.

Nor do you know what might be noticed by someone. Role models can be positive or negative. There are some powerful commercials on television to get people to stop smoking. It shows young girls playing dress up and then pretending to smoke a cigarette. The moms watching are mortified. They didn't realize their actions were being so closely monitored. But of course your kids are going to look up to you! They want to be like their parents.

It isn't always your parents of course. Maybe it is someone at work trying to better themselves with more education, or a neighbor improving their health, or any number of things.

I think the secret is really to try and live a life that you won't be embarrassed by if someone does emulate you. Be proud of yourself every night when you lay down to go to sleep and then you don't have to worry. You won't get a Superman suit with a cape and an "R" on the chest but you can have a sense of personal pride when you realize that someone took notice and wanted to be like you.

And, for the record, not too long ago Charles Barkley did an interview - from a jail in Arizona.

Yes, No, Not Right Now

Prayer has been on my mind a lot lately. I'm not entirely sure where I'm headed with this, but I've had lots to think about.

I'm on a prayer chain at my old church. I get lots of prayer request by friends and coworkers. I see them on Facebook all the time. We've prayed for our ill friends, family and friends of those who have died, blessings for new additions to families, for soldiers serving around the world. I've asked for prayers as well.

But it has caused me to think about some things. I have no problem praying. It doesn't matter if I know the person. But I started thinking about WHY we pray.

On the one hand, we're taught in church that God has a big Master Plan for every person on Earth. He and only He knows how many days we will all spend in this life. We also are taught the God doesn't make mistakes.

So what are really praying for? What is the purpose? For God to change his mind? We aren't praying for him to make a correction.

One of the hardest lessons I've ever had to learn dealt with prayer. I was in a Bible study and the leader told us that God answers our prayers 100% of the time.

100%

I had a real problem with this at the time. I'd been praying very hard about something and I couldn't see anything happening that I'd been asking for. If anything, the situation was worsening.

The leader of the group told us that God answers every prayer because he has three answers - yes, no, and not right now.

It was tough to accept that God was actually telling me no, not just ignoring me. I think at first I wanted to just believe I wasn't being heard because to accept that I was being denied something I really wanted was almost unacceptable.

But that is what any good parent does, isn't it? Our parents know that touching a hot stove is painful and tells us no if we try to touch it. A good parent keeps us from harming ourselves - both physically and emotionally. Our parents protect us, often from ourselves.

The hard part is the understanding. When you're going through something and you're all caught up in the middle of it, it is very difficult to step back and see the bigger picture. To see why we're being told no, or not right now.
It's never easy to understand why a child gets sick with cancer, or a young person dies in car accident, or why bad things happen to good people.

So, I come back to my original question. Why do we pray? I think we pray for understanding. We pray for comfort. We pray for acceptance of the situation. Because I'm pretty sure we're not going to change the Master Plan - although I'm a firm believer of "it never hurts to ask".

I mean what's the worst thing that can happen - we get told no?

A Daddy's Girl

I'm pretty sure I never stood a chance of being anything but a daddy's girl. From the stories I've been told and the pictures I've seen of my early years, Daddy and I were always pretty tight.


From the moment I fit into the palm of his hand.


And, as the gods would have it, I have to say I'm a lot like him. While I favor that side of the family, I'm not the clone of Daddy that my sister is of my mother. (That one is just scary - total strangers will walk up to her just about anywhere and identify her as being our mother's daughter. She could NEVER get away with anything.) But I picked up a lot of his mannerisms and overall stuff. And when we were named, I carried my dad's initials and my sister carried my mother's. Worked out perfectly.


Was my daddy perfect? Oh no. And some days he was less perfect than others. I wouldn't try to tell you otherwise. And my memories may be veiled with a daughter's blinders. But today, on what would have been his 68th birthday, I want to remember the good stuff.



Daddy was hysterically funny, articulate, intelligent, well read (read the newspapers cover to cover every morning and you all know the old joke about checking the obituaries to make sure he wasn't in them), fiercely loyal to those he loved (nearly took out the guy at the car wash once for not believing my mother when she said it was eating her quarters), and a really terrific dad.


Mom was a school teacher so the first day of school duties fell to Daddy. Meeting the teachers wasn't a problem but buying the school supplies would stress him out. And he was a by-the-booker. If the supply list said I needed a box of 16 crayons then there was no point in asking for the box of 24. Wasn't happening. College-ruled paper? Nope. Anything other than those giant husky pencils? Not if that was what the list called for. And if, heaven forbid, the list wasn't specific enough, then Mom would have to pick it up the next day at school. (Back then there was a little room in most of the schools where you could buy supplies if you ran out. Probably don't have those any more.)


He had the same problem just going to the grocery store. I remember one time he was gone forever and came home with only about 3 things off the list. It wasn't specific enough. Mom would write "Tide" on the list but when he would get there - powder or liquid, what size, what scent? The choices were overwhelming! This was pre-cell phone days so he would just give up.



But, when I started 7th grade I had to ride the bus to school. Including the first day. And Daddy cried. Not where I could see it, but I heard about it. I was growing up a little. That caused him some trouble as well.



Daddy was a traveling salesman and I used to get to go with him sometimes during the summers. To a kid, it's like a vacation. Staying in hotels and going swimming in hotel pools. But I loved riding in the car and going places with him. I was a pretty good kid so I could be left alone in the lobbies while he made his sales calls. Like him, I'm never without reading material so I could occupy myself. And he had a routine at every hotel - work or pleasure. He always scoped out the newspaper box and the ice machine. Once he had located those two things, everything was fine.

He loved to be outside - not the camping, hiking or fishing kind of outside, just outside. Give him a lawn chair and the sun and he was happy. A beach - even better! I'm working on a whole series of blogs of our summers in Florida. Yes, there is that much material. One year, just because he wanted to and wanted to be able to say that he did it, he slept on the beach. Note to self, just because it is 95 degrees at high noon it probably won't be twelve hours later. I remember him walking back up to the house at sun up. Shaking and freezing! It was cold coming off that water all night and all he'd taken with him was a towel to cover up in. He never did it again, but he could say that he did it.

He was kind, but didn't make a big deal out of his acts of kindness. I remember hearing a story about my sister's after-prom breakfast. The parents had organized it at a park close to the river (basically the middle of the night but they wanted the students to have something safe to do after the prom) and someone noticed my dad was not standing there as he had been a few minutes before. They spotted him taking a plate of food to a homeless man. He'd not said anything about it or made it known, he just did it.

No, he wasn't perfect. There were times that he disappointed us, same as we disappointed him. But, overall, he was a good man and gave us (that's the collective family "us" which includes his friends) 55 years of memories and lessons and a role to model. I remarked not long ago that I knew I got some of the bad stuff (asthma, allergies, temper, hard head) but I hoped I'd gotten some of the good stuff, too. There was a lot there for the taking.

He could have been and done anything but I think he made choices based, at least somewhat, on his family. His job allowed him some flexibility and sometimes he was the only daddy in attendance at school functions - an 8th grade home economics fashion show comes to mind - but his girls were important to him. I learned much later that his girls were really everything to him. He had a hard time when we married and moved away. Left a big hole that he had trouble filling.

His heart was big, as were his hands. They cradled me when I was tiny and they held me when I was 21 and thought my world was coming to an end after a bad break up. They trembled when he walked me down aisle to the other man in my life.

But Daddy was always my first love. I still miss him every single day. There is a song that I like and a line at the end talks about someone coming to the singer and saying "I hope to meet your dad someday." The singer, who has talked about seeing his father in the mirror and tried to be like his father, says " I hope you already did."

I hope people will say that about me - that they see my father in me. It may be the good, the bad and the really not so good, but its a package deal. We don't get to pick our parents, and we don't get to pick the traits we inherit. We may manage them differently but its all a part of the bigger picture.

I was blessed two really wonderful parents. They both contributed to the person I am today. I think if anyone sees either parent in me or my sister, then we've done well.

Unions and Lobbies and Bailouts Oh My!

Fox News reported last night that GM paid lobbyists $2.8 million since the first of 2009.



This is the same General Motors that has received BILLONS of bailout dollars. Those dollars were supposed to help the automaker stay in business. Help them make payrolls and pay the light bills. Instead, it seems a fairly good chunk of it went to ensure there would be more coming their way.



It leaves no wonder that they got into this shape in the first place.



This is just me, personally, but using "free money" in this manner doesn't seem like the basis for sound business decisions. And on the surface, publicly, they want to fuss about all the strings attached to government aid. But they had no problem spending it.



There are lots of factors involved in this story, as there are in any story. One facet of all of this is the United Auto Workers Union. I feel certain that when unions were first being formed decades ago they did serve a very valid purpose. They kept business owners from taking advantage of immigrant work forces and ensured the workers had safe, fair working conditions.



I'm not entirely convinced they serve the same purpose now. Seems to me they are intent on almost the opposite now. Several industries closed up around here just before we moved into town. The impetus, from what I heard, was that the unions were just making so many unreasonable demands that the corporate offices just shut down the plants.



Maybe I'm wrong, but wouldn't having a less than perfect job beat having no job?



So, we've got the UAW making demands on GM to ensure the workers futures (although just having a job does not seem to be adequate) and GM paying lobbyists to make sure they get more money but preferably without a lot of strings - especially since those strings won't cover what the UAW wants. And the lobbyist I'm guessing are having a heyday at spending the government's money to get more of government's money.



Meanwhile, the rest of the country is trying to figure out how they are going to eat next week without a job since they don't have a car that runs or money to put gas in it. $2.8 million dollars in those people's pockets might actually go somewhere productive. I think I could make better business decisions than some of the current "experts" running that show.



No, Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore, and you should definitely ignore the man behind the curtain (no, that was not a slap at the President - I mean all the people behind this current fiasco in the auto industry).



I know that the power of the people is in the hands of the purchaser. I can choose to not buy a GM car. I can choose to not buy American. I have the power to determine where my money is spent. And it is through that power that I can make my voice heard.



Hey Detroit - Can you hear me now?

I Dreamed a Dream

By now, most everyone has seen the video of Susan Boyle and "Britain's Got Talent". So many people are focusing on one of the two lessons her story presents.

The obvious lesson is "don't judge a book by its cover". Everyone in the audience, and the judges, were rolling their eyes at this woman and expecting less than zero. Simon Cowell even asked her why her pursuit of becoming a professional singer had not materialized by now, obviously not ready for what was about to be heard. Her answer, "I haven't really had the opportunity. Here's hoping that will change."

And change it did! When her voice came out so beautifully everyone there was astonished, and ashamed of themselves. She had been written off based on the outside shell. Her hair was a little wild, eyebrows were bushy, little makeup. She was more than being judged. She was completely being written off as a no-talent based on nothing more than her appearance.

So, the obvious lesson was not to judge a book by its cover. We've heard it since childhood but rarely has so perfect an example been presented.

I say the other lesson is this: Follow your dreams!

Here is a woman that is almost 48 years old. Participating in a talent show. Following her dream of becoming a professional singer. How many other folks would have given up by now? Just accepted life in a small village and singing in church and weekly karaoke.

Or my friend that I told you just became a mom. After being married for over 15 years and countless disappointments before finally having an adoption completed. Her Facebook status the other day said this: "....too tired to tremble, but I cry every time I sing to him." By the time lots of women reach 42 or 43 they are no longer thinking of becoming a first time mom. They've accepted their fate and are living their life without children.

So, while we should always be reminded that prejudging a person is rarely a good thing, a lesson in the pursuit of happiness is not bad either. Pull those dreams out of the closet and dust them off!

Maybe you want to open a bakery, or teach children, or live in a big city. Maybe you're an accountant who prefers words to numbers. Maybe you're middle-aged but still have things you want to do in this world while there is still time to do them.

Go for it! You don't necessarily have to quit your day job or make major changes in your life. It could be that you need to keep your eyes open for opportunities and not be afraid to take those baby steps. A love of acting could be played out on a community theatre stage rather than on Broadway, but an audience is an audience. The applause sounds as sweet when you're taking your bow.

You never know who might be watching, or reading. You never know when a child will need a family. You'll never know when a dream might come true.

But one thing is for certain, you'll never know if you quit looking, and dreaming.

i miss u!

I opened my Facebook page one night last week - either Friday or Saturday, I can't remember. Almost instantly the chat box popped up and it said "i miss u!"

Now, here is your "awwwww" moment for the week. It was from my almost 16 year old nephew.

Go ahead, awwwwww. I don't think he reads the blog so he won't know I told anyone.

My first thought was that he didn't mean to send it to me. But he did and we chatted for a few minutes. Then he was offline just as suddenly as on. No bye, see you later, or anything. Just gone. I'm guessing someone walked in the room on his side and he didn't want them to know.

I checked with my sister the next day to make sure nothing was going on in his world. Yes, it is OK for a 16 year old boy to be sweet to his aunt but it doesn't happen all that often so I was still a little skeptical. Everything was A-OK.

On Monday morning, though, she called to share a story. A teen-age drama that she wanted to tell. (still had nothing to do with him being sweet to me, but it put a few things together). My nephew had kind of goofed up the week before and had to suffer the consequences for it. What he did isn't important. Hardly breaking news kind of stuff, but he still made a mistake. And at first he asked her to cover for him.

To her great credit, she said no.

My heart soared at this point.

She told him he would have to 'fess up and face the music.

And to his great credit, he did.

We talked a little more about it and her comment to me was this: "I'm glad he has you to be his friend because I have to be his parent." That is the one thing she and I heard all of our lives growing up - I'm not your friend, you have plenty of those. I'm your parent.

Hey, tough job, but someone has to do it.

And, as her sister, I told her how incredibly proud of her I was at that moment for taking that stand. I hear, almost daily, stories of parents going and talking to principals, or coaches, or other authority figures and trying to get their child out of some situation. Instead of using it for the life lesson that it is. I lose a lot of respect for those moms and dads. I have to think that the primary goal of being a parent is to prepare your child to be an adult. That takes a whole host of skills that have to be taught. Life lessons need to be learned.

We all make mistakes. Many, many times a day. But we have to own those bad decisions as well as the good ones. Decisions come with consequences. They bring personal responsibility. I'm not sure how people get through life if someone is always fixing their mistakes for them. Not very well, I'd think.

I like that I can be the friend. That I can support the parents and love the child and get to do all the stuff that parents don't always get to. (It does get me in trouble on occassion. I no longer give the kids scrambled eggs for breakfast when I go to keep them. That is not on my sister's list of regular schoolday breakfast foods. I got a phone call one morning after everyone had been dropped off that corrected my misconception.)

But it is cool that I get to be included in the process of helping these wonderful children turn in to incredible adults, at least I hope that is what they'll become!

And I like that my nephew misses me, and tells me so. Maybe he has learned some valuable life lessons already.

Funerals are Funny Things

"Laughter through tears is one of my favorite emotions", so says the character Truvy in Steel Magnolias. I agree.

I come from a very funny family. And that is not just me talking, that comes from a lifetime of watching other people laughing whenever my dad, his brother or his sister ever got cranked up. Individually, they are hysterically funny. Collectively, Katy bar the door. "Outsiders" don't stand a chance. You will laugh until your sides ache and you can't take it anymore.

For my generation, a lot of that got passed on. In some cases, we just recycled the same material but had a new audience. The first generation recycled a lot of the same stuff too and most of us could give you the punch line before the joke was over because we'd heard them so much. But you'd still laugh.

I had the great honor of speaking at my dad's funeral. Tough, yes, but an experience that I'm glad I had. You see, I made people laugh. Instead of dwelling on the fact that my 55 year old daddy was gone, we laughed. I had them crying happy tears. Laughing through the tears.

I attended my cousin's funeral yesterday. He was 54. He carried my dad's name as his middle name and I remarked yesterday to my uncle that he was aptly named. He was very much like my daddy and the stories that people told about him could have been almost interchangeable. It was obvious by the attendance and the stories told that he was loved by many and will be missed by everyone.

The service and the time that I was able to spend with my family was truly spent celebrating his life.

I've written about this branch of my family tree. This was my oldest cousin - the first of us 14 grandkids and part of the group that moved to Texas when I was still very young. So my memories are scattered. But I have them and we shared a lot, in true family fashion. We laughed.

It occurred to me while I was listening yesterday that I think we're also celebrating the new life on the family tree that sometimes grows when we lose a branch.

You see, he was one of the 5 that I've talked about reconnecting with. He sent emails that were pages and pages long and I have an hour plus phone call where we talked like we'd just seen each other the week before instead of 12 years ago at my dad's funeral. But the reason that really prompted me to get in touch with all of them was because we'd lost another cousin on that side - my 43 year old cousin who was #6 in the lineup. I didn't want to lose anyone else without at least making the effort.

And I'm so glad I did. It meant a lot to sit there with my family and share stories and just be together. I got some of the best bear hugs from these wonderful grown men that probably carried me piggyback at one time, or laid on the floor and watched cartoons with me. They are fathers, and grandfathers, but were still the same wonderful cousins, just a little taller.

You find in your garden that certain plants have to be cut back or divided periodically to help them grow and flourish. While I certainly would much rather have my dad and my cousins back here in the flesh, that isn't the way the world works (and no, I'm not comparing my deceased relatives to dead tree limbs). But it often takes losing someone to help something else grow in its place. The hole left from the loss is a place for the new seeds to fall in and take hold. I think we'll all stay in better touch now. I met relatives for the first time that I hope to stay connected with. I think our family tree got a little stronger.

And no, it isn't fair. Parents should not bury their children and no one should get sick in their 40s and 50s. But, to quote a line from the funeral:

"Fair is where you go to buy a foot long hot dog".

But while you're there, enjoy the rides. See the shows. And make the most of it while its in town.

A Mom, Divided

Last Friday night was one of the few nights that I ever wished for a more traditional family. It was a bad night for Seizure Dog and I was alone. My husband works out of state the first week of each month. So, I was trying to take care of Seizure Dog, keep the other 6 from getting into the mix (very unsuccessful at that I must say), and take mental notes of times and details to share with the doctor the next morning. It got so bad that I finally broke down and gave him Valium to stop the seizures.

Problem was, he was downstairs. We sleep upstairs. He was in no condition to navigate the stairs and he's too big for me to carry. He finally, after coming out of the seizure, ended up in the dining room, lay down and fell asleep. By now I had run the rest of the pack upstairs and shut them up in the bedroom. I grabbed a pillow and a blanket and ran back down to him. I curled up in this giant chair my mother gave us for Christmas but I wasn't going to be sleeping. Despite the fact that I'd been up since before 4 that morning and it was now pushing midnight. Sleep was not an option at this point. For two reasons, one is obvious. I was so worried that the Valium wouldn't take and he'd start seizing again. The second was that the rest of the group was not happy at being left alone and kept barking and running around. You can hear everything on those hardwood floors!

So I lay in the chair and thought how I wished that the bunch upstairs were "real" kids so I could explain to them that their brother needed me and they would be helping me out if they would just lay down and be quiet. But I couldn't. So I laid there, divided and torn between being there for the one who needed me but didn't know it, and being with the ones who didn't really need me but thought they did.


Well, situations work as they should. The barking woke Seizure Dog who jumped up, completely lucid, looked at me like "since when do we sleep down here?", trotted up the stairs and into his bed. Never heard another peep out of any one of them the rest of the night.


But I still didn't really sleep.

I thought about how really incredibly lucky I am that this was my biggest crisis. There are lots of moms who are divided with far bigger issues. Moms who have to balance being with a terminally ill child against being with her healthy children. Moms who work multiple jobs and wish they were at home with their families. Moms who have to decide if there will be lights or food the next week because the paycheck isn't stretching. Moms who are divided about staying in a bad marriage to protect their children or getting out and starting over. Divided between the known and the unknown.

A friend of mine from high school became a mom last week. First time. Fifteen years of waiting on an adoption - home visits, applications, disappointments. She shared with us some of the experiences they were going through in those last weeks. The indecision of the 16 year old with what has to be the biggest decision of her young life and her mother wanting her to do the right thing but knowing she'd have to support whatever decision her child made. Two mothers divided by one situation.

My life is a snap compared to what a lot of women go through. I'm blessed, and I know it.

My husband says moms are special. They are. He treats his mom like a queen which bodes well for me. (All parents are special and I have the utmost respect for all of them, especially single parents, but this post is for the moms out there). They are very often the glue in the family - the doctor, the chef, the driver, the shopper, the financial planner.

The expert mathematician dividing her time and energies.

Much of our time is spent being divided. Trying to decide between two things that we either want to do or feel we need to/should do. Life is all about choices. Sometimes we make the wrong ones. The important thing is that we try. Sometimes even making the wrong choice is better than doing nothing.

And to remember that no matter how bad we think things are at any particular moment, chances are someone else's life is a little bit worse.

So be grateful. And try to remember when you see people during the day to be kind. You have no idea what math problems they may be trying to solve.

Update

There are many more posts in the works, but life has been a little hectic lately. But I'm still working on them, have no fear!

I am very psyched right now. You may have noticed a link on the blog site. A link to Serious Life Magazine. This is a free online magazine with a lot of neat stuff. The articles are primarily faith-based and cover children, family life, adoption, marriage, living with illness and a host of other things.

It also has a blog directory and each month publishes a few blogs. Well, the April edition has one of my blogs - The Big Picture - and I'm just tickled to be included. It's on page 127 if you're interested. And I hope you will be.

Check it out.

And stay tuned. I think you'll like the next post.

Naunie's Roses

A few weeks ago I was asked by my garden club to participate in the annual flower show. This is the second time I have been asked.



Let's just say my first foray into the flower show competition was interesting. I was so completely out of my league it wasn't even funny. I worked really hard on my entry, took it to the venue only to be sent home (temporarily) to find something live to cover the apparatus holding the flowers. Thankfully I have TONS of ivy growing in my yard.



I was given Honorable Mention. 4th place out of 4 in my category.


Hey, everyone's a winner that participates, right?


Anyway, I got the call this year. Now, I truly have a problem saying no to people. Its a fault. I know and I'm trying to get better. It is usually easier for me to say no when my husband is sitting there staring at me.


I got this call at work.


I also have to round up volunteers for other organizations so I truly sympathize when these ladies call. I could hear in her voice that this had been a struggle so I agreed. At least this year the flower show would be after busy season. That was a plus already. So she gave me the theme -- Victorian Weddings -- and told me that the lady hosting the show would be having an open house for the participants so that we could go and scout the location and decide where our arrangement would look best.



At this point I cracked up laughing. She hesitated. I apologize for laughing in her ear and told her that I just had a visual of me walking into anyone's home and saying "YES! This is where my arrangement should go!" I told her anything I could put together would simply be taking up space. You could actually her the relief in her voice and she started chuckling. "I need space fillers" she said.



Well, she is getting one. I will, of course, give it my best effort but my skills are limited.



I received a reminder voice mail about the open house this Sunday and jotted the details down on the scratch pad beside the phone. I saw them yesterday when I was home for lunch and my first thought was "Boy I wish Naunie was closer."



You see, Naunie, my 95 year old grandmother, always grew the prettiest roses and could arrange them. She always had little bud vases on the table and it was not unusual to be sent to get something from the outdoor refrigerator (in the store room, not literally outdoors) only to find coffee cans full of flowers from other people's yards. I asked her about it once, since I never actually saw anybody leave the flowers, and she responded that people just knew she needed them for whatever function she was attending that day -- church lunch, bridge club, whatever. She would do the flowers. (Side note - I do remember getting in trouble a couple of times for playing with the floral foam. I didn't know that once you squished it you really couldn't use it anymore. I got the message).



Apparently it is not genetic.



It is one of those things that I wish I had taken the time to learn from her while she could still teach it. Too often we think there will be time for something and we let other stuff take precedence and put it off. Even though my grandmother is still living, she can't see like she used to and doesn't really remember stuff like she should so, truly, the moment has passed.



Much like her skill with flowers.



I love to grow roses in my yard and I cut them and bring them into the house. It always makes me feel connected with Naunie. Something we share. I just wish I'd recognized what else she had to offer.



Maybe I'll dedicate this year's entry to her.



She'll be tickled with whatever we get. Fourth place will be just fine with her.

We're Paying for This?

My husband and I watch a lot of C-SPAN. Sad, but true. Especially when there are big topics being discussed. I want to know what the people that are supposed to be representing me are saying and doing and how they vote so if they stop representing how I feel I can work to replace them.

I was forwarded a video recently. A video where Representative Brown from Florida was congratulating her Gators on a BCS Bowl victory.

I know I was forwarded the video because in it she stumbles through reading her prepared statement and she mispronounces several very basic words and doesn't always use proper grammar. However, I am in no place to judge that. I have gotten on stage and forgotten my lines, butchered words to no end and, even here, don't always type in complete sentences. So I won't fault her for that. I'm a firm believer in Bad Karma so I'm not poking any fun at her.

No, what I couldn't believe is that she was doing this doing working hours. All I could think was "We're paying for this." I'm all about team spirit and love college football, but really, is the floor of the House of Representatives the proper venue? I couldn't see who else was in the Chamber but I kept thinking that surely someone had some legitimate business to discuss and was having to wait for her to finish. Thankfully she didn't use the entire 5 minutes she'd been granted and yielded the balance of her time.

Maybe I'm wrong, or just cranky from a lack of sleep. I've seen enough C-SPAN to know there are lots of times where people are just milling around and don't appear to be doing much of anything. And they are getting paid for it. I just worked 276 hours in the month of March. One month. I worked hard. And I'm willing to bet I don't make as much as the members of Congress.

So, am I in the wrong business? Or am I wrong to expect just a little more from the people that I give a job to? Technically, I am their employer and as such I have expectations.

Great Expectations.

(Now, before anyone reminds me that I don't live in Florida and didn't elect Gentlewoman Brown and therefore did not give her a job let me just say that she is probably not the only one. I just haven't caught anyone else - yet.)

Catching the Crumbs

I made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies yesterday. Just from a mix - it is busy season and all - so don't get excited.

Most anyone with pets in the house, at least dogs, knows that eating in peace can sometimes be a challenge. It certainly is in our house. As my husband was eating the cookies he commented on one of our dogs in particular. "Watch Scooter. He's picking up the crumbs."

It hit me that Scooter is always like that. No matter what you're doing with food - eating it or preparing it - he is always watching the floor to see what drops. And he nabs it before any of the others even know it hit. They are too busy looking up. They want to be ready in case you're going to give them something. They don't want to miss out on that bite they think you're going toss their way.

They don't always get something. Sometimes they stretch their noses and find nothing there for them.

Scooter, though, is picking up what is being made available to him, regardless of whether it was intended or not. Will it fill him up or make a meal? No. But does he think he's getting something cool? Yes. (Side note, I one time walked into the kitchen to find a perfectly clean Tupperware container in the middle of the floor. I was bamboozled as to how it got there when I realized that 15 minutes earlier it had been in the middle of the counter with a leftover cheese ball in it from a few days previous. Somehow Scooter had stretched himself tall enough to reach it, pull it off the counter and lick the container clean. Not even trace was left! So, he can look up when the circumstances are right.)

So, where do you look in your every day life? Are you looking up and waiting for someone to hand you something or are you keeping your head down and picking up things that are "dropped" for you? Maybe its a hint from your boss that something better is coming your way if you keep doing what you're doing. Maybe its your spouse trying to find a way to tell you that something is missing in the marriage for him or her. Could be the wistful tone in your elderly parent's voice telling you that they are lonely and they wish you'd spend more time with them. Maybe someone is paying you compliments or trying to reach out to you because they need a friend an see one in you.

The "crumbs" in our lives can come in many forms. Our job is to always be on the lookout for them and scoop them up quickly. Act on them. Save them for later. Whatever needs to be done with them.

Will catching the crumbs fill you up? No. But you might you might just walk away with a pretty sweet treat. Beats an empty plate.

Nature vs. Nurture

I've mentioned recently that I started trying to reconnect with family a while back. My own immediate family is interesting in that my dad had 2 surviving brothers and 2 sisters. From oldest (living) to youngest, there is probably a 13 to 14 year age span. I know that my youngest aunt was about 9 when my oldest cousin was born. My mom just has one brother but she's over 7 years older than he so he was only 13 when I was born. I'm 13 years older than his oldest child.

Anyway, for a long time growing up I only had cousins on one side of the family. There were 14 of us. The oldest 5 all moved to Texas when I was still very young so my memories of them are more scattered. But I'm growing closer to 3 of them thanks to modern technology. But the rest of us spent wonderful Christmas' together and had family outings and stuff like that.

Back to the subject. One of my cousins that I've really grown quite close to (again) lately is one year younger than I. Her mom and my dad were sister and brother so they grew up with the same set of rules, values and so on. Now, I've learned that despite not seeing each other as much after my grandparents died - college, marriages, moving around - we are actually very similar in a lot of ways. I've been telling her its just genetic and we can't help it.

But, for some reason this memory popped up this morning. Just goes to show that not all fruit falls from the tree.

We were probably 11 and 12 - something like that - and had spent the night together at my grandparent's house. Apparently Saturday was cleaning day and Grandma didn't really care if we were "company" or not. Looked like two able-bodied young girls to her. So she put us to work. Dusting, cleaning the mirrors, straightening things up. I did the best I could but I had never really had to do much housework.

Then it came time to do the dishes. Oy vey! My cousin jumped right in, started filling the sink with water, grabbed the soap, started washing. I remember getting a look that said "these aren't going to dry themselves, you know." All I could do was stand there. In my house, doing the dishes meant you were either loading or unloading the dishwasher. Grandma didn't have a dishwasher. I was stunned.

She finally asked me why I was just standing there. I had to confess that not only had I never washed a dish, I didn't even know how to.

Now, Grandma was stunned.

She looked at me for a minute. Then she said, and I'll never forget this, "I'm going to call your daddy about this. I can't believe he never taught you to wash dishes!" And it was not that she didn't think I was telling the truth. She was not calling him to challenge me on my statement. I didn't listen to the whole phone call but my daddy was in serious trouble with his mama!

Meanwhile, my cousin tossed me a towel and gave me the down and dirty on how to dry. A lesson I've never forgotten I assure you.

As we've gotten closer over the last few months - I feel that way and hope that she does as well - I once again find myself looking to her for some guidance. I've shared thoughts with her before they go here and looked for her counsel on other things. I hope that I bring something to this relationship that benefits her as well.

You see, it isn't always the people we see every day that mean the most to us. I don't know that she and I have actually laid eyes on each other since the summer before her sister got married in 2005. But the roots of the family tree have kept us connected. Some times better than others but it is up to each one of us to be the fertilizer to those relationships. Nature can only do so much. Some times we have to nurture as well.

Blogger's Note

Just to be clear - the issue I'm referencing in the Dream Squashers blog is not dangerous or ridiculous or anything that a truly prudent person would not have considered doing. No leaps off the Mississippi Bridge or anything like that.

And no, Mom, we're not moving again.

It was just something that was important to him.

My daddy told me once that when two people are in a relationship and they agree on everything then someone isn't holding up their end of the deal. I've never forgotten that. So this particular thing didn't fall into that category.

Don't want anyone misinterpreting.....

Dream Squashers

I have one of those perpetual, flip, desk calendars with famous quotations on each of the days. I've had it for probably 10 years so I read the same stuff year after year after year, but they are all good so it doesn't matter. Depending on where you are in life, one can hit it you in a way that it never had before. Takes on a new relevance, if you will.

I flipped over this one recently and it gave me pause. "Be careful with whom you share your secrets and hopes. Some people get their kicks from stomping on a dream."

I know people like that. And it is somewhat sad to me. Some people don't actually mean to do it but not showing support is almost as bad as coming right out and stomping on it.

I don't see what some folks get out of not supporting their fellow man. I try very hard to let my family and friends know they have my support for whatever they feel like they should be doing. I've gone so far as to volunteer for certain roles in the process should some of them start to change their dream to a reality. Try to show that I'm more than just a lip service and can actually help if they want it.

But the point was driven home the other day that sometimes I'm better at this with those who are outside my very immediate group. My husband wanted to do something, and I jumped on the bandwagon - the next day. Not as soon as he brought it up. And I hurt him. I didn't mean to. He caught me off-guard and I didn't respond correctly. I took time to think about it.

This is the same man that never hesitated when I wanted to pack up everything and move 1200 miles to a new state, new town, new job, new everything. This is the same man that does double duty at home every time I get involved in a play at the theatre that takes me away on nights and weekends. The same man that doesn't eat his dinner until after 7 pm during busy season because I'm not home. He never questions or wonders or thinks about it. If it is what I want to do then that is good enough for him.

He isn't wrong to expect the same unwavering support from me for things he's thought through and wants to pursue.

Now, all is forgiven on the homefront, but it taught me a lesson. Support goes both ways. (And I'm normally very good about it. He wanted to leave a job and go to work for himself and I said OK. He needed to take the promotion that moved us away from our homes growing up and I said OK. So its not that has been one-sided for the last 20 years.) And only we can give that to another person. It isn't as if someone can reach inside our hearts, pull out the support and hand it to someone. It has to be freely given, without strings, from one to another.

I am still pursuing a lot of dreams. I've said before that I'm part gypsy and I like to be always trying something new. I want to write and cook professionally and a half dozen other things. It's hard to find the time to do all that I want to but at least I know that I have my biggest fan in my corner and together we'll chase those dreams, mine and his, and see what happens.

Squashed dreams are like deflated balloons. Wrinkled up, tossed aside and left on the curb. How much better for you to be the air in those balloons, watching the dreams and hopes attached to them soar off into unknown than to be the one with the pin popping them and watching them fall.

I mean think about it. Who doesn't get a smile on their face watching a sky full of balloons float overhead? I know I do.

I Miss Mayberry

OK, I realize that my view of life in the Fifties comes only from what I saw on television growing up, and as explained by my parents. I loved (still do) watching The Andy Griffith Show and Happy Days. I also realize that they showed mostly the best parts of life during that time. The innocence of that time. I can remember one episode of Happy Days that had a divorcee' and the great scandal that was. No one wanted to associate with her. Its hard to name one show on television right now that doesn't have someone divorced. (Side note, I understand there are perfectly good reasons for divorces. This is not a slam on anyone who is divorced.) There were no episodes with unwed mothers either, or if there was one I don't remember it. We're bombarded on a daily basis right now with unwed mothers - many of whom are so by choice.

I saw an online article the other day that says that the percentage of unwed mothers is at an all time high. The curious aspect of this, though, is that it isn't the typical teenage mother that we immediately associate with the term unwed mothers. In many cases these are career woman who are actually in committed relationships, just not married. Magazines are always showing us the latest celebrity couple about to expand their family. I even caught myself feeling sad the other day when I was reading People Magazine and under the births they actually have to specify whether the second party in the relationship is a spouse or just a long-time companion.

How did we to this point?

What really prompted this post was my learning the other day that "sexting" had hit our small town. Kids that are classmates of my coworkers children. Males and females.

I simply can't imagine what these teenagers are thinking when they are taking and sending nude pictures of themselves. Long before the WWJD (What Would Jesus Do) craze, I lived by the WDBD rules.

Would Daddy Be Disappointed?

Most everything I did growing up was tempered by the fear of getting "the look" when I got home. So I didn't do a lot of the things that some of my friends or classmates did. That's not to say that I was perfect and they weren't, but I just didn't want to have to deal with Daddy when I got home. (Side note, it isn't that my mother was any less disapproving but my daddy's look was the one that would cut me to the core). Matter of fact, I still use that as a moral guidepost. I'm not entirely sure how Heaven works but I'm going on the assumption that potential is there for Daddy to see all I do and I really don't want to be greeted at the Pearly Gates someday with him standing there giving me that look. Simply isn't worth the risk.

So, back to my question. How did we get here? What can we do about it? I'm not so naive to think we can go backwards in time and eliminate all these social changes but can we at least slow them down some? These kids in town that I'm talking about are the ones in church on Sunday morning and Wednesday nights. They come from 2 parent homes - usually the two original parents. These are not the kids that you think have fallen through the cracks and need to be rescued.

I don't have any answers for this. I think the punishment for the 18 year old boy/young man in Florida who got mad at his girlfriend and sent her naked picture to everyone in her email address book was too harsh. Yes, now that it is public it may actually serve as a deterent. Possibly. My husband says they had to make an example of someone. Maybe so, but I find it hard to believe that anyone would have knowingly hit the Send button if that laundry list of punishments was made public beforehand. And, to his credit, he has accepted full personal responsibility for the act, which is something else I find woefully lacking in this generation, but shouldn't his girlfriend (or ex-girlfriend) bear a little of the blame for sending it to him in the first place?

Back in Mayberry, Sheriff Taylor always had a good moral lesson that was learned in the 30 minute show. Opie or Barney or even Aunt Bea would come out a little better for Andy's words of wisdom.

Wonder how he would handle this one?

Its Who You Know

The Madoffs have been making big news lately. You know them, he swindled billions of dollars from trusting investors, is whining that he can't stand it now that he's in jail and she's hoarding all her money saying it was hers and she had nothing to do with her husband's business.



Bull puckey, I say.



I don't doubt for one second that if I did even a fraction of what Mr. Madoff successfully pulled off I would have been thrown under the jail immediately, never to be heard from again. What he did was so far beyond criminal that the fact that he was allowed to remain in his penthouse apartment before he was formally charged and sent to jail just sickens me. Who did he know that allowed that situation to occur?



And, as for Mrs. Madoff. The lack of moral fiber in this woman is just beyond the pale! If I found out that my husband had pulled off this kind of stunt I would be cleaning out my bank accounts, selling everything I had to try and start making even minimal restitution to the victims. I would not be able to live with myself, surrounded by luxury, knowing that charities were folding, people were trying to return to the workforce and watching their life savings evaporate. Just go up in the smoke that was being blown in their faces.



I made that comment to my husband and he said I wouldn't do it if I'd been in on the whole time. That, too me, makes her actions even more reprehensible. You get married for the good, the bad, and the ugly. If my husband were in jail for something we both did, I'd have to go to. Again, I don't see how I could live with myself.



I guess it's easy to sit here, many miles and millions of dollars away from the situation, and voice an opinion. Rumor has it that you don't know how you'll actually respond to a situation until you're in it. We all like to think and hope that we would be the hero and save someone from a burning building but who really knows what you'll do when the flames are licking at your heels.



And, in truth, I don't want to find out. Not that I'm afraid of disappointing myself, but I just hope that I never find myself in the situation - of my making or someone else's - where someone's life or livelihood is at stake. I'm a bit of a Pollyanna and always want the best for everyone and spout rainbows and sunshine.



The real crux of the matter is that life IS about who you know. But not who you know that can get you out of situations. Who you associate with that will ensure you never find yourself in those circumstances.



Birds of a feather and all of that...

Plugged In

Yesterday afternoon, my boss' college team won their conference tournament and earned a bid to the NCAA Tournament. I grabbed up my cell phone and started sending him a text message. The comment from the other side of the room was "What is it with you and your gadgets? The computer, your music, your cell phone, all your electronics. Could you survive without them?" "Of course!" I answered, with something of an attitude.

And just to prove it, I sat there the rest of the afternoon. I didn't Twitter, didn't tell Facebook what was on my mind, didn't send or receive email. I didn't even play Monopoly on my BlackBerry. I just watched television and started reading a magazine. Even dozed off for a while.

But I'll admit, though it was nice for a while, I missed it. I guess I have turned it something of a junkie. My emails are forwarded to my cell phone so I don't miss anything. I've reconnected with over 100 friends on Facebook so I don't want to miss an update now. I could spend, and have spent, hours with my Wii. I'm in love with my iPod so it stays handy if I need to block out the world. I've previously confessed to my YouTube addiction.

(I'm not as addicted to Twitter. I guess there has to be a silver lining in all of this. I get on there sometimes and see all the updates - waiting on a bus, brushing my teeth, going to bed, yada yada yada - and I do think that I really don't need all that information about folks.)

I am old enough to remember the world - clearly - without all this stuff. I remember the first Radar Range (AKA microwave) that took up half the kitchen counter. Our first "computer" was a Commodore 64 that plugged into a small black and white TV. We had a Pong game, then Atari. I started on the Nintendo craze after I moved into my own apartment. I remember when cell phones were mounted in the cars or carried in a bag the size of a small suitcase. I can still feel how the weigh of the first one I got that could be carried in my purse.

But I also remember spending Saturday mornings at the library and coming home with a stack of books. That stack was supposed to last all week but it often times it didn't. I could curl up in a chair and get lost in those other worlds with the characters. Playing at the pool all summer long in the fresh air and sunshine. Setting up Barbie's dream house and creating the stories for her.

On the plus side, and there is one, I have used all this electronic gadgetry to make and maintain family and friend connections. A few years ago I reached out through email to my five oldest cousins. Three responded and I'm in fairly regular contact with them now. And I'm glad for that. I can see pictures of their children and grandchildren and hear about what I missed not growing up close to them. I think, sometimes, there is something to be said for establishing relationships as a adults, even for people you've known since childhood. The same is true for my Facebook friends. We've been able to have a virtual 25th year class reunion online. And I'm learning so much about these people that I didn't know before. I have a lot in common with many of them and we never knew it. High school, for me, was very structured so if someone was not involved in a group I participated in I didn't have much opportunity to really get to know them. Those boundaries and limitations are down now. Now we are only limited by how much time we can spend online.

So, everything in moderation. I realize that I need to step back a few paces and re-evaluate how much time I spend plugged into the outside world. Make sure it isn't taking precedence over something more important - like having the Magnificient 7 slurp my face or curling up to watch a movie with my better half.

Life can be good, unplugged.

The Fragility of Life

We were reminded again this morning of how fleeting life can be. Our local county sheriff was found dead in his home by his wife overnight. This is the third such case lately. We had a 22 year old found by his parents and a 29 year woman who had an asthma attack while on the phone with her boyfriend. The emergency personnel didn't get there in time.

Up until the end there was no sign that anything was wrong in any of the cases. They'd all been living their lives just moments before.

In Missouri and Alabama there have been mass shootings the last couple of days. Innocent people gunned down for no reason. Normal people going about their normal routines and being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

In my own life, I've lost people rather unexpectedly. While I was a senior in college, my 18 year old cousin was coming home for Christmas after his first semester at college and was hit and killed by a drunk driver. My dad died before I was ready. And I had a cousin that at 43 died of heat stroke after successfully battling brain cancer for 10 years. She had only been given 18 months at the initial diagnosis. Having lost my stepfather this past summer to the exact same brain tumors 19 months after his diagnosis, we know that my cousin had much longer on this earth than expected.

The phone calls you get after one of these tragedies are soul-crushing. Someone you talked to, saw, shared a meal with only hours before is no longer there.

Don't go to bed angry. One of you might not wake up. Don't leave someone in haste because you've got someplace else to get to. Tell people good-bye like you mean it. Hug those you love. Tell people you love them if you do. Be genuine, honest and open in your affection.

Remember always that you might not get another chance. Don't waste the ones you are given.

Besides, whose day doesn't get better with a hug and kiss?

Tomorrow's Fishwrap

I will confess that listening to Keith Urban is just about the only thing that gets me through busy season. I could listen to him play the guitar until his fingers bled and never get bored. His music just really speaks to me. He is so incredibly talented. So, I find any and all ways to hear him. iPod, CDs, podcasts, you name it.

You Tube has become a blessing. I can hear video clips from live concerts, old videos not on television anymore - and radio and television interviews.

I don't actually watch the videos because I am working, but I listen. Singing along in my head. Occassionally out loud according to my co-workers. So, yesterday, in the midst of all the videos that I strung together to play there was an interview Keith did. Suddenly hearing his voice and not knowing the words, I paid a little closer attention.

This interview had to be in late 2007 or in 2008. He was talking about putting himself in rehab for substance abuse problems. He had never intended to be very public with it but, to his credit, he's never shied away from talking about his time in rehab, and that this was not the first time he had sought help. He recognizes that he may be able to reach one person or help someone get through by sharing his personal story. But it is his very personal story.

So often we place celebrities or artist or whatever you want to call them up on pedestals. We elevate them and want to see all and read about all they do, forgetting that they wake up in the morning like we do, want to grab a cup of coffee like we do and go about their day. No one snaps pictures of me running into the coffee shop in a ballcap but, for some reason, the media follow these public figures and gives the rest of us all these details.

Whether they are actually true, 100% accurate details, they get reported.

Keith talked about how he had to reach a point where he wasn't reading everything that was being written about him. That he knew what was going on his life, he is in full communication with his wife and family and that he had to understand that whatever was written in today's newspaper would just become tomorrow's fishwrap.

I absolutely loved that line. Tomorrow's fishwrap.

How nice it would be if we could apply that philosophy to all the things in our everyday lives that don't go well. The person that cuts us off in traffic or steals our parking spot. The friend that hurt our feelings. The client that wouldn't co-operate. The child that defied us at every turn. Just mentally take that day's events, set it aside to wrap the trash in, and toss it out. Start tomorrow fresh. (Yes, I know that officially the newspaper is used to wrap the fish and chips that is being eaten at a meal the next day but it will be trash when the food is gone.)

I will admit that letting things go is one of my flaws. One of many. It isn't that I hold a grudge so much as that I don't just forget it. I may not constantly remind whoever slighted me of the offending event, but I will always know. Now, what is the purpose in that? Nothing. Something just taking up space inside me that doesn't need to be there.

So, I'm going to start trying to go the stack of newspapers in my mind and wrap a lot of fish. Seems a much more productive exercise than carrying them around any longer.

Paid to Play

I have received several text messages this week from ESPN (yes, ESPN - I love sports!) regarding the contracts that baseball and football players are signing. $45 million for 2 years. $100 million for 7 years.

Millions.

I've said before that it is none of my business how people choose to spend their money. And I stand by that. But that doesn't mean that I can't challenge them to think about it.

Basically, these men (I know there's women's basketball and soccer but I only hear about men and the big bucks) are being paid to play a game. Entertain us. That's all.

I have a hard time swallowing those numbers for this type of work. If there was no baseball season this year (and let's face it, there have been several shortened baseball seasons because of players' strikes) what would we really be missing? Its not like the firefighters went on strike and everyone's homes burned down. Or the teachers quit teaching so our children all ran loose in the streets. Take a look at New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina and you'll get an idea of what a world without police officers looks like.

I think there are many professions that are underpaid and under appreciated. Entertainers and athletes are not among that list.

Growing up, I used to want to be a teacher. My mother, a lifelong educator, was adamently opposed. Adamently. Said I could do more with what I'd been given. (To her credit she also recognized a lack of patience on my part that is generally a prerequisite to teaching). I will never forget the day I got my offer letter from an international accounting firm. Thanksgiving week of my senior year in college. I was still in school and completely untested in my chosen field. My mother, 22 years of experience with hours above her Master's Degree, looked at it and said "You'll be making $500 more a year than me. That's why I wouldn't let you be a teacher."

Total reality check.

I know there are bad teachers, corrupt policeman, soldiers who go overboard in conflicts. But maybe society has set them up to fail. How can you attract the cream of the crop when they are barely making a living wage? I know many families in these very important professions who have to work side jobs just to make the ends meet in a very modest lifestyle. They aren't driving the big cars or living in the mansions. And yet, they protect us at night while we sleep. They rush into the burning buildings while everyone else is running out. They are shaping the minds of our future in their classrooms.

Just seems a little out of whack that we, collectively, put such a small price tag on such important work. The true pillars and foundations of our communities. Yet the guys that can jump the highest, run the fastest and hit the ball the farthest are negotiating multi-million dollar contracts for just a couple of years of work.

I realize I'm part of the problem. Daddy always said if you're not part of the solution then you're part of the problem. I pay the big ticket prices to attend concerts. I pay for all the sports channels so I can watch football and NASCAR. I did quit attending professional baseball games after the second or third players strike. Found out I didn't miss it after a while. And I won't watch a movie or television if the actors and actresses have become too outspoken for my tastes and forgotten that they are paid to entertain, not espouse all their views of the world. Some nights I end up reading a lot.

As I said, team owner can spend their money as they wish. They earned it. If they want to pass out millions to one player, that's their business. But, if Congress, who is in charge of spending MY money, can pass out trillions of dollars for projects to watch beavers build dams and crickets mate, why can't we find the money to pass out the the people who really need and deserve it? There are school districts that can't buy basic supplies for their classrooms. Firefighters using outdated equipment. Surely there is a way to reprioritize our tax money. In long run, won't the benefits be greater?

Or maybe we really do need to know much gas the cows in Texas are expelling is depleting the ozone layer.