The Box

A couple of weekends ago, time flies when you work every day, Billy and I watched a movie called "The Box". Cinematically, I can't recommend the movie, but I won't bash it either. It had several big star names but I've seen them all do better work. And it had some sci-fi elements that I didn't care for.

But the basic premise of the movie was thought-provoking.

In it, a couple is anonymously presented with a simple looking plain wooden box with a big red button on top, covered by a locked dome. When the owner of the box came to explain, he brought the key to the dome and a moral dilemma.

Spoiler alert - if you think you want to watch the movie, stop reading here. I may give too much away after this.

The decision the couple had to make was this: whether or not to press the button. If they did, they would get $1 million. All in cash. No taxes. He showed it to them and even gave them a crisp $100 bill out of the briefcase. The catch, at the very moment they hit the button someone, somewhere in the world, that they didn't know, would die.

They had 24 hours to decide and they couldn't tell anyone about the deal.

$1 million.

Very tempting.

In a sense, with today's global population I could say that every time I hit a keystroke writing this blog, someone, somewhere in the world, that I don't know, is going to die. It's just a fact of life. I'm not causing it by writing. And it is probably true.

But the seed was planted that they would cause it. And the rest of the movie wouldn't make sense if you didn't buy into that piece.

What would you do for that kind of money? Of course, this family had some financial struggles so it made hitting the button all the more tempting.

That was the moral dilemma.

Is causing someone's death somehow less wrong if you don't know them? If you aren't the one pulling the trigger or plunging the knife? If you really need the money to feed your family?

Is it worth it?

Billy said he would do it and I said I wouldn't.

He made the argument that the person that died could be a terrorist or a rapist or a child molester. You could actually be doing the world a favor by hitting the button. Ridding the world of evil.

But my side was that it could just as easily be a child, or a grandmother, or someone like Mother Teresa that the world needs.

You just don't know.

So, are moral decisions always black and white?

Killing is wrong no matter what? Do circumstances factor in?

Later they were faced with a different dilemma, as a direct consequence of their actions.

Here is where the sci-fi part came in. Because of something they did, their child was struck deaf and blind. And would remain so forever unless the husband killed the wife. There was one bullet in the gun so he'd have to shoot well. And she couldn't kill herself. He had to do it.

So, what do you do? Rob your child of a life of sight and sound? Or sentence them to a life with only one parent, and that parent could be on the run from the law for killing the other parent.

Makes you think a little doesn't it? (Billy said that if we were faced with this the child would just have to stay that way, that killing me wouldn't be the answer. Good for me!)

So often we make decisions without always understanding the ripple effect.

I can hit this button and big deal, someone I don't even know is going to die but hey, they might have been going to die anyway and I can really use this money. Even do some good with it.

Justification. Rationalization.

It really has made me think.

What am I doing that may be unknowingly adversely affecting someone else? How are my actions altering someone else's world? Maybe it's because my world is being so affected by others' decisions that I'm trying to stop and see more clearly what I'm doing to someone else.

We don't live in a bubble.

Or even a box.

Reality. Really?

I opened up my People Magazine this week to discover yet another incarnation of "The Real Housewives of" series. By my count, we're up to 5 locations - Orange County, Atlanta, New York, New Jersey and now Washington DC.

I realize that I'm in a minority here. Obviously I am otherwise these shows would not exist. I can't tolerate these shows.

And this is just one series of so many reality shows. You've got The Hills, The O.C., Keeping up with the Kardashians, The Simple Life, My New BFF, Jersey Shore and so on and so on.

I honestly don't get it.

For the most part, these are shows with young people that have become famous for nothing more than spending the money their parents, or grandparents, earned. Really, can you think of anything else the Kardashians have done to garner such fame as they have? Their father defended O.J. Simpson and their stepfather is Bruce Jenner, gold medal Olympian. Kim, Kourtney, Khloe and their stepbrother Brody - nothing. The Hilton sisters - Nada.

And yet they are all given such celebrity.

What are we emulating? A spoiled life of excess? I mean, sure, there are days when I fantasize about living that lifestyle, but it isn't reality.

At least not my reality, nor that of anyone I know.

And I don't think I could stand it for very long.

And yes, there are other reality shows that show a little more "real life". They show firefighters, police officers, fishermen, and oil rig drillers at work. Earning a living. Working long hours at dangerous jobs to support their families.

Can you name one person in those shows?

I can't.

But I can name Snooki, The Situation, Heidi and Spencer.

Quite ridiculous, in my opinion.

And I don't even watch those shows.

I don't watch Big Brother, Survivor, The Duggars, Kate Gosselin, or any of the others.

There is only one show that I've ever watched more than one episode. And I'm growing bored with it. The last few episodes were seeming more and more contrived.

In other words, Unreal.

If this is entertainment then, to quote my daddy, "you can find me ten", or something like that. (Never did quite figure out what he was saying!)

If these are the examples we as a society are holding up for the next generation then I only have one thing to say -

Hello Hell? One hand basket coming down.

The View From Here

I had the great pleasure to spend this past weekend with my mother, sister and niece.

Girl time.

As I told my grandmother when we went to visit her, No Stinky Boys!

We had a family wedding to attend so we were fairly busy but enjoyed a few stolen moments together. Something we don't get to do often enough. Distance and schedules make it a challenge. But we had good talks during those times, laughed a lot, and truly enjoyed each other company. Andrea and I were pretty typical sisters growing up. Which is to say we didn't always get along well. I'm very glad to say that I now not only have a real sister but a real friend as well.

One interesting moment came in the car on the way to see Naunie. I was going to head back to Natchez from Carlisle so I took my own car. Andrea and Brett rode with me and we followed Mom. In a role reversal, Andrea sat in the back. Texting and talking on her phone. Brett sat up in the passenger seat so we could talk.

Out of the blue she asked me to give her a "superdeduperty" long word. She would then tell me what it meant and use it in a sentence.

Her idea people, not mine.

(I love that she loves to learn! She gets excited about school and education and all of that. Our trip next month to Washington D.C. is going to be amazing!)

Now, I don't carry around a book of "superdeduperty" long words so I thought quickly and came up with "perspective".

Webster has several definitions: 1. particular evaluation of something: a particular evaluation of a situation or facts, especially from one person's point of view;

2. measured assessment of situation: a measured or objective assessment of a situation, giving all aspects their comparative importance;

3. appearance of distant objects to observer: the appearance of objects to an observer allowing for the effect of their distance from the observer;

4. graphic arts allowance for artistic perspective when drawing: the theory or practice of allowing for artistic perspective when drawing or painting;

5. vista: a vista or view

Brett defined it as someone's side of a story, or opinion. I agreed but explained that it was more than that. I said it was more a "point of view" and that it could be a literal or figurative point of view. We got into discussing artists and how they use perspective in their work and so on.

Nice conversation.

I've thought about it several times since then.

Mostly how two people can look at the same thing but see something different.

Based on their "perspective".

I posted some pictures from the wedding on Facebook. Andrea texted me she thought she looked weird. I thought she looked beautiful. I pointed out something on me that I see automatically in every picture I ever take. She said she'd never noticed it before. (Of course, now she'll ALWAYS notice it since I pointed it out!)

Two people, one picture, different perspectives.

Later, again on Facebook, I saw lots of people thinking of their fathers that had passed away (Father's Day posts). More than one had pictures of their dad's grave marker.

One person commented that even with all his faults, her dad was still her hero. But I couldn't help but wonder (having known several of the men in question) if the writers' moms (be they ex-wives or widows) would feel the same. A child's perspective of a parent is often very different from that of the other parent.

And I understand.

My daddy was my hero. Still is in a lot of ways. Was he flawed? Absolutely. Do I wish some things had happened differently? Undoubtedly so. But did I learn from him? Of course. Do I miss him? Daily.

He wasn't perfect and I know things weren't always easy for my mom. My sister and I had our share of tough situations as well.

But perspective, in our personal lives, is really much like that of an artist. What do we want to emphasize? What items (traits, memories, characteristics) do we paint in our foreground? What view do we want to give our viewer?

I can make the choice of what I remember and how much emphasis those memories get. Where I want to put things in my picture.

I define the view.

Likewise, I can try to paint a picture of myself to help others see what I want them to see. Or at least see the person I want to be.

Because my perspective of me is always changing. I'm always trying to do better. To BE better. Trying to live my life in such a way that I will be missed - someday. Hopefully a very long time from now.

I don't know that I ever want to be anyone's "hero", but it won't hurt if I try to live as if I do.

Give everyone a good perspective.

He Ain't Heavy....

"He's My Brother. And on we go."

Growing up, I had a crush on the Osmond Brothers. OK, mostly Donny but I loved them all. Their voices were so smooth and wonderful. And the harmonies! I remember playing the albums (you know, the big vinyl kind) over and over.

I always loved to hear them sing "He ain't heavy, he's my brother". Unless I'm mistaken (and I could be. Rumor is that it has happened before. But I'd never admit it.) the album was just called "The Osmonds" (blueish purple letters) and it had the five brothers walking toward the camera, in step, along rows of something on a farm on a clear blue-sky day.

I can still hear them singing in my head. And I haven't heard that song in, literally, decades.

It came to mind the other day. I have a friend who is really really dealing with a lot right now. More than I can even imagine. And we were talking the other day about how she was doing and some events of that day. She told me that she was considering taking some anti-depressants (fully encouraged by her doctors) to try and help her get through some of this but she really hated to. Didn't want to seem like a cry-baby.

I asked her - when did we, as a society, decide that we had to shoulder our own burdens alone? Everybody needs somebody sometimes. We are social creatures. We really aren't meant to "go it alone".

I realize that I didn't live in the idyllic 40s and 50s that are portrayed on television, but I believe there are some elements of truth to those shows. Without computers and video games and limited television programming, people actually spent more time together. They looked out for each other. Helped one another. Cared about their fellow man. Sure, we're all "connected" but we really aren't. I can email or video chat or Facebook or Twitter and all the rest. I can see what my family is up to, but I don't really hear their voices.

I'm ashamed to admit I don't really know some of my neighbors. I discovered that a man with whome I've served on a board actually lives across the street and two doors down. I can see his house from where I'm sitting right now but I had no idea he lived there. I only found out because his daughter was in a car accident and they published his address in the newspaper. But he parks his car in the back of his house and doesn't use the front door much. And that's the side of the house I see. I did go down there once but no one opened the door. Twenty years ago I'd have been down there on moving day with a plate of brownies.

And our neighbors welcomed us with a party. A "Sorry to See you Go and Welcome to the Neighborhood Party" for us and the lady from whom we bought the house. But I didn't see anyone much after that. Folks came from a three block radius to meet us, but that night they all went back home and I don't see them anymore. I talked to one neighbor about doing a similar party when three families moved in across the street into some new houses. Talked about it. Didn't do it. That was about 4 years ago.

We've all insulated ourselves. Both physically and figuratively. I'll text or email sometimes before I'll pick up the phone and make a call. Don't want to bother anyone. With an email they can read it when they have time. I've had family members miss events because they had no one to go with but didn't want to ask anyone either.

I know, deep down, that I have a ton of friends that I could call on in a time of need. And that is of great comfort to me. But at the same time I can see where my friend was coming from.

"I can handle this. Don't want anyone to think less of me. I don't want to bother anyone. Others have it so much worse, I shouldn't complain." And so on and so on.

Bull puckey I say.

Reach out. It doesn't matter if someone's problems are "worse" than yours. If you need a friend or help or anything you have to be willing to ask for it, or accept it when offered. Because insulation works both ways. I've missed acknowledging birthdays this year that I haven't missed in years because I got caught up in work and deadlines and other stuff and I didn't take the time to reach out either. Now, I think they'll still take my calls, no irreparable damage has been done.

At least not yet. I don't think.

But I see how easy it could be. You practically don't have to leave your house anymore if you don't want to. Groceries can get delivered. Movies download onto your computer. Remote access to your office over the Internet. Why get dressed!?!

Because we were never intended to be alone. It goes all the way back to the Bible. God made Adam, found that he couldn't talk to the animals, and made him a mate.

We are supposed to lift each other up when one is down. Pick them up and carry them if need be. And if you are the one who is being carried don't fuss. It'll be your turn to share the load soon enough.

That's how it works.

"And the load, doesn't weigh me down, at all....."

TEA, Anyone?

This may seem odd for a Memorial Day post. Actually, this post has taken on many incarnations since it started percolating in my head. Hope I don't have to make it a two-parter. I hope I can pull the whole thing together.

I know some of you aren't going to agree with me. That's OK. In fact, that is kind of what this is all about.

Memorial Day is to honor the military who have died in service. It started as a Civil War celebration but was later expanded to include all wars.

There has been a very obvious movement over the last year or so in the political world. The TEA (Taxed Enough Already) Party. They have protested certain things and supported others, but they have been very vocal in their beliefs.

And that's fine with me. I don't have to agree with them but I will absolutely defend their right to say it.

Some of what they have been saying, and I myself have said here, is coming true. We've seen incumbent politicians being voted out of office of late. The word is finally getting out. "Career Politician" should be an oxymoron. Unfortunately that phrase is typically only half right. It is time for a true change in the way our country is being run.

That statement is not aimed at the President. It it aimed at the whole kit and caboodle.

We have some serious problems in this country. You and I may not agree exactly on what they are, but I daresay everyone reading this would agree with that statement. Change, of some sort, is necessary.

But what does that have to do with Memorial Day, you ask?

Plenty. Let's go back to the very first folks who died in military service to this country. The Revolutionary War. Those men died for our freedoms. Every war since has been in defense of those freedoms. In some cases our citizens died fighting in countries that currently disagree with our political outlook on things.

People died so that we could have a representative government. Died so that if we speak out against that government we don't have to fear a knock on the door in the dead of night. Died so that the people could have a real say in how this country was run.

And it is working.

People can speak up. They can freely protest the Arizona Immigration Law if they choose. They can vote out a politician that is no longer representing their beliefs and values. They can express their opinion on out of control spending or taxes or social programs.

Anything and everything they don't like they can say.

All because men (and women later on) believed in it so much they were willing to die for it.

Remember, most of the wars in which this country has participated were fought by volunteers. Men who in believed in State's rights over the federal government. Men who wanted to stop dictators and communism. Men who believed that this way, our way, of life was the best way to live.

In some other countries, I couldn't write this. In some simply because I'm female. In others because I disagree with our government. In some, just because.

So it is important for us to remember, every day not just the last Monday in May, that we live a free life because of the sacrifices of many men and women. We can hold our parades and our protests. We can speak up or remain silent.

We have choices.

So, whether or not you agree with the TEA Party movement, or any other movement, we have to respect the right to move.

Without it, we are nothing.

Happy Memorial Day. Thank a solider if you see one. Hug him if your can. Pray for the safety of those still fighting.

Remember, above all, the ones who didn't make it home. You can thank them in your prayers tonight.

And while you're at it, thank them for the freedom to pray at all.

Sweet Thing

I am a huge Keith Urban fan. I make no bones about it. From what I have read and the interviews I've seen, he and his wife strike me as a couple of down to Earth folks that you could invite over for a cookout, throw some burgers on the grill and split a pitcher of tea. He appears to be a wonderful humanitarian. Generous with his time and resources when disasters strike or in his support of St. Jude's Children's Hospital.

And as easy as Keith is on the eyes, I enjoy him most when my eyes are closed, my earphones are plugged in and I'm listening. Listening to his voice, the words of his songs and the magic his fingers work on his guitar. I will, and have, listen to him for hours on end.

Being very secure in the knowledge that Keith is not going to ride up to our front door on his motorcycle and sweep me off my feet, Billy supports my fandemonium. (I support his, too. And he enjoys Keith Urban almost as much as I do.)

Even indulges me on occasion.

Like August 6, 2009. The day after our 20th anniversary.

Our anniversary fell on a Wednesday last year. It also fell on Billy's regular week to work in Arkansas. So he was there and I was home with the pack. Yes, Billy could have changed his schedule. He reminds me all the time that he works for himself. He could have been home for our anniversary and gone a little later.

But he is as good a son as he is a husband and Keith Urban was in North Little Rock on August 6th and his mom really wanted to go to the show. There was no way I could make it. The logistics were just too much.

So he took her.

I had had a long couple of days on my own. Around 9:30 the night of the 6th I crawled into bed, lights out, everyone was quiet. I'm just about to fall asleep.

The phone rings.

Caller ID says its Billy.

But what I heard on the other end of the line was not Billy's voice but "Hit the Ground Running" - the opening song of Keith's show.

Billy held the phone for almost 30 minutes so I could hear, calling back every so often as needed. He did it until I had to go to sleep (can't stay up past 10 on a "school night"). Just so I could "be there" with him and catch a little bit.

Then he came home with this T-shirt from the show.


(For those that don't know, "Sweet Thing" is one of the hits from Keith's Defying Gravity CD)

With this story to go with it.

Apparently, Billy had his eye on a different T-shirt but this particular booth only had them in extra large sizes. Billy said no, he'd go look at a different booth. Not wanting to lose a sale, the girl selling kept trying to convince him that it was a child's extra large or ran small or anything to get him to buy it.

After a couple of minutes of this he finally stopped her and said, "Ma'am, my wife has lost 50 pounds. I'm not taking home an extra large ANYTHING", to which the lady waiting beside him leaned over and responded, "Good call".

I don't know, she may have been right. But I happen to think the "good call" was on my part.

The evening of December 21, 1988.

When I said "yes" to my Sweet Thing.

It's All Worth It!

I was sitting with a client the other day going over some questions I had for the audit. As we were actually looking at paper and not the computer, my screen saver came on after a few minutes. Like any good mom, my screen saver is scrolling pictures from my laptop. Most of which are, you guessed it, puppies.

She watched for a few minutes. Then commented. "There's so many. How do you set yourself up for that much heartbreak?"

In 2001 I asked myself a similar question, only it was more in the form of "What have I done?" Although our sweet little Stormy was our second "baby" she was the first one we lost. She was 11 years old and had silently developed a heart disease. We didn't know until it was too late. She died in my arms.

Billy and I took it extremely hard. I guess because it was so unexpected and all. And it felt just so unnecessary since she'd been nothing but a little bundle of love and joy and happiness and I couldn't believe she'd been taken from us. I remember driving away from the emergency clinic, carrying out a box containing my angel, and screaming at the sky. And yelling to my daddy that he would have to look after Stormy now and I was pretty sure his allergies wouldn't bother him in Heaven.

And later it hit me. I would have to go through this 3 more times, and probably sooner rather than later. Christy was a year old than Stormy and Molly was less than a year younger. (Midnight was new to our family and only about 4 or 5 years old at time so she I wasn't worried about, yet anyway.)

What had I done? I had set myself up for heartbreak.

Repeated heartbreak.

So, I understood her question.

She told me that she'd lost three dogs in about the last three years and couldn't imagine getting another one and having to go through that again.

I understood her sentiment.

But for us, getting more was just a no-brainer. Look at all these faces!
















What a group!!

Having been through it three times myself, each time extremely painful, I still can't imagine opening my front door at night and not seeing this! They come out of the woodwork - literally it seems sometimes - and come running up to me. Falling all over each other, trying to get to the front. Knocking over pictures and anything else in the way of a wagging tail, excited yips and yaps echoing through the entry hall.

That is why we do it.

Though I could be all altruistic and say it is all about saving the puppies from a certain demise (all the ones currently in our house are rescues of some sort) but it really is for us. Our pleasure. Our happiness. Our enjoyment.

Sure, it hurts when they leave us. But that's Life, isn't it? Life without some pain is really just going through the motions. Pain is growth. And living with them has taught me so much about myself. I can do things - Mommy Things - that I'd never dreamed I could do, just to take care of them as best we can.

Because I think it's all worth it. When you're tired and they curl up next to you, head on your lap. When you're ready to scream at the next person that cuts you off in traffic but come home to puppy slobber all over your face. When something else in your world has saddened you and all you need is a smile. They are always there.

Always loving. Never judging. Ready for anything, or nothing at all. Teaching us.

Yes, I will cry when I can't see my blue-eyed Frankie any more and my heart breaks a little every time Riley has a seizure episode. I worry about all of them. Sure, we could have more money and tons of free time if we didn't have them to look after. With no two-legged children to tie us down we could be free as birds. But it seems awfully empty. A life unfulfilled.

Hardly sounds worth living, now does it?

What to Do?

After the oil rig explosion recently, there has been a lot of talk of stopping offshore drilling. I see it on Facebook. The President has said it. I hear it around town. Several of the eleven men that died were from this area.

I suspect last month there was similar talk in West Virginia after the mine explosion.

And probably every time there is a mine collapse or similar tragedy.

I do sympathize. I have several friends here in town whose husbands work offshore. We were very fortunate they were not involved. I can't really imagine what my friends went through in hearing about the story. And the environmentalist side of me is certainly conflicted. I can't stand seeing all those animals covered in oil.

But, unlike a coin, this issue has many sides.

To stop mining or drilling would literally put thousands of men and women out of work. At a time when unemployment is already way too high. Some people in parts of this country have been without work for over a year and flooding that market with thousands more.... It just doesn't seem very responsible. If economic conditions were different, maybe.

But even then, I heard a miner's family say it is just a way of life for them. Generations follow generations into those mines. Like policemen and firefighters in New York City. It is just what some families do. They mine. I don't know if it is the same on the oil rigs, but I suspect there is some truth there as well, but maybe not quite so prevalent.

The flip side, commercial fishing is taking a beating right now because they can't harvest in oil-soaked waters. We're all going to pay more for the shrimp, oysters, crayfish, and other fish went they do start back up. Those families are hurting right now.

And from an economic standpoint, does it make sense? I've been pretty vocal that I think America needs to take care of herself. If we don't do what it takes to harvest our own natural resources, or to develop viable means to replace oil and coal, then it has to come from somewhere else. Aren't we dependent enough on foreign sources? Do we want to put ourselves in a position where $4 and $5 a gallon gasoline is the norm and we can't do anything about it because there is no bargaining chip? That doesn't seem very responsible either.

I know there are some alternatives out there, but change is slow. And I don't know enough about some of them to understand if there aren't risks associated with their production as well. How are corn and soybeans turned into fuel? Can enough electricity be generated to run all the cars this country seems to need? I don't know.

Life has risks.

So, the easy answer is just to stop. Stop everything dangerous. But the realities are not that easy. Every decision has repercussions. How do we know what the best path will be? It isn't as if you can just stop for a year and see what happens. And there are other sides to this issue that I haven't even thought of yet - on either side of the main question.

But is has always been this way. Good men died laying railroad tracks across this country decades ago. Train travel became a way of life and trains are still an important way of moving large amounts of goods from coast to coast and border to border.

Moving forward will always have the occasional setback. And the truth is, while we're hearing about two tragedies very close together, these accidents really are few and far between. Loss of life is always hard and never acceptable. But accidents happen (and please don't tell me the mining explosion wasn't an accident - I'm aware of the long list of safety violations lodged against the company). And it sometimes takes a tragedy to discover how something could be done better to prevent a future, similar, tragedy. Sometimes the baby only learns what "hot" means after they actually touch the stove.

So, back to my question. What to do? I wish I had an answer.

Internal Conflicts

I try to be a good person.

I really do.

But I am struggling.

I have to be careful what I say because the issue at the root of it all is not public knowledge.

Someone I know has made an important decision. One that, while not completely unexpected, was still somewhat surprising due to the timing.

I know in my heart that it is the right thing and needs to be done but I have been very consumed by how that decision will effect me.

And I'm not happy about it.

Not happy that I feel as I do, and not happy about the decision.

There are two sides of me on this. The "friend" side that says "Go, do what you need to get better. Take care of yourself and come back refreshed."

The "work" side of me is angry and resentful because that is the side that has to deal with the fallout. Extra hours for me, still. Working weekends, still. Not having a real day off like everyone else, yet.

I don't like being in that position. Having to adjust everything in my world simply to accommodate someone else.

I guess that makes me selfish. But it also makes me human. I had plans for my weekends. That has changed.

I did take off this past weekend and never even pulled my laptop out of the car. And I did come home at a "decent hour" most days. But that was only a temporary time to really rejuvenate myself. Rest that I needed for the next two months which are going to be rough. I was so exhausted the other night that I couldn't remember actually being in a client's office on one day when I saw them the next day.

That's sad, people.

But, I have to do what I have to do. If the work isn't done we lose the clients and I'm out a job.

Guess there would be plenty of time to rest then, wouldn't there?

My nature is to jump in with both feet and get it done.

And I will.

But that doesn't mean that I have to like it.

You Can Go Home Again

But will you recognize it when you get there?

I attended Alumni Weekend at Hendrix last weekend. It was my first Alumni Weekend since I graduated in 1988. It was actually one of the few times I'd been back on campus for anything.

Not that I haven't supported my school.

I make my annual contribution and there are provisions in my last will and testament for some scholarship money, if there is any left after it gets divided up.

But Alumni Weekend is typically held the first weekend in April. Meaning it is before April 15 and I've never been able to go before. Matter of fact, I fussed about that the last couple of years when I was being hounded about attending my 20 year reunion.

Maybe someone listened.

So, when the timing fell on April 16th I felt compelled to go. And I'm so glad I did!

The Hendrix College campus is in full bloom this time of year. Azaleas in white and varying shades of pink were everywhere! The fountain, into which you'd be thrown on your birthday, was full and bubbling. The ivy on Buhler Hall was a little higher on the walls. So it was beautiful!

But there was also a lot of new. Acxiom Hall wasn't there when I attended. Bailey Library now rises from the ground where there used to be a parking lot. The library was underground during my years there. A brand new Reynolds Hall now occupies the old library site, but above ground. The gymnasium has been replaced by the Student Life and Technology Center. And that building has the cafeteria that looks amazing, a game room with pool tables and a snack bar. Hulen Hall is all but closed now since the cafeteria was moved and the bookstore, now run by Barnes and Noble, will be moved to The Village at Hendrix over the summer. Probably the saddest sight was the Mabee Center. An athletic building where I took aerobics, weightlifting and ballroom dancing stands forlornly, almost dejected, in the shadow of the new Hendrix Wellness Center. That is where I found a rock-climbing wall, an exercise room, the new pool, and the soccer/lacrosse field out back.

There are even rumors of - gasp! - football returning to the Hendrix campus! I bought a T-shirt that said "Hendrix College Football - undefeated since 1961". That was the last time we fielded a team.

But it still felt so comfortable to be on campus.

It felt like home.

Although it was in a new cafeteria, I still ate lunch all by myself, much as I did when I attended classes. Didn't bother me then, doesn't bother me now. Gave me a little time to reflect.

I told Mom and Andrea that I could see myself retiring someday and going back to teach part time there. As an adjunct professor. Of course when I told my boss that today he wanted to know how soon I thought that would be.

At least 20 years, I'm sure.

And I should be able to do once I get my Masters. Which I hope to do now at Hendrix. Accounting is the ONLY program there with a Masters degree. They had to start offering one in order to meet the education requirements necessary for students to sit for the CPA exam. Not sure yet how I'm going to swing that, but I plan to make it happen.

As I stood looking at the library I remembered a day when Daddy was on campus with me. We were standing in almost the same spot, looking at a parking lot. Only he remembered when the football stadium was there. Even played in it a time or two.

So, things change. But the big stuff doesn't. The feel of the campus. The dorm rooms. The people. The commitment by the faculty. One of the best attended events was the Last Lecture by Dr. Charles Chappell, English. He's retiring after 41 years. He was a Hendrix grad before that so his last 45 years have been spent on that campus. It was standing room only for his farewell. Although, as he pointed out, he would still be teaching through the end of the semester so he wasn't sure where the title Last Lecture came from.

"Home" is that way.

We may move. We add and subtract family members. The house gets smaller as we get older. But the stuff that matters never changes. The love we have for one another. The support, caring, concern. Its all still there.

So, yes. You can go home again. And you'll always know when you've arrived.

Time Out

No, I have not run out of things to say. In fact, I have more on my mind than ever!

But, I worked 286 hours in the month of March (710 so far since January) and I find that when I get home at night, my ability to put together cohesive sentences and cogent, comprehensive thoughts is as diminished as my creativity.

This became very evident from my last post. There were actually points I wanted to make but I think they got lost in the rambling.

So, much like the world outside my window, I am giving myself a little time to refresh and renew.

But, as so famously uttered once, I'll be back.

I hope everyone is having a very blessed Holy Week. May Easter Sunday fill you with the Mysteries of Life.

And Happy Spring!

Life in a Bubble

This post is all my own idea, with no disrespect to Stephen King if I've stepped on his book "Under the Dome". I've had the book since November - probably the longest I've ever owned a Stephen King without starting it - but it is over 1,000 pages long and now is not the time for me to undertake such a large task. I can't sit down without falling asleep so reading is not my priority.

No, I've been pondering a similar thought for a while.

What if the entire country was enclosed in a bubble?

What would we do if the only people we had to depend upon were each other?

In a sense, I'm wondering about a scenario much like the beginning of our country.

A time when communications were not instantaneous. A time before foreign trade deficits. A time when the rest of the world was a great mystery.

People counted on and helped themselves. Communities depended on its members for its successes.

Neighbor helping neighbor.

No hand outs were expected. I suspect few were given. It would have been considered a personal humiliation to just accept something for nothing.

States were founded. Industries were built across this land on this work ethic.

Every member of a community served a real purpose. The farmers fed. The merchants sold the food and goods. The blacksmith kept the horses shod for working. The doctors healed.

I listen to so much about our people today. A lot of it is really sad.

Unemployment is skyrocketing. But so many jobs are going overseas. Why aren't they staying here?

Costs too much. OK, so maybe the owner makes a little less but keeps his neighbors employed.

Americans won't do the work. Well, they might. Maybe I'm idealistic (yeah, I know I am) but if the choice is not working at all or working at a what might not be the perfect job, I'd flip burgers or cut grass or do whatever I needed to in order to feed my family and keep a roof over their heads.

Would we still need a military if we didn't have to worry about a foreign enemy? Or would they be necessary for other reasons? To aid in law enforcement or something.

How would things change if suddenly we couldn't buy cars and toys from China but had to just buy American? What would the job market look like if there were no immigrants, legal or illegal, in the system? What would we do if there were no other countries willing to lend us money to "balance" our budgets?

I honestly don't know how America got into its current situation. I do know it wasn't any one thing but a whole string of decisions over decades of time.

Slowly eroding the fabric of this country. Like water dripping on a rock, wearing away the surface. Drip by drip. Day after day.

The country has always had divides. There were those who worked the fields and built railroads and used their backs and others who were bankers and teachers and doctors. Everyone can't be the same. We can't adequately function if we're all the same.

Just like the human body needs all its parts to work well, the country needs all the citizens to do their part. To be a part of the collective whole.

I'm not in any way suggesting that rights should not be equal for all citizens - they should. Men and women, black and white, all the same. Those are not the divides I mean. But maybe if we looked inside ourselves and to those around us to try and solve our problems instead of looking for the government to just "fix" it then we might find ourselves in a very different situation. There are times when government aid can needed and appropriately used. I know lots of people that have drawn unemployment or accepted welfare assistance but they did it for a limited time and for the purposes they were intended - to help out while they worked on changing their situation. Not as a standard, acceptable way of life.

Maybe we could actually start to make a difference. A truly United States of America

Mmmmmmm...

Can we really call it Central Standard Time when we're only on it for four months out of the year?

Seems to me that Daylight Savings Time should become the new Standard Time and those four lonely, cold, winter months should be called something else.

Maybe Lack of Daylight Standard Time.

A Recommendation

I don't normally do this, but if you haven't seen the movie "Taking Chance" please do so. We watched it last night and it was really something.

I hadn't heard about it until Kevin Bacon won a Golden Globe award for his performance. Apparently this was an HBO film - and we don't get HBO.

The film is based on a true story of a military escort for a fallen soldier in Iraq. I learned so much about the process and it was truly moving. I had no idea of how many people are involved in sending these men and women home. They arrive at Dover Air Force Base in horrible condition but are returned to their families appearing as the heroes they are.

One of my favorite lines was towards the end when the escort opens the casket and notes that even though the military mortuary knew it would be a closed casket the uniform was still impeccable.

The care and honor and respect these young men and women receive on their final journey is just so incredible and something of which we should all be proud.

So, take an hour and 20 minutes (no commercials on DVD!) and watch it.

We thought it was awesome. I hope you enjoy it.

Here's My Question

This will be brief, I hope. I've soapboxed about this before and clearly beating a dead horse is getting me nowhere.

How many innocent children and young people have to die before our judicial system pulls out its collective proverbial head and realizes that, by and large, child molesters can not be rehabilitated?

The case in California over the last few days is a prime example. The main suspect in the case has been convicted and gone to jail, at least according to the articles I read, on at least two previous occasions and has either been paroled, or gotten out early or something.

First of all, in my opinion, a true child molester should never, EVER, see the light of day again. And I'm making a distinction between child molester and the much broader term sex offender. The definition of a sex offender is way too broad and needs to be narrowed or stratified or something to make it of any value. Someone who can willingly do the things to children and young adults that these people do, and seemingly enjoy since they keep doing it, should be stopped - permanently. Most of them aren't going to get better.

So quit putting them back on the streets!

The only thing that makes this situation even remotely better, and you can hate me saying so, is that it is my understanding that child molesters and murderers are handled by the prison system - internally.

As it should be.

Go For the Gold!

I said in my last post that I love the Olympics.

And I do.

Totally.

Winter or summer, doesn't matter to me.

I get such a rush out of watching these kids (and at 43 I'm including anyone under the age of 30 as a "kid") doing something they are so passionate about!

I always prefer amateur sports to professional sports. I love watching people compete that are still enthralled with their sport. Money means nothing. Of course some of them play and train with the hopes that they may some day make money with their ability, but for right now they play for pride.

Pride in their school, representing their families, love of their country.

For some of these young men and women, the Olympic dream culminated with the opening ceremony. They knew from all their other competitions that they probably didn't have a snowballs chance at a medal.

But they made it. Made it to the Olympic Games and they would do their best no matter what.

Because all eyes were on them.

The eyes of the world.

We watched skiers and skaters fall. We saw the best efforts fall short.

But we also saw the best and brightest and no matter how they did we were watching dreams come true.

The dream of just competing.

For so many of these athletes this is it. This IS the lifelong dream. Slumber parties and camping trips were replaced when they were growing up by hours and hours of practice. Before school. After school. Training in facilities away from their families. Year after year, competition after competition.

All for just a couple of minutes.

For some, that is all there was.

One race. One jump.

One and done.

And for that poor young man from Georgia, not even that. Killed doing what he loved to do at a place he had dreamed of being. But he had not actually gotten to compete yet.

So, as I sit here waiting on the Gold Medal hockey game to start and will watch the closing ceremonies tonight, I will also wonder about tomorrow.

For those that will not compete again. How will they transition into a "normal" life? A regular job or a standard school schedule.

How will they become like us?

Spectators. Watching another generation of Wheaties boxes.

Waving our flags, hands over our hearts, holding our breaths, willing the young men and women to go faster and higher.

How indeed.

You Just Have to Want It!

Name one of the two longest rivers in the United States.

Who was President during World War I?

Name one of the writers of the Federalist Papers.

What is one promise you make when you become a United States citizen?


Recently one of my friends posted on Facebook that she and her son had been invited to, and attended, a naturalization ceremony for new US citizens.

How cool is that!?!

Another friend of mine has a sister-in-law that was also made a citizen last spring.

I decided to look up some of the test questions to see how I would do. I am pleased to say that I would have done OK. But the questions above did give me pause.

I've been thinking a lot lately about "being" an American. What it means. Why it is sought.

It is an honor and a privilege.

I totally "get" wanting to be an American. Until recently, whenever I would answer polls about issues facing America I would typically respond that illegal immigration is one of our biggest problems.

I understand why people would want to come and live in America. BE an American.

I just wish they would do it according to the rules.

So I really think it would be cool to see the ceremony of those that do earn their citizenship. Those that work for it.

Because really, aren't those the people that we want to be citizens? Those that want it bad enough to wait and work for it. Citizenship should be earned, not just handed out.

I saw the other night that one of our Olympic athletes is a naturalized citizen.

And here is my thing on the Olympics. I love them! I love the sports but I love the national pride even more.

Team USA.

Imagine, loving a country so much that you not only give up you own home country - leaving behind family, friends and a language you understand, you study and pass the exam and take the oath, and then you represent your new home in the biggest sporting event in the world.

Very cool.

I will admit that one of the items on my Bucket List is to live in foreign country for a while. 6 months. Maybe a year.

Italy springs to mind.

But I don't want to give up my citizenship to do so. Just a nice long visit.

Because I know what it means to an American.

Freedom.

Freedom to speak my mind. Freedom to have a say in my government. Freedom to worship as I chose, where I chose. Freedom to be anything I want to be, wear what I want to wear, go where I want to go.

I am proud to be an American. I am proud of our country and what we represent. I am not always proud of our representatives, but I am proud of what we are.

I still, every single time, get tears in my eyes when I hear the "Star Spangled Banner".

Because we are the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave.

So, I say Welcome! to all the people who have consciously decided to join our great nation they way they are supposed to. To those that have just chosen to come to America by other methods, I say Adios!

I Love You

I have, like most people, a morning ritual. Mine includes drinking my coffee while checking my email and reading my morning devotional.

I sat down this morning to see in my list of unopened emails "Hayden McConnell has sent you a message on Facebook."

Intrigued, I opened that email first.

"I can't write on your wall for some reason but I was going to say I love you, so.... I love you."

This young man will be 17 in a few months.

I can't tell you how it made my heart absolutely SOAR this morning to read those words!

8 letters. 3 small words. One huge reaction.

I'm good for the day now.

Puppies can't get on my nerves - and on Day 11 of being a single mom they have managed to get on my nerves a lot lately - work is not going to stress me out; nothing.

I am loved.

Those words are always important to say. No matter what. But it seems like they get a little extra kick when they aren't expected.

I mean, Billy and I tell each other we love each other many times a day. I tell my mom and my sister most of the time when we hang up the phone. But to get it out of the blue from an unexpected source, well, that is just the topper.

Hopefully he'll never read this and know that I told the whole world but I just couldn't help it.

Furthermore, I think I'll spread the joy by telling each every one of you

I Love You.

I mean that. I really do.

Too Good to Be Real

This is kind of a crazy society we're living in. I've been thinking about how to best approach this subject.

You see, I'm a little mixed on some of it.

A recent cover of People Magazine showed a young (23) television personality who underwent 10, yes 10, plastic surgeries at one time.

And this was not her first time under the knife.

Nor will it be her last. She still wants bigger breasts.

Ten surgeries.

This, to me, is 1) having more money than sense, and 2) such a sad commentary on how people (male and female) can view themselves.

Who, at 23, truly and honestly needs 10 plastic surgeries? She had her ears pinned back, chin reduction, liposuction, nose job, breast enhancement, you name it. And y'all, she looked wonderful to start with.

She was already a television celebrity.

I don't get it. But she said she wanted to feel "perfect".

I say perfection starts on the inside.

And there are no surgeries for that.

But it shows you some of the issues that we all face. She has a career that many people dream of, she is newly married (for the record, her husband was very much against the surgeries but supported her right to do it), and is living a life that many would envy.

Yet she wasn't happy.

Now, what part of this am I mixed about?

I don't agree with what she did, but I respect her right to do it.

I understand what it's like to want to look different. I wish I were taller, but there is no surgery for that. High heels are the best I can do on that front.

I do color my hair when I get dissatisfied with it.

I'll try every product that Oil of Olay can make to try and get rid of bags under my eyes or wrinkles.

And while the impetus for me to work on losing the 50 pounds I've dropped (so far anyway) was for health reasons I'd be lying if I said I didn't like the way I looked.

But I have never suffered from the confidence problems that this young woman obviously does. I never really associate what I look like with who I am.

I am me. Wife, daughter, sister, friend, "mother" to the puppies, CPA, partner. Doesn't matter if I'm blond, brunette, short, tall, whatever. All of these I accomplished because of who I am on the inside, who and what I was raised to be (thanks Mom and Dad!), how I view myself.

Unfortunately, though, that kind of self-awareness doesn't always translate. So, I actually feel sorry for this young lady.

Sorry that she can't see how beautiful she was before. Not that she isn't beautiful now, but it just isn't the same.

Sorry that she didn't opt to work on the inside first, before spending all that time on the shell.

Because, in reality, our bodies are simply that - shells. Delicate, fragile shells that hold an even more fragile and delicate soul on the inside.

And, like so many other things in this world, it is only the inside that counts.

A Deficit of Trust

This phrase was one of the few I picked up the other night in the President's State of the Union address.

It also one of the few things I actually agreed with.

I have to admit that I didn't listen very closely, though. (Every time he has opened his mouth lately the stock market has dropped and we lose money. I'm not sure who he thinks owns all these Big Banks he keeps blasting but I am one. Middle class. Me.)

I trust nothing and no one associated with Washington DC. Either side of the aisle. Makes no difference to me.

Deficit of trust also very aptly describes what I think a lot of people in this country feel. I never thought I'd actually agree with Geraldo Rivera on much but he said something on Fox News the other day that is exactly what I've been saying. The bipartisanship in this country right now is downright depressing. It's as if no one in Washington DC has an original or independent thought.

I suggest this experiment. Have all members of both Houses go to their offices and close the doors. Slide a bill (obviously a thin one, not the thousand page tomes they are accustomed to) under the door for their consideration. They have to read it and vote in a given time period. During that time they are not permitted to see or talk to anyone.

No phone calls. No committee meetings. No memos from the party leaders.

Just them and their own thoughts.

At the end of the time limit they pass the bill back under the door with a yes or no vote.

Wonder what would happen.

Would some of them even vote? Or would they just try to defer? Say they need more time? I'm certainly curious.

I realize that I've said all this before but I can't help it. I am so incredibly disappointed in all the current leadership that I literally want to send everyone home and just start over.

No old boys club that way. No "that's the way we do things around here".

Nothing but fresh faces, not yet jaded by the process, and some fresh ideas.

I'm sure that in that whole bunch there are some good people. The law of averages demands it. But they don't get the attention.

Obviously they are not making enough noise. All we ever hear about are the ones leading the charges and making the deals.

Which is why I don't trust them. If they were truly doing the job they were "hired" to do we would see the results, not have to be told. But we are told, every single day, about all the garbage going on along the Beltway.

I wish I felt differently. I really do.

This is such an incredible country. All the freedoms and privileges. All the opportunities we have. I really want to love the leaders and the work they do. I want to believe they are working for the American people.

But I don't.

I can't.

I have a deficit of trust.