Tell me a story …
20 Feb 2013 2 Comments
Our big snowstorm seems to have arrived. Sitting here watching it come down, blow around, stick to everything, run down the windows, I’m remembering the huge blizzard we had when I was about ten years old. If I have this right, it snowed for at least three days without let-up and the wind howled the entire time. The power went out, of course, so my dad got kerosene lanterns from my grandparents’ house … I still remember what they smelled like when they were all lit. Living on a farm, we were usually pretty well prepared for whatever might come up, so I’m guessing there was plenty of food in the house. Anyway, I don’t remember going hungry. And we had propane heat, so the house stayed cozy.
I do recall playing lots of board games and card games … and we probably drove our parents crazy … four kids under ten years old cooped up in the house for days and nights on end. When the snow finally stopped and the wind died down, we emerged to find our world transformed … drifts up to twenty feet high with deep valleys between. I have no idea what my dad did about the livestock while the storm was raging, but they must have survived somehow.
It was several days before the county could get through with blades to clear some of the roads, and a few more before we could make it to school. The storm happened in March, so we ended up with a fabulous vacation out of it. We spent our time exploring the new snowscape, in awe over the fact that our neighbors could walk out their upstairs windows onto the drifts. Our grandparents’ orchard was one enormous playground, with drifts up to the tops of the tall cedar trees and plenty of big hills to slide down. Our parents definitely got a break from the craziness … except, of course, for all the snow boots and wet jackets and gloves and mittens and stocking caps and …
Sadly, the heavy snow broke most of the cedars and fruit trees, and the orchard was never the same. As kids, of course, the cost extracted by a storm like that didn’t register with us until much later. We just knew it was the most amazing thing that had ever happened in our lives to that point.
Me with my two younger sisters atop the drifts in the orchard, with cedar tops peeking through. Our little brother was in the house.
The strange world of Facebook …
20 Feb 2013 Leave a comment
in My Original Blog, My Thoughts Tags: be real, Facebook, family, friendship, living, relationships
Facebook is even stranger than real life, which is saying a mouthful. I’ve been rattling around its environs for years now and I think I’ve seen Just.About.Everything. I realize I’m being silly in even claiming such a thing, however, as there’s always something even more mind-blowing around the next corner. People never fail to amaze. Most anyone who spends any appreciable amount of time on social media knows it’s a distillation of daily life in the world … every mindset is represented, every problem magnified, every personality laid painfully bare.
Let’s talk about “friending” … an intriguing concept in every way. It’s hard for me to let people into my life, and yet I’ve met fabulous individuals from around the globe whom I would never have had the opportunity to know otherwise and we carry on funny, fascinating, engaging conversations nearly every day. I also have a raft of family members on my friends list, most of whom rarely talk to me … but I don’t take it personally. We’re family, after all, and one sticks with family … at least in ours. And we share an industrial-strength genetic makeup … we tend to be quiet and introspective until someone hits the right button, and then just try to shut us up. I’ve received a lot of friend requests from people I used to know in a passing sort of way. Sometimes those work out and we strike up a comfortable relationship that’s better than anything we could have claimed in the past. Sometimes I authorize the request and never hear boo — not a hello, a comment in a conversation thread, a simple “like.” In those instances, I usually assume the whole thing was motivated by curiosity (have I gotten fat or fallen on hard times??), give it a few weeks, hit the delete button, and move on.
The first time I was unfriended, it was like a kick to the gut … it happened to be someone I thought was a close friend, someone who’d been by my side during life-altering events. I considered myself safe, accepted … in other words, in my mind it was a true friendship. Not so … my political and spiritual convictions, only mildly hinted at during those innocent early days, rendered me unfit for that particular relationship. Revelation having dawned, I tucked it under my belt and marched on. I’ve since been unfriended by a handful of other people for the views I hold, and the only thing that would make that an untenable situation is if I changed my thinking in order to keep people happy.
Interestingly, Facebook has succeeded in teaching me far more about friendship than I was able to learn in the rest of my life to this point. I’ve met lovely people to whom I feel very bonded … some of the truest friendships I’ve ever known. Thus, in some ways I’ve grown softer toward people … more accepting of personalities and the endlessly varied ways in which they express themselves. Inevitably, however, I’ve developed a thicker crust about some things. I do not tolerate prejudice, particularly the kind based on skin color or a person’s station in life, and I do not willingly subject myself to incivility. I’m all about keeping it real these days. If you pass me in the grocery store without a glimmer of recognition, I have to assume we aren’t actually friends. If you take me to task for the things I believe in and try to shame me into adopting a different mindset, I’m quite sure we aren’t friends, as no quality relationship operates that way. If you requested to join my friends list and we’ve never had a conversation or any sort of interaction, you’re probably not there anymore … or won’t be tomorrow. What’s the point?
Stay tuned … Facebook isn’t finished with me yet, nor I with it.
A snow day …
20 Feb 2013 Leave a comment
Keeping watch out my big office windows this morning … wondering if we’ll actually get the 12 to 15 inches of snow that are forecast for here … hoping we do. We need it and I love it. This is an obvious day for inspiration, and I’ve done my part by nearly emptying the coffee pot. While we wait, I’m bringing forward the last post I wrote for my original blog, with a few modifications … (it’s the Facebook one).
Heroes
17 Feb 2013 2 Comments
in My Thoughts, Photos Tags: brave, family, inspiration, living, loving, nursing, relationships
In one of my file cabinets there’s a folder labeled “Role Models” which is filled with clippings, photos, and articles about people who have continued to do physically and mentally challenging things far past an age when most of us tend to be ready for a break. A man who learned to read at age 98. A 73-year-old woman who continues to work as a pilot and flight instructor. A Nashville surgeon who still practices medicine at 80. A beautiful Broadway dancer who’s 78 and looks no older than 48. Bessie Doenges who, in 1995, was still writing and getting published at age 94, and brooking no nonsense, thank you very much. You get the idea. I’m in awe of all these people and so many more … but I don’t necessarily consider them personal heroes.
I have two real heroes in my life — my husband who kept me from dying of grief anorexia and loves me unconditionally … and my son.
John is an only child who ceased being a kid long ago. I knew he was an old soul from the first moment I laid eyes on him and in many ways it seems like he raised himself. He was always quietly settled on who he was, and the opinions of others didn’t cause him to waver much. He’s unfailingly polite, kind, and tactful, and if you need someone to really, really listen to you, he’s your guy. I can’t count the times in conversation when his spot-on discernment has gone through me like a laser.
He paid the price to get a five-year degree in Industrial Design and had a career for about a dozen years in which he was steadily moving up. Then 2003 arrived, bringing crushing loss — his dad and both grandfathers. A year of self-examination followed, and another year spent on college prerequisites for a career change. He then earned his RN degree in a grueling 18-month period instead of the usual three years, and it didn’t kill him … although the possibility existed.
He now works in the Oncology/Renal unit of an Atlanta hospital and was recently made Clinical Coordinator on the night shift. He may do hospice care someday, and if that happens the people he ministers to will have landed in a good place. He is uniquely gifted to help people leave this life with their dignity intact.
John is my flesh and blood and yet I often find myself wondering where he came from. As his mom I feel very humbled by him … proud … grateful. The way he’s lived his life to this point, and especially the way he handles adversity, along with so many other things, makes him my true hero. I could write a book …
Oh, and PS … he has a wicked sarcastic streak that will knock you off your feet.
Milestones …
15 Feb 2013 4 Comments
in Graphics that Grab Me, My Thoughts Tags: brave, family, graphics, inspiration, living, military, relationships
I spent several hours in my car today. I spent most of the remainder at a funeral. It’s complicated. My sister married a great guy. My brother married a great girl. The great guy and great girl are brother and sister. So there are a number of double cousins in the family. That’s where it starts to get complicated … and doesn’t stop. Don’t ask. The father of the brother-and-sister-by-marriage passed away this week. I went to his funeral mass today, and his graveside service, complete with very moving Navy Military Rites. And I hung out during a beautiful lunch with people I love and am almost related to. And some that I’m very related to. It was a sweet day and a sobering one. I think one of the things that keeps us from becoming officially “old” is that if we keep our eyes and ears and hearts open, there’s always something to learn in this life. And the first lesson to learn is that we will never know it all. And that everybody — everybody — has a story. And that every one of those stories is worth hearing. And that whatever we may think we know about any given person, there’s always much more we do not know. And that everyone in this life is or has been loved uniquely … and appreciated. Sometimes the appreciation from assorted and sundry others comes late … but it’s no less real. Today was a pilgrimage of sorts … a memorable one.
Shoulda, woulda, coulda …
13 Feb 2013 7 Comments
in Daily Prompt, My Thoughts Tags: do good, living, music, relationships, writing
WordPress Daily Prompt: Shoulda, woulda, coulda.Tell us about something you know you should do … but don’t.
These are words I try to avoid at all costs — they fall into the category of “useless thoughts and emotions.” My heart and brain, however, recognize that, like other things we skirt around in life, they do have their place, if only as a cautionary tale.
There are things I know I should do every day — things I could do — things I would do — if only. If only I weren’t so busy … so preoccupied … so shockingly lazy.
Every day I should spend at least an hour playing my incredible piano. I should write constructively — or randomly — for yet another hour, minimum. I should make the phone calls and send the emails and hand-written notes that languish in the Vault of Good Intentions. I should keep my house spotless and the laundry forever caught up and all the bills paid immediately upon receipt. I should walk at least two miles every single day.
The list of shoulds is virtually endless. And the incontrovertible truth is that I could do those things. And I would! If only …
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/02/13/daily-prompt-shoulda/
Word Press Daily Prompt: All About Me
12 Feb 2013 12 Comments
in Daily Prompt, Graphics that Grab Me, My Original Blog, My Thoughts Tags: About Me, blogging, living, music, piano, relationships, writing
“Explain why you chose your blog’s title and what it means to you.”
When I decided to move my blog to WordPress from another host, I wanted a new name befitting the change. Before I had time to give any thought to the matter, the words “Playing for Time” popped into my mind. I googled “quotes about time,” came up with Dr. Seuss’s words, “How did it get so late so soon?” and knew I had my hook.
I’m well aware that “Playing for Time” was a 1980 television film based on Fania Fenelon’s autobiography, The Musicians of Auschwitz. Although my blog carries no such heavy significance, it does “play” into my interest in music and also the consciousness that time is passing very quickly for me now. It just seemed right, and still feels perfect to me.
Finding myself now at retirement age, I want to fill my time with play, music, and life in general. Having the time to write seems like play to me … and when my mind and heart temporarily run out of words I visit the beautiful little grand piano in my living room and play myself into creativity again.
I have fallen into a happy love affair with my blog — it brings me joy every day, as do the people I meet on WordPress. Playing for time suits me just fine.
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/02/12/daily-prompt-all-about-me/
The Elusive Flangiprop
08 Feb 2013 2 Comments
So my husband and I are flying down the highway when the WordPress Daily Prompt pops up on my iPad with a curious command — “Invent a definition for the word ‘flangiprop,’ then use the word in a post.” Invent! Invent? Why would anyone have to invent a definition for flangiprops? Even if they aren’t native to your part of the world, surely most people remember them!
Incredibly, just as the imperative hit my inbox, we saw a large herd of partially-domesticated flangiprops in a pasture next to the road. They’re rarely spotted in such numbers anymore, their population having been heavily reduced during the Great Flangiprop Slaughter of 1957. They’ve been struggling valiantly to recover ever since, and they generally stay out on the open prairie where they won’t be seen by their only natural predator — man.
These looked well cared for, however, and didn’t seem to be suffering any ill effects from being held in captivity. We were able to snap a couple of quick photos without spooking them, and I’m thrilled to be able to share those with you here, especially this shot of what appeared to be the alpha flangiprop. Perhaps they’re not bound for extinction after all!
Can you hear me now?
07 Feb 2013 4 Comments
in Graphics that Grab Me, My Original Blog, My Thoughts Tags: About Me, brave, electronic gadget, happiness, hearing, living, music, sound
This will come as no surprise to those who know me best, but I’m kind of a geek. I’m not much on technical manuals, or even reading a simple instruction sheet — I’d rather muddle through and see if I can figure out whatever it is I’m trying to do. I love discovering that some electronic gadget I’ve spent money on will do things I never knew it had the capacity to do. I love when things work. I love being connected to the world via my tech toys — primarily iPhone and iPad — to the point that my husband refers to me as the Porta-Hottie. Oh, bless him.
Last week I came into some new technology that is making my life infinitely easier, more interesting, and less stressful. More on that in a bit. First, by way of explanation, I’m bringing up another post from my original blog, this one written in August of 2012 …
Odd how life keeps moving, whether you’re paying attention or not. Strange things happen, and unless you pause just long enough to catch the blur, you might miss the whole thing entirely.
During a hospital stay for my husband (in July of 2012), I picked up the phone in my hotel room, held it to my left ear, and buzzed the front desk. There were tiny scratchy-sounding noises on the other end but no voice, so I assumed the phone was out of order. Not exactly. The extremely polite young maintenance man who came to my room could hear just fine. Cue icy fingers of dread on the back of my neck.
Two weeks later, Kim and I found ourselves sitting in the office of an Ear, Nose & Throat specialist. Holding the results of my hearing test and looking intently at the two of us, she said, “So. What took you so long? This is bad.” To which we answered, at the exact same time, “Pride.”
Somewhere along the line, in the process of living a full and busy life, and most likely helped along by my years as a tractor jockey, I’ve lost all my highs and lows and a considerable amount of what’s supposed to be in between. It happened so gradually at first I wasn’t consciously aware of what was taking place, but I did know I was missing things people said and that the problem was growing steadily more frustrating. I couldn’t figure out why Kim always deliberately lowered the sound level when we were watching TV, and I uncharacteristically snapped at him for it. I was irritated that nearly everyone seemed to speak rapidly and in very subdued tones. It was becoming much more relaxing to stay home rather than put myself in situations where I had to strain to keep up.
I was aware on some level that I was perpetually asking Kim to increase the TV volume … but not that I was plastering him against the back wall of the living room ala an old Maxell ad. Patient loving soul that he is, he never really let on. He knows I don’t react well to being told what to do, so he was in the process of, in his words, “gently leading me to the proper decision.”
The day of my exam, this card-carrying senior citizen (gasp!) became the proud owner of a set of high-dollar, high-tech personal audio enhancement devices. They’re sweet little triangle-shaped computers about an eighth of an inch thick that nestle behind the top part of my ears, and each one is attached to a tiny, almost invisible, tube that ends in an extremely small speaker that tucks inside my ear. My hairdresser and I conspired on a slightly modified haircut, and no one on God’s green earth would know I wear these little guys. Except that I’ve just told you.
There’s a reason why I chose right away to break my silence (pun intended) about something I was originally very reluctant to admit I needed — life is too brief and too beautiful to risk missing out on. If you suspect that your audio capabilities could use a boost, don’t wait. What I thought would make me feel older instead makes me feel infinitely younger. For one thing, constantly saying “What?” does not make you seem hip.
Suddenly being able to hear again was something of a shock. The sheer mass and variety of sounds was overwhelming at first. But it’s been a very gratifying trip to sit back and observe while my brain does what it’s designed to do — delineate and categorize the individual kinds of input and label them important, not so important, okay to ignore, and so on.
There are myriad sounds I hadn’t heard in a very long time but didn’t realize I was doing without. The swish of my own bare feet on our tile floors. Birds outside my office window. The tick of my star-shaped clock on the wall. The rush and patter of rain, with its thunderous applause. A hundred sweet little accompaniments to the ballet of daily living. Sometimes it touches me so deeply to be able to hear again, it moves me to tears. When I take my ears off, my world instantly reverts to mute. The contrast is staggering.
If you identify with any of what I’ve said, an audio test is one of the best gifts you could give yourself and those who love you, and it would be a shame to let pride rob you of some of life’s purest joys. I’m far too young to “need” this technology … and yet I do. And it gets better …
At last week’s appointment, my audiologist sent me home with a blue-tooth device that lets me control my hearing aids from my iPhone … and a little microphone that sits next to the TV (or wherever I want to transport it) and puts the audio directly into my ears. I’ve been listening to my iTunes music wirelessly as well. And at the dinner theater where my husband is chef, I can choose yet another setting on my phone that puts the “house” into my ears. I’m getting younger by the minute.
The Gift of a Kind Word
06 Feb 2013 Leave a comment
in Graphics that Grab Me, My Thoughts Tags: About Me, blogging, graphics, inspiration, learning, love, relationships, writing
I love to write. I’ve been scrawling little stories since I learned how to form the letters. However, in no way do I fancy myself a Writer in the mold of … well, anyone whose name you’d associate with published works. I know writers, I rub shoulders with writers every day on Facebook and WordPress, and in the (adapted) words of vice-presidential candidate Lloyd Bentsen, “You, madam, are no writer.” But the grim realities do not discourage me from loving the process, and even, sometimes, the result. Thoughts and ideas dance around in my head and there’s no remedy but to sit down and spit it all out.
I write mostly for myself. It’s cathartic. It keeps my brain awake. It’s highly satisfying to see the words flow onto notepad or screen and ultimately make perfect sense, if only to me. But it’s also deeply gratifying when other people want to read what I’ve written, and when the feedback is positive and heartfelt.
The other night, someone I know and like a lot but don’t see often told me she loves reading my blog … and that I’m a “good writer.” And even though I know the truth of my opening sentences above, her words went straight into my heart and stayed there. I can live on that for a while … it’s like manna to the psyche. A gift.
I’ve met incredible, amazing women here on WordPress who are quickly becoming real friends, and whose writing talents blow me away every single day. Reading their blog pieces makes me want to write and write and write until my head figures out how they do that! Too bad that isn’t how it works.
If you look up synonyms for gift, one suggestion is power. They got that right.
I loved words. I love to sing them and speak them and even now, I must admit, I have fallen into the joy of writing them. ~Anne Rice
Playing for Time 
Join the conversation …