“I would want everyone to love someone in the purest sense of the word – an unconditional love in which you don’t expect anything in return.”
michael arden
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Author Archives: Cindy Blackstock
Winter
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Everyone seems to have a favorite season. I gave some thought to this and feel that autumn might be mine. I enjoy the colorful backdrop that the changing leaves provide. I appreciate the chill in the air that has one transition from iced tea to hot tea and also prompts the addition of a blanket to the couch. I find I am lulled into the coziness that the season brings. I think there is something for everyone in every season but as winter’s last hurrah is upon us, I would like to focus on it.
I know those who enjoy winter’s brisk weather. It could be the chance of snow that brings a smile to their face, or possibly the holidays within it. I find I appreciate winter, but maybe for reasons unnoticed by others. I enjoy the lack of vegetation as things that might be hidden in other seasons are now visible. I am always impressed by taking notice of a hawk among the branches of a tree. These majestic birds might want to remain hidden as they watch their prey but I enjoy seeing them sit high and mighty without the cover of leaves. I also appreciate the work that went into creating a squirrel’s large nest. There are condo’s that don’t hold a candle to them. Winter is a time for Mother Nature to show off some creations that go unnoticed through the remainder of the year.
As a tribute to Mother Nature, I play along with her during the winter months. The blanket I introduced to my couch in the fall often finds me under it, enjoying its warmth. I can admire those animals who hibernate through the season. I, too, find I am happy to dig in on the dark, cold nights. A big pot of soup works its wonders as the bounty from the previous seasons creates an aroma that makes you glad your windows are closed and the scent doesn’t quickly escape.
I also think of how our lives mimic the seasons. This can be true where our relationships are concerned. In the spring when all is fresh and new, a heart can be full of anticipation. Planning what plants might be introduced to a barren flower bed is enjoyable. One looks forward to future blossoms. Summer can bring heat and weeds but those issues can all be creatively handled. As the time progresses winter can make itself known. Those can be the gloomy days of a relationship. As in winter, when Mother Nature introduces a barren landscape, so can true feelings be uncovered. I don’t see that as necessarily bad, rather an opportunity for the development of unconditional love. No cover-up, but an acceptance of seeing someone for who they are and loving them, blemishes and all. Unconditional love is such a beautiful gift that we can give one another. A beautiful bouquet grown through commitment. There are never any guarantees but hope springs eternal. Everyone will continue to have their favorite season but if something blossoms into unconditional love then maybe winter isn’t so bad after all.
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When you finally go back to your old home, you find it wasn’t the old home you missed but your childhood.
– Sam Ewing
Homesick
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So many times I cross paths with items I recall from my youth. It is with disbelief that I find these items are designated as vintage. Usually seeing them brings a smile but every so often I find tears forming. I am struck by the fact that beyond seeing something tangible from years ago, they are now accompanied solely by my memories. I grew up in an era that there were no phones to capture pictures or videos. Times like this can trigger a feeling of homesickness for my childhood, now just a memory from long ago. I miss the big rambling brick house, surrounded by maple trees that sheltered our three generations. More than that, I miss the people and the love that existed under its roof.
Our home was hot in the summer and chilly in the winter. We lived there without the benefit of air conditioning. Once released from school for the summer I would spend much of my time reading upon one of the many porches that surrounded our home. I would also enjoy sitting on a porch swing that our father actually fashioned into a patio swing with the construction of a metal frame. It was placed on the concrete patio that he created incorporating the landscape. Opposite the swing, a planter was placed. It was formed from a barrel, cut in half. Every year our father would plant coleus. I was not impressed. I always thought regular flowers would have been more attractive than the red, green and yellow foliage. Now I smile and think of him as I plant coleus in the flower beds found in my shady back yard. While I might have been dissatisfied with the choice of landscaping, our grandfather would be toiling in our large garden out back. His choice of uniform for such a chore was a straw hat, sleeveless undershirt and a handkerchief tied around his neck. He would lay out these pristine rows of vegetables and we would enjoy the bounty of his efforts. Days loomed long and endless in my mind as a child.
Days would come to an end and summer nights would find us, sitting in the dark, on the patio. The cooler night temperatures were a welcome change when they came but heat and humidity often seemed to be a constant. When we would turn in for the evening, the window fan in the stair landing was our only source of relief. Each of us would open a bedroom window, but not fully. A door stop of sorts would be placed at our doors to keep them ajar and to allow for the movement of air. The fan would be set to pull air through the house and the smaller openings to the bedrooms ensured everyone would benefit. At some point, during the night or early morning, the fan would reach the end of the set timer and it would shut off. The sudden loss of movement of the air and the quietness would be felt by all of us. Either our mother or father would get up, cross over the landing, and turn the fan back on. It was a ritual we knew well every summer night.
Those summer days would wind down and bring the season of autumn. All those magnificent maple trees would shed their leaves and we were tasked with raking. We would always make use of the large canvas laundry cart that our grandfather brought with him when he moved in with us. I’m not sure what lead to the decisions of which items and furniture would be brought from Philadelphia. He had once owned a laundry business and I recall the basement housed an unused press. We found the laundry cart was indispensable in capturing those leaves and transporting them to the compost pile. Playing in the leaves would, in time, become playing in the snow. There was shoveling and sledding in equal portions. Our home would transform at Christmas time. A large lit plastic Santa head would be hung for all to enjoy as they passed the house. Our stockings were hung on a hanger on the back of the closet door in the TV room. We had no fireplace and that was as good as any place to display them. I don’t recall anyone ever asking how Santa found his way into our home. There was always joy on Christmas morning as Santa never disappointed.
In a blink of an eye spring would be upon us. Days would pass, seasons would change and years slipped away. Sounds are the backdrop to the memories of those days. The sound of a train passing less than a mile away, the chain covered tires on a snowy road, and the voices, now forever silent. I recall our grandfather saying he chose to speak English as he was an American. He was indeed, but one who never lost his Italian accent. Our father’s speech would match his pipe smoking tradition, one that was slow and deliberate. He might have left the red Georgia clay behind but his soft southern drawl remained. When we sought our mother, she could be found in the kitchen, outfitted in her cobbler apron and humming as she cooked and baked. Thinking about it now, she had a slight nasal quality to her speech but it is one that I would be overjoyed to hear again. I miss those days, those ordinary, mundane days. Life will always offer special moments but it is the regular day to day activities that consume our time. Don’t blink, they pass so quickly. Pay attention and hope that homesickness doesn’t have a reason to often come visit your doorstep.
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The real art of conversation is not only to say the right thing at the right place but to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment.
Dorothy Nevil
Random Conversations
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I am one of those people who strangers talk to in a grocery store. I’ve checked and there is no signage on my forehead that invokes conversation. I have often thought I might possess a resting bitch face but if I did, I doubt people would want to talk to me. Those who know me, generally call me a positive individual and perhaps that is the aura or demeanor I project. Either way, it is interesting what a total stranger will offer in conversation. What I have to share is not a scientific study, rather observations made when paying attention to those conversations within a twenty four hour period.
I was making my way through a checkout line on a Friday afternoon. I told the cashier that I was glad the weekend was upon us but I recognized that I wouldn’t feel that way if I worked retail. The cashier, with joy in her voice, said she was going to be off on Saturday. I shared that I was going to take my cat to a vet appointment. She asked if she was sick and I explained that I had adopted her within the past two months and she had severe arthritis. I was taking her in to the vet for her monthly shot. When asked, I did reveal the cost of the care she was being provided. The cashier blessed me for taking the responsibility of pet ownership to heart. It was not lost on me that the next customer also responded, although not with the spoken word. Her eyes bulged out to the point that she reminded me of a cartoon. I had almost expected to hear her actions be accompanied by a sound much like those animated characters, a-wooga. If I was ever looking for an opponent to play poker with, I would select this woman. I gave no evidence that I witnessed her reaction.
It was clear, the customer behind me, thought I was foolish for the money I was spending on my newly acquired cat. I let it go. The next day I also kept my thoughts to myself when having a brief conversation with one of the attendants at the local dump. I have definite ideas and interest where politics are concerned but I withhold them until I’m in the proper setting. Many who spend time with me on a regular basis probably don’t have a clue where my beliefs lie. I have learned to be polite and keep my mouth shut. It is always wise to choose your battles but it makes no sense to pick a fight with a total stranger. The attendant at the dump would have made it easy. I am still shaking my head over how Groundhog Day could be cloaked in politics. It never fails to amaze me how views can vary. In my opinion, bringing an innocent groundhog into the mix goes beyond the pale.
Not to fear, I won’t leave you with anything but a positive note to end this blog. While I was shopping in a craft and fabric store I saw a woman with the most beautiful bolt of soft fleece. It had shades of turquois, chartreuse, and other colors that would put you in mind of a tropical seascape. I was drawn to both her and the material. She shared that she was going to make a bed jacket for her sister. Did I know what that was? I certainly did and went on to tell her that I had my mother’s for many years. She correctly guessed that it was made of satin. It was pink satin with lace. She further shared that her mother called them lady linens. It seemed like such a practical type of apparel. How did we get away from wearing something warm over our arms as we read in bed? We both enjoyed our brief walk down memory lane and went on our separate ways.
My thoughts about this very unscientific study seem to be clear. Most people enjoy talking and the topics go far beyond the weather. Just as I have a well-defined perspective on most topics, others do too. It is those diverse opinions that show how we are all unique in our world vision. I believe what might separate us is the ability to filter those thoughts or know when it is appropriate to share them. I will happily go through my day making conversations with strangers on inconsequential topics. If I should come across someone who seems not to respect the ground rules of keeping conversations about politics and religion out of the fray, I will remain polite and let it go. I learned a long time ago that opinions are seldom altered, especially by a brief exchange. I am not easily offended nor do I feel I am a hypocrite but rather an individual who enjoys chatter and banter that leaves a smile. Who needs a scowl, especially if your face were to stick that way?
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“The timing of events is a splendor of wonder.”
Lailah Gifty Akita
Timing
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I received my education from the School Sisters of Notre Dame. When I was young, and the most vulnerable, they impressed upon me ideas beyond the typical school subjects. One, stressed in many different ways, was to always remain prayerful. There was a prayer for everything and special times to recite them. If you were to hear the siren of an emergency vehicle, it was cause for prayer. In particular, if it was that of an ambulance, one was to pray for the victim to overcome an illness or survive an accident. I would think that it doesn’t come as a surprise that I still carry that with me to this day. I’m not the least embarrassed to admit that I am prompted to pray for a total stranger during their time of need.
If the nuns assisted in giving me a foundation of prayer, as an adult I have not only claimed that as beneficial but have continued to build upon it. I feel a sense of gratitude that I am not the victim in need of transport by ambulance when I hear one on its way. I don’t have a sense of better you than me. I have experienced it for myself and know how helpless one feels when your body reminds you that you are not immortal and you are the one on the stretcher taking a bumpy ride to the hospital. It is a sincere feeling of gratitude that I am not experiencing it this time and I pray for the well-being of the individual whose turn it is.
I also have a feeling of gratitude when I realize I avoided some misfortune, possibly due to timing. Again, it is not my wish that anyone suffer but often I have thought that there for the grace of God go I. One recent morning, when ready to head to work, I noticed sleet as I got into the car. I was running late, as usual, but I wasn’t concerned about the state of the roads. A little bit of sleet shouldn’t disrupt travel. As I approached a nearby town the sleet turned to snow and it was quickly laying. I didn’t see any snow plows, nor did the roads look like they were treated. As I approached the mountain I cross daily, I was stopped by a line of vehicles ahead of me. They were blocked at the base of the mountain and I could see flashing lights ahead. The ambulance prompted a prayer and then I offered an additional one of gratitude. If I had been on time, maybe it would have been my car that would have been caught in the collision. There have been several times that an unusual circumstance changed my timing and it left me wondering if I was being protected from harm.
I will share with you the time that I could have been the unfortunate victim. I have a level of comfort when driving in the snow. I don’t wish for it but when it comes I don’t shy away from getting behind the wheel. Upon returning from work one evening, I was close to home on a well-travelled, straight stretch of road. Although I didn’t see it or feel it, I must have hit a patch of ice. The car crossed the line and I found myself staring at oncoming traffic. I might have tried to correct the direction when the car went into a spin. There was nothing I could do to stop the momentum. It was literally time for Jesus to take the wheel. Soon I found myself in my original lane but was facing the vehicles that were initially behind me. At that point I slid off the road, down into a slight ditch and finally came to a stop. I was inches away from hitting a telephone pole. There was barely any time to catch my breath when someone knocked on my window and asked if he could help. Although he was wearing a trapper hat with the ear flaps down, I still can remember what he looked like. His curly ginger hair was visible under the brim of his hat and his eyes were a bluish gray, his face sprinkled with freckles. I was in no position to refuse help and he quickly went to the rear of the car and pushed me out of the hollow and back onto the road. Although he appeared to be slight in build it took him no time at all to push the car out of the ditch and back onto the road. I was shaking but continued on and, when at a safe spot, turned around to go my original direction. I instantly thought that I should have thanked him for his kindness but it all happened so quickly. I passed the spot where I had gone off the road and there was no sign of him. Initially I thought I was so fortunate that during a snow storm there happened to be someone out in a cow pasture, right where I was to go off the road. What were the odds? Was it timing or something else? In hindsight I realize that my car returning to the road without tires spinning in the snow or additional assistance to push the car up and out appears to be rather unusual. Then I question what others around me might have witnessed.
Years later, I have deemed the experience as miraculous. I wasn’t granted the timing to stay removed from peril yet I was kept from harm during a potentially dangerous event. It was an answer to prayer that I barely had the time to utter. The experience was more than a decade ago yet I can relive it in my mind as if was yesterday. I have come to understand that there are things that life sends us which are beyond our control. There can be events where timing is on our side and others when that may not be the case. Although it might appear that there is no rhyme or reason, it is all part of the human experience. Let’s hold on tight and see what timing might bring us next.
Quotations
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“New year—a new chapter, new verse, or just the same old story? Ultimately we write it. The choice is ours.”
Alex Morritt
Because I sometimes have trouble deciding on a flavor when the choices are plentiful, I offer you these quotes focused on ice cream:
“Scoop up the joy; it’s ice cream o’clock!”
unknown
“I like my ice cream in a waffle cone, and my days in sprinkles.”
unknown
Happy New Ice Cream
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Now that we are well ensconced in 2024, I have a confession to make. I have never been one to get excited about celebrating the New Year. My contention is that if you had no calendar or clock, there would be no way to tell one year from the next. I know that sounds cynical and nonsensical. I don’t feel that way about other holidays. It could be because their focus is not specifically based on time. Maybe I didn’t always feel this way but long gone is my childhood tradition of watching Guy Lombardo ring the New Year in on television. If that doesn’t make sense to you, I suggest you google it. No, I am one who stays home, safe and warm, as another year rolls in and the last becomes history. Even though I don’t have the desire to celebrate, I find I must witness the change. It feels like my civic duty to oversee the event.
As in all aspects of life, attitude plays its part in how we view things. Watching the ball drop on television, or any other media, gives you the impression that it is so large that it must light up all of Times Square. I have actually seen the ball, in place prior to the New Year celebration, and it didn’t look huge. It actually looked dwarfed by its position on the building. This year I had the feeling that the performer wasn’t finished singing as the descent of the ball began. I might be the only one who was annoyed by what appeared to be an example of poor time management. I don’t feel that is the optimum way to start a new year, especially when the focus is upon the last minutes of the outgoing year.
I have a solution for myself and anyone else who might feel the need to make this holiday a bit more palatable. Let’s make the New Year ice cream and proceed that way. Incorporating sweaters and blankets might be needed rather than hats and noisemakers but I think we can meet everyone’s expectations. I fear there could be a select population that might not be fans of the idea. I personally hope my suggestion doesn’t alienate anyone.
I have heard, how you spend New Year’s Eve, is an indication of what to anticipate for the following 365 days. There are decisions to be made. How do you want your ice cream? Are you going to play it safe and have it served in a cup or are you going to incorporate a little bit of risk into your choice? If you go with a cone you not only get the ice cream but the additional treat of the cone. Are you courageous enough to take the chance? Yes, it could get messy, just like life, but there are napkins along with soap and water to help correct the situation. Another thought, as you prepare to celebrate Happy New Ice Cream, give some consideration to the flavor you select. Are you going to choose your favorite flavor or try something new? Your tried and true favorite might be a safe way to go and you will know what to expect. If you consider stepping outside your comfort zone and try another flavor, it might bring your taste buds excitement and sheer happiness. You never know unless you try. The decision of how you want your ice cream is entirely yours.
I doubt my suggestion will take the country by storm. Even though you won’t find me at a party reveling, I do believe that the New Year offers us all a fresh start. Resolutions aren’t required but meeting each day with anticipation and purpose will make it more appetizing. My wish for you would be the ability to look back and see that you not only had a delicious year but you might realize it was topped with sprinkles, or better yet, with whipped cream and a cherry. Now, you must excuse me. For some reason I feel the need to go to Dairy Queen.
Harvesting Life 