Author Archives: Cindy Blackstock

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About Cindy Blackstock

My life story has been one of opportunity and growth. My professional career has centered on the human element where I have engaged, encouraged and empowered. Navy wife, Red Cross Emergency Service Director and positions within local governments have challenged and strengthened me. The employment experiences compounded with my personal life has allowed my character to be one of determination and independence. My hope is that I am never far from having that offset by an empathetic nature. Before the pandemic I was a brunette but after a year of isolation I decided to show my authentic self and rock my gray hair. It has been a tangible way to signal I am ready for the next stage of my life. I am so much more than what I have projected professionally. I am mother, sister and friend. For years I have also worn the monikers of daughter and wife but they have been relegated to history. I would like to think in recent times that it is my genuine demeanor, and not just the apparent gray hair, that draws people to me. As a result I have been bestowed with several new names: Gate Keeper, The Vault and the Kleenex Lady. Life is short and none of us are promised tomorrow. I have spent decades learning to take that to heart. I might have not realized early on but my focus has been to attempt to leave things better than how I originally found them. This includes myself. I have been sowing seeds for longer than I can remember and now will concentrate on harvesting that crop of a lifetime.

Apprehension

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Decades ago, our country was told we had nothing to fear but fear itself. Fear can be an overwhelming emotion. It can make your heart feel like it is in your throat.  Fear can make you lightheaded and weak in the knees. Fear can also stop you in your tracks and prevent you from safely moving forward, figuratively and literally. Have I known fear? Obviously, I have or I wouldn’t be able to put words to the emotion. As my mother neared the end of her life, we had many heartfelt conversations. On several occasions she told me that she thought I wasn’t afraid of anything. I don’t know if she found comfort and pride in that observation or concern over me daringly charging ahead.

I can look back over my life and remember times when I felt concern about what tomorrow might bring. Some of those concerns appear so silly now. One that lingers, for unknown reasons, is the change in uniforms at school. I attended parochial school from kindergarten through my senior year. The elementary school went through eighth grade. When making the passage into junior high, or seventh grade, we were allowed to remove the top part of our uniform jumpers and transition to skirts. The nuns must have felt that we, as preteens, had earned the right to show our status by the change. I can still remember the apprehension I felt on the first day of school that year. What if my mother had it wrong and removed the top of my jumper in error? It was with great relief that I saw all my female classmates in their skirts, topped with a white blouse and finished off with a navy-blue tie that would cross at the neck. I don’t know why that experience has remained with me. Did I actually fear the adjustment of my uniform or did the thought of change make me apprehensive? Other than embarrassment, what harm would have come to me?

There have been other life experiences that have given me pause. I remember, during the last week or two of my pregnancy, looking down at my abdomen and feeling apprehensive.  Thought was given to not only the pain of delivery but the overwhelming responsibility I felt for raising this new life. Again, I wasted my energy by letting my mind go there. My delivery was easy and I consider my son my greatest accomplishment. Trials often appeared but there was never any choice other than to move forward. There are legions of others that have joined me in conquered those same hurdles. I have experienced divorce, the elimination of professional positions, purchasing a house on my own and the loss of loved ones. There was no time for fear and the only choice was to find a way to achieve what was necessary.

I am not vain or a braggart. I have done what I needed to do in order to get to the other side of a challenge. I look at my contemporaries and marvel at the courage and back bone they possess to have met things that have come their way. I revisit the naïve school girl I once was and how foolish it seems to have been concerned about wearing an incorrect uniform. Currently I don’t feel as if I am confronted with encounters that induce fear. A life time of experience has provided me with the skills not to concentrate on the inconsequential. There might be cause for apprehension while waiting for results of medical tests that were never anticipated but the loss of sleep doesn’t change the outcome. Our physical bodies are miraculous but time does wear on them. I might be a bit slower in my step but I will continue to put one foot in front of the other. Every day that I meet, breathing and upright, I consider a win. If apprehension creeps into my psyche, I feel a nudge that lets me know I still have work to do and I will confront it with confidence. It is nothing to fear.

Pennies From Heaven

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My grandfather died two years after suffering a stroke. The image of him standing in the kitchen, smiling, the night before it happened has always remained with me. It was not unusual to find a smile on his face. He was charming and had a delightful sense of humor. That stroke robbed him of so much and ultimately the onset of another one would take his life.

A few days after his death I had a vivid dream of him. I held a note in my hand that read: I didn’t leave you much as you have what you need. To this day, I can clearly see it in my mind’s eye. The message was clearly written in his handwriting. Startled by the dream I woke up. My attention was drawn to the corner of the room. It was there that I saw him. He was dressed in the blue suit in which he was buried. It was all so clear, even down to his Marcasite tie tack. He was smiling, the smile that I had known my entire life. Then as quickly as I saw him, he faded. Although it has been over forty years, I can recall it as if it was yesterday.

Stay with me as I make what looks like a leap into another subject matter. How often have you noticed spare change in a parking lot? So often it is only a penny but without embarrassment I will stop and pick it up. I have an understanding that it is a gift from my grandfather, pennies from heaven. Better yet, it is a gift, from his pocket to mine. Recently that came to mind as I thought I spotted a coin in the parking lot. It was only a circular piece of gum, discarded and now ground into the macadem. Kiddingly, I invoked my grandfather. I asked him why he had been so stingy lately and not left any change for me. I continued to run my errands and as I departed the next store I spotted change in the parking lot. He must have heard me and wanted to ensure I didn’t think him stingy. This time I was gifted a dime! Maybe it is time for a new song referencing dimes from heaven rather than pennies.

My grandfather has given me a bounty of memories. I was young when he came to live with us. I would sit on his lap and we would rock in the swivel rocker in the living room. He would entertain me with a rhyme that perfectly accompanied the rhythm of our rocking. It began with the line: See saw, knock at the door. It would continue and eventually end with a silly verse. There were other aspects of his life that have all but been forgotten. He drove a white Cadillac, the model with fins. He confessed to my friend that he was addicted to duck pin bowling. Laughing, he told her he couldn’t pass by an alley without going in for a game. Sunday would find him playing pinochle with his friends, ironically all from the same town in Italy.

I recently had the good fortune to obtain Grandpop’s secretary desk from my brother. It gives a sense of joy to now have it in my home. My thoughts go to his giving nature. I am moved when I think of the effort he made to come out one last time after his stroke. My son was being baptized and he didn’t want to miss the event. The last picture we have of him is on that day, one arm in a sling, the other holding my son as an infant. I have received wonderful gifts from my grandfather, a lifetime of love and memories. Now I gladly accept those pennies from heaven as a tangible reminder of him.

Karma

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What goes around comes around or as my mother would say, God will punish you for that. If your mouth was accidently injured it was the result of the time you talked back. If you hurt your hand, it was the result of the time you smacked your sibling. I am sure you get the picture. I don’t recall my mother ever using the word karma but I think, in her own way, she understood the concept.

I learned much from my mother but there are things she did that I am certain Doctor Spock never addressed. One favorite was the time she sent me to my room without dessert because I complained about her serving rice pudding. There was another time that she must have found my stuffy nose annoying. She repeatedly told me to blow my nose and I am sure my response was something spiteful. Her solution was to make me sniff black pepper. I believe her theory was by producing a hefty sneeze I would rid myself of the congestion. To this day, even the smallest whiff of pepper, will induce an immense amount of sneezing. Karma?

A recent trip to the cemetery brought back another incident involving karma. As a young bride I shared with my father the desire to adorn my house with beautiful flower beds. He disapproved by saying that you can’t eat flowers; a vegetable garden would be more practical. The thought of putting nasturtiums in a salad would have been lost on him. I do think it was rather hypocritical for him to always surprise our mother with freshly cut bouquets from our yard’s bounty as she couldn’t eat them. Out of all the flowering bushes we had decorating our landscape, he did have a very strong opinion about forsythia. It was the bane of his existence as he would often try to remove the plant yet it always seemed to return healthy and ready for growth. Visiting his grave at the cemetery would always make me chuckle. Behind his plot was a magnificent hedge of forsythia. I have even been known to place a few sprigs of forsythia in the silk arrangements I would leave to decorate the gravesite. His guidance in horticulture has provided me with years of humor. No good deed goes unpunished.

I have said often, more times than I can count, that what comes back to you is the result of how you live your life. While at the cemetery I felt like my father had been redeemed. The forsythia had been removed and replaced with evergreens. I, too, felt like I was the beneficiary of good fortune. It is rare that I find the office open when I am visiting on a weekend. I crossed paths with the cemetery administrator and was able to inquire about the family bench being restored. I was content, not only because of what was accomplished, but in conversation I learned this individual and I shared many of the same experiences in our lives. Preparing for my departure, a woman in the car next to me made a point of advising me that one of my tires was extremely low. It was on the passenger side of the car, unbeknownst to me. As simplistic as it seems, my observation is that karma centers on human relationships. Treat others as you would have them treat you. I advise you look for the common factor in others; do the figural walk a mile in their shoes. It isn’t necessary to focus on recompense, karma will handle it. Trust me on this one.

One Enchanted Evening

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Years ago, I found pleasure in belonging to a local Civil War Round Table. Once a month we would gather for dinner and then enjoy a presentation by a scholarly individual. I wasn’t as interested in military tactics and equipment as I was in the actual people. I found it fascinating that both sides, not just soldiers but citizens too, felt they were ordained by God. I found their sacrifice and ingenuity inspiring. In time I let my membership to the group lapse. Life changed with divorce, loss of employment and a move. Recently when my friend and her husband offered to treat me to dinner prior to attending a presentation related to local Civil War history, I was more than happy to accept. I was reminded of a time that I enjoyed, now committed to memory.

The location holds its events in a barn rather than the house that is the actual museum. Parking is in a stone laden lot and it appeared to be filling up quickly that evening. We parked and as I exited the car, I began to converse with a man who was parked next to us. We spoke as we made our way on the path to the barn. I found this gentleman attractive and conversation came easily. In that short period of time we found commonality. He opened the door for me as I knew he would. When we moved into the barn, we parted ways. The seating was arranged in rows of three seats, separated by an aisle. As I was attending with friends, we naturally sat together. I wondered, if I had come alone as I often do to events, would this gentleman and I sit together. Would we have continued to engage in conversation? I realize I am putting a lot on this total stranger. It could be he is married and his wife doesn’t enjoy history, heaven forbid we belong to different political affiliations or maybe he is an ax murderer. I was surprised by my thoughts. I am independent and not in the market for a relationship. It is very rare for me to entertain a “what it” scenario.

In all fairness, I will admit that in the early stages of being divorced, I looked online for dating material. I thought that was the acceptable thing to do. After twenty-six years of marriage I found that dating had greatly changed. It continues to bother me that you are expected to pay for a subscription in order to meet someone, yet I gave it a try. I did meet someone and we had progressed to the stage of talking by phone. I am sure he was a very nice man but his slaughter of the English language made me wince. After a dozen years of parochial school, his disregard for proper grammar was too much to take. Much later, I waded into the pool of online dating again. I was beginning to chat with a man that was a professional, held a high office in a civic group and enjoyed travel. I was open to getting to know him better until I found him with another profile that had glaring discrepancies from the original one. In both I realize he might have left out something important. Most likely he was an ax murderer. I pulled my profile and that marked the last time I entertained meeting someone online.

You might think I am exaggerating about my disinterest in dating, but it hasn’t been something I have focused on for the past 20 years. One of my brothers, a musician, had lived an hour and half away from me. His band had a job booked close to my home and I was looking forward to hearing him play. It was a rare opportunity. It happened to be a Sunday night singles dance. I was familiar with the location and the dances. I wasn’t sure if they were held weekly or monthly but I knew this one night I would be there. I took a seat up front, close to the band. My focus remained on my brother and his fellow band members. At one point a man came over to me and asked me to dance. I think I responded with an incredulous look. No, I didn’t want to dance, I was there to hear the band. Now in hind sight I realize he might have been more shocked than I was by my response.

Now you have heard all my confessions, there is one more. The man attending the presentation will never know that he is held in high regard. His conversation had me think companionship might be enjoyable. Job well done! With a smile on my face I will return to reality.

Spring Forward, Fall Behind

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Some might argue that this blog is unnecessary as I am now retired.  I would take the stance that it is being posted as I want my voice to be heard, no matter what time it is.  When the clocks were moved forward one hour so we could “enjoy” day light savings time my life takes a serious turn toward lethargy.  I have yet to be convinced that there is any enjoyment to be found in this action.

First, I must offer a disclaimer that no research took place prior to this blog being written.  Google was not employed because, quite truthfully, I had neither the energy nor inclination.  I have understood that this change initially benefitted the farmers.  I see farm equipment behind my home operating with headlights after dark. I trust I was misinformed on this matter. The day continues to be 24 hours long. During the week someone shared that it was the grill industry that pushed for day light savings time. If this is true they were effective in their lobby efforts convincing others of the economic importance of grilling dinner late into the evening.  Someone should tell Thomas Edison that his invention of the light bulb was all for naught.

I will admit that I have known for some time that I am more of a sunset type of person as opposed to  sunrise.  When pictures of the glorious dawn are posted on Facebook I look and acknowledge mentally that I have not witnessed those colors across the horizon.  I consider myself fortunate to see the time on the face of the clock through my swollen eyes.  I am hard pressed to find anything magnificent or intriguing in the upcoming day when robbed of an hour’s sleep.  I do appreciate the vibrant hues displayed by a setting sun.  It has not been lost on me that I must now wait an additional hour to witness a beautiful sunset.

It has been documented that the week following the move to day light savings time is fraught with heart attacks and car accidents.  Fortunate not to experience this first hand I can empathize with those who have. It would be their collective voice that would make a difference in our plight. The remainder of us will quietly go out into the light and patiently wait for the signal that we are allowed to turn back the hands of the clock.  We will revel in the time we are given the nod to fall back, whether that movement is on a clock or into bed.

Quotation

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“Our uniqueness, our individuality, and our life experience molds us into fascinating beings. I hope we can embrace that. I pray we may all challenge ourselves to delve into the deepest resources of our hearts to cultivate an atmosphere of understanding, acceptance, tolerance, and compassion. We are all in this life together.”

Linda Thompson