Category Archives: Uncategorized

Protecting Children

Posted on by
1

My intention in creating this blog was to offer a helpful and positive viewpoint to those who it reaches. In a time of division and increased tensions, I feel we all need a little nudge to walk on the positive side of life. It doesn’t always come easily but I promise it is worth the effort. I have found myself being drawn into watching short videos with kittens, puppies and babies that leave a smile on my face. It’s the simplistic and innocent start of life that I find uplifts me and joyously helps me see hope for the future. Personally, it also invokes a feeling of protection in me.

It has been decades since my son was a child, let alone an infant. Still, I can’t help but feel I will always be a mama bear. With that admission, I know better than to intercede in his life. My role now, as his parent, is to pray for him daily and hope how he was raised will continue to lead him the best way through life. I can still recall his first steps, the transition from a crib to a bed and the first time he rode a bike without training wheels. These are the moments captured in the pages of a baby book.

There are the typical moments that a parent can gladly recall but there are other memories that elicit the opposite in response. Those are the times that you find your heart in your throat and your breath strangely gone. I have experienced those moments. One recently came to mind. Rather than a typical high chair I wanted my son to have a baby butler. It was a high chair surrounded by a table, more than just a tray. That is what my brothers and I had when we were young and I wanted the same for my son. All was fine until one day the bottom dropped out of the chair. I am grateful that even at that young age, my son had the presence of mind to grab the bars around the edge of the table preventing him from falling through. I shudder to think of what harm that fall could have caused.

There are dangers that children can face through no fault of their own. Summer continues to bring the sad stories of children left alone in hot vehicles. There are other dangers that can affect them. I recently saw where a child was safely removed from a deep drop into a channel for a sump pump. If a sibling had not alerted the parents the outcome could have been different. The cover had become loose and dislodged and the child fell in without any warning. A longtime friend has recently shared with me a danger that exists in many yards, that sounds much the same as the sump pump cover. Another culprit is the inadequately secured septic tank cover.

Very often I write my blogs with tongue in cheek. If you follow me, you might remember I posted a blog about Septic Trucks in April. Cutting to the chase, it was suggested the reader would be much better off if they were not “full of it”. With the new information that was shared with me I find the only responsible thing to do is share it with all of you. In all seriousness, children are dying by accidently falling into septic tanks and drowning. It is the result of lids that are loose or deteriorated. Through the neglect or ignorance of an adult, a child can be put in a life or death situation. If you have a septic tank, waste no time in checking that your lid is secure and in good working order. Don’t take it for granted that the individual who last emptied the tank or the last one to have mowed over the area, left the lid as secure as it should be. If your neighbors also make use of a septic tank, a reminder to them would be helpful. A few minutes to ensure the security of your lid could protect the life of a child. It’s too late for the 50 children who die annually but we have the power to lower and eliminate that statistic.

There are times that children find danger innocently through play and considering the world their adventure. Their role in life is to grow and learn while it’s our role to protect them as they are entrusted to us. I can think of nothing sadder than to lose a child, and further acknowledge that it would not have happened if a few moments of focusing on safety had taken place. If you find this message is a bit different than most of my blogs, please know that in my mind, there is nothing more important than safeguarding a child. I would appreciate it if you would do me the honor of helping to spread the word.

Quotation

Posted on by
1

“After eating an entire bull, a mountain lion felt so good he started roaring. He kept it up until a hunter came along and shot him…The moral: When you’re full of bull, keep your mouth shut.”

– Will Rogers

Bull

Posted on by
Reply

When our career Navy father was traveling the world, he did so with an 8mm camera. Upon his return, all those glimpses into faraway places would be captured on reels and then spliced into one long travelogue. Although it was the latest technology for the time, there was no sound. Every so often we would gather as a family in what we called our TV room and our father would set up the projector, close the curtains and we would explore the world through his eyes. His narration would cover the foreign locations and traditions. We learned the difference between Asian and African elephants, saw how Geishas looked with their makeup and costumes and experienced the excitement of bull fights. I remember how the matadors were dressed in brightly colored outfits. I can recall the stadium being full with cheering crowds yet we heard nothing. I don’t know if my conscience was developed enough at the time to become upset by the treatment of the bulls. Those mighty animals were aggravated for sport and at this point in time I don’t see the entertainment value in the activity.

In reality, I was aware of the strength and power that bulls possessed. I didn’t grow up on a farm but I had friends who did. I recall one afternoon two of us found ourselves in a barnyard with the resident bull. We took our plight seriously. I remember inching toward the fence in a painfully slow manner as not to trigger the bull. We made our way out safely but obviously the memory remained. The reality was frightening and it was a far cry from watching the humorous cartoons featuring Ferdinand the Bull.

All these memories came to me as I recently made an observation. Those of you who follow me know that I live in a rural area. I am comfortable living among crops and livestock. Recently I noticed a bull had taken up residence in a nearby pasture. What I found so unusual was that, although there was plenty of acreage available to him, he chose to stand at the corner of the field which runs alongside the road. He appears to remain there for extended periods of time. It has become the norm to ride by and see him stoically standing there with little evidence of movement. I questioned the strength of the fencing if he would become agitated by something on the other side from where he was confined. I also question why this creature, the epitome of strength, has a title that is likened to lies or untruths or anything negative that falls under the category of bull.

I have often read articles admonishing people who apply human emotions to animals. Those of us who live with domesticated pets often fall into that habit. We can’t read a pet’s mind but their reaction to events and activities do give us a clue to their mood.  There is no argument that they all possess different personalities. Yet they have no cause to defend or be offended by the random descriptions that are added to their name. If we attached human feelings to the animal world would they be upset by the fearful being called a “scaredy cat” or a “chicken”, an unbearable hot day considered a “dog day’ or something bordering on the side of falsehood labeled as “bull”?

The majority of us find it easy to care for animals as they have no voice and are reliant on us to meet their needs. The affection our pets return show us the purest form of unconditional love. I tend to believe that even livestock would choose not to bite the hand that feeds them. Animals don’t possess the ability to spread lies or slander and it is easy to have a soft spot in our heart for them. So much misinformation is perpetuated these days that I find I am offended on behalf of the bulls. The production of manure is a necessary commodity for fertilization but I have yet to see any reason to spread bull.

Memories of Mom

Featured

Posted on by
3

I would be remiss not to express my thoughts on motherhood as we approach Mother’s Day. It’s not that I am lured into the commercial side of the day but rather appreciate the recognition that it garners. Giving birth to my son will always be the most important thing that I accomplished while on this earth. The fact that he has grown into a thoughtful and caring man only adds to my joy. My focus is not on myself though, but rather my own mother. She has been gone for a long time but her presence is still felt today. Memories, from early in my childhood, linger and have my mother prominently at the center.

Mom had the misfortune to lose her own mother at the age of four. Several years later, her step mother was to also die at an early age. My mother and her sister were raised without the benefit of a lasting maternal role model in their home. Their aunts were there and offered what they could, but basically, they were motherless. I feel that this experience taught my mother a life lesson that remained with her. She understood what a void she had experienced in her life and ensured that my brothers and I would never suffer the same consequences. No, she didn’t make a pledge to longevity but rather loved and guided us with every bit of her being.

When I was very young, we made the move from Philadelphia to the location where my father had been stationed for recruiter duty. Totally in agreement, my parents felt like it would be a good place to raise children and that is where we stayed. Looking back, I believe that this made us a tighter family unit. We were removed from our extended family and were making our way in a new community. Initially we had depended upon each other. Our world would expand to include our neighbors and friends but I was much too young to exist beyond the circle of my family. It might have been different for my older brothers but I was very much attached to our mother.

As we acclimated ourselves to our new community the time came for me to attend kindergarten. It was only for half a day but it was my first venture into the world beyond our home. The day came when an open house was held for registration. I recall going into the large room with my mother. There were other children there with their mothers. The room was large, colorful and filled with a variety of toys and activities. As we made our way around the space I was intrigued by a toy that was perched on a shelf. It was a wheel with wooden letters placed upon a wire that encircled it. I was enthralled by the object. I’m sure I didn’t grasp the educational concept behind the toy but I remember the simple enjoyment that sliding the small blocks around the wheel brought. When I tired of it I turned to look at my mother. She wasn’t there. Immediately I panicked and began to cry. It didn’t take long to realize that my mother had only moved to the other side of the room. I was never in danger and hadn’t been abandoned but I have not forgotten the terror I felt when I couldn’t immediately find her. I was the same age that my mother was when she permanently lost her mother. I have a hard time grappling with a loss so profound at such a young age.

It is clear that my year in kindergarten was helpful in expanding my world. My time there can be considered a success. I made friends, some of who I am still in contact with today. With an increase in my social skills and all the other necessary requirements met, my classmates and I prepared for graduation. The girls must have been instructed to wear white dresses and come with a bouquet of flowers. It must have been enjoyable for my mother to choose a dress for her only daughter to wear for this rite of passage. Actually she must have reveled in the idea of having her little tomboy wear something so special. A white dress was selected and my bouquet would consist of deep reddish peonies. Since the flowers made such a nice contrast, my mother thought adding a red sash to my dress would really set it apart. Then she must have thought that to complete the ensemble the anklets needed to match. Bright red socks were selected to blend with the sash and flowers. Decades later, when the topic would arise, she would never concede that it was anything other than a perfectly matched outfit. Mercifully, I believe this fashion faux pas is something only my family remembers, albeit with laughter.

Thinking of how we were raised, again I am in awe of our mother. After we had relocated, my father had to complete his last tour of duty in the Navy, a six month deployment. When he retired from the Navy his next career had him work second shift. My mother had the unenviable role of often being the sole disciplinarian. It is no wonder that one night, after dinner, I made a rude comment about her choice of serving rice pudding. At that point she lost patience with me and I was sent to my room without dessert. Thank you, Jesus! She did a remarkable job of raising us but I am sure Dr. Spock never contacted her for parenting advice after that episode.

Mom was blessed with a long life. Although being her only daughter and the closeness it brought, we never considered ourselves best friends. I held respect for her role as my mother. She did rely on me and we had some very honest and heartfelt conversations before her death. I told her that I planned on eulogizing her, just as I had done for Dad many years earlier. I confessed that I was going to share comical parts of her life. She would smile and had no reservations. As we held vigil around her bed during her last hours I wasn’t thinking about red socks or rice pudding. I told her that she did well by us and we would be okay. She let go and I can rest easy knowing that there was nothing left unsaid. She is missed everyday but I have no lingering grief over anything that should have been addressed. I can’t imagine how heavy that burden would be if I had followed a different path. I wouldn’t want anyone to travel that road and if I had any words of wisdom to share they would be simple and few: call your mother if you have the good fortune to still have her.

This is not the first time I have written about my mother. You are welcome to read another post on a previous blog: https://mypunchline.wordpress.com/2015/08/16/my-mother-and-loss/

Quotations

Featured

Posted on by
Reply

I heard this come from the depths of a septic tank:

“If you’re really a mean person you’re going to come back as a fly and eat poop.“

– Kurt Cobain

Then I thought I would take my own advice and go with a kinder, gentler quote:

“Spend some time observing babies. They don’t work; they poop in their pants, and they have no goals other than to expand, grow and explore this amazing world. Be like that baby you once were, in terms of being joyful.“

-Wayne Dyer

Mountains

Featured

Posted on by
Reply

Which do you prefer, the ocean or mountains? Most people I know answer with a resounding preference for the ocean. I’m not one of them. I will admit that the ebb and flow of the waves can be relaxing but if I am given the opportunity to choose a natural backdrop, it would be the mountains. It makes me smile to think I have found one more subject that has me differ from what most people consider the norm. I will share why I find them captivating but I doubt that I will change anyone’s mind. Perhaps, I will offer a few thoughts, not previously perceived.

I have always enjoyed that the change in seasons is so evident in the mountains. As spring approaches, the trees and vegetation begin to awaken and offer a backdrop of color that would make Monet envious. Leaves begin their journey sporting a lovely shade of pale green. A spattering of delicate pink and white blossoms soften the harsh peaks and valleys. Soon the deciduous trees will catch up with the evergreens and offer shade that can often feel like a disco ball when the sun finds its way quickly peeking through gaps. I don’t feel there is much need to comment on the splendor of the changing leaves in the fall. Who wouldn’t find the colors that blanket the terrain beautiful?

I am also taken with fog and how it can decorate and embellish the mountains. Don’t confuse the thick, dense covering that frightens one when it is even hard to see the lines on the road. The fog I enjoy is the playful layer that shows up in ways that doesn’t threaten one’s safety. If you are fortunate, you might find yourself above the location where a cloud has decided to settle. It’s almost as if it is tired of its elevation in the sky and it comes down to lay low across the valley. Maybe the angels sprayed a can of whipped cream in between two towering mountains. One morning as I approached the mountain I could see fog, blushing as it laid across the top of the ridge. The sunrise was a glorious shade of pink and its reflection colored the fog in an unexpected way. If the angels were at work again, this fog was strawberry infused. Fog can also show its lighthearted side by looking like wisps of white smoke dancing here and there but not wanting to settle anywhere in particular.

Although it feels like a lifetime since I have enjoyed tales of giants, I can’t help but think that mountains could be the embodiment of them. During the winter, I find humor in the mountain giant in need of a shave. When the trees are barren and a fresh snow has fallen, the mountain takes on the appearance of stubble. Maybe the giant felt no one would be visiting in the snow and he went without shaving. In the spring, before summer has us cast off our blankets, I find a giant slumbering under a patchwork quilt. Farm fields, arrayed in various shades of green, cover a rolling landscape which might just be a giant taking a nap. There could be other giants in hiding, laying quietly until the time they are noticed.

I find there is so much to admire while in the mountains. I envy the flight of the eagles and hawks who get to see it from breathtaking heights. I watch for deer, raccoon and fox that claim the habitat as their own, while I only visit. Yes, the ocean can offer serenity and lull you to sleep with its wave action but I find the mountains rejuvenate me, no matter the season. Do I have any converts?

Homesick

Featured

Posted on by
5

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.

Quotations

Featured

Posted on by
Reply

“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