the story of a marriage
is one of
trials
and
tribulations
forgiveness
and
letting go
of errors made
love
and
anger
compromise
and
patience
walking together
through life
sharing times
good
and
bad
most of all
reveling
in each other’s
company
until death
do us part
When I finally learned to read I discovered that libraries are an endless source of information. I trolled the nonfiction section looking for anything that caught my interest. The first that I explored was my Native American heritage. Because my mom didn’t know what tribe we claimed, I read every book on the shelves.
I became an “expert” on all things related to the first people. I knew what foods they ate, the clothes they wore, how they traveled, what their homes looked like, all depending upon where they lived. Little did I know that those old books contained limited knowledge recorded as fact.
What was important, however, was the development of an interest in research that would last a lifetime.
I reveled in projects assigned by teachers. Write a paper on a famous person? It might take several trips to the library before I could settle on one.
Trace Hannibal’s journeys? No problem. Research Greek architecture? The same.
When I was at college I discovered the wealth of information in the stacks. I might have a broad idea for a paper which exploded once I got to reading journal after journal. I would sit on the cold floor and pull down one compilation, then another. I’d move to another row and resume researching.
The problem was that I loved the process of discovery so much that I couldn’t stop. It became a compulsion that I still fight to this very day.
For example, I needed to find out the names of countries during medieval times. That was easy. One click and a detailed map popped up. But then I needed an island in Europe, maybe off the coast of Spain. There are islands but I didn’t recognize the names.
I typed in an old name and research appeared! How wondrous! How clever! How enchanting.
But that wasn’t getting me any further than where I currently am.
I moved on to sample names of cities. That was an endless source of information.
What about names of rivers? Mountains?
What was the weather like? How did that influence clothes worn? What kinds of shoes did people wear back then? What did they ate and drink? How did they entertain themselves?
I got stuck in this cycle of discovery that lead me from one topic to another.
When my eyes got tired, I forced myself to stop research.
But then I moved on to another project: fining a recent photo of my daughter. That meant opening folder after folder hoping to find something good enough to print. I didn’t find one, but I did discover images that were ten years old that I would never use for any purpose. They are now gone.
I sometimes wonder why I love research so much. I’ve analyze whether or not it’s a form of procrastination. Do I delve into these projects in order to avoid that which I should be doing? Or am I really engaging in productive work? It’s usually a little of both.
On the other hand I am a curious person. I love meeting new people so that I can learn what their life is like. Part of this is to weigh how my life measures up, the other is to expand my knowledge base. The more information you have stored away, the more conversant you can be.
When I catch myself researching I now force myself to pause and reflect. Do I really need that information in order to write the story I am working on? If yes, then I give myself permission to continue. If the answer is no, then I quit even though it’s painful to do so.
It’s also an addiction. It’s not harmful the way drugs and alcohol can be, but it does prevent me from engaging in those activities that are most meaningful, that bring the most joy.
As with any addiction you need a rope to hang on: something to grab ahold of while an outside force moves you away. For me it can be a phone call or going for a walk with my husband. It could be a news program or a book that I can’t put down.
When the lifeline arises, I have to tear myself away. That’s why I consider myself a research junkie. When I fall into the allure, I need help to get out of the mire otherwise I will spiral out of control.
On any given day we are bombarded with stories of fear and intimidation, of cruelty and loss. When we read them, sadness fills our soul. That’s the expected reaction because if we didn’t experience the horror, one might question our inner light.
It’s not easy to push those thoughts aside especially when they are replayed over and over on social media. We can choose to learn from what evil others do and behave in some way to counteract the actions that offend us or we swallow it down, sending it deep inside us.
Being an activist is not easy. It takes courage to stand up for one’s beliefs knowing that out there are people who will spit on you, call you offensive names and even threaten your life. We should applaud those we choose to disregard the safety of their lives in order to bring injustices to the forefront, thereby forcing the public to rethink attitudes and beliefs.
The sunny path is not always smooth. There are pitfalls that can suck you in and hold you there, consumed by despair. You can sit there and wallow or pull yourself up and continue down the path.
Soon another obstacle will arise, making you choose, once again, how you will react. Too many roadblocks might cause you to give up. But if you jump over each, if you move one person to act with you, if you change one mind, think of the rewards.
No one will give you a medal, but many will follow in your shoes.
That’s why we choose to walk in the sunshine: to feel goodness and light, joy and power.
Calling all monsters, werewolves, and ghouls
Freaks, geeks, witches, skeletons, and fools
The hole is in the sky; stars shine through
Our time has come, our lives to renew.
Open the door, and out we will spill
Search for the goods, we must get our fill
Scare little kids who get in our way
No time to talk! It’s up and away.
Collect the best snacks, mixtures divine
Chocolate, peanuts, caramel fine
Blood red vines and peppermints to chew
Oh! Give me a sip of ice-cold brew
Tonight is the night of fun sublime
To get special treats, mountains we’ll climb
No time to practice our skills to hone
One, two, and three! Together we’ll moan
One night a year belongs to our crew
We gobble, wobble, then start anew
Time is running out. Hurry we must.
Swallow! Don’t chew! Our stomachs to bust.
The night’s almost done, yet stars shine through
Halloween’s come, our strength to renew.
Especially for freaks, witches, fools
Skeletons, monsters, werewolves, and ghouls.
Food, glorious food!
Sumptuous tastes of
Slowly roasted beef
Drowned in onions
Covered in gravy
Potatoes gently
Browned, sprinkled
With parsley and chives
Arranged in spirals
Delicate designs
Green beans bathing in
Mushroom sauce, topped
With fried onions
Or drenched with butter
Stacked like lucky logs
Delightful desserts
Sugary cookies
Mouth melting cakes
Devilish custards
Compelling desire
More, much more, awaiting
Consumption by
Mere mortals yearning
To taste the nectar
Of the golden gods
Food, glorious food!
Home is beckoning
I long to run my fingers
down my cat’s back
hear his plaintive meow
when he’s hungry
I miss the loud calls
of my birds as they speak
to one another across the room
I miss my home
Not just the curtains or the furniture
But the my-ness of home
all the things that make it
uniquely mine
memories of my kids that linger
in the air like a fine mist
I can hardly wait to open the
door and step into the world that
my husband and I have created
Imagine how different the world would be if every child, no matter how rich or poor, heard those words on a regular basis. Think about how special they would feel after their guardian tucked them in at night and spoke those words.
There might be no bullies because, if you feel worthy, you have no need to belittle others. No one would be afraid of trying new things, of being rejected, of being pushed aside.
What a beautiful place the world would be!
As a child I never felt special in any positive way. What if my mom had told me that I was born to shine? Would I have been a different child? Would my attitude toward school have been different? My grades better? When meeting people, would I have been more outgoing because that confidence sat on my shoulders?
I know that I never said those words to my children. I wish I had. I did, however, sign them up for classes and swim lessons and sports hoping that they would discover something that they could enjoy for the rest of their lives. I helped with schoolwork and met with some of their teachers. I volunteered at their schools, as a team mom in little league, as a scorekeeper in baseball and as a soccer coach and referee. I did these things because I wanted to share those experiences with them, but also because I enjoyed it.
Born to Shine. Powerful words. My children grew up to be wonderful adults. They all contribute to society in different ways, yes, but they are helping future generations shine.
If I could go back in time, instead of reading books aloud as I cradled my kids, I would tell them that they were born to shine. As I watched them struggle in sports or academics, I’d say those words and then watch the effect they had.
Even though I don’t recall a single word of praise or encouragement, I told myself that I was born to shine. Perhaps not in those exact words, but the message was the same. Often I thought I was lying to myself, but I persevered nonetheless. When I was feeling inferior to my siblings, I’d think of the things that I could do better than them.
For example, I was the better athlete at a time when girls played few sports. I picked up languages quite quickly and enjoyed learning about different places and cultures. I was an excellent math student, so good that I got a full-ride scholarship.
But I also struggled with self-esteem and self-confidence. What if my dad had told me I was born to shine? Those words would have meant more to me than a bucket of gold. I would have known that he saw something valuable in me. My self-esteem would have risen. I wold have liked myself better.
Born to shine. I wish that every parent would say those words to their kids, no matter how old. Over and over, look them in the eye and say born to shine. Pat them on the back, give them a hug, turn it into a song. Say the words weekly, daily, hour by hour.
Slowly, ever so slowly the world would change.
Born to shine. Power.
Look beneath the sunny smile
And stay awhile.
What do you see?
The real me.
Dig under my nails and skin
To find the soul within.
What do you see?
Lonely me.
Reach for the hidden being
Well beyond seeing.
What do you see?
Tearful me.
Wipe away the measured words
That belie fluttering birds.
What do you see?
Worried me.
Remove the tightly wound bars
To give my wondrous stars
So I can be
Truly free.
Spring the trap that binds.
Unloose the tie that winds.
What do you see?
Ecstatic me.
Music calls me
To fly with angels
In an azure sky
With gossamer wings
And crowns of golden filigree
Cymbals, harps, and lutes
Create magical tunes
Giving glory to God
And all His mighty works
Music of the soul
Heavenly prayers
Voices lift in harmony
Filling God’s ears with
Sound rejoicing
Blending, splitting, lifting
Toward heaven in
Wondrous rapture
Joining in mysterious
Psalms choruses praise
God day and night
Filling my soul
With delight
Praise God all ye peoples
Of the earth
Join in perfect harmony
Sing with me today
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Every day I pack my bag with
Swimsuit and fresh beach towel
And drive to the gym
Optimistic that a few pounds will be shed
Just enough to make a slight difference
I drive past workers stringing new telephone lines
Bicyclists, young and old, wavering in and out
Of the narrow confines of their allotted space
I bypass trucks that stop at train tracks
As I listen to my favorite country music stars
Wondering how crowded the pool will be
And picture my fat self walking
Nonchalantly to the pool’s edge
Sitting on the top step as I put on my fins
Pretending that my suit isn’t stretched too
Tightly over my abdomen
And then I step into the water and begin to swim
Feel the current that my hands create
My breathing rhythmic and the motion calming
Lap after lap I glide
Outlasting younger, stronger, faster swimmers
When I’m finished, I smile
Proud of what I have accomplished
And in those peaceful minutes
I forget about my size
And what others see when they gape
For I know, that in that moment of time,
That they don’t know the real me
And never will
Words and Thoughts 