Tag Archives: Feelings

Dinner Talk

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By the time Stan Ellis was finished mucking out the stalls, his seventeen-year-old body was exhausted. After a full day at school followed by band practice, it was a lot of work. He made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, pulled out his homework, and began studying for a Physics test the next day.

Just as he finished reviewing the final chapter, Grandpa Ellis, a seventy-year old rancher, came in the kitchen. He still smelled of the outside, despite the shower he had obviously just taken.

“We’re having spaghetti tonight. Is that okay?” he asked as he pulled a pot and lid out of the cabinet.

“Sounds great,” Stan said. “Can we have a salad too?”

“If you make it.”

Stan opened the refrigerator and pulled out lettuce, radishes, and cheese. He got a tomato off the counter and bacon bits from the pantry. “So, Grandpa, are you going to give me the money or not?”

“Can you explain it to me again?”  Grandpa dumped a handful of spaghetti noodles into a pan of boiling water, and then wiped his hands on his jeans.

“I’ve got to turn the money in tomorrow,” said Stan, “or I can’t go to Disneyland.”

“Why’re you going there?”

“I told you three months ago,” Stan said as he finished assembling the salad and flopped into a hand-hewn kitchen chair. “I’ve asked over and over, but you haven’t given me a dime.”

Grandpa Ellis stirred the noodles with a wooden spoon. “Well. Let’s see. What extra jobs have you done around the ranch to earn the money?”

Stan sighed and ran his hands over his lanky brown hair. “I dug the weeds out of the pony pens and I trimmed the bushes along the drive.”

“That’s your job,” Grandpa said.

“According to that line of reasoning, then anything I do around here is my job,” Stan said. “Look, Grandpa, I really want to go. I’ve got to pay the full amount tomorrow or I’m out.”

Grandpa slipped a loaf of French bread out of its wrapper and laid it on the cutting board. He picked up a knife and sliced off four hefty pieces. “Explain again the reason behind the trip.”

“The band’s marching in the Main Street Parade and performing on the stage in Tomorrowland.” Stan leaned his chin on his hands and looked at his grandfather with sparkling eyes. “I want to go.”

After popping open a jar of sauce and pouring it into a pan, his grandfather sat down.  “How much are we talking about?”

“We’re flying, so that’s about $300. No hotel costs because we’re going to sleep in a gym at a local school. They’re feeding us breakfast and dinner. Admission to the park is about $100. The only other cost is for my lunch.”

“So about $500?”

Stan shrugged. “Yeah.”

“I don’t have that kind of money.” Grandpa walked over to the stove, poured a little oil into the water with the noodles and stirred the sauce.

“You sold a foal last week to Mr. Newton for over a thousand dollars.”

“I paid bills with that money.  We still owe Smith’s Hay and Feed over two thousand and Bill’s been asking for his money since he fixed the truck last week.”

“But, Grandpa, everyone else is going.  It’ll look funny if I don’t go,” Stan whined as he flopped his head down on his crossed arms.

“Set the table.  We’ll be eating in about five minutes.”

Stan stood, shuffled to the cabinet, and with seemingly superhuman effort got down two plates and glasses.  With an audible sigh, Stan set them on the placemats.

“Quit making a big show.”  Grandpa Ellis strained off the water from the noodles and then dropped in a slice of butter.  He tossed the noodles, poured in the sauce, and carried the pan over to the table.  “Sit down and let’s talk.”

Stan scooped a mound of spaghetti onto his plate and sprinkled on a heavy layer of Parmesan cheese.  “It’s during Spring Break so I won’t miss any school. You filled out the permission form and I turned it in.  Mr. Hayfield’s already paid for my plane ticket.  I can’t back out now.”

“I can’t recall filling out any form.”

“Well, you did.”

“What was I doing when you handed it to me?”

“Washing dishes.  You told me to put the form on the table, so I did.  When you finished, you filled it out and handed it to me.”

“You tricked me or I’d never have signed.  You can’t go, Stan.  I’m sorry.”

Without finishing his meal, Stan got up from the table and ran to his room.  The slamming of the door shook the whole house.

After wiping off his mouth Grandpa cleaned up the kitchen and then went into the front room.  He unlocked the small safe in his desk and pulled out a wad of money.  Slowly he counted the bills.  When finished, he locked the safe, closed the door and went upstairs.

“Can I come in?” he said after knocking on his grandson’s door.

“Sure.”

Grandpa extended his right hand. “Here’s the money.”

“Really?”  Stan’s face glowed with surprise.

“Yeah.  I was hoping that you’d changed your mind and didn’t want to go all the way to California.  Just in case, though, I put the money aside.  I’m going to sell Misty to Steve Carlson this weekend.  I’ll use that money to pay off bills.”

“Thanks, Grandpa! You’re the best!”  Stan, even though he was a little too old for hugs, jumped up off his bed and wrapped his arms around his grandfather.

Holiday Blues

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What do you tell the children

who find no quarter under their

pillows – the missing gift of the

tooth fairy – when the proper

homage has been paid?

 

What do you tell the sad little girl

whose stocking is empty

Christmas morn – after leaving the

last cookie and a small cup of

milk – the thanks for the Santa

who never came?

 

What do you tell the young boy

who has no basket to leave on

the table – decorated with colorful

paper eggs and filled with shredded

newspaper – and all that’s inside are

a few stale jelly beans?

 

What do you tell the teenager

whose fifteenth birthday came and

went – with no party, no gifts, no

happy times – to mark the majestic

coming of age?

 

What do you tell the lonely ones

who never get a heart-shaped card

or candies – a sign of friendship and

love – who had only wished that just

one person would care?

 

What do you tell the children

who have no masks, no quirky

costumes – in celebration of All

Hollow’s Eve – and so can’t knock

and threaten tricks?

 

What do you tell the little ones

who have no feast to cram into

their mouths – in honor of those who

survived – and so bite into stale

peanut butter sandwiches?

 

What do you tell all the unloved

children, young and old, who rise

day after day – wanting nothing more

than a gentle hug – and receive

harsh words instead?

 

For some children have everything

they could ever want while others

have nothing but emptiness – no

hope for more – the rejoicing washes

over, leaving not a drop of joy.

 

Let us cry for them.

Defying the Odds

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Neither of my parents went to college. In fact, my mother never attended one day of high school. None of my aunts or uncles or even not one cousin enrolled in college. It just wasn’t something that was done in my family.

I was fourteen when I began dreaming of going to college. Because of a lack of family history, I really had no idea what college was about. For me, it was a means of escape. If I could go to college, I could legally move out of the house without first being married. And I had no intentions of marrying as a teen.

My academic career was less than glorious. Kindergarten was not mandatory back then, but my parents sent me to a private school because of fears that I was backwards. They were right. Unlike my classmates, I did not know my colors or shapes, knew nothing about the alphabet and was weak in numbers.

I worked hard, though, because I wanted to please my teachers. I graduated and went to first grade, still a bit behind, but with enough skill to get into the Catholic elementary school.

I struggled, to say the least. By fourth grade I was still not a good reader. I was embarrassed to be the weakest student in my class, and so, when my reading group was called to the front, I hid at my desk. Stupid, yes. Logical, though, when considering the embarrassment factor.

At home, determined to improve my skills, I erased all the answers on my worksheets, lined up my dolls and made them do the work. I repeated this process over and over until I could get the correct answers every time.

I truly believed that working with my dolls is what turned me into a scholar. It was not the help of a teacher, for I cannot remember a single time when someone helped me. I also know that it was not due to anything my parents did as the only time they checked my work was to see if I was earning As. If not, then a spanking ensued.

I stayed in one Catholic school or another until seventh grade. I continued to be one of the weakest students, but thankfully, others were in worse shape than me. The one thing that I was really good at was penmanship. I loved the whorls of cursive. The flow of one letter blending into the next was a thing of beauty.

Once math started making sense, I excelled there as well. Numbers could be trusted to always mean what they represented.

Unlike letters, which changed sound on a whim. I did not know the difference between a long vowel and a short, could not explain why some words rhymed with cow and others, spelled similarly, did not. How would and wood sounded the same and that there were many versions of there, you’re and too.

I transferred to a public school for eighth grade and promptly fell in love with my teacher. He was the first male teacher I’d ever had. I would have done anything to please him. In fact, when he assigned a research report on a college, when I found a Bennington College (his last name), I chose it as the subject of my paper.

Once in high school, everything fell into place. My hard work paid off. I was no longer the bottom of the barrel, but sat comfortably at the top. I was repeatedly on the honor roll and earned certificates right and left. I excelled in Latin and math and got by in English and Science, even though in both of those subjects, I often felt I was reading in a different language than all the other students.

Toward the end of my freshman year, my parents made plans to move to California. I researched colleges there and was pleased to discover the existence of community colleges which were practically free. It meant that I would be able to go to college!

This was a dream come true. No more worries about being married off to a Neanderthal neighbor. I could focus on a dream that meant more to me than any other dream I’d held before.

In California, I found high school work incredibly easy. My grades were the highest I’d ever had and I excelled in Spanish, Math and PE. English was still a struggle, but with hard work Science and History were subjects I mastered.

I told myself that I had the skills to go to college, and believed it.

In my senior year I applied to a variety of colleges, including one in Ohio near where my grandmother lived. I was accepted in every one. All I needed was financial assistance, which came in the way of a full scholarship to any college in the state of California.

When the news of my scholarship reached my high school, my counselor called me to her office. She pulled up my records, then proceeded to tell me that I’d never succeed in college, that I should consider getting a job and getting married.

When I left her office I was seething. I swore that I would prove her wrong. I told myself that at the end of my first semester of college, I would bring her my grades and show her that I had the skills to succeed.

And I did.

Her response was one of surprised shock. She apologized for assuming that I would fail, and then praised me for my hard work.

To me, earning her praise was the first of many highlights in my academic career. No one had believed in me, but I did. I told myself I could do it, and I did.

 

A Halloween Memory

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The only part of Halloween that I ever liked was the endless pursuit of free candy. From the time my brother and I were in middle school, we would roam miles from home knocking on doors on streets that we barely knew. It took us hours, and at times our pillow cases would become so heavy that we’d go home, empty them out, then head out again.

I hated wearing costumes. I disliked having my sight blocked by masks, I detested makeup, and despised trying to come up with something to wear that resembled a costume. My most frequent costume was that of a hobo as all I had to do was put on overalls.

When I was thirteen my middle school decided that it would celebrate Halloween and that all students were expected to dress in costume. I panicked when I heard the announcement. It was bad enough to walk about my neighborhood under cover of darkness. This would mean parading about campus under fluorescent lighting!

I worried about this for days. I was a painfully shy girl who never raised a hand to ask or answer a question in class, and now I was going to have to expose myself to potential ridicule if I chose to dress in an unpopular or outmoded outfit.

When time ran out, the only thing I could come up with was my mother’s WAC (Women’s Army Corp) uniform from World War II.

What seemed like a good idea when I got dressed in the morning, quickly became a terrifying experience once I arrived at school.

My teacher, thrilled to see the old uniform, made me stand in front of the class and share my mother’s story.

To make matters worse, much to my dismay, she sent me up and down the hall, dropping into every single classroom to share. At times I barely got out a few words as this required me to speak before students I did not know.

It was such a horrible experience that I did not go out trick-or-treating that night and for several years after.

The Laugh

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The laugh is a miracle waiting to happen

A gurgling stream bouncing over life’s boulders

Riotous, rollicking wit on which to lighten

Burdensome weights from heavily bent shoulders

 

Fluffy clouds frolic freely through each person’s mind

That soon bubble out in side-splitting guffaws

A feeling so wondrous, magical in its kind

Unique in its effect; mood altering awes

 

Liberally dished out in portions humongous

No meager spoonfuls for humanity’s sake

Spread across boundaries, in actions so wondrous

That ribs crackle, tears flow, and sides quickly ache

 

The sun’s golden rays blossom majestically

Illuminating rainbows in bright hues

Emotions explode into sounds musically

Harmonious tunes blend in colorful hues

 

Burdensome miseries removed from memory

Riotous, rollicking times for the taking

Gurgling rivers of life’s hilarious story

The laugh, a miraculous joyous speaking

A New Day

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Another day awakens

Promising calm winds

Sunny skies

A touch of clouds

That guide me through

The hectic times of my life

 

I stretch, drawing in

Energy to replenish

My weary soul

To revitalize desires

And strengthen interests

A healing, needed balm

 

The day beckons me forth

Greeted by the early

call of morning birds

Filled with bounteous joy

That fills my soul

With unbounded joy

I burst into expectant smile

 

The day is mine to conquer

I shall vanquish foes

Destroy doubts

Eliminate naysayers

While rising to the peak

Of my talent

 

Ah, the dreams of a new day

A day of joyous victory

fill my sights and

I rejoice.

Two souls

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We fit together, you and I

Most times we see things, eye to eye.

 

For you, it’s sleeping on the right

Left is my choice always at night.

 

I listen carefully when you speak.

Good understanding, when at your peak

 

Moves us, as team, smoothly along

Seeking middle, where we belong.

 

When I smile, you always do, too.

And if I cry, you soon will coo.

 

For when one is sad, we can’t fly

No matter how hard we might try.

 

We love each other, that is true

For you love me, and I love you.

 

Without you, I just couldn’t live.

So to you, my whole heart I give.

Faith is my Rock

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Fortunately, faith is my foundation.

Admittedly, I frequently fail.

Independently, however, I am nothing.

Truthfully, the Lord sits on my shoulder.

Hesitatingly, I listen before acting.

 

Inevitably, I stumble again and again.

Stupefyingly, He never crosses me off His list.

 

Miraculously, He trusts that I will do right.

Yearningly, my eyes plead for understanding.

 

Rigidly, He hangs on to my heart.

Occasionally, He allows me to slip.

Consequently, I lean a little harder.

Knowingly, then, He simply smiles.

One Million Reasons

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One reason is all I needed to love you.

One simple reason to give my heart to you

And you gave it when you smiled,

Your blue eyes sparkling and a smile

Slowly expanding.

I fell for you like a rock off a cliff,

With no turning back.

 

One hundred reasons for staying in love,

One hundred reasons given over days, months, years

Without constraint, without conditions,

Never failing, never withheld.

Impossible to list, to quantify

But there nonetheless.

 

One thousand reasons to love you,

One thousand reasons reinforced daily, hourly,

By your kindness, your generosity,

Always encouraging me to move forward

Your unspoken but felt support,

Tangible when I need it most.

 

One million reasons to stand by you.

One million reasons to fall into your arms,

To cuddle against your chest,

To hear your words of love,

Never stales.

One million reasons.

 

 

 

 

The Story of Our Love

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You appeared when I needed you most.

I was searching for someone to love me,

And there you were!

Standing in the office with a smile on your face,

Welcoming me, encouraging me, helping me

Transition to a new office, new rules, new expectations.

 

Your friendship turned into a workplace romance.

When I looked into your baby-blue eyes

I saw a kind heart, a caring individual

Looking back at me with love in his eyes.

Someone who would care for me like no one had ever done before.

 

Our engagement was a whirlwind, a time in which we loved

Deeper and deeper, no holds barred.

When you proposed, my world spun into crazy love

An incredible happiness beyond definition.

When the day finally came, I saw only you

As I walked down the aisle.

 

Since that day, 43 years ago, we have shared everything.

We raised three wonderfully talented children

Who have grown into amazing adults.

We stood as family through tough times

And laughed together when things were going great.

You were there for me when work disappointed

And I stood by you when work made you miserable.

We didn’t always agree, but we promised to never let anger simmer,

And we didn’t.

 

As time passed, our love morphed into a deeper relationship.

You are my best friend, my confidant, my encourager

Who props me up and keeps me going.

You give me freedom to explore my talents,

Even if it means straying far from home.

And are sad for me when my hopes are dashed.

 

Our story has had many climaxes, many challenges,

Many periods of joy and trouble,

But those bumps only served to enrich

What we have.

Our love is never-ending.

And for that, I am grateful.