Monographs 2005
I Wish You Enough December 31, 2005
I got the following in an email from a friend wishing me a Happy New Year. I don't know who wrote it, but I felt it was appropriate for my New Year's wish to you.
Someone recently overheard a mother and daughter in their last moments together at the airport. They had announced the departure. Standing near the security gate, they hugged and the mother said, "I love you and I wish you enough". The daughter replied, "Mom, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Mom".
They kissed and the daughter left. The mother walked over to the window where I was seated. Standing there I could see she wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on her privacy but she welcomed me in by asking, "Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it would be forever?".
Yes, I have," I replied. "Forgive me for asking, but why is this a
forever good-bye?".
"I am old and she lives so far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is - the next trip back will be for my funeral," she said.
"When you were saying good-bye, I heard you say, 'I wish you enough'. May I ask what that means?".
She began to smile. "That's a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone". She paused a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail and she smiled even more. "When we said , 'I wish you enough', we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them".
Then turning toward me, she shared the following as if she were reciting it from memory.
I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright no matter how gray the day may appear.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive and everlasting.
I wish you enough pain so that even the smallest of joys in life may appear bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye.
She then began to cry and walked away.
They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to
appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire life to forget them.
TAKE TIME TO LIVE.....
To you all, I WISH YOU ENOUGH........
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Still Looking Forward December 29, 2005
If I were to rate the year 2005 on a scale of one to ten, I think I'd have to give it an eight. Most of what went on this past year for me was a learning and growing experience. I have been able to watch my younger daughter, Jessie, graduate from a fine university, and become successfully employed in a job she seems to enjoy. I see her dedication to nurture through her involvement with the youth at our church. Whether she yet has realized it or not she has become a role model to those young girls. She is becoming a caring responsible adult, something that has been our goal as parents. What her vocation is doesn't matter as much as what her avocations are. Her vocation is her living, her avocation is her life.
I have seen changes in Julie as well. She is getting opportunities to use her talents in a positive way for her company. Whether it be artistic talent through marketing and advertising, or an intuitive feeling about an item people will like, or skills in technology and business, I see changes in her each time we talk or visit.
In so many ways they take after their mother. Their love for nature and life, their reasoning and enjoyment of life away from work, the sweetness of their personalities are gifts from her. I am so thankful that she has been their mother.
What will 2006 bring? Fame, fortune, riches untold? Doesn't matter. I already consider myself a rich man because of the blessings I have received. The key for 2006 for me is that I may find a way of helping others to grow in a positive way. I am not sure how that will come about and I am open to where and what I am led. Regardless, I am still looking forward.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Preparing for Christmas December 17, 2005
How time flies! Once again the household is in the midst of preparing for Christmas. The tree is up and partially decorated. Mary, Jessie and I have strung the lights and placed our favorite ornaments, but It won't be complete until Julie arrives next week and adds hers to the tree. The outside lights are up and the angel is on the door.
Many, many years ago we began a family tradition of hanging the girls Christmas stockings early so that beginning on December 1 they would pull a green or red ribbon, numbered to correspond with the date from the stocking. Attached to the other end of the ribbon would be some small treat, game or puzzle piece to start their day. This continues to this day, whether the girls are here or not. So now the stockings are hung on the mantle, even Maggie's. She patiently (as patiently as a Jack Russell can wait) waits for Jessie to open her daily Christmas Stocking Treat just as the girls do theirs. We discovered that Maggie is a big fan of this tradition, during the second year we did the stocking thing for her. As soon as the stocking was hung, she began barking incessantly for her treat, and has for the past nine years.
I'd like to ask all that visit here to take a minute to remember the reason for the celebration. Christ came that we would have life eternal. I like celebrating his birth, but let's not leave it at that point. Let's also remember his death and what gift we all received from that.
No matter what the year may bring you joys or trials, victory or tribulations, Peace be unto you, for a Savior was born, that he by his life would give us life, more life.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Thanksgiving 2005 November 27, 2005
Another Thanksgiving. And so much to be thankful for. For All God's Blessings so richly given, and so undeserved, for family and friends, for country and liberty. For freedom and life. For those present and those who have passed. I give thanks, Lord. Amen
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Rudyard, Where Have You Gone? November 17, 2005
I miss my Dad's sense of humor a lot these days. I can remember him quoting some line or verse and me asking him who said it. His usual answer was, Rudyard Kipling. I know that both Dad and Rudyard Kipling said many things. Neither he nor Dad made a lot of sense to me when I was twenty-one, but add the perspective of a little age and I am starting to understand their meanings. Most of the sayings offered a bit of quality advice, with just a hint of sarcasm added for good measure. Maybe that is where I get mine from.
Sayings like "And a woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke," finally started having meaning to me. Although I don't totally understand, I seem to agree on some subliminal level.
How many guys does this one fit?
For the female of the species is more deadly than
the male.
A woman's guess is much more accurate than a man's certainty.
Take my word for it, the silliest woman can manage a clever man;
But it takes a very clever woman to manage a fool.
And what man has never thought this way?
I never made a mistake in my life;
At least, never one that I couldn't explain away afterwards
Thanks Dad, for introducing me to Rudyard.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Hurricanes and Other Whirlwinds October 24, 2005
I spent the morning watching the television coverage of Hurricane Wilma, and being thankful for the relative calm we enjoy here in Eustis, Florida. We have had some rain, but not the high winds other parts of the state are having. I confess that I do enjoy seeing all the weather reporters, especially the thin women reporters trying to make a name for themselves, getting blown about by the gusts of wind. Maybe it is a sick commentary but I figure maybe some people aren't smart enough to come in out of the storm. And maybe it's just me, but who really cares if a handrail on some dunes walkover has fallen off during the storm. Ah, local news. Sometimes I miss Captain Kangaroo. At least you knew that Bunny Rabbit was going to get the carrots in the end.
Don't miss understand me, I am concerned for those in the storm. I have several friends in south Florida that are in the thick of it and I want to hear from them soon. But the news stories on television could be reruns from Charlie, or any of the other hurricanes from last year. We are so obsessed with having to know everything right away... no wonder we are so stressed out all the time. And now after running out of storm names in the English alphabet, we have started using the Greek alphabet. I am tired of this.... I need a change of scenery. Maybe I should move to California and deal with earthquakes for a while.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Helping Out October 11, 2005
I got a chance to be involved with some good music this past weekend at the 8th Annual Lake County Folk Festival. Mary was on a trip with her sister, so I had some free time on my hands to do more that just enjoy some of the acts. My first exposure to the Lake County Folk Festival was listening to some pretty good music last year. As I listened I wondered why there weren't more people taking advantage of this event. So when I was asked by some of the organizers if I would lend a hand this year I did. It was a throw back to my old college days when I made road trips and helped out with some musician friends in a band called Friction.
As I was helping set up the main stage at the Bandshell on Lake Eustis, (one of two such structures in Florida) I began to think about what a special opportunity this was. Doing something that would go largely unnoticed by most but that would be enjoyed by so many, and appreciated greatly by those who knew what it took to put on the event.. Background stuff. The kind of thing I most enjoy doing. The work that so many people do every day, that brings convenience, pleasure and joy to others, with concern of recognition. I think that is what my pastor calls servanthood. It is a good feeling.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Learning Life's Lessons October 6, 2005
I had cause this past week to stop and review some of the lessons that God has been teaching me for the past half century. For the most part I've done most things the way He would have wanted me to. But I've got some work to do in a few areas, and failed miserably in others. Still I am thankful that he hasn't given up on me yet, despite the failures.
One thing I have found is that even in the areas I have failed in is that there was growth. Small growth, but growth just the same. I am more willing to trust and wait on Him to show me the big picture. More willing to be led rather than lead, even when I don't fully understand the why's and what's of a situation. (So hard for me to do.)
Career wise I have felt His leading through it all, each time for the betterment of my family, my soul, and my heart. This time is no different. I felt his hand each time as I discussed my future career options, closing and opening doors as I go. Trusting in Him, I know he will bring me to the best for me. He always has and always will.
I speak no ill of the past or person. (Ok so I working on the person part). I marvel at what has been put before me, and thank Him for it all.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Try a Little Tenderness September 3, 2005
We have all watched the television news with shock and disbelief as we look at what was the City of New Orleans. And for most of us there is a connection to the City, a relative, a friend, great music, the history, the debauchery, or a love for coffee with chicory in it. Something ties us to that city more than any other town, except for maybe our own hometowns.
My opinion of the people of New Orleans was confirmed this past week. They are no different from people in Miami, New York, Chicago, Los Angles and Eustis, Florida. When the chips are down we see the best in people and we also see the worst. People in vast numbers are trying to help make some sense of the damage. People are desperately trying to get their lives back in order. Looking for something familiar, that isn't there.
Our wonderful (very sarcastic comment) media has done an excellent job of highlighting the small percentage of people bent on destroying what little bit of civilization is left in the Big Easy, and not enough time focusing on what positive actions are being taken. But what is new. The media makes their money on the dark side of humanity.
Oh yea and let's all criticize the government for not reacting fast enough. And why not criticize the people of the city and of the entire gulf coast for not evacuating to a safer place? Maybe what my Mom told me applies here. "You are either part of the solution or you are part of the problem."
Americans, both Democrats and Republicans, are among the most generous caring people of the world. Witness that by the relief and aid that is sent around the world to help those in trouble. Folks, God has blessed us because of that. We will continue to be blessed for that reason.
When there is an area of devastation of over 90,000 square miles, you don't just get relief in overnight. Think of this, that area is larger than the United Kingdom combined. That is England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland. It is a huge area.
So rather than criticize now, offer your assistance. You can berate the President, Congress, Republicans, the weather forecasters, FEMA, the Red Cross, the Coast Guard and the National Guard tomorrow
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Things Taken for Granted August 21, 2005
I suppose that I am like most Americans in that although I do appreciate some of the extras life has to offer I don't always make a comment about it or frequently give thanks for it. This was brought to light this past week as I struggled to make a repair of some drywall in the master bath. The repair was relatively ease to do but required that I remove the tank part of the toilet from the "throne" rendering it useless and forcing me to use the girls bathroom. And we all know "Life" is more complicated in a one bathroom house.
I knew that making this repair would require a total repainting of the bathroom. The worst part of it is that the master bath has always had wall coverings instead of paint. More complications I had to strip the wallpaper. This requires removing the now antique oak medicine cabinet I made in 1979, from the wall so that I could remove the mirror over the vanity..... this is a huge and very heavy mirror. Somehow I managed to take it down and get it out of the bathroom and not break it. Finally I removed the miscellaneous towel racks and electrical cover plates. At last I could strip the wall paper.
The paper came down a lot faster that I remember it going up. But why in the world did I use so much paste on it. Off to Lowe's to get something to remove the glue. (Although there may be better ways of removing the paste the folks at Lowe's weren't telling me. They smelled a bonus on this sale.) Back to the house and the confined space of my prison cell. (Did you ever get in the middle of something you thought would never end?) A day and a half later the glue was gone. Of course I had to refinish the rest of the drywall in the room but the glue was gone!
Now for the paint. Mary has a wonderful talent when it comes to color and selected one that worked well with the tile and bathroom fixtures, I supplied the labor. The strange thing about a bathroom is that although it a small room, it takes forever to paint. There is no place to properly begin or end. And once you think you are finished... you're not. Touchups and missed spots. I was about half way around the room when I dropped some paint on the newly installed toilet shut of valve and escutcheon. (I like that word.) As I bent over to wipe the paint from the escutcheon, my cloth wrapped around the toilet shut off valve and shut it on...... spraying water to the ceiling and on to my newly painted wall. I stared in disbelief as water began running down the wall leaving little eroded paint trails behind. I cussed! I know it was Sunday, and I was in the house with women and children present but I cussed! Not an under my breath oath, but a loud and noteworthy full blown swear word. Then I laughed. I had been so proud of that sweated on cut off valve and it had turned on me. Literally!
The paint was latex so I just rolled it again and dried the ceiling, which I'll have to paint tomorrow, and then I'll have to touch up the walls from the splattered ceiling paint and touch up the ceiling and touch up the walls and the ceiling and the walls...... Maybe I'll change the name to the infinity room. But for now the toilet is working and with no leaks. And as Neil Diamond would say, "Hello, my friend hello." I missed the quiet comfort of reading the paper and doing the cross-word puzzle in the morning. I won't take you for granted again, old friend.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
No More Political Correctness August 11, 2005
This essay has been spotted on the internet, and sent to me by a friend. It pretty well sums up how a lot of us feel about the current world situation. You may or may not agree with it, but it definitely gives one something to think about.
I always try to give credit where it is due, but I cannot confirm whether Doug Patton is the author. But this is the way it came to me.
Ask Me if I
Care About 'Mishandling' of Koran By
Doug Patton
First,
Newsweek pulled a Dan Rather on us, running a fabricated story just because they
wanted it to be true. They told the world that an American guard at the
Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, detention center had ripped pages from a prisoner's Koran
and flushed it down a toilet. As a result, innocent people died when
practitioners of Islam rioted in protest in Afghanistan.
Oops,
said Newsweek, it seems we can't back up our story. Oh well, it's probably true;
we just can't prove it. (Isn't it convenient for Newsweek that the media now
have "Deep Throat" to talk about so they can revel in their glory days
and divert our attention from their criminal negligence.)
The
lie heard round the world about the flushed Koran has caused convulsions in the
Bush Administration and forced the Pentagon to launch an investigation of
unfounded allegations contained in an unsubstantiated story. The results of said
investigation are now in, and it seems there are at least five incidents of
"mishandling" of the Koran at Gitmo.
Well,
guess what? I don't care!
Are
we fighting a war on terror or aren't we? Was it or was it not started by
Islamic people who brought it to our shores on September 11, 2001? Were people
from all over the world, mostly Americans, not brutally murdered that day, in
downtown Manhattan, across the Potomac from our nation's capitol and in a field
in Pennsylvania? Did nearly three thousand men, women and children die a
horrible, burning death that day, or didn't they?
And
I'm supposed to care that a copy of the Koran was "desecrated" when an
overworked American soldier kicked it or got it wet? Well, I don't. I don't care
at all.
I'll
start caring when Osama bin Laden turns himself in and repents for incinerating
all those innocent people on 9/11.
I'll
care about the Koran when the fanatics in the Middle East start caring about the
Holy Bible, the mere possession of which is a crime in Saudi Arabia.
I'll
care when Abu Musab al-Zarqawi tells the world he is sorry for hacking off Nick
Berg's head while Berg screamed through his gurgling, slashed throat.
I'll
care when the cowardly so-called "insurgents" in Iraq come out and
fight like men instead of disrespecting their own religion by hiding in mosques.
I'll
care when the mindless zealots who blow themselves up in search of nirvana care
about the innocent children within range of their suicide bombs.
I'll
care when the American media stops pretending that their First Amendment
liberties are somehow derived from international law instead of the United
States Constitution's Bill of Rights.
I'll
care when Clinton-appointed judges stop ordering my government to release photos
of the abuses at Abu Ghraib, which are sure to set off the Islamic extremists
just as Newsweek's lies did a few weeks ago.
In
the meantime, when I hear a story about a brave marine roughing up an Iraqi
terrorist to obtain information, know this: I don't care.
When
I see a fuzzy photo of a pile of naked Iraqi prisoners who have been humiliated
in what amounts to a college hazing incident, rest assured that I don't care.
When
I see a wounded terrorist get shot in the head when he is told not to move
because he might be booby-trapped, you can take it to the bank that I don't
care.
When
I hear that a prisoner, who was issued a Koran paid for by my tax dollars, is
complaining that his holy book is being "mishandled," you can
absolutely believe in your heart of hearts that I don't care.
And oh, by the way, I've noticed that sometimes it's spelled "Koran" and other times "Quran." Well, Jimmy Crack Corn and -- you guessed it -- I don't care!
America is a tolerant group of people. We thrive on fair play and sportsmanship. Too bad the rest of the world doesn't love baseball too.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Summer in the City August 2, 2005
The song went "Hot town summer in the city, back of my neck gettin burned and grity". Not that my little town is a city but at least that describes the way things have been here in Central Florida of late. I am thankful that I do have an air conditioned office to work in. My outdoor experiences this summer have been limited. I am trying to mow the ever growing grass in the evening after I get home from work to try to stay cooler. It is never ending. This year I finally have a reasonable facsimilie of a yard, at least in the front, but it grows so fast my neighbor says you can hear it. In fact about a week ago I saw him standing in his yard, his head cocked to one side, looking deep in thought. I hollered across the street to see what he was up to and he yelled back that he was listening to his grass grow. I paused for a minute, damned if he wasn't right. It made a stretching, squeaky kind of noise, almost inaudible but there never the less.
The girls are back together again in North Carolina for a brief road trip to Virginia. Mary is staying busy and it gets quiet here when they are gone. Maggie sits on the back of the living room sofa looking out the window, waiting for them to come home. We both miss them
Life, they say... July 2, 2005
Life they say, sometimes throws you a few curves. I am feeling that way lately as I look back on the way things have gone lately. Certainly the last few years have been full of interesting happenings and successes. Getting Julie and Jessie through college and on their own has been exciting and fun at the same time. I, as a father, am so very proud of both of them.
Lately I have seen my life be divided in to compartments, more or less. I don't feel I am purposefully doing this, it is just happening. I have my work area, which I am not totally satisfied with. Changes there haven't come out the way I had hoped they would, so I have tended to minimize that area in favor of more pleasant issues. I still like what I do (most of the time) and for the most part enjoy those I work closely with.
My role as a parent is changing as the girls start their lives. That is the way it is supposed to be and I accept that. I guess I didn't want it to happen so fast. I love them and want the best for them.
I hope to do some fun things with Mary now that we have grown children. Maybe some beach time and time to think about the future together. Do some things she'd like to do.
It seems to boil down to this. Life, they say.... Continue living and take each day as it comes, thanking God for another opportunity to wipe the slate clean and start all over again.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Graduation Day June 7, 2005
Once again I get a chance to do my fatherly duty and brag on one of my children. Jessie is now a college graduate. She has become an alumni of Furman University with a Bachelor of Arts in Sociology. I must say that she finished as strong as she started. Mary and I are so very proud of her and her entire college experience.
Now for her comes the hard part as she decides what she would like to do with her life and begins her search for a job. Until she finds one, it's great having her here for a while.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Taking a Break May 21, 2005
I've decided that what I need is a break from all the stress and busyness that accompanies our lives today. I am in a mood to lay on a beach and sip some adult beverages and watch the world go by. Do nothing, except rest and relax. I don't want to even have to think about what I'll eat for supper, although some kind of shrimp or crab would sound good, every night.
I should have thought about this earlier, I guess, so I could be doing it now, but that would have only added to the stress.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Mother's Day Minus One Mom May 8, 2005
It doesn't seem like a year has gone by since my Mother passed away, but this week will be one year. May 13, 2004 was the day to be exact. Sometimes it is as if she is still here, for I hear her speaking to me in a thousand ways. Very often I think about what she told me about life and love. It is odd that what she cautioned me about then is now reality. Maybe I didn't hear her right or maybe I am like most sons and had to find things out the hard way. I suspect that is nearer the truth. Men and boys have a sense of what needs to be done and often charge ahead with out considering others. Hard lessons to be learned for sure but one's that have to be learned.
In the last year I have dispensed wisdom to several friends. Wisdom that they have considered seriously and that has proven true for them. Some of it was given to me by Mom. It was good and it worked for them. Why do I sometimes not chose the proven wisdom? Sometimes men actually think they know what they are doing. Maybe it is like not asking for directions when we are lost. Most of Mom's wisdom was a pretty good roadmap. Even though I took a few detours along the way, I can still get there from here. I miss you Mom.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Fond Attachments May 6, 2005
One day last week I was sitting in my office, when a colleague laid a copy of his day-timer on my desk. It had the following saying on it by George Bernard Shaw.
"People become attached to their burdens sometimes more than the burdens are attached to them."
When I read that, I thought about it and how it applied to anyone I knew for a moment and said" How true!" Sometimes we get so consumed in the victim's role of a situation that we don't realize that we possess the ability to change the situation, simply by letting go of the burden and moving on with life. It is as if these burdens help to identify us and if nothing else give us something to talk about. We are afraid to release them as if we need a reason for any failure or shortcomings in our lives.
I wonder if we can control our burdens to where they are only a part of our life....not our whole life, controlling us. Sometimes we become so used to focusing on burdens, we miss the rest of life. Too bad, because I realize that there is much to be shared between us. Joy, Laughter, Sadness, Forgiveness and most of all Love!
Love comes in many forms, but it cannot remain stagnant, it grows or it dies. Which will it be?
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
You're Welcome April 16, 2005
The last couple of weeks has given me the opportunity to do some favors for a good friend of mine. It isn't a big thing for me to do but I realize that in this day and time people often don't take the time enjoy doing something for another person. I'm usually willing to do a favor or two for most anyone. For example, I want my coworkers to succeed in their endeavors at work and so if there is something I can do I to help them, I do it. I don't claim to be the only one there that does it but I see tangible results in having done so. It contributes to our success as a company.
For me doing favors and helping out friends results in big returns as I see them pass it on. Whether its helping a friend with a computer problem or keeping an eye on their house while they are away, their thank you is all the payment required. I get the chance to say You're Welcome. A man named Lew Treen helped me see that. He told me that when he said you're welcome to someone's thank you for something, he had served his fellow man. Lew was full of such truisms that many of us called Treenisms. I know of only one that was more profound than helping others. But that is for another day. Thank You, Lew.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Getting Older All Over
March 28, 2005
Tonight I was talking to a friend and as the conversation went on I decided to "squat down" on my haunches to rest as we talked. The noise my knees made as I went down led to my making a remark about getting old. My friend laughed a bit and told me I wasn't getting old. I replied that I may not be getting old but my knees were. I hadn't though about it but my friend was right. I am not old, I certainly don't feel like my age. Most of the time I feel much younger. At this point in my life I feel like I am in my early to mid thirties.
It is funny that before we feel "old" all over we feel old in parts. I may feel like I am thirty something but my knees have taken a beating and are beginning to let me know they are not happy about the abuse they have gone through. I am not alone in the knee thing and the knees are no
respecter of person or age either. I know some almost forty or younger people that were cheerleaders
or athletes in high school that are members of that club.
I have learned that we have at least three ages as humans. Number one is our attitudinal age. Are we the Pepsi Generation or the Pepcid Generation. Do we think young? We should because it keeps the mind active and alert. The second age is the physical age of our body. How old does your body feel? That will depend on how well you've take care of it. Lastly of course is our actual age. I can't offer any advice to you for that, except to lie.
There is much to enjoy about each age. I count the wisdom and maturity that should come with our actual age as the best part of that age, and by sharing that wisdom and maturity with those younger I get a chance to think younger. It may take the help of a good orthopedic surgeon to cure the knee problem. I think I'll wait a while before I go that route and give the rest of me a chance to catch up.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Too Much March 20, 2005
Sometimes there seems to be too much going on at one time. I get into this kind of zone where I am not always paying attention to the things I should. The past couple of weeks has been that way for me what with a major project at word and a Career Day project coming up in April. Then comes the preparation for new computers at work. That should be fun due to some new procedures that will come with the process.
I think I need a break from all of this. Maybe a road trip or a weekend away would make things better. At least it could give me a new perspective on things. I have noticed that some off my friends could use a break as well. Maybe we should all go at the same time. Ahhh, Workaholics. Where would the world be without us? Probably back in 1954. Maybe that is the answer.
I'll let you know how it works out.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Little Indians - Big Hearts March 11, 2005
I was reminded again this week that we don't always know who we touch in our lives of service. For about 17 or so years I was involved in the Parent Child Indian Program at the Golden Triangle YMCA. A great number of those years were spent in leadership roles, from the local program, the Blackwater Federation, to Sunshine State Pow-Wow Chief, to Chief of the National Longhouse which was the governing board of the program. I served in several capacities and always tried to make a difference in the program, even if just to one person.
I have so many fond memories of my time in the program with both Julie and Jessie, that I often wonder how I would have developed the bond we have without it. I made a difference in my life and relationship with them. I always wanted the program to be better and worked to make it so.
I've been out of the program for about four years and there has been many changes since I left. I still enjoy seeing the friends that I made during that time, parents and children alike. There is a bond there as well.
I got a call this week from Teresa, Derek's Mom, who had some sad news for me. Derek had passed away. Derek impressed me. I never was 100% sure why, but Derek spent a most of his life in a wheel chair. But it didn't seem to keep him from enjoying the camping and fun we had at the Blackwater Federations monthly outings. I admired his drive and determination. Even after he was older, I'd see him at his job at Wal-Mart or at the mall. He always spoke to me and we'd spend a few minutes catching up. His mother told me he talked often about the program and I was flattered to hear her say he often talked about me. I never know what to say at a time like that, but you need to know that I was honored and proud to have known him.
I'll miss him.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Ancestors - Famous and Not So Famous February 27, 2005
I spent some time this week online, now that we have a high speed connection, pursuing one of my hobbies. Genealogy is an interest that I work at from time to time. I've made a couple of trips to North Carolina looking for connections to family from long ago. I have met with some success from time to time in learning a thing or two about my ancestry. I think one of the things that struck me as odd is that I have found that I am related to some famous and powerful people. One recently discovered link I found that I was the 23rd grandson of Henry II, King of England. Real history in my lineage. Imagine that! And who could forget John I, signor of the Magna Carta. I'm his grandson also.
Ok, before I get to thinking I am something special I have to tell you about another line leading to me. Women would say he's not to bright. Men would say he was just a good old boy. Both would be correct. I am speaking of a cousin several times removed. When he was a boy, one of his chores was to cut firewood for the stove. Once while chopping wood he obviously got bored and challenged his sister to a contest. Out of boredom (or stupidity) he placed his hand on the chopping block and dared her to swing the axe and hit the block before he could move his hand. She did, and he was forever know as Whack. He grew to adulthood with two fingers missing form his right hand.
I guess my point is that each of us can claim someone great in our ancestry, but each of us also has someone that could win a Darwin Award as well. It is fun to find out these things, but has little bearing on who we really are. But it is a great way to review history and the people that made it. The Famous and the Not So Famous.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
Reconnecting February 20, 2005
Every now and again I like to catch up on what is happening in the lives of friends that I haven't seen in a while. Usually they are surprised to hear from me since our circles don't currently intersect as they used to. Still I find that these people are important to me and I enjoy the opportunity to catch up on what is the latest and greatest.
I had two opportunities this week to play a little catch up. The first I am ashamed to say had to do with a grudge I was holding. The grudge was legitimate in the sense that I had been wronged.( Most everyone that knew of the offense agreed with me.) But I had carried it for several years, mostly by ignoring this person. It came to a head on Tuesday for me when I happened to see something involving him that reminded me of what had happened several years ago. I became as angry then as I was when the original offense happened. Tuesday night was not a restful night for me because of that. Fortunately Wednesday I had a meeting with a mutual friend was willing to help mitigate the problem for me. Afterall was said, wouldn't you know I was the only one with a problem. Evidently my friend wasn't paying attention then. We talked through it on Wednesday morning and came to an understanding of the situation. I left feeling better about it. It was if God was telling me I need to resolve this problem before he can help me with the next one. I know that is true.
The second opportunity was much more pleasant for me. It was a simple telephone call to just say hello and a little bit of catching up on each other. It is funny how similar life circumstances bring people together as friends. Too bad we get so mired in this stuff called life that we don't take time to reconnect.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
I Never Sat on the Front Row February 11, 2005
According to a few of my friends, citing poetry in my Monographs twice in succession must mean something. I really hadn't given it much thought except to say that the fellows that wrote those poems said something the way I wish I had. Expressing myself doesn't always come easily. For some reason, when I speak the words don't flow the way I would like them to flow. So I decided to "borrow" someone else's lines. I love words and the way that they fit together to convey a single idea or a complex thought. I enjoy seeing the printed words of someone that has struggled to give me insight to their feelings, or thoughts that flow smooth and long.
What one says and the way it is said makes all the difference. I am still struggling with that issue as I have for most of my life. I was always a talker, but I didn't always have something to say. And now, as I am getting older I have come to appreciate having something to say, and someone to say it to.
I remember my freshman and sophomore English teacher, Miss McCombs. I was terrified of her questions, only because I was afraid I'd answer incorrectly, and disappoint her and myself. Nevertheless, her instruction taught me a couple of valuable lessons in life. First, words mean something. If you don't think so, just say something you can't take back. That's a tough lesson. Secondly we don't all have the same interpretation of the same words. I didn't understand what I should have felt from those words at that time. I still had a lot to learn. I never sat on the front row in her class, but her words inspired me anyway.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
My Old Kentucky Home...Goodnight! February 3, 2005
I have felt something calling me lately. I couldn't quite put my finger on it until today. I was talking to my brother while driving home from work when the subject of home came up. For us home is Warren County, Kentucky, despite the fact we both have been in Florida for over thirty years. The area around Smith's Grove and down to Bowling Green seems to hold something special for both of us. We grew up there. Carters lived in Kentucky as early as 1792 when it became a state. Five generations back to b exact.
I told him that when I first moved to Florida I came and never gave a thought to going back. My wife is a third generation Florida girl. My daughters call Eustis home, even though their lives are now centered in the Carolinas. They are Natives. When they move back they will still be Natives. After thirty two years this May I still can't claim that. I am and always will be an expatriated Kentuckian that came to the realization today that the something that has been calling me is Kentucky. Driving down the Greenway at 75 miles an hour (A little fast...but I was keeping up with traffic...wink, wink) I realized I was homesick.
As we talked more, I understood that my body is seeking to rid itself of the stresses I have inflicted upon it. It wants to return to a more natural state of mind. Somewhere it can relax and breathe clean fresh air. It looks for comfort zones, but doesn't find them here.
Maybe I am working too hard. Maybe I need to spend some time browsing the Underwood Block in Smith's Grove or in a flat bottom boat drifting on the Barren River off Porter Pike or overlooking Bowling Green from the roof of Cherry Hall, atop College Heights like I used to do.
As I think about peace, some lines from Robert Frost's poem Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Night, come to mind,
The
woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Someday Kentucky, someday.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.
What Am I January 23, 2005
I started off the new year slowly, trying to decide what I wanted to do with my Monographs this year. Did I want to be funny, serious, contemplative (Julie sometimes mocks me in good fun when I am) or did I want to continue the way I have been doing this, a reflection of me thoughts at the time I wrote. I decided to continue voicing my thoughts and opinions, whatever they may be, in the manner that best serves me. So welcome to Monographs 2005. Thanks for continuing to read, and comment when you feel like I am off base.
The year 2004 was a tough year for my family. I lost two family member this year. My Mom, and my nephew Brian. Old and young, but somehow life kept on. This past week my Aunt Hazel (see Walking in Memphis) passed away after a brief illness. She was the last surviving member of my fathers generation of the Carter family. Though I am saddened, I am also joyful that she has been reunited with them all.
I found this poem in the barrel of trash I get on the internet. I liked it because it spoke to me about all that I was, am , and will be. I don't know the author but it is a way for me to start this year, looking at myself and knowing I can be better.
All The Men
All the men I might have been were gathered in a hall.
I was amazed: so large a space could scarcely hold them all.
As in a sea of mirrors, I saw reflected there
all forms of me: alike, the same; the lips, the nose, the hair.
But not the eyes; I realized there was some difference there.
Some subtle life experience had altered every pair
In some eyes there was happiness, in others I saw pain.
Some faces full, some faces gaunt, some calm, some lined with strain.
I knew, too, as I looked around that milling, mirrored sea
that each of them saw might-have beens, and one of them was me.
Where, I wondered, had each one changed; had split apart from me?
How could so many branches spring from one genetic tree?
My heart was filled with envy for some beside me there;
I sensed they'd got what I had not! That was, I felt, unfair.
Yet others made my soul grow chill to think what they'd become;
for each in whom I sensed success there also was a bum.
The walls were lined with photographs; they stretched out, row on row.
Babies, boys, and younger men-- they too were me, I know.
It didn't have to be explained, not one word need be said.
Each of them was also me, And each of them was dead.
They had not had the chance to live to be where I am now.
I wondered why each one had died, and where, and when, and how.
At once the hall was empty, and I alone was there.
My might-have-beens had vanished, each to his own place...where?
A voice came out of somewhere, someone I could not see::
"Care not for that which might have been, but rather what will be.
"To waste your time on 'might have been's Like wishing on a star:
Just do the best with what you have; just be the one you are."
And here I am, alone with me; a stranger to me still.
But knowing that when fate calls out: "You must", someone inside me will.
And to my friends who remain, thanks for stopping by.