Louise Scrooge

I've been doing a lot of reflecting lately.  Reflecting on Christmas pasts.  No, I have never actually been as stingy as Ebenezer Scrooge, but I haven't fully partaken in the pleasures of Christmas giving either.

Why?

Back to my childhood.  My father and that big unrelenting word RESPONSIBILITY!

I have never spent more money on Christmas presents than what I have in my meager checking account just as I learned at my father's knee.  Even though this practice has given me some grief in the past from some in-laws who had always received lavish gifts on their birthdays and Christmas and thought my penny pinching gifts were some how a message to them that I did not care for them, I persisted to follow my father's directives on gift giving.

Now I ask myself, who is/was right?  My frugal father, who only once bought a brand spankin' new car because he refused to go into debt or the millions of American who run out on Black Friday with their credit cards clinched firmly in their sweaty little hands yelling "CHARGE IT!"

Once again I have to bow to the wisdom of my father.  My gifts may not be anxiously opened but my gifts are bought and sometimes made with my little hands with love and care.  And when Christmas is over I am not afraid to go to the mail box to receive my credit card bills.

So if you are one of the lucky few who receive gifts from me, know that it will not be lavish or expensive but it is given because I love you.

In Loving Memory of Charlie

I was both saddened and happy to hear of the death of Charlie Christakos at the very young age of 93.  It is always difficult to watch someone you love in pain.  As Socrates put it "Death may be the greatest of all human blessings."

I had known Charlie for such a short time but for me it was love at first sight.  I first met him at a rock concert in St. Louis where his grandson was playing the base guitar nearly a year ago.  He was wearing a well worn suit and a beat up fedora covered his balding head.  His smile was sunshine itself even though he had lost most of his teeth years ago.  For a man of 92 years he was exceptionally spire and he waltzed me around the room while his grandson beat out the rhythm of some loud hard rock music on his guitar.

When Charlie was given the diagnosis of liver cancer he was determined to live his final days as he had the rest of his life.  He immediately started planning his Big Greek Going Away Party.  The party was not to be at a big fancy hall but at his home on the lake.  Charlie basked in the warmth of love on the bright sunny July day with 150 friends and family who had come from all over the country to celebrate a life well lived.

Albert Einstein said "Our death is not an end if we can live on in our children and the younger generation.  For they are us, our bodies are only wilted leaves on the tree of life."  Here's to a life well lived!

Where did 2011 Go?

The end of 2011 is drawing to a close and what do I have to show for a year of my life?

A new love in my life.
Mud Run to raise money for MS
Reconnected with a long lost cousin
Started a blog and consistently wrote in it.
Did a little traveling
Organized the First Bank Ladies Reunion
Took my father to Texas
Lost a lot of money in the stock market
Spent lots of time lovin' on the grandkids

The year hasn't been lost but it just doesn't seem like it is enough. 

I don't believe in New Year Resolutions.  I think lists like that simply set a person up for failure yet I do believe a person needs to spend some time annually contemplating what they want out of their lives.

So what do I want out of my life?

I wish I knew. 

I truly do not. 

I have habitually jumped from one thing to another living life by the seat of my pants, landing where ever my arse is kicked.  I don't do anything well, but I keep trying.  I blame that on my ADHD but I really don't know why.

"Most of our life we're following the carrot to find out who we are or who we are not.  I've made a lot of mistakes, picked myself up and started again.  If I had quit every time I was bad at something I probably wouldn't have made it through high school."   Kelly Cutrone

Honor those who have passed

My post the other day about "Before I die I want to" has gotten me thinking about those who have passed before me, those I have loved.

How does one thank the dead for all they have done for us?  How do we honor those who have given so much to us?

Tears?  Yes, we cry but that is not enough.  They loved us and would not want us to squander our lives in useless grief and mourning.

Sweat?  Yes, we work to finish what they started. 

My mother was working on a book of short stories about her family.  I have continued with family stories in this blog. 

Honor those who have passed before you by finishing what they started.  Don't squander your inheritance.  Leave your own legacy.  It begins today.

Theodore - Just another Sappy Saturday Story

I inherited a shabby old teddy bear.

Not just any teddy bear, Theodore.

My mother was the oldest of three daughters born to James Oscar a/k/a  J.O. and Nina Dennis.  The three little girls' favorite activity was playing house as is many children.  The three children imitated the happy home life in which they lived with a Mother, Father and three daughters.  There was only one minor problem, all they owned were girl dolls.  For three imagined children that was easily remedied, Theodore, my mother's teddy bear became Father.  Theodore was perfect, not only was he big and strong but he also had hair like their father. 

Okay, you may think that a bit far fetched but wait and I'll explain. 

My mother was fascinated with her father's daily process of shaving so it was only natural that Theodore must also shave.  Over the years Theodore was shaved many many times and he looks it.  Below is a picture of Theodore.  There is nothing like a ragged toy that reflects the love a child has bestowed upon it.

There is a rip and a tear
In my teddy bear
Love pours out of him everywhere.

37 Days Until the End of 2011

I love Patti Digh, the author of 37 Days.  The book was written in response to Patti's sudden shock and awareness to how short and sweet life can be when her step father was diagnosed with cancer and died a short 37 days later.

Her Message: Live life to its fullest.  Don's wait for the perfect moment.  It may never come.

One of Patti's dedicated followers wrote a blog in an effort to make each of the last 37 days of this year special. 

Great Idea!

So how am I going to make the 37 days of 2011 memorable?

Today was day one of the 37.  I have spent much of the day calling old friends I rarely see anymore but who hold a special place in my heart.  Tonight I am going to a house party and will endeavor to make more memories there.

For the next 37 days I plan to take time to reflect on my wonderful life story, on the many friends and family I have been blessed with and make plans for my future.  I will look back at photos and mementos I have tucked safely in an old chest in my bedroom and write the stories that go with each memento so that when I am gone, my children will understand why I saved that little doll, beat up teddy bear, or old badly stained blanket.

There will be 37 days of music, friends, reflections, gratitude, intentions, reading, travel, eating, drinking and lots of wild uproarious laughter.

So, how will you spend the last 37 days of 2011?

Before I Die I Want to .......

Yesterday on Facebook I saw an interesting link http://www.candychang.com/ an artist who made art for the community on the side of an old derelict building.  Her artwork was very simple and yet very powerful.  All she had done was painted one side of the building with black paint as the base coat and then in big bold letters she printed "Before I die".  She then covered the rest of the building with line after line the words "I want to ______".  The community did the rest.  With chalk they filled in the blanks with their hopes and dreams for the future.

Steve Jobs, the late great Apple entrepreneur once said "Death is life's greatest invention."  Why?  Because it forces us to make a difference now.  Each day is a gift, treasure every moment.  We are not guaranteed tomorrow.

Personally my list is quite long, how about you?  What would you like to do before you die? 

Live before you die.

When do we take responsibity for our actions???

I just got off the phone with a sweet child I have known and loved since she was ten years old.   She is now nineteen.  I had been a volunteer for Big Brothers Big Sisters and she was my "Little" as they call the children who need mentoring.  Once the child becomes eighteen they are no longer mentored and sent out into the world to make it on their own. 

My Little is the reason I am not a volunteer for that agency any longer.  I loved her but also feared her.  I didn't fear her for my safety, as I said she was a sweet child.  I feared her because I was unable to reach her, to make her see that she is responsible for her actions as a child and even more so as an adult.

I had lost contact with her for over a year and actually wished I would not hear from her again. 

No, I take that back.  I think of her often and have wanted to see her again, it is just that I fear she will want to move in with me and I am not in a situation where I can financially take care of her. 

Since the last time I heard from her she has moved at least a half dozen times, living in Arkansas, Indiana, Illinois and now Wisconsin always with a different person until they kick her out.  Now here she is at the ripe young age of nineteen living with a friend and pregnant with a man's baby who never wants to set eyes on her or the unborn child. 

When I asked her what happened, why has she gone from place to place her answer is always the same;  they are mean to her.  The first time I heard this was while she was living with her sister and her husband a couple of years ago.  Since then I have heard it many times and I don't know about you but when I hear the same excuse repeatedly I start getting suspicious.

So now the big question, how does she think she is going to raise this child without a job or permanent housing.  Oh, that one was easy for her, her girlfriend is going to take care of the baby and she'll join the army.  Personally I think that is just another lie.  I believe she dropped out of high school two years ago when she started her traveling from state to state, boyfriend to boyfriend and the army is only taking high school graduates.  Of course she vehemently denies that.

Now for the truth as I see it.  The U.S. taxpayers will take care of her and the unborn child's medical expenses, food and housing for the next eighteen or more years.  She will see no problem with this situation.  It is her right as an American citizen.

I don't know what is right and wrong in this scenario.  Some children will never be able to make it on their own.  They become permanent wards of the government.  They may not know how to get and keep a job but they do know all the government agencies that will give them better medical care than the average tax payer can afford.  They actually know their rights better than the average American who diligently goes to work each day so that they may concientiously pay their bills and care for their families.

Who is responsible?  I don't know but I do know this cannot continue.

It's not about Perfection

I haven't been creating lately.  My art journal has simply been laying around collecting dust.  For nearly two years art journaling was my major outlet for both creating and as an emotional outlet but when I decided to write a book about art journaling my creativity was put on hold while I worked on my writing ability. 

Lately I have come to realize I am bored with my life.  Perhaps my art journal will bring back some of my old spontaneity that I always loved about myself?!? 

Out came my dusty old art journal and paints.  However creativity did not jump out on the pages as I expected.  I worked for several hours and nothing spoke to me.  Belong is the results.

I was attempting to use the ideas from Julie Nutting's book, Collage Couture.  I enjoy her art work but not mine.  I've been trying to figure out why mine looks so dull and uninteresting and then I hit upon an idea.  Creativity is not about perfection, it is about being wild and silly and downright outrageous.  I worked for a long time on this project constantly changing it because it wasn't just like Julie's art.  Silly me, that is because I am not Julie. 

Stop trying to be someone else.  One Julie is plenty and one Louise is all I need.

Hiking at Bennett Springs State Park

I left early yesterday morning for an adventurous day in the great outdoors with my twin sister who lives in the heart of Missouri's Ozarks right on the edge of Bennett Springs State Park.   Sue and I were raised in the city but for the last ten years Sue has lived and worked at the park and developed a close relationship with the park conservationist.  Due to this relationship she has become a conservationist of sorts herself.  I find listening to her chatter about the resident animals and plant life fascinating and looked forward to a day tromping around in the woods with her.

Even though I am not a morning person I was so excited about my upcoming adventure I left early for the three hour drive to Lebanon MO and arrived a good hour before our cousin Lynette, who was also joining us.  So what are we to do with an hour to waste?   Why explore the different hiking options the park has to offer, of course.  The park has several hiking trails with varying degrees of length and difficulty to traverse.  Not knowing how fit our cousin was we decided on the 4 1/2 mile trail rather than the 7 miles.  Just a good stretch of the legs!

The fall day was perfect for the excursion into the woods, gentle cool breezes and just enough sunshine to make the outing enjoyable.  All three ladies had dressed in layers so that we would be warm when we began our outing and we could slowing strip as our bodies warmed up from the exercise warranting less clothing. It wasn't long before the stripping began.  Out in the open the cool breeze was actually rather cold but not in the woods where the trees shielded us.  The trail we had chosen was not terribly difficult making it easy to hop over logs and climb the gentle rise of the hills while talking, laughing and enjoying our company.  We followed the winding path along the Niangua River until the trail abruptly ended.  We then had to climb a section of the bluffs where the trail started up once again. 

Suddenly we had come to the end of our hiking trail.  Two and a half hours had passed in a blink of the eye.  Amazing how quickly time flies when you are with good company. 

We returned to the park's country store to have a nourishing bowl of homemade vegetable soup and talk about our little adventure.  We were slightly disappointed that the only wildlife we had seen was a sleepy little black snake looking for a little sun to warm himself.  Much of the plant life was now dormant preparing for the cold winter but still there was some soft velvety moss that had bloomed just to make us happy and even some blue/green lichen scattered around on the rocks.

The day had come to an end much too soon and all three ladies had to head for home, each with our own responsibilities that needed our attention.  For a short time all our concerns and problems were swept under the rug as we played just as we had fifty years ago as little girls on our grandfather's farm.  Who says you have to grow up?  OK, we grew up but we still can retreat to our childhood occasionally.

The Fly

When I was a very little girl my maternal grandmother would rock and sing to me a lovely lullaby.  I never knew the song and had never heard anyone else sing the little ditty except for Grandma.  I loved that song and sang it to my children over and over again hoping they would love the song as much as I.

So often I have wondered why I had never heard the lullaby anywhere else.  Was it a family song?  For the last few years I have searched through old song books trying to locate the music, but had never been successful.  I guess I am a little dim witted because it wasn't until today that I thought of doing a search on the Internet.  Well, duh, there it was and here it is.

The song was originally a poem by Theodore Tilton called The Fly and later put to words by Lowell Mason.  I don't believe the music above is the same my grandmother sang to me but I can't be sure because I do not read music.

                            The Fly
                     by: Theodore Tilton

                         Baby Bye,
                         Here's a fly,
                         Let us watch him, you and I
                         How he crawls
                         Up the walls --
                         Yet he never ever falls!
                         I believe with those six legs
                         You and I could walk on eggs!
                         There he goes,
                         On his toes,
                         Tickling Baby's nose!

Grandma has been gone for over 40 years now.  Ahh, blessed memories!

I'm in a Rut

Once again I seem to be in a rut.

Same old routines
.
Same old patterns.

Same old habits.

It's like I'm stuck in a tunnel.  On both sides I see the same people, same environment, nothing has changed.

I am hanging on to the thread of the old certainties that I think are so dear to me, still suffering through the pain of emotions thrust upon me when I thought I had found real happiness.

Can we base our happiness on material relationships?  As I have sadly discovered, we cannot.  Happiness is found in our hearts, our lives alone.  I am a mortal who realizes that being mortal means that eventually I will lose all that I love by their death or my own.

Am I happy?  Define happiness.

Am I sad?  No.

Am I bored?  Ah ha!  Yes, I am bored.  I have not been pushing myself.  I have gotten into my comfort zone and curled up with a cup of hot tea and a nice warm down comforter reading yet another thrilling book.  As much as I enjoy this scenario, it does not stimulate me and being a typical ADHD person, I need stimulation.  I cannot live my life through the adventures of others on the written page.  I must create my own adventures which may seem dull to some but still they are my own.

So what am I going to do about this?  You guessed it.  I am getting off this 'puter, getting dressed, put on a fresh new face, jump in my little truck and head out to the highways and by ways to find some new adventure where ever it may be. 

More about this later.

My Daddy, an American Hero

This weekend Darrell and I surprised my father by showing up at his doorstep unannounced.  It's not that we didn't try to contact him, it's just that he didn't answer his phone whenever we tried calling.  I hated to drive 100 miles and find him not home but Dad is 85 years old extremely hard of hearing and seldom strays far from home.so I felt quite sure we would find him sitting in the shed cracking pecans unable to hear the telephone.  When we arrived I found that I was wrong, he was not in the shed cracking pecans, he was at the kitchen table shelling pecans.

He hadn't heard the phone ring when I called because at that time he was in the small village where he was born and raised, Perry Illinois, being honored as an American hero.  He didn't seem to be near as excited as I was about the news.  He quietly told us he was asked to celebrate Veterans Day at Perry Methodist Church for a turkey dinner with all the fixings and as a veteran he would get his meal free.  My father is not one to turn down a free meal. 

He got there just in time to see a large yellow school bus arrive packed full of children.  The children were there to thank him for giving a portion of his life to the country they lived in with all its benefits.  The children had written post cards, letters and signed a poster for him showing their gratitude for him and all American veterans who had bravely served this country to keep it free.

Dad modestly said he didn't know he was an American hero, he thought he was just drafted and did what he had to do.  He didn't tell the children what he did in Korea.  To Dad it seemed small and unimportant in the scheme of it all.  He wasn't in the trenches with a rifle praying that he wouldn't be killed or that he would be forced to kill.  My father was a medic in the Korean War much like what we have all seen on  the television series MASH.  He was not a surgeon just a lowly medic, but as a lowly medic he vaccinated thousands of Korean men, women and children against the deadly epidemic of cholera.  His heroism was to save thousands rather than to kill them.  In my minds eye, that is so much more courageous.

America people are led to believe that the American soldier is feared and hated all over the world.  That is not all of the story.  The American soldier is also a hero all over the world for the good that he has done.  God bless the American soldier, veterans and my father.

It's Okay

It's okay if .... you're drowning in self-doubt
                        you started but stalled - again
                        you got bucked off the mechanical bull
                        you finished last in the race
                        you haven't reached your potential
                        you just couldn't find the time
                        you spent the weekend in bed reading
                        you showed up late
                        you don't know where to start
                        you've got your priorities mixed up
                        you get down on yourself
                        you're overwhelmed
                        you get a little jealous of successful people
                        you back slide occasionally

None of it matters

Because.....

You tried!

Don't take yourself too seriously.

What if the hokey-pokey really is what it's all about?

Daylight Savings

Food for Thought: 

Daylight Savings is man's attempt to play God by delaying the sun's setting by one hour.

Change of Attitude

Question:  Do you think this world was only an entertainment for you?

Since my forced retirement I have begun to live as if this was my philosophy.  My father forced fed the word "responsibility" down my throat for all my life - yes, I mean all my life, not just my formative years.  My father has always been a strong influence in my life even now in my sixties.  I don't always believe his answers are the right ones but I listen intently, respect his advice and then juggle his ideas around in my pea brain until I come up with my own opinion, right or wrong.

As of late I have come to realize I have taken the word retirement to mean 24/7 lay around and chillax.  I have always loved to read and hated housework.  Not a good combination when retired and taken on this kind of attitude.  I am getting fat and lazy.

When my grandfather retired he sat down in his recliner in front of the boob tube and vegetated.  He sat there for over 20 years until he died in a nursing home a broken man.  What broke him?  I believe he had nothing to live for.  He felt worthless.  He had always been productive.  He no longer had a reason to get up out of bed.

We must have productive lives to be happy and fulfilled.  I believe that is why so many rich and famous people turn to drugs. Perhaps that is why there is such a lot of drug abuse today, people are out of work and feel completely worthless.

So what do I plan to do about this incredibly stupid new personal attitude?  Well, change it, of course.

My first step today will be to get off my fat arse and clean house.  Got to get off this computer and get to work. 

As Arnold said in The Terminator "I'll be back!" with updates on this new attitude.

Vitamin F

Sometimes, e-mails drive me crazy.  I get so many, mostly spam (so why doesn't the spam eater find all those and eat them up?) but not all.  Thank the good Lord I also get the special ones my friends send me that light up my day, I then delete the spam and bask in the love from my friends.

Today I received an e-mail from a cousin who I consider a dear friend about friends.  I have read this e-mail before but since I consider my girlfriends my most dearly held treasures I read it again.  This message quoted Dr. Oz as saying he calls our friends Vitamin F (F for friends) and counts the benefits of friends as essential to our well-being.  According to Dr. Oz if you enjoy Vitamins F constantly you can be up to 30 years younger than your real age.

Wow, what a concept.  I'm 61 so is it possible that I could be 31 just by doing what I enjoy, spending time with people I love?

Life Treasures

My house is in dire need of cleaning, truth be told it is in need of organizing all the piles of work I need to attend to but when I start cleaning I quickly get lost - lost in my own life.

I have life treasures all over the place.  Instead of cleaning I find myself touching to remember all that life has given me.  Lying neatly on the bed is the blanket my mother crocheted for Scotty, my first born, her first grandson.  I touch the tightly knit stitches and my mind's eye can see her fingers pulling the yarn wrapping around the hook time and time again creating the warm blanket for the tiny baby who is now a 40 year old man with two children of his own.  Treasures of pictures in every nook and cranny of friends, family and those precious grandchildren, each picture with its own story, an old wooden file box my mother had bought at an auction that my father decoupaged with pictures from their days in grass roots politics, my grandmother's canister set, books old and new, tea cups and hats all with their own individual story.

Wandering around my small two bedroom home is as if I am time traveling through portions of my life.  These little pieces of my life help me to remember where I was, who I was with and who I have become because of all of them.  The rock painted bright orange with splashes of red and blue means nothing to anyone else but to me it is the creation of a beautiful little two year old boy who calls me Meemaw.  All these odds and ends would not net two hundred dollars at an auction yet they are worth a fortune to me.  So I dust them and put them back on the shelf because they tell my life story.

It's the bits and pieces that create a life.  What a life I have had!  What a life I am having!

Cuivre River State Park

Several years back sister Mary and I met Sunday mornings at Cuivre River State Park just outside of Troy Missouri to hike.  Those mornings walking in the woods were just what the doctor ordered for whatever ailed us, whether it was too many hours with a know-it-all boss who had been in management so long he forgot what goes on in the pits, not enough hours in the day to get everything on that never ending to-do-list completed, or dealing with teenagers with bad attitudes. 

We walked, talked and laughed our troubles away until one Sunday our meetings abruptly stopped.  We let what ailed us take over and used the same old worn out excuse "I just don't have the time."  How sad!?!

I had not thought about Cuivre River State Park for quite some time until last Sunday morning while eating a light breakfast with Darrell.  Suddenly memories came flooding over me like sunlight on a cold dreary winter day warming me.  After telling Darrell of Mary and my adventures tromping through the woods he suggested we check out the park.  The morning appeared to be perfect for a fall trek through the great outdoors so we lazily prepared for the one hour drive all the while talking about the eight different hiking trails the park provided.

An hour and a half later the weather had changed and had turned a little windy and spitting rain.  I guess I had talked this event up too much because Darrell was not daunted by a few rain drops and opted to venture out on the four mile trip around the small lake, umbrella in hand. 

The fall foliage was not as lovely as it must have been a short two weeks earlier yet their was a haunting beauty about the whole area.  I made Darrell stop here and there to view the different plant life and examine the trees felled by the beaver.  By evidence of all the downed trees, I'd guess there is a large family of beavers living there.  I renamed the lake, Lake Beaver in honor of all the trees around the lake bearing their familiar mark. 

Two and half hours later we were still dry and had ventured all around the lake.  Our guardian angel must have been looking out for us because we did not have to use the umbrella. We plan to revisit the park often but probably not until next spring.  I am so glad Darrell enjoys doing this type of thing.  I have never had a gentleman friend before who was willing to go for hikes with me.  Thank you, Darrell.  You're the greatest!