“Saturday, In the Park”

For some reason, this old Chicago song popped into my head this morning. Do people go to parks much anymore? When I was a kid, there were several parks we could walk to, and the city had kid-sponsored activities every afternoon. The little green shack opened just after lunchtime, I believe, and stayed open until probably 4 or 5 p.m. For a nickel or dime, we could do a little craft thing, or they had tether ball, box hockey, and maybe horseshoes. Teenagers worked the shack daily and our harried mothers got a little bit of a break from us during those hot, summer days.

When I had kids, the green shacks disappeared from the city parks, you were basically on your own. We just walked across a very busy street, and we had access to basketball, tennis courts, and of course, swing sets and adventures on some low to the ground climbing devices. It was the old days, and the devices were made of wood, which didn’t wear well in the extreme weather we have; blistering heat or frigid cold. They developed splinters, and were deemed unsafe. We’d take lunch over to the park and have a picnic sometimes. Sometimes we had a picnic in our own yard. Do people still do that? Aside from fire pits and barbeques? I loved being home with the kids.

Once we finally had grandkids, we would babysit for Addison quite a bit. Her Grandma Sandy was alive then, and we’d share babysitting when the kids went out of town, etc. Sandy worked close to our home, and she’d drop Addison off in the morning, and pick her up after work. We worked well together. Usually ex-wives and current-wives don’t get along. Sandy and I had more in common than the Babe. Oh, and having one wife in between Sandy and me probably made a lot of difference. I never met that wife, although I bowled with her mother forty years ago. Small world.

At any rate, we’d take Addison to the park a lot. It really was fun taking her. There was a small park two blocks from our house, and we’d take her there nearly every time we had her over. As she got older and didn’t like the park as well, we’d go to a soft serve ice cream place nearby and get ice cream. She remembers that a lot. Even now, at the age of 14, if we mention “Ice Cream” she smiles and says, “Let’s GO!” I’m glad she has those memories. Now, our park experiences are going to ball fields and watching Gavin play baseball. I love that, expecially at this age.

My daughter Becky sends pics of Kayla and Cody playing in the park. She puts cute little hats and sunscreen on them. Adorable. I hope we get to see them later this summer. She and Brian have very busy work schedules, and with COVID variants occurring, we can only pray we aren’t locked down again. Get your shots! I have, the Babe did, and we’re fine. Just please don’t be the part of the population causing the problem. Sometimes we have to think of the “greater good” before our personal beliefs. Period.

Mom put me in Junior Bowling in seventh or eighth grade. Our neighbor coached it, and we were close enough to walk. Jan Matya, my friend and I stuck with it until we were seniors in High School. The reason? It was fun, and we were the only two girls in the league. All boys. The odds were in our favor. She dated a guy for awhile, I had one ask me to the Military Ball for his ROTC. I didn’t like him, I was 15 and used the excuse my folks wouldn’t let me date until I was 16. Mom told me, “No one turns down a date to the Military Ball.” In retrospect, it probably would have been a good idea. I only went to one prom and no homecomings at my school. None to other schools. I felt so crummy no one did.

So glad times have changed where kids actually go solo, and hang out with their friends. How nice. No one would feel less than enough. I really feel for kids who feel that way. There is so much buried in them that makes them good, talented people. It’s so bad when you lack confidence in yourself and your abilities. Remember; You ROCK!

I think families with kids have their time occupied by organized events. Sports, Dance, and a whole host of other things. That’s great, I hope they enjoy their experiences as neighborhood kids used to when they’d do a pick-up game of baseball, kickball, and even dodge ball. My brothers didn’t participate, and there were no girls sports. I did play volleyball, but Sister Mary What’s Her Name? didn’t put me in, she said I was too nervous, I needed to relax.

After growing up, I wondered if it occurred to her to let me play and I’d be less nervous? That would make sense to me. I also learned as an adult I probably suffered from anxiety. Our mom had a temper and as a kid, I thought she was always mad (at me). It seemed her moods swung from nice to degrading whoever was around. I think this was inherited from her mother. Zero to Sixty in 30 seconds. She scared me. I spent a lot of time in my room. My sanctuary.

I have forgiven her. She didn’t know any better. Many of us followed suit until we learned how damaging that was. Sometimes I think to myself, “If I was Mom, I’d probably say, “Don’t you know blah, blah, blah.” For someone who lost her cool a lot, it’s funny we were forbidden to say words like, “Hate, Shut Up, he’s stupid, you’re a dummy, I could kill you! (believe it or not, people used to say stuff like that).” So glad that type of speech is not acceptable anymore.

For today; Speak Kindly, Sit in Nature, Relax, Remember You’re Enough. Pet a Dog. Go for a walk. Attend a benefit. Always be kind. See you tomorrow!

Fun Friday & #596!

Good Morning, everyone! Hope you’re having a great day. I’m getting started a bit earlier. Son in law is traveling for his job again, and the Babe is taking Addison to school at zero dark thirty since Wednesday. It’s early for retired folk, but a great reminder what we’re retired from – early days.

Don’t get me wrong. We are still up by 7 a.m. Just not ready to go anywhere! I like to apply my Frankie’s attitude towards weekends to our life now. He said he always got up early on weekends to make the day go slower. If you sleep in until noon, you don’t get as much time you don’t have to be at school. Wise words from him.

And just think. However you choose to spend your time, you can do it for many more hours. If I’m tired later in the day, a “recliner nap” is a welcome respite. Today? We have some donations to gather up from the Post and deliver (Monday, I think) to a non-profit we support. We’re loading my car so I can deliver the items. The Babe invited me to have lunch with him after that. After that, I finally got into the information for the Nebraska Writers Guild Spring Conference 2021. I was missing a code. I’m eager to dive in and listen to the presentations. This way, we can see ALL of them, not just the one we select at each time frame.

Since I’m a retired I/T person, it frustrates the heck out of me when I can’t get something to work on a computer. I feel like a failure (for a minute) and want to let the person I’m telling my woes to that I really am not your typical “old person” user. I’ve been in the business. Maybe it’s just an ego thing? Hmm. I need to think on that.

This will be a weekend we can actually sit outside, I believe. At long last! The Babe and crew will be replacing ceiling tile at the Post again. They have moved to the second room from the banquet room. It has a dance floor in the middle, and a small stage with all the VFW banners, flags, and other memorabilia. I will go watch Gavin’s ball games since the Babe can’t. I’m eager to see him play. It will be fun.

Today, I’m listening to “A Letter to You,” by Bruce Springsteen. No, I don’t care for his politics. I do appreciate his music, though. He is America’s Poet, in a way. When the economy was so bad in the late 70s, when the Vietnam Veterans were suffering unmercifully, he was there to tell the story. Like Pete Seeger in the 60s, he told us all what we needed to know. Telling the story is important. Telling us how to feel and react to the story politically is wrong.

Bruce has told us the story of wanting to leave your dying small town; falling in love over and over; avoiding being drafted for Vietnam, and dealing with the mental illness of his Dad. That story is deeply personal and explains why Bruce never tried drugs. He was afraid of what it would do to him. And now, he tells us different stories. The aging rocker and the Babe are the same age. I’m really glad we saw him in concert prior to the Babe retiring. (It was the first concert he ever attended. That’s setting the bar pretty high!). This music talks of long love, telling your loved one all the things that are your truths, and love everlasting. I’m there. It’s great.

I find songwriting fascinating. I am amazed at how carefully the words need to be chosen. The music perfectly complements the lyrics. Calling the words lyrics make them sound, well, musical. The giant story you can tell with few words has to be a challenge, yet people do it all the time. Think of all the music generated by the Covid Quarantine. Vast numbers of songs exist now that didn’t before. Lucky us!

As I’m ready to close Blogpost #596, I want to thank each and every 300+ followers I have. Feel free to share. I am grateful for all of you. Please, feel free to comment and it’d be great if you’d leave your email address for my mailing list. I won’t bore you with multiple emails, just news about the books. You are helping my dreams happen. How exciting! I’m putting together some merch ideas, and some give away once my books are published. I’d love to share the wealth with you. I will never share your information, either. That’s just wrong!

See you tomorrow! Enjoy your day. Your nap. Reading. Listening to the NWG Conference. Be Kind. Be Safe. Be Courteous. Be Thoughtful. You’ll feel wonderful!

Another Day, Another Carol

No, not a “Carol” person, but a song. Another song I enjoy during the Christmas Season. I’ve just heard this artist perform this song recently, and I love his voice with it. It’s a voice that commands attention, as does the man himself; he is tall and could intimidate in the wrong situation. (Wrong for you)! But he uses this gift of his to sing one of the most tender songs about Baby Jesus. There is no doubt about his belief this Baby changed everything. Today, I offer Ray Scott, singing O, Holy Night. Enjoy!

The memories of this Christmas Carol go back to my days in 6th, 7th, and 8th grade Choir. All the girls were in choir, most of the boys were altar boys. Really strict in those days. No whispering in Church, perfect attention, blah, blah, blah. It amazes me the boys had a choice. Of course, way back in the day, they needed to know the Latin Mass. That is pre-historic, isn’t it? My brother knew it, and I helped him drill on it, so I knew it too. Most of us could read along to it in our Missals (I think that’s what they called it). I don’t know where mine went. It was pretty educational, with Latin on one page and English on the other adjoining page. You could at least try to figure out what the Priest of Monsignor was saying. Midnight Mass in Latin meant we sang the Catholic Carols in Latin.

Oh, Holy Night reminds me of the semi-dark Church. Once the celebrant declared Jesus was born, all the lights turned on immediately and we sang “Joy to the World.” It truly made us feel like the world became a good place again since God sent his Son to save us. Theologians tell us now this is not the feast or event we should celebrate; it actually is Easter. Easter marks Jesus rising from the dead and defeating death itself. Our souls had the chance of eternal life from that moment on. Of course, the nuns told us this too. No little kid on earth could agree with that theory. For believers, however, it is true.

My Faith leads me to believe all things are possible with God. It’s not a Catholic religion but just living on earth all these years. I’ve had many miracles in my life; my 5 and 1/2 year old son survived drowning and is now 49 years old, my younger son, now 45, survived a ruptured appendix at 10 despite a severe abdominal infection, and I can still walk after nearly being paralyzed by an arachnoid cyst in my spinal column twenty-five years ago. God’s love amazes me. So do His miracles.

Just doing some website updates for the VFW Post this afternoon. I’ve been procrastinating on that project a bit, so I just need to finish scanning some documents. New endeavors are a bit intimidating, I hope my hardware is current enough to handle the job. I think it is. Life is all about learning, folks. And I enjoy it all, especially as I get older. Yes, it can frustrate the heck out of a person, but achieving is what it’s all about. Relax. Don’t Stress!

While you contemplate the coming Holiday of Love, spread some of it around yourself, ok? Be Patient. Be Kind. Be Grateful. Be Safe. Wear your mask and let’s get vaccinated as soon as our own personal MD’s think it is a good idea. Thank you for reading, see you tomorrow!

Countdown to Christmas

No, I’m not telling you to hurry and buy something. This isn’t about that part of Christmas. It’s about a subtle yet important part of the holiday for music lovers. I believe the backgrounds of all our lives has the same commonality; some of the most beautiful music of the world.

When I grew up in the late 1950s and 1960s, public schools still sang religious songs; God was present in all schools. Of course, we parochial school kids had more of the religious singing, but we all knew the songs we heard on television, radio, and retail stores since the 1950s. Yes, Muzak was around then. They also used it in work environments to increase productivity.

Maybe I brainwash myself when I write, I do so much better while listening to music. Today’s music to blog by is Ray Scott. He is a country artist, and I love his storytelling. You want to hear a dominant voice, a funny story, listen to Ray. He will have a new album soon, I’m in. And, as an old lady I knew once said, “He’s easy on the eyes, too.” She was a riot, so prim and proper, yet there she was, making observations you’d expect to hear from a 20 something.

So while cleaning the bathroom this morning, I was listening to one of my favorite traditions on Christmas; which sadly doesn’t happen anymore. I’ll save that one for later, but I sat down and listed some songs I think of at Christmas. They may not be on everyone’s list, but they’re around us. Too early (like before Halloween). One of them is “Deck the Halls,” by Omaha’s own Mannheim Steamroller. Chip Davis came out with this unique sound in the 80s, and is world-known for his trademark sound. I believe he doesn’t play concerts anymore, years of playing drums have caused some orthopedic issues in his cervical spine; I empathise with him. It must be so hard to give up what you love.

What is up for your Saturday? The Babe and I have a major cleaning of the house scheduled as soon as he gets home. I miss the cleaning ladies, but I don’t miss having a little extra money in my pocket. I’m using it for my online writing classes and tutorials. It’s all about compromise and imposing limits on yourself.

We’re cooking a bunch of chicken pieces to eat on salads over the next few days. The diet’s going pretty well. We both want to stay on it, and it’s easier with a buddy who cooperates with the plan. My ex husband was a thin wiry guy. Even before I was overweight, he made comments about my weight, a “should you eat this?” kind of guy. He ate constantly and just burned it up. The Babe’s not been like that in all the time I’ve known him. What a kind man he is. I always tell him, “You’re my favorite husband.”

Getting There, One Pound at a Time!

I read in my “Days of Healing Days of Joy: Daily Meditations of Adult Children of Alcoholics,” how we all make a difference. We can be an example of positivity in someone’s life; or we can be agents of hurt. There are four ways to do that. I’ve lived through all four, folks. And it’s so good to recognize those aren’t the way to treat people; and it for darned sure isn’t the way to treat yourself. Let’s work on these things the last seven days until Christmas. Make your world brighter. And some else’s, too.

  • Criticizing: It’s our not our business nor our place to judge other people. If you make rude comments in public about morbidly obese people, you’re wrong. Keep quiet. You can be totally wrong about “how they got like that.”
  • Insulting: Snide comments rob people of their dignity. Nothing gives you the right to blurt out things to another, especially in front of other people. It damages their self-esteem.
  • Name-Calling: You’re not “only kidding.” This is abuse. And you’re abusive. Knock it off.
  • Ignoring: Why be indifferent to someone? Why give someone reason to doubt their value? Who put you in charge? Ignoring people can lead them to question their own value. If you say, “Good morning,” to a homeless person gives them value and dignity. Try it.

Our thoughtlessness and bad habits have more effect on people than we think. Be Kind. Be Thoughtful. Especially during this time of Love and Joy. Be Safe, Wash Up, Masks Where They Belong; I’m looking forward to 2021, and I’d like all of you in it, too. See you tomorrow.