Christmas is here! Christmas is here! Once it started, I haven't stopped moving. I can't believe its been a week since I posted, and I don't have time to post again today...my son is home from school, and I have too much going on. We had a wonderful, blessed Christmas, and good things just keep happening. Now I can send my cards out, so that's on the menu for today. I did want to post this on Christmas Day, but time got away from me, so here goes!
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Fridays With Louis - Where's Your Christmas Spirit?
Well, I felt so warm and fuzzy after my last post about Louis that I decided to take advantage of a supposed break in the weather and go to see him. It wasn’t a surprise visit this time, as he’d called the day before, but my arrival time was a surprise, since the weather decided to change up on me mid-trip and start snowing.
So I’m almost there and the phone rings. I debate whether to answer, knowing he will be stressed if I don’t, but then hit a stretch of straight road, so I do.
“I’m worried about you,” he says without preamble.
“I’m worried about me,” I answer glibly. “This is not fun.”
So I’m almost there and the phone rings. I debate whether to answer, knowing he will be stressed if I don’t, but then hit a stretch of straight road, so I do.
“I’m worried about you,” he says without preamble.
“I’m worried about me,” I answer glibly. “This is not fun.”
Silence. Louis doesn’t have a response to my comment.
“Fifteen minutes,” I say, and we hang up.
When I get there, he grumps, “You know, when someone says they’re worried about you, you’re supposed to say, ‘I’m fine, there’s nothing to worry about.” Not ‘I’m worried about me, too.’ What am I supposed to do with that? What can I do if something goes wrong?”
To which I answered, “Then why did you call?”
He just rolled his eyes.
I’m one of those people who tends to take questions literally. If you ask me ‘How are you?’ I will tell you. I know the socially correct answer is to smile, say fine and keep walking, but to me that doesn’t feel right. If I ask you how you are, it’s because I want to know. I’m not just being polite.
This is where I differ from most of society—including Louis. No matter what is going on, Louis will say he is fine and there’s nothing to worry about. If I’m having trouble, on the road or at home, he’ll say the same thing. Everything will be fine. There’s nothing to worry about.
Easy to say, but not so easy when you’re the one living it. I suppose in the end it always does turn out fine, but when you’re going through it…
Not that I complain. I’m not one of those who will stop and tell you everything that’s going wrong in my life. I just don’t give pat answers to standard questions. For instance, when I go to the Y and people ask, “How are you?” I usually smile and answer, “I’m here.”
To me this means I’m feeling well enough to come here and exercise, so I must be doing all right.
Easy to say, but not so easy when you’re the one living it. I suppose in the end it always does turn out fine, but when you’re going through it…
Not that I complain. I’m not one of those who will stop and tell you everything that’s going wrong in my life. I just don’t give pat answers to standard questions. For instance, when I go to the Y and people ask, “How are you?” I usually smile and answer, “I’m here.”
To me this means I’m feeling well enough to come here and exercise, so I must be doing all right.
There is one man at the Y who ‘gets’ me. He’s about 80, and I think the Y is a big part of his social life. Anyway, he’ll say, “How are you today?” and I’ll say, “I’m here,” and he’ll laugh and say, “You got that right. Better to be seen than viewed.”
Anyway, I’m not the most politically correct person on the block. So this naturally lead to a conversation with Louis about Christmas. He wanted to know what I’d done in preparation for it. How I do Christmas.
I said I haven’t done anything yet. It’s still Advent.
What do you mean? You didn’t decorate? You don’t have a tree up? What about presents? Don’t you have presents under your tree? What kind of Christmas is that?
My kind of Christmas. To me, it’s not Christmas until Christmas Eve. We do the Advent wreath, the Advent candles, and have an Advent calendar with little doors you open every day, counting down until Christmas. I write my holiday letter, but don’t send out my Christmas cards before Christmas Eve. I spend Advent doing Advent. Waiting and watching and reflecting.
Some call this opting out. Louis is horrified. He tells me I have no Christmas Spirit.
I said, “When Christmas comes, I’ll have plenty of Christmas Spirit. It’s not Christmas yet.”
“I’ll decorate the tree on Christmas Eve,” I said. “With the little Santa boot ornaments you sent me a long time ago.”
“And what? Leave it up for a couple of days?”
“No, it stays up until January 6, the Feast of the Epiphany, when the Three Wise Men came to see Jesus. It stays up through the twelve days of Christmas.”
“Oh, I get it. You don’t celebrate Christmas like everybody else. You celebrate the religious Christmas.”
I guess I do.
“Well, what about your son? What kind of Christmas is that for him?” Louis wants to know.
I said, “He gets that kind of Christmas from his dad’s side of the family. They have a huge tree with presents spilling out into half the room. I’m just showing him a different way. Then, when he has his own family, he can do whatever he wants for Christmas.”
So I thought about it on the way home, wondering if indeed I didn’t have any Christmas Spirit, and when my mom called later that night, I asked her about how we used to celebrate Christmas as a family.
“We didn’t decorate the tree until Christmas Eve, right?” I asked.
Right. And so she explained that we did it the European way. On Christmas Eve, we had a big dinner, then we decorated the tree, then we went to church, and then when we got home, we opened our presents—all of them. Although back then Christmas wasn’t the big extravaganza it is now—we usually got one big present and maybe up to half a dozen smaller ones.
On Christmas day,” she said, “and the day after, Boxing Day, we played with our presents and visited friends and family.”
I knew I got it from somewhere. I’ve simply returned to my roots. Advent first, then Christmas.
How do you celebrate Christmas?
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Life is Beautiful -- If You Choose to Make it So
Shows how humor is a rich spiritual resource that enables us to cope with the unexpected and to smile through the unbearable. ~ Just one review of the movie, Life is Beautiful, which opened tomorrow, December 20, in 1997, and received seven Academy Award nominations
This month, instead of discussing a book we’d read since the last meeting, my church book club gathered at the home of one of our members to watch the movie, Life is Beautiful. Reviews on the movie are mixed, some finding it profound, others finding it schmaltzy. You’d have to watch it to decide for yourself, but it was an Italian movie, dubbed in English, about a Jewish man and his family who were taken to a concentration camp during World War II.
The story is not true, in fact bills itself as a fable, but that makes it no less poignant. (It does come from truth, however, as the writer, director, and main character’s father spent two years in a concentration camp.)
In the movie, the main character, Guido, is able to keep his five-year-old son with him by hiding him in the barracks. What is so amazing about this man is how he turns their horrific death camp experience into a game for the sake of his son. Never does he show fear or lose his optimism. He convinces the boy that they are playing a game, and the first person to win 1000 points wins an army tank, something the boy covets.
To earn points, the boy has to do exactly what his father says. Stay hidden, be quiet, not complain, and not quit. The father then, after working all day to the point of exhaustion and beyond in an anvil factory, comes back to the barracks full of enthusiasm and smiles to entertain his son. Never once does his son know the fear that pervades the camp. And twice Guido manages to get a message to his wife, who is not Jewish, but insisted on getting on the same train with her husband, to let her know he and their son are alive and well.
The question was asked after the movie, Could you do that for someone you loved? Could you keep your attitude relentlessly positive in the face of overwhelming odds against a positive outcome?
Most of us with children insisted that absolutely for their sake we would try—and have successfully done so many times on a much smaller scale. Another told us of helping a loved one through a grave illness, without once ever showing fear.
Another question was who in our lives could be considered our Guido.
This month, instead of discussing a book we’d read since the last meeting, my church book club gathered at the home of one of our members to watch the movie, Life is Beautiful. Reviews on the movie are mixed, some finding it profound, others finding it schmaltzy. You’d have to watch it to decide for yourself, but it was an Italian movie, dubbed in English, about a Jewish man and his family who were taken to a concentration camp during World War II.
The story is not true, in fact bills itself as a fable, but that makes it no less poignant. (It does come from truth, however, as the writer, director, and main character’s father spent two years in a concentration camp.)
In the movie, the main character, Guido, is able to keep his five-year-old son with him by hiding him in the barracks. What is so amazing about this man is how he turns their horrific death camp experience into a game for the sake of his son. Never does he show fear or lose his optimism. He convinces the boy that they are playing a game, and the first person to win 1000 points wins an army tank, something the boy covets.
To earn points, the boy has to do exactly what his father says. Stay hidden, be quiet, not complain, and not quit. The father then, after working all day to the point of exhaustion and beyond in an anvil factory, comes back to the barracks full of enthusiasm and smiles to entertain his son. Never once does his son know the fear that pervades the camp. And twice Guido manages to get a message to his wife, who is not Jewish, but insisted on getting on the same train with her husband, to let her know he and their son are alive and well.
The question was asked after the movie, Could you do that for someone you loved? Could you keep your attitude relentlessly positive in the face of overwhelming odds against a positive outcome?
Most of us with children insisted that absolutely for their sake we would try—and have successfully done so many times on a much smaller scale. Another told us of helping a loved one through a grave illness, without once ever showing fear.
Another question was who in our lives could be considered our Guido.
For me, the answer was easy. Louis. Like Guido, Louis has an overwhelmingly positive attitude about life. I’ve never met anyone who consistently finds the good in any situation. He has a way of finding the beauty in, and expressing gratitude for, the smallest things. Rarely, if ever, do I hear him grumble about his life, circumstances, or situation. And if I start to do so on his behalf, he eventually manages to talk me out of it.
“It’s not worth the trouble,” he’ll say. People take advantage of him, and things are either stolen or taken from him all the time, others lost or broken in transit. He once told me, “It doesn’t pay to get too attached to anything in prison.” This includes people, places, and things. The entire sum of his worldly goods fits into one footlocker, or the equivalent of two cardboard boxes the size of a case of paper for a printer or photocopier.
His life is not his own, and yet, wherever he goes, he somehow finds a way to make it his own, finds a way to make it matter. He’s found a way to be happy, day in and day out, even knowing he will never leave prison. In many ways he is more free--free in spirit—than most people I know, including myself. Hardly anything gets him down, and if it does, it’s not for long.
Even when he was locked up in isolation for nine months, waiting for a transfer, he was patient and upbeat and quick to assure me he was fine. No matter what negativity is going on behind the walls, whenever I go to visit him, he leaves all of it behind, and soon has me in stitches, laughing so hard that people stare.
How can someone who lives in such deprived—and often depraved--circumstances do such a thing? The answer is beyond me. But, like the movie, Louis’s life is a testament to the power of the human spirit. He’s the strongest man I know, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Completely independent of anyone besides himself, and yet he has a consistently caring, giving, and generous spirit that frankly, I have yet to encounter outside his prison walls.
Most people give when they have something to spare. Louis gives even when he has nothing, even when it means he, himself, will go without.
A National Institutes of Health study suggests that the region of the brain that inhibits risky behavior is not fully formed until age 25, which in part explains why most of us do the stupid things we do in our early twenties, when we think we are invincible and will live forever. Louis went to prison for life at the age of 22, before his brain was even fully formed. I have long said he is not guilty of murder, but of erroneous thinking, and this study would seem to validate that.
But now, at age 54, he is a man who knows right from wrong, who knows his own limitations, who no longer thinks he is invincible, and who is far from stupid. Among other things, he has learned how to turn negatives into positives, how to be flexible and flow with the near-constant winds of change in his environment, how to treat others with respect, kindness, dignity, and compassion, and how to make those who encounter him forget where they are and laugh. Laugh heartily and loudly.
Just like Guido in Life is Beautiful.
I have learned much from Louis in the areas of overcoming fear, extending forgiveness, treating people with dignity and honor, and expressing gratitude. I feel blessed to be able to continue to learn from him each and every day.
“It’s not worth the trouble,” he’ll say. People take advantage of him, and things are either stolen or taken from him all the time, others lost or broken in transit. He once told me, “It doesn’t pay to get too attached to anything in prison.” This includes people, places, and things. The entire sum of his worldly goods fits into one footlocker, or the equivalent of two cardboard boxes the size of a case of paper for a printer or photocopier.
His life is not his own, and yet, wherever he goes, he somehow finds a way to make it his own, finds a way to make it matter. He’s found a way to be happy, day in and day out, even knowing he will never leave prison. In many ways he is more free--free in spirit—than most people I know, including myself. Hardly anything gets him down, and if it does, it’s not for long.
Even when he was locked up in isolation for nine months, waiting for a transfer, he was patient and upbeat and quick to assure me he was fine. No matter what negativity is going on behind the walls, whenever I go to visit him, he leaves all of it behind, and soon has me in stitches, laughing so hard that people stare.
How can someone who lives in such deprived—and often depraved--circumstances do such a thing? The answer is beyond me. But, like the movie, Louis’s life is a testament to the power of the human spirit. He’s the strongest man I know, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Completely independent of anyone besides himself, and yet he has a consistently caring, giving, and generous spirit that frankly, I have yet to encounter outside his prison walls.
Most people give when they have something to spare. Louis gives even when he has nothing, even when it means he, himself, will go without.
A National Institutes of Health study suggests that the region of the brain that inhibits risky behavior is not fully formed until age 25, which in part explains why most of us do the stupid things we do in our early twenties, when we think we are invincible and will live forever. Louis went to prison for life at the age of 22, before his brain was even fully formed. I have long said he is not guilty of murder, but of erroneous thinking, and this study would seem to validate that.
But now, at age 54, he is a man who knows right from wrong, who knows his own limitations, who no longer thinks he is invincible, and who is far from stupid. Among other things, he has learned how to turn negatives into positives, how to be flexible and flow with the near-constant winds of change in his environment, how to treat others with respect, kindness, dignity, and compassion, and how to make those who encounter him forget where they are and laugh. Laugh heartily and loudly.
Just like Guido in Life is Beautiful.
I have learned much from Louis in the areas of overcoming fear, extending forgiveness, treating people with dignity and honor, and expressing gratitude. I feel blessed to be able to continue to learn from him each and every day.
Because it’s people like Louis who do, indeed, make life beautiful.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
A Glimpse Inside Two Very Different Lives
First, a little housekeeping...The winner for November's monthly drawing of an autographed copy of one of my books, winner's choice, is....Pamela! Congratulations, Pamela, and thank you for taking the time to comment on my blog :).
My new electric stove has arrived and been set up, and yesterday I made an awesome soup with a package of 15 kinds of dry beans, soaked overnight, and then I added carrots, celery, onions, a can of diced tomatoes and half a pound of buffalo chicken from the deli that was a bit too spicy for sandwiches. It balanced out the beans perfectly, giving the soup a nice, tasty, bite. Nothing could be better on a cold, snowy day in December. The best part is this is one soup I can re-create for friends. Since usually I use leftovers to make my soups, that's not usually the case.
Today is a relatively light day on the blog. Over at the PMDD blog, I'm doing a series on Relationships, and today I wrote a post on How to Be a Friend to Yourself. So if you have the time, I'd love it if you'd stop by and check it out, as the advice in it applies to all women, not just those of us with PMDD.
The flip side of that is on Marc's blog, 400 Days, I posted a memorandum he wrote on the sorts of behaviors you can expect from a man recently released from prison. When I first read it, I couldn't stop laughing. It's the kind of insider joke that seems hilarious on the surface, but then you realize its because if you don't laugh, you'll cry.
Enjoy, and be blessed.
My new electric stove has arrived and been set up, and yesterday I made an awesome soup with a package of 15 kinds of dry beans, soaked overnight, and then I added carrots, celery, onions, a can of diced tomatoes and half a pound of buffalo chicken from the deli that was a bit too spicy for sandwiches. It balanced out the beans perfectly, giving the soup a nice, tasty, bite. Nothing could be better on a cold, snowy day in December. The best part is this is one soup I can re-create for friends. Since usually I use leftovers to make my soups, that's not usually the case.
Today is a relatively light day on the blog. Over at the PMDD blog, I'm doing a series on Relationships, and today I wrote a post on How to Be a Friend to Yourself. So if you have the time, I'd love it if you'd stop by and check it out, as the advice in it applies to all women, not just those of us with PMDD.
The flip side of that is on Marc's blog, 400 Days, I posted a memorandum he wrote on the sorts of behaviors you can expect from a man recently released from prison. When I first read it, I couldn't stop laughing. It's the kind of insider joke that seems hilarious on the surface, but then you realize its because if you don't laugh, you'll cry.
Enjoy, and be blessed.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Advent Reflection Continues
Advent is concerned with that very connection between memory and hope which is so necessary to man. Advent's intention is to awaken the most profound and basic emotional memory within us, namely, the memory of the God who became a child. This is a healing memory; it brings hope. The purpose of the Church's year is continually to rehearse her great history of memories, to awaken the heart's memory so that it can discern the star of hope.
It is the beautiful task of Advent to awaken in all of us memories of goodness and thus to open doors of hope. ~Pope Benedict XVI, written when he was still a Cardinal, in Seek That Which is Above, 1986
Taking the day to read and reflect. Advent blessings to you all.
It is the beautiful task of Advent to awaken in all of us memories of goodness and thus to open doors of hope. ~Pope Benedict XVI, written when he was still a Cardinal, in Seek That Which is Above, 1986
Taking the day to read and reflect. Advent blessings to you all.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Fridays With Louis - A Mishmash of Things
Holy Cow, it’s after one and I just realized it’s Friday again. Here I was thinking I had nothing pressing to do or write today (for a change), and so I spent the morning leisurely drafting my first holiday letter in two years. Got my first Christmas card and letter yesterday in the mail—and Chocolates (Chocolates!) from a not-so-secret Santa (you know who you are!)--and was overcome with the Christmas spirit and nostalgia for writing my own letter again.
Letter drafted—it won’t go out until after Christmas--I took a break to eat lunch and realized what day it is. Fridays with Louis. How I keep forgetting about that is beyond me.
Probably because there’s nothing out of the ordinary going on to remind me--for which I am extremely grateful, and will not complain, thank you.
Anyway, I got to speak to him twice this week—he also called on Sunday night but spoke with my son, since I’d already bundled off to bed with my hot packs and bronchitis—and he’s doing well. (Didn’t catch my bronchitis after all, lucky devil.)
Not much new going on there…he got a haircut this week and visited the eye doctor for new glasses, and is sore from shoveling snow, but looking forward to more. I don't know anyone who enjoys the snow and cold as much as Louis does.
“Good thing you came to see me when you did,” he said this morning, and I wryly said, “Yeah, good thing I did.”
When I see him again will be determined by the cold and snow.
Anyway, he says my bronchitis still sounds nasty—actually, it still feels nasty—the Crud lives on--and is now trying to figure out the best way to deal with my latest dilemma—how to get rid of the army of ants who have been coming in under the baseboards daily now that the ground is freezing and they’re looking for food and water.
Drop a Cheerio on the floor and they are all over it. The other night my son dropped a piece of lettuce while making the salads, and by the time I was doing the dishes the ants had swarmed it.
Who knew they liked lettuce?
Since I am extremely sensitive to chemicals like pesticides, I’m looking for a natural solution. If anyone has ideas, don’t hesitate to speak up. (I'll even share my chocolates.) I do not want to be sharing space with hoardes of ants all winter.
Other than that, nothing is new, so I will see what I can find in the way of a Letters to Laura excerpt. Oh, here's one. It’s cut and paste from a previous post (but I’m sure nobody reads and remembers all of them), and it has to do with Christmas, and the kind of reflections we’re encouraged to make for Advent.
November 4
Dear Laura,
This may be long. Your letter caught me by surprise. When I felt the thickness of it, I thought it was a bunch of filler again. Wow. I really enjoyed your letter, but more importantly I now know you consider me a friend and that makes me happy.
I’m glad your storm doors are on and your house is completed. You’ll probably have a cozy Christmas.
Christmas is a bad time for me in the hole. Very depressing. Give me a TV and sports and I can hack the holidays. Usually, I’m compulsive about clearing my desk, but this year I’ll leave some stuff to do so I can keep busy over Christmas.
One year I was in the hole in Frackville and there was a mall across the street. I could see it from my window. It drove me nuts with all the Christmas decorations.
Let me ask you something. Why does a nice-looking girl go out with a not-so-good-looking guy? Because women look for signs of love and caring in their men, and men look to the physical first. Most of the time, that’s as far as it goes. They never get beyond the physical, never bother to find out whether the woman is nice on the inside.
Let me tell you a story. I knew this dude in here who re-connected with his first love, after 20 years. They wrote to each other every day. He made 30-minute phone calls to her--this was back when 30-minute phone calls were allowed. He hadn’t seen her in 20 years, and he still saw her as she was back then.
Then she visited him.
He told me he had to make himself smile so he wouldn’t hurt her feelings. He couldn’t deal with the changes in her.
To be honest, I don’t know if I could, either. I’ve never seen a woman age progressively.
If I were to get out and meet a woman, I’d tell her where I’d been for the past 20 years. It wouldn’t be my opening line, but in the course of the first couple of conversations I’d tell her, “Look, before we go any further I want you to know I was in jail.”
She’d either see my sincerity and appreciate it, or say, “See ya later.”
Listen, I’ve written to Coach’s wife twice a week since 1983. She’s very religious. I’ve written to Mrs. O since 1978. She’s very religious, too. They’ve tried all sorts of things to get me to believe in God, and I’ve tried very hard to do it, just to please them. My sister the Mormon preaches at me, too.
But do you know who got through to me about God? YOU!!
Do I believe? Yes!
But I don’t know which God is the real God.
Buddhism has helped me there. Buddha believed in a higher power, but didn’t know or say who God is. At least he hasn’t yet, according to the books I’m reading.
I think the emotional pain I’m feeling these days lies in knowing I messed up my life.
Now I’m praying there’s an afterlife. I want another chance.
Jeez, I must be going through some kind of mid-life crisis.
Well, my friend. . .thanks for listening.
Peace be with you,
Louis
Letter drafted—it won’t go out until after Christmas--I took a break to eat lunch and realized what day it is. Fridays with Louis. How I keep forgetting about that is beyond me.
Probably because there’s nothing out of the ordinary going on to remind me--for which I am extremely grateful, and will not complain, thank you.
Anyway, I got to speak to him twice this week—he also called on Sunday night but spoke with my son, since I’d already bundled off to bed with my hot packs and bronchitis—and he’s doing well. (Didn’t catch my bronchitis after all, lucky devil.)
Not much new going on there…he got a haircut this week and visited the eye doctor for new glasses, and is sore from shoveling snow, but looking forward to more. I don't know anyone who enjoys the snow and cold as much as Louis does.
“Good thing you came to see me when you did,” he said this morning, and I wryly said, “Yeah, good thing I did.”
When I see him again will be determined by the cold and snow.
Anyway, he says my bronchitis still sounds nasty—actually, it still feels nasty—the Crud lives on--and is now trying to figure out the best way to deal with my latest dilemma—how to get rid of the army of ants who have been coming in under the baseboards daily now that the ground is freezing and they’re looking for food and water.
Drop a Cheerio on the floor and they are all over it. The other night my son dropped a piece of lettuce while making the salads, and by the time I was doing the dishes the ants had swarmed it.
Who knew they liked lettuce?
Since I am extremely sensitive to chemicals like pesticides, I’m looking for a natural solution. If anyone has ideas, don’t hesitate to speak up. (I'll even share my chocolates.) I do not want to be sharing space with hoardes of ants all winter.
Other than that, nothing is new, so I will see what I can find in the way of a Letters to Laura excerpt. Oh, here's one. It’s cut and paste from a previous post (but I’m sure nobody reads and remembers all of them), and it has to do with Christmas, and the kind of reflections we’re encouraged to make for Advent.
November 4
Dear Laura,
This may be long. Your letter caught me by surprise. When I felt the thickness of it, I thought it was a bunch of filler again. Wow. I really enjoyed your letter, but more importantly I now know you consider me a friend and that makes me happy.
I’m glad your storm doors are on and your house is completed. You’ll probably have a cozy Christmas.
Christmas is a bad time for me in the hole. Very depressing. Give me a TV and sports and I can hack the holidays. Usually, I’m compulsive about clearing my desk, but this year I’ll leave some stuff to do so I can keep busy over Christmas.
One year I was in the hole in Frackville and there was a mall across the street. I could see it from my window. It drove me nuts with all the Christmas decorations.
Let me ask you something. Why does a nice-looking girl go out with a not-so-good-looking guy? Because women look for signs of love and caring in their men, and men look to the physical first. Most of the time, that’s as far as it goes. They never get beyond the physical, never bother to find out whether the woman is nice on the inside.
Let me tell you a story. I knew this dude in here who re-connected with his first love, after 20 years. They wrote to each other every day. He made 30-minute phone calls to her--this was back when 30-minute phone calls were allowed. He hadn’t seen her in 20 years, and he still saw her as she was back then.
Then she visited him.
He told me he had to make himself smile so he wouldn’t hurt her feelings. He couldn’t deal with the changes in her.
To be honest, I don’t know if I could, either. I’ve never seen a woman age progressively.
If I were to get out and meet a woman, I’d tell her where I’d been for the past 20 years. It wouldn’t be my opening line, but in the course of the first couple of conversations I’d tell her, “Look, before we go any further I want you to know I was in jail.”
She’d either see my sincerity and appreciate it, or say, “See ya later.”
Listen, I’ve written to Coach’s wife twice a week since 1983. She’s very religious. I’ve written to Mrs. O since 1978. She’s very religious, too. They’ve tried all sorts of things to get me to believe in God, and I’ve tried very hard to do it, just to please them. My sister the Mormon preaches at me, too.
But do you know who got through to me about God? YOU!!
Do I believe? Yes!
But I don’t know which God is the real God.
Buddhism has helped me there. Buddha believed in a higher power, but didn’t know or say who God is. At least he hasn’t yet, according to the books I’m reading.
I think the emotional pain I’m feeling these days lies in knowing I messed up my life.
Now I’m praying there’s an afterlife. I want another chance.
Jeez, I must be going through some kind of mid-life crisis.
Well, my friend. . .thanks for listening.
Peace be with you,
Louis
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Advent Reflections
Things are trundling along here, slowly but surely. I’m in the fifth day of antibiotics for my bronchitis and finally feeling somewhat human again, thinking about heading out to the Y for a short walk. As long as I don’t have to talk to anybody, I should be fine. Talking makes me cough, as does eating, so I haven’t felt much like doing either for a while. But darn, this is getting OLD.
Still, it’s Advent and I have much to be thankful for. A warm house, lots of hot soup, books, music, and the cats to keep me company. A computer to write blog posts on, as well as letters and countless other things—like website updates, which are next on my list of things to do as soon as I get a chance.
Speaking of the computer, I would be lost without mine. As part of my Advent reflections, this year I thought I’d spend the next few weeks taking an inventory of my life, reflecting on what I have to be grateful for.
My first candidate is The Internet. Where would I be without it? Certainly not sitting here warm and cozy in my house and not having to deal with bad weather on top of not feeling my best.
A brief rundown of just 20 things looked up or accomplished via the internet recently includes:
A pumpkin pie recipe using fresh pumpkin
Recipes using maple syrup
The weather here and where Louis is
Song lyrics
What books are due at the library
A permission slip for a church event
Videos that made me laugh and videos that made me cry
Assorted medical information
My son’s grades
Blog posts by friends
Wrote and sold an article to a magazine
Received payment for work done
Ordered vitamins
Paid a bill
Renewed a membership
Shared information on PMDD
Made plans with and/or kept in touch with friends
Announced a church social event I am organizing
Passed on a prayer request from a friend
Exchanged manuscripts with a friend
No wonder my days are booked solid, with a choice of at least four things to do at any given moment. I do, however, turn off the computer each evening, to spend some time either watching DVDs with my son or reading. But before that, it’s usually on for 8-12 hours a day, depending on how many errands I have to run that day or if I’m off to the Y. That may sound like a lot of computer time, and it is, but all I can think about is the amount of time I’d spend running around to do the same amount of work. Mailing, calling, dropping things off and picking things up.
It would take days. And most of it wouldn’t even get done. It wouldn’t be worth the effort.
Hmmmm…I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
Off to do some more reflecting :)
Still, it’s Advent and I have much to be thankful for. A warm house, lots of hot soup, books, music, and the cats to keep me company. A computer to write blog posts on, as well as letters and countless other things—like website updates, which are next on my list of things to do as soon as I get a chance.
Speaking of the computer, I would be lost without mine. As part of my Advent reflections, this year I thought I’d spend the next few weeks taking an inventory of my life, reflecting on what I have to be grateful for.
My first candidate is The Internet. Where would I be without it? Certainly not sitting here warm and cozy in my house and not having to deal with bad weather on top of not feeling my best.
A brief rundown of just 20 things looked up or accomplished via the internet recently includes:
A pumpkin pie recipe using fresh pumpkin
Recipes using maple syrup
The weather here and where Louis is
Song lyrics
What books are due at the library
A permission slip for a church event
Videos that made me laugh and videos that made me cry
Assorted medical information
My son’s grades
Blog posts by friends
Wrote and sold an article to a magazine
Received payment for work done
Ordered vitamins
Paid a bill
Renewed a membership
Shared information on PMDD
Made plans with and/or kept in touch with friends
Announced a church social event I am organizing
Passed on a prayer request from a friend
Exchanged manuscripts with a friend
No wonder my days are booked solid, with a choice of at least four things to do at any given moment. I do, however, turn off the computer each evening, to spend some time either watching DVDs with my son or reading. But before that, it’s usually on for 8-12 hours a day, depending on how many errands I have to run that day or if I’m off to the Y. That may sound like a lot of computer time, and it is, but all I can think about is the amount of time I’d spend running around to do the same amount of work. Mailing, calling, dropping things off and picking things up.
It would take days. And most of it wouldn’t even get done. It wouldn’t be worth the effort.
Hmmmm…I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
Off to do some more reflecting :)
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Advent Begins - The Feast of St. Nicholas
I move to the beat of a different drummer, in that I celebrate Advent. I don't celebrate Christmas until Christmas comes. So I'm not part of the shopping frenzy, I don't decorate, and I don't bake. I'll put up the tree on Christmas Eve. I send my Christmas cards (if I do them at all) out after the 25th. I tend to avoid Christmas parties, but do attend shows and concerts of Christmas music.
But overall, this is a very quiet time of year for me, a time of waiting and reflection. Last year my Advent reflection produced my soup for the homeless project, which is something I've continued to do. I now have a friend helping me with it, and that makes it so much more fun. We get together every 4-6 weeks and make either soup or a casserole, and some kind of dessert, then drop it off at the homeless shelter.
On Friday we dropped off three gallons of homemade minestrone soup, and enough Christmas cookies for 24 men.
Tomorrow, December 6, is the Feast of St. Nicholas, so I've pulled this quote from a site with quotes about Advent and Christmas.
A St. Nicholas’ Note . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Edward Hays, A Pilgrim’s Almanac (adapted)
"It is fitting that the feast of St. Nicholas comes at the beginning of Advent and the beginning of the shopper’s season. As the patron saint of shoppers he proclaims, ‘Keep it simple!’ Keep it simple enough to fit in a shoe or a stocking.
"One gift that could fit in a…shoe, or in a stocking hanging on the fireplace, is a note that speaks of one of our most precious gifts, the gift of time. Such a St. Nicholas note might read: ‘The gift I give to you is half an hour of quality conversation each night right after the dishes are done.’ Or, ‘The gift I give to you is one Saturday a month to be with you and do whatever you want to do.’ We can appreciate the value of such a gift if we keep in mind that according to a recent survey, the average married couple in America has only 30 minutes a week of communication outside of exchanges that take place at the dinner table, and between parent and child is only 14 minutes. As you can see, the possibilities are almost unlimited for these St. Nicholas shoe gifts.
"Come, St. Nicholas, patron of shoppers and gift-seekers, and make Christmas this year fun, creative and love-filled."
Reading the above, I am extremely grateful that my son and I spend more than 14 minutes a week talking. And, according to this, I talk to Louis more minutes a week than the average married couple communicates.
How can this be?
It's something to reflect on in the coming week, as we continue to open the little doors of our Advent calender, one by one.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Busy Day - Catching Up
The snow we were expecting last week has finally arrived, and I've got a busy day going. After three weeks of coughing and hacking, I'm finally going to see the doctor about this crud that just won't go away. Seems no amount of hot packs and fluids and vitamin C will do the trick this time. I made soup for the homeless shelter this morning for the first time in six months, due to 1) not being able to lift the pot while my shoulder was bad and 2) making other things besides soup during the summer months. Got a nice big pot of Minestrone going, and it smells heavenly, especially with the snow falling outside.
A friend from my faith sharing group made Christmas cookies, and brought a huge tray of them over, so we're meeting up after my doctor's appointment to deliver the soup and cookies. So....no time to post today. Louis is fine, spoke with him this morning, and now he's got a sore throat, cough and drainage, and of course, blames me and my surprise visit over the weekend :)
Aren't friends wonderful? Especially for sharing the good, and the not so good :).
Blessings to you all, and if it's snowing where you are, be grateful you have a home, stay warm and safe, and may you have a weekend filled with your favorite things and people.
A friend from my faith sharing group made Christmas cookies, and brought a huge tray of them over, so we're meeting up after my doctor's appointment to deliver the soup and cookies. So....no time to post today. Louis is fine, spoke with him this morning, and now he's got a sore throat, cough and drainage, and of course, blames me and my surprise visit over the weekend :)
Aren't friends wonderful? Especially for sharing the good, and the not so good :).
Blessings to you all, and if it's snowing where you are, be grateful you have a home, stay warm and safe, and may you have a weekend filled with your favorite things and people.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Guest Author, Stephanie Burkhart
Today's guest is Stephanie Burkhart, multi-talented and prolific author of too many genres to count! She also blogs like the wind, and is everywhere. But to catch her at home, stop by her blog, Romance Under the Moonlight, where she writes about whatever strikes her fancy. I myself was fascinated by her informational series of blogs on The Tudor Dynasty.
Last, but not least, Steph reviews books for EzineArticles.com. How she finds time to read and review books, in addition to writing so many--she has six coming out next year--just boggles my mind. She also has an adorable family that keeps her quite busy when she's not at work.
Steph has been here before, as a romance author and children's book author. Today she'd like to tell us a little about her Christmas novella from Victory Tales Press. Welcome back, Steph!
I'd like to thank Liana for having me on the blog and allowing me to visit today. Just a little about me: I was born and raised in Manchester, NH. When I was 18, this New England Patriot fan joined the US Army for a great adventure and spent 7 years overseas in Germany. I met a fair-haired California boy and we were married in Denmark in 1991. Little odd fact: I was stationed in Muenster, Germany in 1987 when Pope John Paul II visited that city.. Now, the adventure over, I work for LAPD as a 911 Operator.
My short story, "Christmas in Bayeux," is included in A Christmas Collection, Stimulating by Victory Tales Press. I'd heard only good things about VTP and they were looking for stories for their Christmas anthologies. I sent Becky an email – can you have me? Becky said 'sure,' and I was on board to write a story.
Now I had to decide what type of story I wanted to write. I hadn't written a contemporary for quite some time. I'm a big fan of Mona Risk's international contemporaries so I said to myself, I'd like to write international contemporaries and with my experiences I felt confident enough to do so.
Manchester, NH is the second largest French speaking city in the US and I took 3 years high school French. I love the language and in my studies, I grew to love the nation. France was the perfect setting for my story. I've been to Paris several times. I also visited Lembach, France in 1988 and that experience has been with me throughout the years. My experiences in Lembach made their way into the story.
Lembach is a small town in the Alsace-Lorraine region of France just over the German/French border. I was dispatched along with a fellow soldier, Private East to pick up a squad of soldiers in Pirmasens, Germany. East and I took a detour and ended up in Lembach.
Needless to say, we were an odd sight, walking around the town in our US Army military uniforms. The locals stared at us – hard. As we walked around the small town square an older man approached us. He spoke no English. I had my "French for Travelers" guide and my pronunciation was decent so I engaged him. He enthusiastically shook our hands. "Américains?" "Oui," I answered. He proceeded to thank East and I not only for our service, but also for the service of our grandfathers who liberated France from Germany.
It was a moving experience that humbled both of us.
It was lunchtime and East and I went to the local café for lunch. With my trusty "French for Travelers," I ordered our food – salad and sandwiches. We were quite the attraction in the café. Patrons stared at us. In fact, several of them approached us while we ate and thanked us. Before we left, the manager came to us. He told us our meal was free.
East and I wouldn't have it. We had francs for the occasion. Between the manager's English and my French, I learned the residents of the town loved Americans. In World War II, we had indeed liberated them from Germany's occupation. We were still heroes to them – 40 years later.
East and I were truly humbled by how the town embraced us. As we made our way back to our military van, we thanked God for this rare opportunity to visit France.
This experience found it's way into my story. Enjoy the excerpt:
She pushed two wooden double doors open and they walked into a wide open-spaced entrance hall. "Is this a museum?"
"Oui. It houses our best known prize – the Bayeux Tapestry."
"What is that?" His voice was laced in curiosity.
"Dix Euros," said the clerk. He was in his mid-thirties and wore a blue uniform.
Aiden put his hand over Noel's hand as she reached for her purse. "I'll get it."
"Vous êtes Américain?"
"Oui," said Aiden.
The clerk held out his hand. Aiden slowly took it, surprised by the gesture. What was he doing?
"Américains we like. World War II, yes? Merci – thank you," the clerk said in halting English.
Aiden was stunned. Noel said this occurred, but he didn't think it would happen to him.
"De Rein. Thank you, sir."
"Non, Monsieur, merci. Keep your money."
"Oh, I insist."
"Oui, thank you, merci."
Noel smiled at the clerk, thread her arm through Aiden's, and they walked into the museum. There were a few people milling about in the halls, but it wasn't as busy as he thought it would be. Maybe everyone was at the Christmas markets.
He paused before they got far. "You said—"
She gave him an easy smile. "You handled that well."
BLURB: Aiden Seward is an Iraq war vet who has gone to the Beaches of Normandy to heal his wounded heart. Noel Rousseau was the girl he knew as an exchange student years ago. Can Noel help heal the ache in Aiden's heart?
Buy Links:
Amazon: (print) http://www.amazon.com/Christmas-Collection-Anthology-Stimulating/dp/1456304410/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1289273692&sr=8-1
Ebook, Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/29148
Create Space, Print book: https://www.createspace.com/3494425
Victory Tales Press: http://victorytalespress.yolasite.com/online-store.php
Check out the Story Teaser on You Tube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-muZ0dhOvSE
Goodie Time: Leave me a post and I'll pick out two winners to receive an autographed postcard of the cover. Tell me your favorite Christmas story and I'll pick a winner to receive a print copy of the Anthology. I'll come back on 02 DEC to pick the winners.
My short story, "Christmas in Bayeux," is included in A Christmas Collection, Stimulating by Victory Tales Press. I'd heard only good things about VTP and they were looking for stories for their Christmas anthologies. I sent Becky an email – can you have me? Becky said 'sure,' and I was on board to write a story.
Now I had to decide what type of story I wanted to write. I hadn't written a contemporary for quite some time. I'm a big fan of Mona Risk's international contemporaries so I said to myself, I'd like to write international contemporaries and with my experiences I felt confident enough to do so.
Manchester, NH is the second largest French speaking city in the US and I took 3 years high school French. I love the language and in my studies, I grew to love the nation. France was the perfect setting for my story. I've been to Paris several times. I also visited Lembach, France in 1988 and that experience has been with me throughout the years. My experiences in Lembach made their way into the story.
Lembach is a small town in the Alsace-Lorraine region of France just over the German/French border. I was dispatched along with a fellow soldier, Private East to pick up a squad of soldiers in Pirmasens, Germany. East and I took a detour and ended up in Lembach.
Needless to say, we were an odd sight, walking around the town in our US Army military uniforms. The locals stared at us – hard. As we walked around the small town square an older man approached us. He spoke no English. I had my "French for Travelers" guide and my pronunciation was decent so I engaged him. He enthusiastically shook our hands. "Américains?" "Oui," I answered. He proceeded to thank East and I not only for our service, but also for the service of our grandfathers who liberated France from Germany.
It was a moving experience that humbled both of us.
It was lunchtime and East and I went to the local café for lunch. With my trusty "French for Travelers," I ordered our food – salad and sandwiches. We were quite the attraction in the café. Patrons stared at us. In fact, several of them approached us while we ate and thanked us. Before we left, the manager came to us. He told us our meal was free.
East and I wouldn't have it. We had francs for the occasion. Between the manager's English and my French, I learned the residents of the town loved Americans. In World War II, we had indeed liberated them from Germany's occupation. We were still heroes to them – 40 years later.
East and I were truly humbled by how the town embraced us. As we made our way back to our military van, we thanked God for this rare opportunity to visit France.
This experience found it's way into my story. Enjoy the excerpt:
She pushed two wooden double doors open and they walked into a wide open-spaced entrance hall. "Is this a museum?"
"Oui. It houses our best known prize – the Bayeux Tapestry."
"What is that?" His voice was laced in curiosity.
"Dix Euros," said the clerk. He was in his mid-thirties and wore a blue uniform.
Aiden put his hand over Noel's hand as she reached for her purse. "I'll get it."
"Vous êtes Américain?"
"Oui," said Aiden.
The clerk held out his hand. Aiden slowly took it, surprised by the gesture. What was he doing?
"Américains we like. World War II, yes? Merci – thank you," the clerk said in halting English.
Aiden was stunned. Noel said this occurred, but he didn't think it would happen to him.
"De Rein. Thank you, sir."
"Non, Monsieur, merci. Keep your money."
"Oh, I insist."
"Oui, thank you, merci."
Noel smiled at the clerk, thread her arm through Aiden's, and they walked into the museum. There were a few people milling about in the halls, but it wasn't as busy as he thought it would be. Maybe everyone was at the Christmas markets.
He paused before they got far. "You said—"
She gave him an easy smile. "You handled that well."
BLURB: Aiden Seward is an Iraq war vet who has gone to the Beaches of Normandy to heal his wounded heart. Noel Rousseau was the girl he knew as an exchange student years ago. Can Noel help heal the ache in Aiden's heart?
Buy Links:
Amazon: (print) http://www.amazon.com/Christmas-Collection-Anthology-Stimulating/dp/1456304410/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1289273692&sr=8-1
Ebook, Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/29148
Create Space, Print book: https://www.createspace.com/3494425
Victory Tales Press: http://victorytalespress.yolasite.com/online-store.php
Check out the Story Teaser on You Tube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-muZ0dhOvSE
Goodie Time: Leave me a post and I'll pick out two winners to receive an autographed postcard of the cover. Tell me your favorite Christmas story and I'll pick a winner to receive a print copy of the Anthology. I'll come back on 02 DEC to pick the winners.
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