Sunday, July 4, 2010

Celebrate America!

As hubby & I were enjoying breakfast at dawn this morning, I remarked that we were having "classic Fourth of July weather." The early sun was shining through a light haze, and we knew that we'd be conceding the day to Mother Nature and closing our windows within an hour or so and seeking refuge in our air-conditioned cocoon for most of the day.

First, though, there were errands to run, so off we went. Before breakfast, I hung our flag out in front of the house, continuing a routine instilled in my by my Dad, a WWII vet. When I was a little girl, I remember accompanying him at the break of dawn every patriotic holiday to display the flag from our porch railing. Each year, he'd impart a bit of flag lore. "We need to wait a few minutes, honey. The sun's not up quite yet. AND we need to be sure to bring it inside at sunset, since we don't have a way to light it," he'd say. Or (the most disapointing of all) "We can't put it out, honey. It shouldn't be flown in bad weather" (he called it "bad weather" because I was too young to understand the meaning of "inclement". And I remember being bitterly disappointed the year that he found that our flag was faded and had a tear in it that almost wasn't visible. "Sorry, honey, we'll have to wait until the store opens to get a new one. You shouldn't fly a damaged flag."

That ritual continued throughout my girlhood... Memorial Day, Flag Day, Labor Day, but most importantly, on Independence Day and it forged one of the most special, deeply-ingrained bonds with my Dad. I thought of him this morning as I hung our flag just after sunrise, smiled to myself, and thanked him once again for teaching me love of flag and country, almost from the time I could first walk.

But I digress... back to our errands. As we drove slowly through our subdivision, I began to count the number of flags being displayed along our route. Sadly, I could count them on the fingers of one hand.

Is this any way to celebrate the birth of the greatest country in the world, imperfect though she (and each of us) may be? What has happened to our national pride? How are children learning the important lessons of citizenship, if not at their parents' knee? Has Independence Day become just an excuse for another round of cook-outs or getaways to break up a long, hot summer? How many of us (especially those under 30 years old) really stop to reflect on the significance of the date and the celebration?

Not enough, I fear.

If you have children, or grandchildren, teach them how to respect the flag (and if you don't know how yourself, then learn! - any VFW post can help with a pamphlet.... or just Google "flag etiquettte", for gosh sakes!) Remind them, as they shoot off or oooh and aaah over fireworks, that those beautiful patterns in the night sky are a reminder of all the sacrifices made by so many throughout our history, but especially at the time of its birth.

And above all, please try to find a way to give America a combination birthday and thank-you gift for all that she's given you... visit a veterans' hospital, thank a soldier, volunteer to work on a Habitat house or at your local animal shelter for a few hours. There are so many possibilities that there's "something for everyone".

America may be going through a "bad patch" right now, uncertain and politically divided, but maybe if every single citizen found a way to say thank you to their country on this day, we could start to heal the tatters in the flag and everything Old Glory represents.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Candles in the Wind

I should probably buy stock in Yankeee Candle company. So many beguiling scents to choose among! Will it be Storm Watch, or Sage and Citrus, or Beach Walk or...?? The choices seem endless, and each one evokes memories of things experienced or of places that exist only in my mind which are no less "real"... a meadow I'd love to walk in (if I weren't allergic to bees!), a full moonrise in early October cutting & burning brush with the neighbors... simply put, places I've been and wish I could be again.

Lately, though, I've lit far too many candles. You see, I'm a dog lover and a dogmom who's getting close to the point of being able to say that I've loved and lost more dogs than I can remember in my over 60 years. (Yeah, the memory starts failing just a little at my age, and the roll call takes a bit more effort to recite.) Over the last decade-and-a-half, thanks to the wonders of technology, I've come to know many others like myself, along with their dogs. I've vicariously shared the joys of puppyhood, the exhilaration of seeing a dog succeed in the show ring or in field exercises and agility events, or just in watching them grow into cherished family pets with personalities and quirks as unique as their owners'. After years of sharing stories, you come to feel almost as though each dog is (or could be) one of your own.

And then the end comes. Too often, it's cancer, or sometimes it's a sudden and unpreventable accident. Sometimes it's simply time taking its toll. Yet each of these losses is somehow a tiny bit mine, despite the fact that I've never met the dog or its family. I grieve the losses almost as if they were my own.

But how do you begin to express sympathy with words in an e-mail? They've all been written so often that whatever you write seems scripted, and echoes of empathy bounce off the corridors of cyberspace. Simply put... words fail.

And so, I light a candle... for Cruiser, for Edgar, and for so many others taken too soon from the ones who love them. I try to find peace in offering up a tiny spark to light the heavens as these wonderful souls find their way to the Place where they will Wait, watching over those they loved and waiting to be reunited, young and free, forever.

I only wish I didn't have to visit Yankee Candle quite so often....

Thursday, May 27, 2010

HELP! I've Fogotten How to Juggle!!!

Before I left the working world for the world of "homemakerhood" I worked as Production Manager in a busy printing and graphics company. The requirements of the job could be boiled down to allocating manpower, equipment and materials in such a way that a host of jobs of all kinds would be completed on time, on budget, and in full accordance with the jobs' requirements. On paper, it seems pretty simple, until two employees call in sick, or the paper for the wedding announcement isn't delivered or a press breaks down. Then of course, there were also the customers who'd make major changes to a job but still expect - no, DEMAND - that the job be delivered by the original deadline.

Coping with constant changes, interruptions and unexpected complications of all sorts (while smiling and remaining civil to both the customers, co-workers, vendors and the boss) was a part of the daily routine. On many occasions, especially on Frenzied Fridays, I felt like the star juggler in some wacky three-ring circus. Still, it was immensely satisfying in a lot of ways, even if it did encourage the "control freak" spirit that's always been a big part of who I am.

But all that was nearly twenty years ago now. Dave and I are by nature happiest when we're at home, living quietly with our dogs, our books, our hobbies and each other's company. When we entertain guests, it's usuallly only one or two at a time.

So here I sit on the verge of the Memorial Day weekend. We've enlisted friends to help us do some long overdue yard work, tearing out all manner of overgrown "stuff", tilling and tidying neglected areas - you get the picture. This will, of course, involve feeding eight or so people AT THE SAME TIME! When was the last time I did that, anyway? Must have been back in our ballooning days, and then we usually paid for the meals in a pizza joint or Mexican restaurant rather than cooking for our crew.

And then there's the matter of tidying up the house. Maybe I can get away with unearthing just the living room, kitchen and bath? YES! CLOSE ALL THE OTHER DOORS!

Oh, how could I forget that I need to get to the bank tomorrow to deal with some of my Mom's affairs related to applying for Medicaid? (But that's meat for another post another time.)

Of course, before any of this can get started, I have to figure out what needs to be done or procured before the event. Ever notice how good you feel after making a lovely list, and how hard it is to actually start DOING things so you can cross them off? That's about where I am at this point. I have THREE lovely lists, neatly prioritized and ready to be tackled. Just one small problem... I only have two hands and about twenty-seven balls to keep in the air in the next couple days.

It's been a long time since my juggling days. Oh heck, a little bit of dog hair in the potato salad never hurt anybody. I think I'll take a nap!

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Summer - Then and Now

I'm sitting here at 8:30 a.m., windows open, listening to the birds on what promises to be a fine early summer day. The sun is beaming through a thin layer of early haze and the day carries the promise of hot & muggy by afternoon. Odd, though... something's missing. Oh, that's right! I don't hear any children roaring up & down the street on their bikes or chanting jump-rope rhymes or shrieking their way through a game of tag.

On mornings like this I remember rushing through breakfast so I could run down the street to the house where "The Twins", Patty & Debbie Cramer lived. We were an inseparable threesome through most of my childhood. Our summer days started early - usually by 7:30 or so when our fathers went off to work. We'd occupy ourselvs with the sorts of activities that a lot of kids today wouldn't even have heard of. How often do you see little girls chalking the sidewalk for a game of hopscotch these days? (They'd probably get detained by the Homeowners Association if they tried it here!). There were "make pretend" games that would go on for days as we made up storylines for the characters each of us chose to "be". We'd play frenzied games of kick-ball in the quiet street where we all lived.

By lunchtime, we'd be ready for a break in whatever we'd been occupied with, have lunch (usually together "catered" by my mom or Mrs. Cramer) and be right back outside, splashing & laughing together in the Cramers' kiddie pool, or doing one craft or another until suppertime. And after dinner, we'd be out & about until dusk. Just as the streetlights came on, all the moms in the neighborhood would be out on their porches calling the little lambs home for a bath and then to bed. At the end of a typical summer day, we were tired and slept soundly on sheets that carried the fresh smell that only line-drying can impart.

I wonder if there are still neighborhoods like that. I know there must be, but I can't remember the last time I saw one. It seems as if children have lost the desire or the ability or the freedom to just be kids and play in a non-structured environment. Our pick-up kick-ball games have translated into soccer leagues, too often with parental supervision that doesn't set a very good example when it comes to teaching kids about cooperation and sportsmanship. The "make believe" games where we were the authors and the actors let us open wide our imaginations. Those games have been replaced by computer games that are for the most part solitary and sedentary and violent.

On mornings like this, when the only sounds I hear in the neighborhood are my feathered neighbors and an occasional car passing, I really miss hearing children at play, and I can't help but feel a little sorry for them. They're missing out on so many of summer's simple, spontaneous joys.

"A - my name is Alice and my husband's name is Art and we live in Albuquerque and we sell Artichokes! B - my name is Bertha and my husband's name is Bob...."

Teach some child in your life a jump-rope rhyme. Defy your neighbors' sensibilities and chalk the sidewalk for hopscotch. Play ball or go on a "nature hike" through the neighborhood looking for butterflies, feathers, or a variety of leaves. You'll start seeing the "little things" again, and maybe even feel a little younger yourself! Let's all try to bring back a little taste of "the good old days".

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Time Flies When You're (Not) Having Fun

Over a year ago, I made a first stab at blogging, the novelty of which quickly wore off. After all, what makes me think anyone would bother with the ramblings of a 60-yr. old Dogmom who longs for a return to the "good old days" and spends too much time in dark mutterings & ruminations on the state of the world as we know it?

And so I abandoned the nascent blog and discovered.... (ta-da!) Facebook and as a result became addicted to avoiding the real world of penny-pinching in the current economy, a winter's gray skies and the roller coaster that is Indiana weather. Instead, I took up residence in a place where it was always sunny and 70 degrees Fahrenheit - FARMVILLE! There, I've become a multi-millionaire! Three cheers for virtual reality! Now if only I could figure out a way to do it in real life.

For good or for ill, a dear friend convinced me to return to a slightly more real world (at least for brief visits). And so I find myself once again in this little corner of cyberspace (GAWD, I hate that word), where I can share my pearls of wisdom, dark Eeyore-ish thoughts or just plain "stuff" & get it off my chest. (I think the encouragement offered had something to do with said friend being tired of listening to me LOL!).

So here I sit, finding it almost impossible to believe that more than full year has passed since I last wrote... a difficult and stressful one if truth be told. It's been a year of hubby working away from home, and trying to maintain our house and his apartment on one salary, while ALSO trying to keep our sanity by finding money under the sofa cushions to buy pizza once a month... a year of trying to make sure Dhugal, our Golden Retriever, isn't outside at the same time as Lexie, our neighbor's border collie (they get WAY too talkative and we're trying not to run afoul of the AHA (Almighty Homeowners Association); a year of watching my mom linger in the shadow that is Alzheimer's, and yet another year of worrying to the point of billiousness over the threat of tornadoes (even if we're two states away from the nearest watch box!). Definitely not a fun year, but one that has passed in an eye-blink. Somewhere in all that "ordinary little life" angst are a few stories - some are maybe even worth telling - so here I am again. Stay tuned.