In Your Face....

Was working on getting a blog ready to post about the aftermath of the recent election (now that the dust has settled a bit), and suddenly, for no reason, began to think of a phrase that I hardly ever use .. but have been hearing quite a bit in the past few days.  I am torn between the underlying joy of revenge that it conveys and the sort of budding nasty that goes along with it.  

After living under the icky blanket of the woke for the past eight years -- if not longer, it is wonderful to see that common sense is no longer taking a back seat. It is a cultural shift... one that even mainstream Democrats appear to be embracing... and there are a lot of them...obviously.  Good for them.  They are no longer allowing the far left to hijack their political party. The recent election was, in part, a cleansing... a washing away. 

So it is with thought, but somewhat mixed emotions that I say to lying, virtue signaling, elite democrats who have been knocked off your perches:  "In your face!".  Let's see how gracious you can be when you don't get your own way.  Quite frankly, I don't think you will do well. Some evidence indicates otherwise.  Surprise me.  I am willing to meet you halfway ... and that is something you never offered me.  Just sayin'. 

Everyone knows...

Struggling to prepare a blog to post ... my usual Thursday contribution to blog readers across the world is just not coming to mind this week. Plus it is a delayed start.  I usually have at least two written and ready to go.  Not sure why I am so behind.  And then this morning I wake up to see that a red tsunami has swept the country and I am, quite frankly a bit caught up in distracting happiness and hope.  These past few years have been a bit difficult ...  a long practice of patience and a continuing struggle for tolerance. Some people have been mean and I didn't understand or expect that. It was a major disappointment that still rankles more than I would like it to.  And now -- I feel like I can start to breathe again. I am not alone. Others have been in touch.

My sympathies to all who are feeling the opposite. Boohoo.  Trust me ... you will survive. There are very few who will feel sorry for you though.  Some might even say "turn about is fair play".  Be prepared. The only thing is that we of the red tsunami will be nicer about it all the way around. We won't call you deplorable, irredeemable, garbage or fascist.  We won't threaten to send you to a reeducation camp. (Think about that one for a moment.) We won't take your jobs or try to cancel you. We will respect your right to have your own opinions. We know not to expect a mea culpa... ever.  We will let you live in peace. We might even be a friend.  Stranger things have happened.

However... in thinking about both sides of this political situation, there is one phrase I hope to never ever hear again.  What is that, you ask? It is the phrase... "everyone knows..."  That is simply not true.  Everyone does not know and if they do, I would like to know what it is they know, who they are, and how they know. 

Further -- I never met anyone who knows everything about anything or everyone. Is knowing everything a part of the whole everyone knows "thing"?  Must be nice to be that person.  Or -- maybe not. Who is this "everyone"? What is it that they know?  Why don't I know it?  Or more correctly... Who are they?  And ... if they do exist ... I have one thing to say, and that is for the second time in this teeny paragraph ...  "Must be nice"!

Time to move forward.  Everyone knows that, right?

I will find my own way to the door now.  Thanks for reading.

 

   

Let's get this over with...

Election day is looming. Five days and counting.... Are you sick of the politics yet? Let's get this over with and move forward.  Just vote, if you haven't already, and know that you are part of the process and move on. 

We are Americans all.  We are known to be resourceful, determined, independent, and strong.  We can do this. Together we can survive almost anything.  If you doubt that, just look back over the past few months/years.  

Vote. Let your voice be heard.  Sometimes actions speak louder than words. Getting to the polls and voting are actions. Pray for an honest election. Vote and know that you tried to be a part of the American way in the manner it was meant to be. Hopefully disappointed people will not feel the need to throw a lengthy and destructive temper tantrum, call people who disagree with them mean names, or think they are entitled to burn stuff down if they don't get their own way. 

I just wish we could know the results the same day.  Ah... the good olde days. 

One last thought to consider.... 

Let's clean house. Let's put politics back on the high shelf for a while. 

                         Let's "Make America Great Again!"  

Is it a Boomer "thing"?

Sometimes I wonder if I am speaking the same language as my children and grandchildren and then figure that, even if we aren't on the same wave length sometimes, we manage to communicate somehow. Remember the "generation gap"?  Well this is the generation gap times two. I am speaking primarily to Boomers now in this particular blog, although ...  younger generations might find it amusing. I do know that I do and say things that amuse the younger generations in my family. They may not know that I know this, but I do. (I find it amusing.)

Okay fellow Boomers...  Remember what caps are/were and how they smell(ed)? Not sure the grands would even know what a cap is.  When you think about it -- we didn't even allow our children or grandchildren to play with those red strips of paper loaded with small dabs of unstable explosives. You could even set them off by banging them with a pointy rock. Think about that for a moment. (I confess, however, that I have provided poppers for two younger generations on the occasional 4th of July. Poppers are not the same as a good strip of caps though -- no matter how similar they smell.) I still have my cap gun, by the way.

Then there is the tendency that I, (and other Boomers?), have to send an email and then text that I have sent an email... just so my bases are covered.  Even my grandkids are very kind about my uncontrollable need to do this.  I figure that they figure that is just the way I am.  I am okay with that. I am proud of how tolerant they are -- like I had something to do with that.  Seriously though -- my  kids and grands do not always check their email. They are busy. They will always get to a text at some point. I don't think I am too off base on this one. Plus there are things that only an email will handle properly. Right? Texting is not the be-all and end-all mode of communication. I mean, really, I still write letters to people.  In contrast though -- I hardly ever answer my landline which I keep for emergencies. Landline? Yes, I am that old.

Now -- as far a pop culture is concerned.  Who cares, right?  Would a Boomer recognize Taylor Swift  --  even if she were in front of one of them in a check-out line?  Doubt it. I wouldn't. I am surprised I even know her name. Now if it were Elvis, that would be another story. (I saw him perform once in Las Vegas. Hmmm... that was over 50 years ago... yikes!)

Anyway...  here are a few other things that I have noticed about Boomers that may not translate across the years. We tend

    - to like puns, memes, and bad dad jokes. 

    - to ignore or even dislike QR codes and to boycott self-check out.

    - to love printed receipts and to print things and save them in files. 

    - to enjoy thinking about/mentioning old times.

    - to talk about being survivors... because we are...  so far.

Seriously -- am I alone in this, or are each of these really a Boomer thing? Bet you could add to the list -- if you had time to give it some thought.  Boomers are busy people. I get that. Some of us wonder how  we ever had time to work... and then we laugh ... at least inside our heads.  

       

Watch for the deer....

Years ago when, as a teacher, I was sending high school Seniors off into the world, I would tell them that #1, when going through day-to-day life, is "to trust your gut".  I also told them not to drink the punch at parties and to be cautious of accepting any kind of drink or food ... but that is a whole other area of concern.

Then just last week my son and my daughter-in-law were heading from Indiana into the post-hurricane mountains of Tennessee, and I found myself texting -- Watch for the deer! (I also told them not to pet the bears - or fuzzy dogs as the sign in their cabin reads.) Anyway --  I realized, once again, that I always say that to my kids -- even now that they are grown-up, extraordinarily competent adults.  I stand on my kitchen porch, waving goodbye and yelling "Watch for the deer!". I am compelled to say/yell this.  Every. Single. Time. They don't seem to mind.  They know it means "I love you!" (and that they are the most precious part of my life).

Then again... "Watch for the deer!", in northwest Pennsylvania is good advice taken literally as well -- especially during hunting season when the deer are being herded from place to place by the flame orange people.  But back to the main point - as a phrase - I think it is much like "drive carefully", "sleep well", "put your feet up at the end of a long day", "take care", "I am here if you need anything", or "let me know how it goes".  They all mean the same thing.  It's very simple really.  They all mean "I love you!".  Even grown-up kids should be reminded of that. Everyone should be. Words can be hugs. Everyone needs a word hug once in a while.  

Treasure Hunt

Always on the lookout for word treasures ... I ran across one posted on Facebook by a neighbor of mine that I simply want to share with you.  Unfortunately it is an anonymous word treasure.  Oh how I wish I could have lunch with the person who wrote it.  It seems especially poignant in these times. So many people going through so many difficult challenges.

"When life breaks you, it is because you are ready to be put back together differently. Every piece of you that  feels shattered is a piece that will find a new place, a new purpose, a new meaning.  Trust that the cracks are where the light gets in. And sometimes, in our brokenness, we find our greatest wholeness.

We find the courage to rebuild, to reimagine, to redefine what it means to be strong.

You are not broken; you are breaking through."  (Unknown)

There are an untold number of ways that this might speak to you. I know that, and so do you. We all have our own stories, our bag of rocks ... as my Mom used to say.  Right now, in light of what all is going on in our country weather and ... otherwise, I find this treasure of words comforting. Hope you do as well. 

May we all find our "greatest wholeness". 

Shoes off ...

Saw a photo recently of Kindergartners napping.  The photo had been taken in the '50's, and it got me thinking about those days long ago.  I never napped in Kindergarten because the one I attended at Battles Memorial School in Girard, Pennsylvania was only half a day long so I napped when I got home. However ... I do remember one beloved elementary school teacher at my next school who had a story time after lunch every day when she would read to us, and... we were allowed to lay our heads down on our desks if we wanted.  I don't think I ever fell asleep.  It was a wonderful time of the day. My favorite. 

Now here's the thing.  This gentle soul of a teacher made a bonding and calming production out of the whole experience... starting with removing her shoes and lining them up carefully off to the side in front of her.  She would always whisper that she hoped the Principal didn't drop in to find her without her shoes.  This, of course, make this special reading time even more wonderful. She made it a conspiratorial time just between her and us. I loved it.  

Now here is my hope... that someone out there will remember her name. I remember that she was "old" so ... that probably would have made her around 30 to 40 at that time. (I was 8.) This was at the Wright Street School in Corry, Pennsylvania. It would have been around 1957. Perhaps her name was Mrs. Porter?  She deserves to be remembered by name -- right up there on the list with the First Grade teacher there who let you borrow books to take home to read even if you were not or never had been her student. Miss? She would wrap each book carefully in sturdy brown paper and tie the treasured parcel with string -- the book became a cherished item worthy of gentle and serious care.  I can't remember her name either and am not feeling good about that.  Both schools are gone now. I am quite sure that both of these wonderful teachers are gone too.  Their names should not be. Help?