Focus... Focus... Focus...

 

For quite a while now, I have been doing a bit of thinking about what is wrong with people. I am talking here mostly about the latest phenomena of airline in-flight brawls, general rudeness and impatience with store clerks and servers, etc.  Ugly. I have come to the conclusion that – at least in part – many have reached their breaking point with high levels of frustration generated by a complex combination of things like job stress, family stress, insane, power hungry, controlling, politicians, etc.  You know, the whole going to hell in a handbasket thing.  The feelings of helplessness are the worst. Then – I think people sometimes just get to the point of taking it out on anyone they can – including innocents who just happen to get in their way. It can be anything from shortness of temper or minor rudeness to - unfortunately -  episodes of stupidity/insanity that make national news. 

I have to talk to myself sometimes and, quite frankly, am thankful that I can write to sort things out -- and sometimes vent. I don’t like myself when I am short tempered or rude. I don't like other people either when they are.

It's difficult to be frustrated with life. Don’t we free people always want to be in control of our own lives? We are used to our freedoms.  It’s hard to see them being taken away – the loss of being able to manage your own lives, to deal with the consequences of mandates of government overreach, to see that hard work sometimes doesn’t make dreams come true… it’s hard… so hard. Then there is the whole hope for a better future for your children and grandchildren concern. Major…. Every parent in the entire world knows this particular hope. The thing is that the hardships of these times touch everyone in some way.  Unnerving for sure.  However – I am not one to give up hope.  Hope is a powerful thing and I will grab on to it wherever, whenever I can and hang on for dear life.  I think that individuals can "Mandate Freedom" in their own lives.  I have.

I saw a meme on social media this past week.  Perhaps you have seen it as well.  The title above a jumble of letters in bold face type reads something like -- The first 4 words you see is your focus for 2022.  Of course, I could not resist scanning the jumble to see where I might be headed.

                      Power… Alignment … Health … Strength 

I will gladly go with that, but just have to add a bit of a mantra…

                                   You. Can. Do. This. 

And so … we get closer to the end of the second month of the world of 2022. How are you all doing?

 

Going to Hell in a handbasket...

Language has always held a fascination for me and when someone wrote to me a while back and used the phrase “Going to hell in a handbasket”, it was one of those Ding-Ding moments.  Time to do a bit of research on language.  That should keep me out of trouble for at least a couple of minutes. 

Now the standard explanation is, of course, that “going to hell in a handbasket” means that someone is headed for disaster and it is most likely that there is no turning back.  The expression has been around, actually, for hundreds of years. Some think it refers to the baskets used to catch guillotined heads in the 1700’s in France. Others associate it with the American gold rush of the 1840’s when men were lowered by hand into mine shafts (in baskets) in order to set dynamite. Then there is Meat Loaf who named his 2011 album Hell in a Handbasket. (Did you know, by the way, that his real name was Marvin, then Michael Lee Aday?)  Anyway -- I also located dozens of memes and several cartoons with this “theme” of going to hell in a handbasket.  The Urban Dictionary defines is as a “Comical way of describing a situation where you or somebody is going to end up in deep shit.”  That is my favorite tidbit of all. Sometimes research is fun.

My question --- Is one able to buy tickets for others to take a ride in this basket?  Just asking for a friend. (This last idiomatic expression – asking for a friend -- came into use in the 1990’s. I really like it. It makes me smile from the inside out.) 

Grandma Bessie, snakes, and freedom ...

 

What I am thinking about today, for some reason, is my Grandma Bessie who on a small, relatively harmless scale, used fear to control her ever growing and rowdy bunch of grandkids. (Don’t all parents/grandparents do this sometimes?) There is control and there is control. Anyway -- Bessie was my father’s mother. The thing is, and what I am thinking about today, is that she lived during the influenza pandemic of 1917-1918. I have thought about this several times during the past -- going on now -- three years. She survived.  Both of her children did not. I can’t imagine the horror of losing your children and (as the family story goes) of being too sick herself to be able to attend their funerals. It is beyond tragic for sure.  Nevertheless, she and my Grandpa Earl went on then to have my two uncles and my dad (the middle son) … and so the family began again ... and here I am telling you about it.

Now as I remember -- this grandma, unlike my grandpa, did not smile a lot.  Sadness hangs on in many ways. Sad to think that I don’t have one single memory of her really smiling (you know -- the kind of smile that just sort of bursts out) … although … I sure hope that she did. Everyone deserves some joy in their lives. Anyway – the Spanish Flu was apparently not enough horror for one life time -- another epidemic was yet to come. Polio. 1955. Some of you will remember the Jonas Salk oral vaccine -- a cherry-flavored drop on a sugar cube, and if you are old enough, you may also remember seeing (in magazines and newsreels) rooms full of children in iron lungs. You may also remember hearing about previous experimental vaccines, like the Cutter vaccine, an experimental injection, that tragically actually caused polio in thousands and thousands … and thousands … of cases ... innocent people who became pawns in some sick, twisted game of chess. Sound familiar in any way? That, too, was a scary time. 

But to get back to Grandma Bessie… never one to disappoint in the wives’ tale department, she had her own brand of advice especially when polio struck in that outbreak of 1955. (I was a mere 6 years old, but I remember it well. I tend to remember scary stuff.) These bits of “wisdom” were sort of like some of today’s mandates really -- not even close to “following the science”. I remember her cautioning me not to drink from a creek - as I often did – because the creek water would give me polio.  She also told me never to eat a peach if I hadn’t removed all the fuzz – because the fuzz would give me polio. Needless to say, washing a peach in a creek and then eating it was totally unthinkable. Double polio?  I think she also used fear to induce me to stop turning over rocks on her front bank -- a favorite way of mine to find snakes.  Yuk! Hard to believe now that I ever did that… and that I looked forward to it… that I did it repeatedly on purpose after finding that first one in a heart-stopping experience.  Anyway -- I rarely drink from creeks these days – or flip over rocks in search of garter snakes, but… I think of her warning to this day – every - single - time I wash or peel a peach – especially if I eat them with fuzz.  Yes, some things hang on in various ways.

Turning the page ...  control by fear remains effective today. It is important to realize though that this control can exist on a deeper, scarier level -- and perhaps not with good intentions. Again -- there is control and there is control. I am not even sure the term mandate, for example, was used in earlier times the way it is now. Maybe there was another word. It certainly was never a part of my routine vocabulary … until recently. Too bad it is so popular now. Sad that it has become a household word. I am not sure what word was used for this type of control in other times and I don’t think the term will serve us well when history records the events of these times in a looking back on it -- in what I think of as a retrospective perspective. This is especially important when you think of how our children are being treated – some forced to take an experimental vaccine (big pharma, big bucks)– some isolated and denied education or participation in sports because they are not vaccinated. Then there are those who are now in their third year of forced masking. There is an entire generation out there who have been denied the communicative power of facial expression for now into the third year! (Most of what one communicates is done without words, by the way. I have studied nonverbal communication for years.) What damage have these mandates done? What damage do they continue to do?  Enough now.

Then – to add to the horror - there is this idea…. Think of how you look back at some of the “mandates” of the World War II era, for example. This past week (January 27^th) was Holocaust Memorial Day and the 75^th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz.  How did all of that start? It was a systematic method of control by those in power.  How did it progress? Jews were segregated and forced to wear a yellow Star of David as a way of identifying them before isolating them in ghettos. They were denied jobs because of their race and their beliefs...and then it got worse. We look now with horror at the end result of all of this.  Over 6 million souls ... horrors almost beyond belief.  See what I mean?

It is a good thing that some things hang on a bit… that we don’t forget. Maybe there is hope that we can learn from our mistakes that way.  Hope so….  No one can completely erase history  -- try as they might, and some are trying.  Someone will remember – at least as long as we are free to talk and write, read, and … learn. Have courage. Speak your truth. It is your right to do so even though others may try to silence you. We will not all agree, but  that is okay.  We should be able to work it out or at least listen to each other and try. 

Sometimes I feel like Little Orphan Annie in that old James Whitcomb Riley poem about the goblins that will get you if you don’t watch out. Today…. those would be the power-hungry type of goblins, aka control freaks, thirsty for their command over others. They are experts in fear mongering. Aren’t we just plain sick of it – and getting sicker of it every single minute? And yet -- are there signs of revolt throughout the entire world? Hope? Is it too late to salvage what was our world?

It's a lot -- I sometimes wonder what my grandchildren will remember about me… their own retrospective perspective. I want them to remember that I really smiled and laughed… that I found joy in life and in them. I hope their memories will not include a lot of old wives’ tales of a scary nature. They are all old enough to remember these times. I hope their memories have to do with a sense of living one’s life in the positive, of the importance of freedom of choice (Freedom Over Everything), and about a courage to stand, sometimes feeling very alone, against those thirsty goblins.  I hope they remember that their Nana took a stand and spoke out .... I hope they remember that I didn't like to be bullied... by anyone... and that I would push back.  

From cold morning grumpy to the stuffed purse...

 

Quite frankly there are some mornings that … even before my feet hit the floor … I just know that it is one of those days.  I have to watch myself because I am up to no good for sure.  I can tell.  Woe to anyone who crosses me or tries to take advantage of me on one of these days, and especially today  -- since it is -11º this morning as I write this ... and there is ice on the inside of my windows.  Normally quite a sweet “older” lady, I do have my limits on patience.  (I have been working on patience for my entire adult life-- with limited success.) Anyway -- those who underestimate me because of my white hair and wrinkles should be careful … very careful.  I can hold my own. These traits are not mellowing with years. Not sure that is a good thing. Like I said - I have been working on it.  The thing is -- I think this may come from watching morning "news" when I first wake up. Morning “news” does not serve me well as a way to start my day. Neither do the current concerns of the world... but those are whole other topics about which I will try not to write... and, once again, I enter a news blackout phase... for a while.

So ... in spite of the fact that I am chomping at the bit to write about current events, broken promises by those in power, fear mongering in general, the latest misinformation, or the ever-spreading stupidity of people who should know better or of those in power who who underestimate the intelligence of the American citizenry, I am going to write about an amazing friend of mine – more specifically – about what all she carries in her purse – or used to anyway – that may have changed.  Not sure – but I doubt it. Some things just don’t change.  I count on that.  Anyway -- whenever I think of her purse … I am amazed. This topic is, of course, a continuation of my attempt to keep things light.

Now the thing is – I love purses.  I have a “coat rack” in my bedroom that is heavy with them. Many of them are probably over 50 years old, but look new from lack of use.  I dust them once in a while. I sometimes carry them even if they are almost empty except for the mandatory driver’s license, perhaps my cell phone (if I am not in escape mode), a credit card and cash for a tip if I am eating out somewhere.  I sometimes think I should “leave in” the original tissue paper stuffing that comes with them so that they at least look full.  I can’t think of anything else to put in them.  I don’t comb my hair or wear makeup, so none of those “necessities” are essential in my case unless it might be Chapstick. I find that Chapstick is an essential in these climes and... it doesn't take up much room.

In contrast is the purse of a good friend of many years.  I can always count on her to have a loaded handbag or shoulder bag. Regardless of style, said purse always matches her outfit too. (Must mention I think she has great taste in purses and in outfits.  Perfect actually.) However... I am surprised sometimes that she doesn’t find it difficult or exhausting to carry such cargo or that she doesn’t lean to one side from the weight of it all.  She is nothing if not prepared. It's impressive really.  Over the years, I have seen remarkable things appear from the depths of her purse.  I have seen spare socks, scissors, sewing kits, extra sun glasses, Kleenex, rubber bands and glue, not to mention Band-Aids, knitting needles and various odds and ends—sometimes mysterious items that I can’t identify appear as she is looking for something else.  In addition there are, of course, the usual makeup items – brush or comb, blush (perhaps) and one or more colors of lipstick and, of course, an accompanying mirror. Bet I have left out a lot of interesting and surprising items as well. I have, from time to time, wondered if she has sewn extra small perfect pockets into the lining of her purses to house sharp objects or for organizational purposes.  That’s another thing – she sews beautifully and often creates original sorts of treasures.  One time I discovered that she had made not only the napkins, but also the placemats on which she was serving lunch.  Amazing to me. Truly amazing. I still invite her to my house though.  She is most tolerant of store-bought stuff and of "my ways".

So – from cold morning grumpy to the full purse. Odd how the mind works sometimes. Plus  -- thinking of tolerant good friends always makes things better and brighter. Right?  

Snow brownies...

Monday, January 17, 2022   It is “snow quiet” in the predawn hours this morning.  There is nothing quite like it.  If you live in snow country or ever have, you know exactly what I mean. The day slows down a bit in a comfortable way… and the day hasn’t even started yet.  I remind myself to enjoy it while it lasts and not to think about the digging out part. 

The only sounds I hear are the fire in the fireplace behind me, the occasional independent plow guy driving by and the soft hum of my computer.  For a moment – all is calm.  It is going to be a snow day… and that means – among other things … drum roll ... Snow Brownies (and/or hot cocoa). At least that is the plan here.

Now … Snow Brownies are a family tradition that my sister started years ago. She always kept brownie makings on hand for those days in Richmond, Virginia when everything shut down because of snow.  Have to say that it seemed to me that they shut down if someone in the next county saw a snow flake off in the distance, but then again those of the South are not as prepared for snow as those of us who live in the snow belt of Northwest Pennsylvania. Either way – flakes or feet – snow brownies are a tradition that is worthy of celebration. My sister was always full of great ideas.  I miss her.

Actually, it looks like we may have a few Snow Brownie days this week… and that’s okay too. Home made from scratch, Milk chocolate, Fudge or Chewy Fudge store-bought mixes – all good -- with or without nuts.  Take your pick and be prepared. Snow Brownies are a lovely and comforting tradition for sure…one worthy of continuing. Let it snow… Let it snow… Let it snow…. (like we have a choice in the matter...)  

Just trying to look on the bright side....  Hope you all are safe and warm.

The Perfect Kiss

 

Sometimes it is hard not to get stuck in the muck of world events, but… I think it is important, at least once in a while for sanity's sake, to try to keep your head above all of that and fight to shake off the mud.  With that in mind – I am going to talk about kisses today.  More specifically – about Hershey kisses. (Hope you aren’t disappointed that it is not the kind of kiss you might have been thinking of, but then... I did sort of lead you there.  Not sorry.)

So… during the past month I confess that I purchased two party size bags of the original Hershey Kisses. I am an old-fashioned girl.  I am not one to deviate from the normal milk chocolate or even to try the other varieties Hershey has come out with of late. (Seriously – peppermint kisses?  No. I think not. Never.) I stick with the tried and true.  Now I try to tell myself that it is nice to have a few treats around for the grandchildren - especially during the Season, but I know – deep in my heart – that I really buy them mostly for me. They are a holiday guilty pleasure and I enjoy them every day during the season – sometimes one at a time and sometimes by the mouthful – a mouthful of melting wonderfulness. I have even eaten them for breakfast dessert.  My granddaughter and I think there needs to be a better way to wrap them though – that little paper strip and foil are a bit of a nuisance.  Seriously we had a meaningful discussion about this.  I think she is brilliant in her observations. 

Ah… Then again -- remember “It melts in your mouth, not in your hand(s)”?  That is a whole other world of melting wonderfulness – the M&M… also eaten one at a time or by the mouthful.  Yes… chocolate.  I actually know two people who don’t like chocolate.  They think it tastes like dirt.  I don’t remember what dirt tastes like – actually don’t remember ever tasting dirt… but I can say this.  I love these two people anyway and figure that I will just eat their share.  Somebody has to do it. Right?  It’s never good to waste good chocolate.

Must mention at this point in the excellent chocolate discussion that you haven’t lived if you have not had the opportunity to try Peggy Gray chocolate treats and candy.  They have a lovely shop in North Springfield, PA on Holliday Road.  I wish I lived closer. You need to put a trip there on your bucket list. Truly. I also have to mention, for local people, who will most definitely know what I mean,  that I still long for the now gone Ritz candy – I used to eat their chocolate until my tongue was raw. Ah – those were the days.

One last comment…. Not that I would ever feel the need to justify this need for sweetness, but really -- it does provide a way up and out of the muck. Actually there is a scientific basis to this -- endorphin release  -- caused by chocolate  - aka the "feel good" chemicals.  I think it is a relatively harmless guilty pleasure and a nice temporary escape. It sure beats other things that I can think of. Yes… the perfect kiss is one of the best.  So … I have now kissed and told. I don't think that I am alone in all of this.

Steep Steps and no railings....

 

And so, a new year begins…  Welcome to 2022. Are you as excited as I am? (Wish there were an impressive emoji with rolling eyes.)  Never one to keep New Year’s Resolutions, I discontinued the process of making them many years ago. Personal experience has taught me that such resolutions only induce feelings of failure, and who needs to self-inflict those?  Not me. I have determined that chipping away at barriers and trudging, step-by-step (no matter how steep) is way more satisfying and productive in the long run. Plus – the process is spread more evenly throughout the year that way and whatever the plan/project is then seems more doable. More and more – I like to take my time. Then – there is the fact that the past couple of years have been filled with steep steps and all of us had to slow down a bit and take our time. It has been difficult sometimes to navigate in what has become our world … for now.

On a personal level this attitude of taking my time works physically for me as well.  I must admit I am slowing down a bit and… am totally comfortable with that (as if I had a choice).  Case in point is the issue of literally carrying things up and down stairs with no longer trust-worthy knees. (Artificial knees are great, but they don't work the same way as real knees. Can you relate -- with real or replacement parts?) Back to the steps concept. It is twelve steps to my basement from my kitchen.  I have railings on both sides of the stairway.  I would like to say that this is only precautionary, but truthfully, I rely on both railings on a regular basis. Such reliance doesn’t work well when trying to transport items up and down the stairway unless you hang them around your neck. Picture that. I have even taken to storing canning jars and Christmas decorations on the main floor of my house – just to make things easier. Guests might think that a stack of wooden boxes or the occasional lidded basket are decorative.  No.  Each is filled with holiday cherished odds and ends or other “stuff” that used to dwell in the basement.  My basement gets emptier every year.  Most of what is down there now belongs to my adult children. Anyway – convenient, main floor storage simplifies my life and helps keep me feeling independent.

When all else fails though, I can always count on my Grands to help out. They handle stairs well. Everyone likes to feel useful, right?  Plus, I pay well if the job is a real time consumer.  So – with all this in mind – I want to share a recent observation with you that called to mind days of yore when I, too, could fly down the stairs without hanging onto anything and without the now ever-present fear of falling.  I distinctly remember doing this when attending elementary school in an old two-story building in which the stairs were so worn that there were rather deep and impressive indentations from years of heavy traffic.  For those of you who live where I do, you may remember doing the same in the now demolished Wright Street School. It was a grand old building.  The stairs, and actually the whole building, had a certain appealing “character”.  I particularly loved the large wooden desks.

To get to the point though – recently I needed large, heavy, awkward items moved from the basement to the living room so … I called upon my local grandson who is always ready and willing to do whatever I ask.  I watched in awe as he literally flew down a full flight of stairs as only a strong healthy kid can do – his size 13s barely skimming the steps as he descended.  And he certainly was not holding onto railings – on either side.  I tell you - it was impressive!  I must admit that I was a little envious of the ability and the ease with which he moved. He also did in two trips what would have taken me at least seven… and he did this in much less time and without a dolly. (I keep thinking I should get one of those.) Anyway …

I have been striving to get into better shape now for 30 weeks and have made some progress, but I have to tell you – I will never again do stairs like he does.  I can think of days of yesterday and remember, but it’s not quite the same.  Hope he appreciates his ability to move so easily and with such confidence. Some day he may look back as I do now and remember. 

Sometimes it is easier to look back than to look forward.  I am okay with that too. It’s been a rough few years… for the entire planet. Maybe 2022 will be better. (Could use that rolling eye emoji here as well.) Whatever the future holds, I do hope that it doesn’t involve a lot of "steep steps". Aren’t we all tired of them especially when there are no railings?