Saturday, March 14, 2020

On Your Own Again (written 1985)


On Your Own Again
Alone, at last.

No more fights
No more screaming matches
Hateful looks (outbursts)
No sullen pouts
No one to challenge your decisions
Just one in charge . . . You

It=s what you wanted, isn=t it?

Responsibilities B
How to fix the broken lawnmower
Where IS that wrench?
And how do I charge that battery . . . again.

The car B but I just replaced the tires six weeks ago . . .
Align them, did you say?  Twenty-five Dollars, did you say?

The dryer won=t run
A new motor it needs.
And what=s that funny
  Clanging in the washing machine
Please, God, you fix it , indeed.


* * * * * * * * * *
To face the difficulties of life B alone.
To discover strengths you didn=t know you had.
To be content with what you have.
To stretch B and reach B and stretch again.

The path you=ve taken has it=s hills and valleys
Rock and gulleys. 
But the climb builds strength
And confidence that you can do
what needs to be done.

It=s what you needed, isn=t it?

Freedom B
To do what you want
When you want.
To drink that early morning cup of coffee
Without the TV chattering, bringing you
 unwanted news on timely topics

The lovely peace of sharing your morning
With nothing but the Shining Sun, the
 chirping birds, the rustle of the wind in the trees

Peace, at last.
It=s what you wanted, isn=t it.



Wednesday, March 11, 2020

Yesteryears . . .

The youngster raced down the steps of the two-story house.  It's barn-style roof made it appear larger than the homes on either side.  Slinging his belted books over his shoulder, the young boy took the stairs two at a time, youthful energy bubbling from his small, wiry body.  If you could have looked into his large, hazel eyes you would have seen a glimmer of mischief lurking behind his innocent smile.

Halfway down the street, he stopped to adjust his knee-length socks which never stayed tucked inside his knickers when he ran.  Wool tweed knickers, long black stockings held up by garters that always seemed to be too tight or too loose, black high-top, lace-up shoes, white shirts and bow ties were standard school attire for boys his age.  Jack hated the baggy pants and itchy socks.

At the corner, he turned right and ran the short side block to the school yard.  The school and playground took up an entire city block with the front of the school facing the residential street Adeline and the rear and playground backing up to State Fair, one of the busy city streets that bounded the State Fair Grounds in Detroit, Michigan.

The large playground contained swings and slides in several locations.  However, he had no time for play.  The first bell was ringing as he entered the massive wooden doors on this side of his school, Grayling Elementary.  He was seven years old and in the second grade.  The year was 1919.
  * * * * *
The little girl jumped down the steps of the small bungalow-style house she shared with her mother and father.  Her large, expressive, hazel eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and her small slender body seemed charged with energy as she bounced her way down the steps, one at a time. 

Her long dark brown hair was parted on the side with a big red bow and curled in the Shirley Temple ringlets that were a popular style of the times.  She was wearing a red, white, and blue gingham dress, smocked and gathered in the front, with white collar and cuffs, sewn on her mother's new sewing machine.  Red tights and sensible brown Oxfords completed her apparel.  The dress was one of many lovingly hand-made by her mother.

At the bottom of the stairs, she began skipping and singing her way down the street.  Reaching the corner, she turned right and ran the short side block to her school, Grayling Elementary.  She was seven years old and in the second grade.  The year was 1945.

* * * * *
Serendipity.  Life is full of it.  That little boy and girl?  Each spent almost ten years of their childhood on the same street albeit twenty-five years intervened.  Big deal.  So what . . . unless you know the little boy became the father of the little girl.  Serendipity. 

Of course a lot of things happened to the young boy known as little Jack Hopps between the years 1913 and 1945.  By then he had married and fathered a child--the little girl--who he adored almost as much as he did her mother.  And in 1945, he was about to become a proud father once again, this time of a son.

His daughter certainly thought it was unusual that she and her parents lived just a few houses down from her father's childhood home. Unfortunately, she didn't learn this until she was grown and long gone from her childhood neighborhood.

As a child living in this community, she had always been especially drawn to the two-story house a few doors down from her own.  At the time, she thought it was because of it's Dutch roof.  Anything that looked like a barn or smelled like a farm always drew her attention.  That's because her mother's father had a farm in Tennessee and every summer they would spend a couple of weeks with him.  She loved visiting Grandpa Roberts on his farm.  Although he sold the farm and moved to town when she was still a little girl, throughout her life, the smell of barns and horses and hay would always be to her the best smell in the world.

As far as the barn roof house is concerned, maybe it was something else that drew her attention; that beckoned her.  An aura perhaps, a presence, of the laughter, the tears, the sorrows, the joys of the people who had lived there 25 years earlier. 

Whatever it was remained a mystery.  She never knew the people who lived there during her childhood well enough to be invited inside.  And never had the chance to heed the beckoning of the house by venturing inside.  Years later, when she learned it had been her father's childhood home, she remembered the emotions the house had stirred in her.  And wondered.  And desperately wished she could have gone inside and seen--"experienced"-- the rooms where her father and his parents had lived a portion of their lives. 

When the girl was just thirteen, her paternal grandmother died.  And her paternal grandfather moved to California long before she was born.  In fact, she only saw him twice.  Being in the house where they once had lived would have enriched her memories.

But the essays I'm writing are not about the little girl.  They are about the boy.  And some of the significant and serendipitous events that took place in his life between the years 1913 and 1945.  Events and circumstances that shaped him into the man he was to become.  A man of responsibility and integrity and scrupulous honesty.  A man who respected the authority of his parents, his church, his community, his country.  A man of peace who nevertheless stood firm for his principles when confronted with conflict or controversy.

The little boy became a man.  The man became my father.  One of my heros . . . . except I’ve never told him so.

If he reads my essays, he'll know.

Sarah Barnes
June 1996

Wednesday, January 1, 2020

MEMORIES . . . and JOYS --- Then and Now


12/09/2019


So.  Back home agin. (*)

Left Thursday afternoon to meet with some friends from church; one of whom drove us to Cheekwood for the Holiday Lights show.  AWESOME!  Even if it DID cost $22.  Cheaper if you're a member (free to join, so I did to qualify for discount prices for future events). 

She drove straight down Hillsboro Road to Old Hickory and then on over to Cheekwood.  I've been to Cheekwood but it's been a long time.  Just being a passenger along this route reminded me of places and things I haven't seen for years.  Some of which has changed a bit, of course.

* * * * * * * * * *
(I used to take Hillsboro Road to Moore's Lane where I turned right down to the offices of Matrix Enterprises.  They were Franklin's cable company back in the 80s and when I first joined the staff they were actually located in the county jail building.  I can picture the building now but can't remember exactly where or if it's still standing. We moved to the new building on Moore=s lane a few months after I began working for them.)
* * * * * * * * * *
After we left the Cheekwood exhibit, we headed back to Franklin, choosing Zolo's for dinner.  That took me back some years, as well. 

I don=t often eat out anymore but when I do I always check out the appetizers/soup/salad side first B and sometimes that=s all I get B since I get filled up quickly.  If I do get a full dinner, I always bring home enough left-overs for at least 2 more meals. So it=s a good deal, either way.

What's This?  OHMYGOSH! I had forgotten all about these . . .

(When I lived and worked in Franklin, shortly after Jer returned to Michigan, I frequently stopped at Zolo's for this absolutely DELISH (and filling) . . . Crusted DEEP FRIED Artichokes!!!). 

WOW!  Price has doubled.  But I gotta have >em anyway.  One of the other ladies agreed we would split the price and the consumption. 👍
  
Oh, I will definitely be stopping here regularly once again whenever I=m visiting J/B in Franklin. In fact, I may have to come >more often.= 😉

I ended up choosing the Lemon Chicken/Pasta ($22) as my entree so between that and the artichokes I ordered, I had enough food for (3) more meals when I left.  So the price wasn=t too bad after all.

Friday morning I headed to CJ=s.  We were going to work out a tentative plan for how/when I will help her (data entry stuff) organize/record data in connection with one of her new clients and then watch a movie with dinner.  Maybe Rocket Man.

So we did.  But Rocket Man was no longer available so we watched Big instead.  If I ever watched it, I didn=t remember any of it and it was delightful.

            We still had some planning to do, plus I always like to help with laundry whenever I go to the kids= homes.  They=re in that phase of life that keeps them running in ten directions at once and I have time on my hands now, so I am glad to pitch in on the easy stuff whenever I can.

So CJ and I spent Saturday continuing to organize/plan stuff and that night we watched First Man during dinner.  It was heavy duty at times but an excellent re-telling of the expeditions leading up to and including the moon landing.

Before leaving CJ=s the next morning (Sunday) I called to check with Becky/John to see what, if anything, was going on there (I knew they had had a houseful with John=s birthday and their anniversary celebration being one day apart B on the 5th and 6th B and wanted to check and see if they needed me to play laundry catch-up.  Depending on what was going on, I could stay overnight and head home in the morning. Or head back home late afternoon.

Not surprising, John said Acome on over; maybe we=ll watch a movie later.  Or not. We=ll figure it out.@

So I did.  And stayed.  It was hectic but joyful >little kid= hectic stuff.

My staying would definitely be helpful, they said, because one of the little ones (5 years) has to have a surgical procedure tomorrow and John is going with them to the hospital for the procedure and Becky will stay home with the two smaller siblings.  So if I stay, I can help; one way or another.

So I did.  Unfortunately, all the kids have some kind of >flu/cold bug= but the doctors said it was a kid=s virus and adults weren=t susceptible.

But then this morning B Becky was sick.  Flu Sick.  So they insisted I leave.  She doesn=t have what the kids have but that means I could get it.  I DID get the >super= flu shot for older folks, but still . . . it=s probably better if I leave. I never had to worry about this when I was younger.  Always have had an excellent immune system and hardly ever got the flu B or if I did it came and went in 24 hours.

(*) I feel like I=m abandoning ship!

Wednesday, November 20, 2019

Online Sharing . . . Good or Bad

95% of my posts are about animals and/or people who rescue/help/love their animals -- or folks who "pay it forward". Or beautiful sunsets. Or uplifting, encouraging thoughts or actions that make the world a better place. It's who I am. Mostly.
I get a 'few" Likes. Maybe.
Once in awhile, Evil twin escapes and posts something more serious -- a problem for society, for example -- a 'thought-provoking' quote or statement . . .
And then . . . All Hell Breaks Loose and my intelligence, my integrity, my purpose are subjected to ridicule and/or insults. Strange. I learned how enlightening/helpful 'discussions' can be when I attended the First Unitarian Church in Nashville during the time of my second marriage. Groups got together regularly -- to discuss ALL SORTS of problems. No one ever got mad. No one spoke disrespectfully of another's point of view. Did we all agree? Of course not. People from all walks of life, all religious/philosophical backgrounds/ethnic groups/educational and professional backgrounds -- came together because . . . all were welcome.(*) Often, the response to someone's point of view was: "Interesting. I never thought about it from that perspective before." At 50 years of age, it was so encouraging/enlightening to realize there were folks who could discuss and entertain a different perspective than their own. Without being rude. Without being insulting/disrespectful. Sometimes it changed their opinion, sometimes it didn't. But that was okay. With everyone. I miss those times. I need to find a group like that agin. And By-Pass Facebook. Hopefully Optomistic, Sarah (*) Unitarians tell this joke on themselves: Is it intolerant to be intolerant of intolerance?


Tuesday, August 28, 2018

Libtard . . . Progressive . . .

          Someone recently referred to me as such.

          Me???  Wait just a New York minute . . .

          Hmmm. Let me think about this. Not very familiar with those terms; never thought of myself that way exactly . . . .

          So let's see  – my husband and I raised our kids to be respectful . . . and truthful . . . and responsible –

We taught them to be honest and dependable --
We taught them to clean up after themselves --
We taught them to finish what they start --
We taught them to be kind to others, and forgiving --
We taught them to study hard to get good grades –

          And being being part of a family means fun times AND responsibilities IN the family so --

          We assigned home chores for each of them from age 3-4 --

          When they were old enough for part-time jobs, we taught them it was important to show up on time 'ever' day and do a good job, that there is no “free lunch”. Work hard, do your job, you will be rewarded.

          Personally, like Elvis, I believe in “a little less talk, a little more action”so like Graham Nash once said when being interviewed by Tavis Smiley in 2011, “I’ve got to be the way I want the world to be” is a credo I strive to live by.

          And having been raised in a church that preached “we’re right and everyone else is wrong”, I have fought against that perspective my whole life – always attempting to find ‘common ground’ whenever/wherever possible with people of differing perspectives. Learning along the way, how often that results in finding much about which to agree.
.
          I believe what I believe because it works for me. Living in America, I recognize the same 'freedom of choice' applies to you and yours.

          Being a ‘free thinker’, I also believe what I think today may change depending on what I learn tomorrow.

          So here I am today – in this self-absorbed, anything goes, “ if it feels good, do it” world --

just now learning that all those things I taught and practice and still believe in makes me a “Libtard”, a “Progressive.”

          It’s GR-ATE to learn sumthin’ new ever day, is it not?

          Yeah, it is.

          This calls for a celebration. Yeah, it does.

Monday, August 27, 2018

The Mystique of Music . . .


Passing thru the living room to feed the birds and make my coffee, I turn on Easy Listening, as usual.  Then I let Rocky out for his morning ritual.

Sitting down with my coffee, Rocky joins me momentarily, as the sounds of the theme from Schindler's List begin.

I pause as the melancholy melody fills my heart and soul with such poignant emotions.

How do they do it?  Composers, I mean.

Twelve notes produce such unimaginable combinations.  Well, I shouldn’t say unimaginable ‘cuz someone does.  Imagine them, I mean.

Listening to this music that is SO BEFITTING of the story . . . the sadness, the tragedy, the pain – it’s all there.  In the notes, the melody.

And then – think about this.  The difference in composing in a Minor Key – or a Major Key:

F Sharp – it’s the same note as G Flat.
C Sharp – it’s the same note as D Flat
and so on.

    Except (3) instances: There is no note identified as C Flat or E sharp or F Flat.

    So why . . . how come . . . if you compose in the Minor Key – instead of in the Major Key – it changes the SOUND, the EMOTION . . . EVERYTHING --.

– to produce music such as the theme from Schindler’s List – evoking sounds/emotions that are –

– melancholy, dismal, heartbroken. mournful. pessimistic. somber. sorrowful.

    Whereas, music in the Major Key makes you want to sing along, dance, jump for joy, or blissfully close your eyes and relax while your mind finds its Happy Place.

    How can this be?

    I can’t explain it but I sure can love it . . .

    The Mystique of Music . . . is a Blessing Beyond Measure.

* * * * * 
“Music is the divine way to tell beautiful, poetic things to the heart.”
—  Pablo Casals

https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/pablo_casals_100781


Tuesday, August 21, 2018

Good Stuff Happens; Yeah, It Does!. . .

What a Day! What a Guy! Son, John, that is.

Malfunctioning AC unit repaired and a NEW Water Heater installed.

What he thought would be a 2-3 hour job took all day. 'Course I stood By-The-Ready to "hold" the hammer or the screw driver -- and even became a "Ready-to-be-Certified" Welder. Yeah, I did. Well, maybe certification will come with a little more practice. ??

So here’s the deal –

In the summer, I keep the thermostat set at 76. It works well for Mary 'n me. Yesterday, for some reason, I walked thu the hall and "happened" to look at the thermostat and was surprised to see it was set at 76 but Temp was 77. I check it on occasion -- but not often -- and always the Set temp matches the actual Temp.

So this (the descrepancy) was odd. Hmmm . . .

A few minutes later, John called to say he was coming by to check on my water heater and to see if he could determine the source of the water leak; maybe it WAS the water heater. 

"Good," I thought; he can change the AC filters (2) and I will mention the 76/77 Temp descrepancy.

He had asked for and I had sent him info from the hot water tank a few days ago and he had now determined it was 20 years old. So when he came over and we looked at the water leak in the garage again, he told me he thought the water leak likely was the heater, esp. considering its age. Based on this and his recommendations, I decided to purchase a new one.

Then he checked the thermostat and the AC unit (outside) and came in to tell me "Mom, this is the 3rd AC unit I've seen in the last couple of weeks with this problem." Then he showed me "the problem." Two copper wires were touching and they caused a break and leagage/foaming at the break. Not an uncommon issue/problem, apparently.

So. "Every . . . thing . . . matters" -- once again, the quote of Andy Andrews proves itself. (Noticing that descrepancy in the Temp and the Setting (76/77) on the Thermostat 30 minutes before John called to say he was coming over was NOT accidental.)

So then we drove to Franklin -- Ferguson HVAC -- where I purchased a new water heater and the parts and pieces needed to fix the AC. Not exactly cheap but considerably better than if I had to call an unknown.

We returned with our purchases and John proceeded to fix the AC and pull out the old water heater and install the new one. Which was a few inches larger and barely fit in the space (but did, thank goodness) except it required going to Home Depot for some add'l parts to line up the pipes correctly (because of the larger size of the tank). GAH!

While he's busy fixing the AC unit and installing the water heater, I spent about 1-1/2 hours pulling weeds along the side of the house where the AC unit is -- a garden area completely overgrown with crab grass and weeds. Don't ask what happened when I tried to stand up! ACH! OOWW! My aching joints!

WHAT AN AMAZING DAY OF ACCOMPLISHMENT!!!

Thank you, dear John, STILL my Son-Shine boy! Hopefully you will have a restful evening and night.

As for me, I am enjoying a good dinner (Steak, fries, brocolai, corn, and strawberries dipped in brown sugar, a glass of Vino, and a small piece of choc. pudding cake for desert.).

AND at bedtime, a dose of Aspirin -- 500 mg for body aches and pains -- for my ACHING JOINTS!

Sons are Good! Life is Good! God is GOOD! 

Yeah, it is!
Sarah