Thursday, July 20, 2017

To Pee Or Not to Pee . . . (Originally Written 02 27 2017)


Bathrooms . . .

I sit here listening to the News and the discussion about bathrooms and who should go in which ones.

And my first reaction has always been – who cares?  A bathroom is a bathroom is a bathroom.  As long as there are stalls for privacy who cares?

And then I pause . . . and reflect.

I remember being a little girl in my Detroit neighborhood.  Such grand memories.  We played kick the can and baseball and sometimes my girlsfriends and I played “house” up in my attic playroom . . . or on the porch.  We were mommies and our dolls were our babies . . .

And then . . . I was a teenager and going to high school . . . and I had a boyfriend . . . and he was my forever love . . . and we went to dances and . . .
And then . . . I was a young bride . . . waking down the aisle of the church . . .  promising to love and honor my husband . . .

And then . . . I was a young mother . . . with my firstborn . . . and second born . . . and third born . . . and fourth born . . . and then . . . on my own and working once again . . . and then . . . a grandma . . .

And then . . . I start to think of others . . . who never really knew who they were . . . or struggled trying to understand who they were . . .

And tears fill my eyes . . . and my heart wrenches . . . because . . . because that kind of confusion . . . anguish . . . was something I have NEVER had to come to terms with.

Thursday, June 8, 2017

The Big and Small Of It . . . Again

SoSaysSarah
06 08 2017

The Big and Small Of It – Again

Here I sit, as usual of a warm morning -- on the porch with The Rock and my coffee for my morning meditation.  Which is also when I get the most inspiration/ideas about life, my life, my kids, the world, ya-da ya-da.

So here goes. Again.

Thanking Him for my blessings and what a beautiful world I have been fortunate enough to inhabit, my mind is drawn back to the snippet of news I heard last night (which I want to review/research more) about the latest findings of where/how/when humans originated.  I only caught bits and pieces but the consensus of this latest study indicates the studiers think we are much older than previously thought.

Oh.  Ok.  Maybe.  Who says?  How come? Or, what if . . .

That’s the way my brain thinks.  Always has, always will. I like it like that.

Following THAT train of thought I am reminded of the post I saw yestserday on Facebook, another silly test – what profession are you best suited for?  I took it. Mine came up Lawyer.  Lawyer?  GAH!

(I used to type depositions (for pay) for my court reporter friend wherein I learned, first-hand, how lawyers will take three paragraphs to say something that more clearly could have been stated in one sentence.  But then, sometimes, that IS the point.) Highly educated people often do this. 😕

And then, synchronitically (is there such a word?) it came into my head – maybe I AM lawyer-like.  In my thinking, I mean.  I tend to see BOTH – or more than both -- sides to almost every issue.  Understanding the perspectives of everyone.

Finding the right ‘balance’ – the ‘fine line in the middle’, the most logical, the most just, most respectful, most merciful – solution in resolving the issues we as individuals and society at large face is and always will be the difficulty.

So – Back to my thoughts with regard to last night’s News and the Age of Humans.

They were, of course, discussing “The Big Picture” -- who are we, where did we come from? IS there a parallel universe?  What IS String Theory? That star is how many million miles away, did you say???

Those of us currently, or previously, residing on this amazing planet called Earth – have been and will continue to research/study/argue about The BIG Picture. ‘Cuz we’re human AND we have a brain, a consciousness.  So be it.

We will be discussing/arguing/studying this to . . . Infinity. And learning, of course. (Hopefully.) 😉

But then – there is “The SMALL Picture”.

You know.  Small as in – family concerns, jobs, society’s problems, health care, immigration, world issues/conflicts.  The day-to-day issues for us humans.  Right here, right now.  Problems that need solutions.  Now.

Whatever we think about The BIG Picture – whatever our religious beliefs or lack thereof – we CAN all agree on how to solve some of the issues of The SMALL Picture.

The Small Picture of the Here and Now.  Our time. Our lives.  Our World.

We can be kind and thoughtful to one another.
We can respectfully disagree.
We can show compassion and help those in need.
We can be honest and responsible in our behavior.
We can practice forgiveness.
We can get up every morning, go to work, earn our money,
              and take care of our families.

And THAT’S some Truth about which we can ALL agree!

Blessings!
Sarah


Thursday, June 1, 2017

Boys Town & Father Flannigan (1938)

So here we are, me and John, watching Boys Town; 1938 B&W movie with Mickey Rooney and Spencer Tracy.  Based on the real life story of Father Flanagan.

Ten minutes into the movie and the tears are falling.  It's what happens to W.O.Ws.

The music, the buildings, the clothes, the cars -- all of it touches my heart.  And not just because it illicits memories of my childhood.

Have you ever seen it?  You should. The message, the music, memories from my childhood.  But so much more.

Maybe it WAS Hollywood -- but these stories always had a message.  A moral message.  This movie epitomises it.

If ever we needed the message of this movie . . .


Beauty and the Mess . . . (10 16 2015)

     So here I am again – on my screenless porch – with my coffee – and Rocky – and two MORE puppies. (Puppy sitting for a couple of days). 
     (Well, one puppy, the littlest one, Cissy, is hunkered down in her crate in the living room – free to come and go as she pleases – except she pleases to stay in it most of the time. The Vet told my daughter she had a scar on her head indicating head trauma so we think she was abused before my daughter got her. Cissy is uncomfortable with new places/people.)
     The beauty of the morning, though chilly, touches me. Soon I will be taking my morning coffee/meditation inside next to the fireplace but for now I am still enjoying these outdoor mornings.
     The beauty of my world – the people, the places, the things and times of my life – overwhelm me with gratitude. My little corner of the world has been so safe, secure, and lovely – mostly. And I think of the many more physically beautiful places on this earth – most of which I will never see. Except in TV documentaries.
     The beauty – and the mess – of the world . . .
     Once again – this thought overwhelms me and my heart squeezes and pushes water from my eyes. I wish, somehow I could "fix it" -- the mess, I mean.
     Silly me. Well, they don’t call me W.O.W.(*), for nuthin’, you know.
* * * * *
     I watched Oprah on the Stephen Colbert Show (or whatever he calls it now) last night. I have always perceived her to be a great role model and example. Based on the few programs of hers I have seen and the snippets of her life I have read.
     Last night she and Stephen teased each other a bit, as you would expect. She laughingly referred to herself as "the preacher girl" which she told him was her nickname as a youngster because she was always spouting scripture.
     I get the impression – rightly or wrongly – that Oprah herself is a Christian. But through her experiences and opportunities has been exposed to many influential people of all sorts of beliefs. And that she has found common ground in many of these belief systems.
     Kind of what I have experienced, as well. Growing up Christian but in adulthood getting to know folks of various persuasions – Catholics, Lutherans, Methodists, Jews, Buddhists, Atheists.
* * * * *
     The beauty and the logic of God . . .  I/we can’t really comprehend it, can we? All these nations. All these peoples. All this religion. All this fighting – so often over religion. Or the lack thereof.
     Gets complicated. For me, maybe, but not for God.
     Seems to me it starts with where you are born. America during my lifetime has been, mostly, a Christian leaning country. My parents were Christian, most everyone I knew until adulthood attended Christian churches. So it’s understandable for me to have embraced their beliefs initially. But as I grew up and studied the Bible for myself, it still made sense to me and I have continued to embrace its teachings, even as I have been exposed to and compared various other persuasions.
     But what about all these folks in other countries – Japan, India, Iraq, Israel, Turkey, Greece. Etcetera, etcetera. Such contradiction. Such conflict. Who’s right? Who’s wrong?
     I can’t figure it out. I can’t solve it. And my soul hurts for all the pain and anguish that these conflicting beliefs produce in the world. The fighting, the wars.
     I can’t solve this. But then God reminds me – it’s not YOUR problem; it’s MINE. MY job. And the pain in my heart subsides once more. 
* * * * *
     We are ALL His children. It doesn’t matter whether we’re born in Iran or Italy or Japan or . . .  Hoboken . . .  :)
     We likely start out believing what our parents tell us to believe. Inch by inch we start thinking for ourselves. Sometimes we embrace our parents’ beliefs, sometimes not. Whatever. If we are seeking God, He will find us.
     He takes us wherever He finds us and brings us to where we need to be.
     All we have to do is seek His will . . . and follow.
Blessings!
Sarah 
(*) Kids = Wacky Old Woman
      Me   =  Wise Old Woman 
 
 

 

 

 

 

Monday, December 26, 2016

Those Were the Days, My Friend . . . (*)

Home from two days of family celebration, waiting for the next event . . .

Eating lunch and watching one the the TCM movies I taped; this one, "Holiday Affair" with Robert Mitchum and Janet Leigh and her 6-year-old son (in the movie, that is). They agree to lunch and then a walk in Central Park.

The scene shifts to the park -- lo and behold -- a street vendor with his portable, on wheels, caliope (organ) and his performing monkey.

You Guys (Yankee for All Ya'll) remember them, right?

And all those 'street vendors' that went thru the neighborhhods with their carts -- the ice truck and the milk truck, horse-drawn, of course.   And the Avery bakery truck and the dry-cleaner truck.

Up and down the street delivery.  Hey, you drone techies -- just remember, you got the idea 'back in the day.'

The best one of all, of course, being 'the Sheeney Man," yelling out his wares.

Oh, yeah . . . those were the days . . .

((*) Detroit, Michigan, Fernhill Street

Wednesday, December 21, 2016

Close Encounter With . . . A Jar of Honey (Originally Written 2006)

I blew it.

For several days I had intended to stop at Food Lion to pick up the dark, rich, raw honey that I haven’t found anywhere else.  But it isn’t exactly on my way home so I put it off.

Tonight I will go.  And pick up some chicken, as well.

Driving down Lebanon Road, passing Donelson Pike, where I usually turn to go home, I need to go further down Lebanon Road to Stewarts Ferry, turn right, drive about three more miles, stop at Food Lion, get the honey, get the chicken, and head for the house.

Traffic slows to a crawl and just before the light at Donelson I notice Apple Market which sits next to Blockbuster at the corner of Lebanon Road and Donelson Pike.  I have the strongest urge to pull in and try my luck here.  Thinking they just might have raw honey and that would save me going out of my way to Food Lion.

I am mulling this over in my brain and traffic is now moving forward.  Should I, shouldn’t I . . . the driveway entrance for the market is right here on my right.  MAKE A DECISION!  Swerving right and deciding simultaneously, I pull into the market parking lot.  If they have the honey, I’ll just get the chicken here also. I enter through the automated doors and notice an elderly white haired, small-statured gentleman sitting on a bench right next to the door.  Probably waiting on a shopper who brought him along, I think.

On to the honey.  I’m unfamiliar with this market but reading the signs high above the aisles I notice the jam/jelly/peanut butter aisle. Usually where the honey is kept.  Ahh, there it is. Honey.  But not the dark raw kind I like.

Oh, well; on to Food Lion. Won’t save myself the extra drive after all.

As I head towards the door I notice the little old man again.  Still waiting.  His solemn, almost severe expression and his size reminds me of my own dear little daddy. Who departed this world four years ago this month. I wonder if this old man’s serious expression is the result of frustration at having to wait, or worse, maybe confusion, if he has memory problems.

Barely conscious of thinking it as I hurry out the door, a thought flits across my mind.  Go over there and sit down next to him and talk to him.  Tell him he reminds you of your daddy.  And give him a hug. The dialogue continues in my mind as I reach my car.  What?  Don’t be silly.  People don’t just stop and talk to strangers.  In grocery stores or anywhere else.  Besides, I have to finish my errand and get home some time tonight.

SO off I go.  As I drive away, headed to Food Lion, I start to cry.  Thinking of my dear little daddy, and this dear little old man who is somebody’s daddy.  We all become someone’s dear old daddy or dear old mom at some point.  If we live long enough.  So I think on these things, and ponder the strength, the frailty, the stages of life, and cry about it all as I drive on to get my honey.

It isn’t until after I left Food Lion with my good dark raw honey, and my chicken, AND a couple of other things that my thoughts return to the little old man in the Apple Market.  Sitting on the bench.  Waiting.

Suddenly a light bulb goes off in my brain and I realize the reason I felt the urge to pull in to Apple Market wasn’t because the honey was there and I was to get it.  It was because the little old man who reminded me of my daddy was there and I was to sit and talk with him.  And give him a hug.

       And I blew it.

Through the years, I’ve learned to trust my gut, my feelings, to listen to the urgings of my heart.  Most of the time.  I’ve come to believe that every thing we say or do matters.  I believe we entertain angels unawares.

And something else I’ve learned.   Sometimes, without our knowing and for reasons we don’t understand, just for a moment, or an hour, in a conversation or a few words with a stranger, or a friend, God lets us stand in for one of His angels.

If we’re listening.

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

Dinner at Aunt Fanny's (1960)



I walk from my bedroom thru the hall to the living room and turn on the TV to Easy Listening, as I do each morning.  Rocky follows and I let him out to do his morning business and then I turn back to the living room and light the gas logs in the fireplace.  Next, I head to the kitchen to start my coffee. While the coffee brews, it’s outside to feed and water the birds.

Returning to the kitchen, I wash my hands and pour my mug of coffee.  As I add the honey and cream the next song starts playing.  I pause with my coffee and phone before heading upstairs to the computer.  The Frank Davis Orchestra is playing, “Let It Be Me.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jb7DUM3dSY0

My heart skips a beat as I pause to sit on the couch by the fire.  The music fills my heart and soul with memories.  And one special memory.  Of a first date at Aunt Fanny’s restaurant in Royal Oak – right on Woodward Avenue if I remember correctly.

The wait staff was quite taken and attentive to the handsome “older” man and his petite,  pretty “young” companion.  (Older as in gainfully employed twenty-four year old, young as in a somewhat naive twenty-one year old part-time college student, that is.)  In fact, one endearing comment I remember from that conversation was Jer saying, "you have such a serious, mature look on your face one minute and the next a child-like innocence.  I can read your face like a book."

Delicious dinner and interesting, funny conversation.

And this song on the car radio riding home.

. . . Jer and I.

. . . The night we fell in love.

* * * * *
http://www.royaloakhistoricalsociety.com/guestarchive/rooldest.html