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 me.

. . . The night we fell in love.

* * * * *

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvA-STM7oJk

The Music of My Life . . . (JE November 3, 2016)

     Returning from running errands I sit at my dining room table for a few and eat some lunch before heading upstairs to my office.  Just as I finish,  Beautiful Instruments (TV station that plays all day, every day.  Til News Time at 6 p.m.) begins another song.  As I listen, I am taken back.  Suddenly, I am hearing . . .

The Music of My Life . . .

     It’s Friday night, the game is over, and we have arrived at the high school gym.  Me ‘n my Forever Love, L'il Joe.  The DJ plays the current hits of the day and the kids begin to mingle and reach for their partners.  Me ‘n my Forever Love head to the dance floor to the strains of . . .

“Only You”  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3FygIKsnkCw

  * * * * * *

     And then, suddenly, all too soon, it's time for graduation.  We start attending the local city college (Wayne State U) in Detroit.  After a couple of years, my Forever Love spends the summer as a counselor at a church camp . . . and falls in love with one of the other counselors.  Together they will "save" the world.  Shock turns into heart-wrenching pain and sense of loss.  

     And time passes; slowly, painfully, at first.  But then, a new encounter.  A male friend from church brings a friend to church.  They are sharing a house together. My friend introduces us and the young man named Jerry and I have a 'first date'.  At Aunt Fanny's on Woodward Avenue in Royal Oak, Michigan.  Something 'clicks'.  On the way home, the radio is playing this song.  It becomes "our" song" --

"Let it Be Me"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvA-STM7oJk

* * * * *

     The years pass.  Marriage to Jer, four children, and then . . . divorcing after 22 years . . . struggling on my own for a time.  Finally, a second marriage to "Gary", and seven years later a second divorce. And the song that I will forever associate with THIS relationship is --

"Desperado"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yUg10CPelvo

* * * * *

     But through the years . . .always . . . whenever I hear this next song, I imagine Jerry hearing it . . . I imagine that HE is thinking this.  Even though I know it is only and Always on MY Mind.

“You Were Always on my Mind”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5u5LZ-DN3iA

* * * * *

     And then, the song which for 21 years always reminded me of a man, a mutual friend of Jerry's and mine during our marriage, and of the attraction – never acted upon – between him and me; albeit he is 15 years older.

“It’s Impossible”

     And now, 30 years later, we reconnect.  He is single, I am single. And we are young and in love all over again. Hard and strong and beautiful . . . "Lovejames" and I.

“And I Love You So”

     Alas, too many years have passed and old age interferes.  Reality intervenes once again.  Several months of a brief and beautiful interlude conclude.

* * * * *

     And now . . . and now . . . life and memories remain.  And I am content. Mostly . . .

"What a Wonderful World"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=21LGv8Cf0us

Ponderings . . . Christian Nation? Again (10/22/2015)

Lots of talk about the U.S. being "a Christian nation." Hmmmm. . .


So that means, I think, the nation (collective) would purpose to practice/follow the teachings of Jesus – as in:


– Loving your neighbor as yourself
– Giving your second coat to someone who has none
– Forgiving 70 times 70
– Caring for Widows and Orphans


Of course we all realize individuals can practice this but to me, the idea of a "Christian nation" suggests we (citizens) collectively implement/practice the above. So how can we do that?


Hmmm . . . let’s see. How ‘bout setting up government organizations (collectively supported by our tax dollars) to assist people in need.


Oh, wait a minute. We DO that. Yeay for us.


Okay. Moving on. Jesus also said – "Love your enemies; do good to them who despitefully use you."


Now THAT’S a hard one. But wait, I have an idea for that, too.


Conscript the U.S. Military and utilize their funds, their resources, their time and effort –


and send them off to the Middle East (for starters, anyway) – with medicines and doctors and food and clothing and toys for kids –


and just BOMBARD them with it all –


LOVINGLY ADMINISTERED WITH BEAR HUGS.


And tell them, "Jesus sent me."

Rigidity (And So It Goes . . . A)

There are all sorts of people in this world

But for purposes of this discussion, I have limited/divided them into two categories –

1) People who are rigid in their thinking.

2) People who are not.

* * * * *

I grew up in a conservative Christian home.  I have been a Christian all my life.  My church taught me WE are right.  WE have the ‘TRUTH’.  Agree with us or suffer eternal damnation in HELL.  So there.  ‘Nuf said.  Period.

And then I was married for 22 years to a man who said, “well, of course, you’re entitled to your opinion.  But, of course, it’s wrong.”

* * * * *

I have fought against these mentalities all my adult life.

Our teenage Sunday school class was taught by our minister.  Many times his lesson for the day included these words, “and we believe blah, blah, blah”.  I, my boyfriend, and his best friend, were the only ones who frequently raised our hands and said, “but what if . . .”, “what about . . .”, “how come . . . ”.  Most of the rest of the class just sat and listened . . . respectfully.

* * * * *

In the course of my life, which is rather circumspect in some respects I admit; nevertheless, I have met people from various walks of life, various ethnic groups, various philosophical persuasions.  My ten years or so attending the Unitarian Church in Nashville was enlightening on many levels.  People from a variety of religious backgrounds came together joyfully and respectfully and shared their experiences and beliefs.

Always I learned something from my reading and/or experiences.  Often what I learned was there is much that I don’t know.  Watching science programs showing the earth in relation to the sun, the moon, other planets, our solar system, our universe . . . one of many . . .  Planets and stars that are MILLIONS of light years away . . .

It has made me very humble.

* * * * *

Humble about what I believe about anything.  Especially compared to others.

My faith is strong; my faith is precious to me.  It has served me well; very well.  It works for me.  I am blessed.  And grateful.

Of course, my faith has changed through the years.  I would like to think my faith has matured as I have physically and mentally matured.  But maybe that’s wishful thinking on my part.

Whatever it is, I know that I am comfortable being who and what I am.  At last.  It took fifty years but twenty more have now passed and I realize I am pretty much who I’m going to be.  And that’s okay.

Because part of who and what I am is someone who believes in keeping an open mind.  To the extent of my ability and knowledge at the time, I use logic and problem solving techniques to arrive at my conclusions.  Note I said ‘extent of my ability and knowledge.’

All those things I said mostly I don’t know about? Lots of them are things I have no interest in.

If I DO have an interest in something, I check into it – read/research – until I satisfy my curiosity.  For that time, anyway.  Maybe later, I’ll find a reason to check further. Maybe later I’ll learn something that will change my mind – again.

* * * * *

Because my faith is precious to me, because I realize how little I really ‘KNOW’ about so many things – I must assume another’s faith/philosophy is just as precious to them.

I don’t mind if you don’t see things my way.  Why should you; you’re not me.  What I think and do is right for me.  It doesn’t follow in my train of thought that what I think and do MUST be right for you.

That is for you to decide.

If you and I are having a discussion – about anything (well, almost) – when I state my opinion, it is always from the perspective of what I know now, what I have heard/read/experienced – so far.  It is not written in stone.  I may learn something tomorrow that will change my mind.

I won’t, however, necessarily change my mind today because of something YOU tell me.  I am a skeptical optomist  – about everything I see and read and hear.  The result of the world/technology we live in.

People that understand this – who ‘get it’ – who may be the same kind of thinkers themselves – are not offended by this.

People who are rigid – do not.

They get offended if I don’t agree or understand their point of view.  Some of them talk condescendingly . . . or worse . . . as if they are scolding their child.

* * * * *

On a similar note, why is it that some people are offended if you ask questions?  I am a question asker.  It’s one way to understand, to learn.  If I ask you a question, I am not questioning your authority/knowledge, I am trying to understand.  Sometimes I rephrase and say, “do you mean blah, blah, blah?”  Often, I am interrupted, impatiently, with additional information/explanation that I wasn’t understanding in the first place.

And so it goes . . .

A House Full of Kids (Originally Written 1995)

As I sat signing my Christmas cards this evening, I came across a card I'd received from Joyce McGowan, a dear neighbor from another time, another place.  Another me.

I noted she had moved from Vernon Avenue in Huntington Woods, Michigan, where we had lived as neighbors for so many years.  Her husband, Mickey, died a few years ago but I never imagined she would move, and I wrote a note to say, "Take care, dear old friend".  Unexpectedly, my eyes filled with tears.  They splattered on the words that I had written as images of her house, that beautiful old house across the street from ours, blocked out the present.

The images continued, the years fell away, and I was back there once again.

It seemed to be summer and the sun was shining.  Everything looked so bright.  The huge old trees that lined the street were laden with foliage, the well-cared-for lawns were lush with deep green grass,  and the sky was startlingly blue.  The picture in my mind was of our street as though I was looking out from my house to hers.

I didn't actually see her but she was there.  In her house full of kids.  And I was there.  In my house full of kids.  We were friendly, borrowing neighbors and our kids played together and got into trouble together.

And I wondered why it had seemed so often hard at the time to be there in that house full of kids.  Then it seemed that the cares of the day often overwhelmed me.  So many little hands and feet and mouths to wash, to dress, to feed.  Too many dishes and clothes to wash, too many dinners to cook, too much dust to sweep, too many trips to Krogers, to the doctors, to the school, too many . . . not enough me.

Funny how time puts such a different perspective on things.  If I could be there right now, today, somehow I would find the patience to do it better this time.  This time I would know to just hold those little kids and hug them tight and tell them how precious they were to me.  Every day.  Several times a day.

Today it would be such fun to gather them in the tub and wash their sturdy little bodies.  I would relish the feel of their wonderfully tender skin as I rinsed and dried them with a big fluffy towel.  And once again I would kiss them in that delightful, most vulnerable spot right where their neck and shoulders meet.

Today it would be such a joy to help them get ready for bed.  Each one a different age, a different size.  Each one needing a little more or less of mommy's helping hand.  And then I would set them on the couch, my four little stairstep cherubs.  And we would read some bedtime stories.  Then, as I tucked each one into bed with one  special song, I would give them one last kiss and hug as I listened to them say their prayers.

I did those things back then, of course.  But not always so joyfully, I think.
* * * * *
As I sit here at my dining room table signing Christmas cards in 1995 remembering my dear old friend and the lives we lived back then, it seems like it must have been the loveliest, most wonderful thing I can think of . . .

To have lived at . . . .

                           10075 Vernon Avenue in Huntington Woods, Michigan . . .

                                                       in a house full of kids.

Blessings
Sarah



December 1995

Stone Soup Blessing

  Waking, I stretch and enjoy the sensation of feeling rested . . . feeling good.  And feeling rested..  Such a lovely way to wake up.  

“Good Morning, God. So glad to be here.  So glad to feel like me.  In fact, if I could always feel like “me” til it’s time to go, what a blessing.  In fact, that’s blessing enough.”

“Yes, feeling good – no aches or pains – no ‘funny’ feelings in my head or wherever it is they show up from time to time  – that would be enough.  Enough blessing in my life.  Well, that . . .  And maybe having enough money to pay my bills.  Yes, feeling like me and having money to pay my bills.  That’s enough blessing. That's all I need.”

“And . . . “

And then I start to smile remembering a story from my childhood.  From a book my mom read to me when I was young, like 3-8, maybe.  A story from The How and Why Library; My Story Book.  A story called 'Stone Soup.'

Betcha no one reading this has ever heard of that story . . .  or these books.

I say books because the How and Why Library consisted of 5 hard cover books –

My Hero Book, My Nature Book, My Knowledge Book, My Travel Book, and My Story Book.

Both the Hero and Story Book contained stories for children pre-school through maybe sixth grade (at that time, anyway).

These were the two books from that library that my mom read to me from most often.  

My Hero Book was divided into sections called: Holiday Stories, Great Men, Character Building Stories, Health and Thrift Stories, Selected Stories, Dramatizations, Bible Stories, and Other Lands and Peoples.

Stories like The Secret of Mrs. Santa and Skeesix, The Truthful Little Persian, The Fox Who Lost His Tail, stories about Charles Lindbergh, George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Moses, the Law Giver, Happy Face, the Indian Boy, and others.

I still have four of the five books.  Only My Story book is missing.  How and Why I do not know. (Pun intended)   

Full of stories and poems.  She, and then I, read it the most.  I wish I could find another copy.

I WILL find a copy.  I think.  Oh, yes, it’s available on Amazon.com.  Yeay!

And that's all I need . . .

* * * * * * * * * *

The Original Stone Soup Story

The original stone soup story was first published in English in London in 1808. The author is Robert Moser. Stone Soup is classified by folklorists as a Stone Soup is an Aarne-Thompson-Uther type 1548 folktale. That is a folktale in the “clever man” category. 
    
In Moser’s version of the story he emphasizes the traveler’s social skills. Tired, hours on the road and hungry he nonetheless starts out the conversation with the woman at the farmhouse with small talk. When he finally gets around to asking for the pot and explaining about how he will make stone soup he does so in the way of a performer — “If you will lend me a small pot,” said the Traveler, “I’ll show you.” 

And I think that is way the stone soup story always ends up on a happy note. The traveler, the tramp, the soldier, whoever it is who needs to eat but only has a stone knows how to entertain! And the soup is always so good! If you are interested in the full history of the stone soup story, and its first publication 1720 by he French journalist, Madame de Noyer, please look at our stone soup history here.

— http://www.stonesoup.com/history-of-the-stone-soup-story-from-1720-to-now/

One of These Is Not Like the Other . . .

National Religion ???

Okay, Folks – Evil Twin reporting in here --I’m just gonna come out and say it –

If this IS, in fact, a “Christian” nation, then we have to repeal the First Amendment.

If that’s what we want, we can make Christianity the country’s religion.  There have been countries with national religions.  Japan was and still is mostly Shinto, China mostly Buddhist.  England’s national church was once The Church of England, India’s national religion was/is Hindu.

And then, it would probably be a good idea – if we wish to maintain this purity – to pass legislation that ONLY Christians be allowed to immigrate.  If we choose to pass laws to this effect, if that’s what the majority want, we can do this.  It would be perfectly legal.

HOWEVER . . .

From our country’s founding til now – that isn’t the kind of country we have set up nor aspired to be.  We have welcomed people from all countries, all backgrounds, all religions, or no religion. And told them they can be citizens of our country.

Like The Lady says: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”

But -- for the sake of this argument -- let’s say we DO decide to do this.  The majority of us want to be a “Christian” nation, and we repeal the First Amendment.

The next thing we MUST do – IMMEDIATELY – is change our behavior.  Drastically.

First and foremost we would have to get rid of the humongous military complex and portion of our national budget that goes to fund bombs and submarines and planes and guns and ammunition – you know, weapons of mass destruction.

And then – we have to use that money to “bomb” our enemies with food and medicine and building supplies and send doctors and nurses and medicines and teachers and construction workers to administer the aid.

And then – we need to “bombard” the News Worldwide with pictures and updates – daily – of what we are doing.

And then – when they ask why, tell them – “Jesus sent me.”

* * * * *

“But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;”
– Matthew 5:44

* * * * *

“If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.”
– Chronicles 7:14

* * * * *

Personally, I wouldn’t really have a problem with that.  Being a Christian, I mean; albeit a “liberal” one.  As in because my faith is precious to me, I recognize/acknowledge the same for others.  My faith  has sustained me through good times and bad.  God is as close to me as my prayer, my thought.  I believe He walks with me every day of my life. He has blessed and protected me and my family mightily.

So if we DO decide to repeal the first amendment and this becomes a nation of Christians in reality/fact, it wouldn’t disrupt my life much at all.

Others, on the other hand, might find the results rather daunting.

Blessings!

Sarah