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

It's All About the . . . Love . . .

Richard Rohr's Daily Meditation

Journey to the Center
Monday, December 28, 2015

Both God's truest identity and our own True Self are Love. So why isn't it obvious? How do we find what is supposedly already there? Why should we need to awaken our deepest and most profound selves? And how do we do it? By praying and meditating? By more silence, solitude, and sacraments? Yes to all of the above, but the most important way is to live and fully accept our present reality. This solution sounds so simple and innocuous that most of us fabricate all kinds of religious trappings to avoid taking up our own inglorious, mundane, and ever-present cross of the present moment.

As James Finley says, "The greatest teacher of God's presence in our life is our life." For some reason, it is easier to attend church services than quite simply to reverence the real --the "practice of the presence of God," as some of our saints have called it. Making this commitment doesn't demand a lot of dogmatic wrangling or managerial support, just vigilance, desire, and willingness to begin again and again. Living and accepting our reality will not feel very spiritual. It will feel like we are on the edges rather than dealing with the essence. Thus most run toward more esoteric and dramatic postures instead of bearing the mystery of God's suffering and God's joy inside themselves. But the edges of our lives--fully experienced suffered, and enjoyed--lead us back to the center and the essence, which is Love.

We do not find our own center; it finds us. Our own mind will not be able to figure it out. We collapse back into the Truth only when we are spiritually naked and free--which is probably not very often. We do not think ourselves into new ways of living. We live ourselves into new ways of thinking. In other words, our journeys around and through our realities, or " circumferences, " lead us to the  core reality, where we meet both our truest self and our truest God. We do not really know what it means to be human unless we know God. And, in turn, we do not really know God except through our own broken and rejoicing humanity.

In Jesus, God tells us that God is not different from humanity. Thus Jesus' most common and almost exclusive self-name is "The Human One" or "A Son of Humanity." He uses the term seventy-nine times in the four Gospels. Jesus' reality, his cross, is to say a free "yes" to what his humanity daily asks of him. It seems that we Christians have been worshiping Jesus' journey instead of doing his journey. The worshiping feels very religious; the latter just feels human and ordinary. We are not human beings on a journey toward Spirit, we are already spiritual beings on a journey toward becoming fully human, which for some reason seems harder precisely because it is so ordinary.

Gateway to Silence
God's life is living itself in me.
________________________________________________
Reference:
Adapted from Richard Rohr, Everything Belongs: The Gift of Contemplative Prayer  (The Crossroad Publishing Company: 2003), 17-20.
________________________________________________
Bold Red is my highlighting.  I read this – and these words, especially, resonated in my heart and soul.  The “light bulb” effect.  Kind of.  I have been coming to this understanding for the past few years – and the way he says it here just kind of hit me.  Yes!  That’s it.

God is L-O-V-E.  He is all things, the beginning, the end, et cetera.  But first and foremost, God is L-O-V-E.  So completely revealed in the reality of His Son, Jesus, and what He did.

And if we “get it”, then we are L-O-V-E – also.  He is IN us . . . i.e., WE are Love.  First and foremost, we are LOVE.

And everything we say and do comes from the heart and soul of us whose generator is LOVE.
= = = = = = = =
Does this makes sense to anyone but me?

Sarah

BOMBardment!

I wrote this back in 2003 in my journal.  It seems timely to post it now.

Journal Entry
1/11/2003

Well, isn’t this special.

This wacky, old, liberal lady may not be so wacky, after all.

Before the bombing of Afghanistan, I sent messages to liberal members of Congress asking them to exert their influence to prevent bombing with “bomb” bombs.  Surprise, surprise; no one listened.  AFTER the bombing, I sent messages to all members of Congress I could find E-mail addresses for.  Some came back “undeliverable”.  No one really paid any attention.  Who needs to listen to wacky, old, liberal ladies, anyway.

Briefly, my suggestion was this:

1) “Bomb” Afghanistan with food, medicine, and supplies and send people with skills to teach them how to work their land, etc., etc.  Strictly humanitarian aid.  In whatever form necessary.  BLITZ them with it.  NOTHING ELSE.

2) BLAST the message of what we are doing to TV stations by satellite INTERNATIONALLY.  Over and over. Sound bites. Several times a day.  Just like we do in our political campaigns.

The ads would vary but basically would say, “Look, World.  This is what “the great Satan” does.  These are the acts of ‛the great Satan’.  Here are the pictures.  Now look at what bin Laden does.  Here are the pictures.  Who is really ‛the great Satan?’  You decide.”

Over and over.  Day after day. 3-4-5 times a day.

As the campaign continued, updated pictures of the people getting the food, the medicine, the training would continued to blitz the TV news stations ALL OVER THE WORLD.

THIS IS THE ONLY ATTACK ON AFGHANISTAN that should have been made.

Of course the Suits, the Super-Stars, the Movers and Shakers, the Influential Folks of Washington did not listen.  Not that I really expected them to.  But then, miracles DO happen, so you’ve got to try.  Besides, “speaking your mind” is one of the things America is all about.

Now we are planning to go to war against Saddam Hussein and “bomb” Iraq.  What he has to do with Nine/Eleven -- which is nothing -- is irrationally irrelevant.

So the wacky, old, liberal lady speaks again.

In her opinion, she always bases her opinions on 1) as much knowledge as she has at the time (which may or may not be enough, and is why she may change her mind), and 2) common sense/logic.

Trying to put herself in Saddam Hussein’s place, she tries to imagine what she would do if confronted with his situation.  And decides--since she can’t ask him-- that it is a reasonable assumption to believe he LOVES his life the way it has been going and would like it to continue.  If only those evil Americans will leave him alone to do his thing.  She believes he knows if he DOES get “weapons of mass destruction” up and running and uses them, SPLAT, he’s toast.  He and his country would be obliterated off the face of the earth.  He’s  evil, not stupid.

BUT, if he is CONVINCED we are going to get him, he has nothing to lose, so he’ll take out some of--or all of--the rest of us.  Probably has the bombs in place in the bunkers; nuclear bombs and/or biological bombs and/or chemical bombs.  We bomb them, we ALL are toast.

This is NOT rocket science, folks.  Sixty-four-year old wacky, liberal ladies don’t understand rocket science.  Not this one, anyway.

Fast forward to January 2003.  In particular, 1/10/03,   N.P.T.’s broadcast last night of Bill Meyer’s “NOW” program.  Interviewing Howard Zinn, author and historian at Boston University, his latest book being, “Terrorism & War.”

I cannot believe what I am hearing.

According to Howard Zinn (assuming he is stating the truth), the CIA has publicly stated the one thing that would cause Saddam Hussein to use his “weapons of mass destruction” -- IF he has them --  would be if we attack him.

What???

************
This learned man continues.  He is not a pacifist.  The Sadam Husseins and bin Ladens of the world must be dealt with, he believes.  Through negotiations.  And America must change from a military super power to a humanitarian super power.

Hey! Bet he would LOVE my idea for “bombing” Afghanistan.  Of course, it’s too late for that.  In October 2001 we further decimated a country already devastated by other wars, other dictators.

Oh, well, maybe next time.

With respect to the actual bombing of Afghanistan, which was totally ineffective, of course, since the stated purpose was to “get bid Laden”, Mr. Zinn compared what we did there to this scenario:

“There is a terrorist hiding in Boston, let’s bomb Boston and maybe we’ll get him.”

Why it takes a learned historian from Boston University to state the obvious, I don’t know, but I will restate his position on the bombing of Iraq:

“If we bomb Iraq, we will be killing the victims of Saddam Hussein.”

Hooray for us!
********
Bill asked him why he is so opposed to war.

In World War II he was a bomber, flew in the B17 bomber, and bombed the hell out of whatever target his commander selected for that day’s run.  From 6000 feet in the air, you don’t see people, you don’t see heads blown off, arms torn off, bleeding, dying real life people, writhing in agony and pain, dying by the thousands, or maimed for life if you happen to survive.

You see a target, a spot.  And you obliterate it.  Or maybe the one next to it.  So you missed by one degree.  Too bad.  “I understand the banality of war.  They’re the bad guys, we’re the good guys.  War brutalizes everyone involved.”

Bombing the blazes out of a country, only creates more problems.

The turning point for him, he said, was at the end of the war.  The war was actually over but there were a few skirmishes, loose ends to tie up.  His squadron was deployed to Orien, France.  There was a pocket of German prisoners--young men, of course; every country sends their best and strongest--being held in this town.  They had fought valiantly for their cause, just as we had done, but they got caught.  The U.S. military sent 1200 bombers--that’s

o n e  t h o u s a n d  t w o  h u n d r e d  k I I l I n g  m a c h I n e s –

to destroy these few thousand prisoners.

It just happened that they obliterated the entire town of several thousand people in the process.

“And that’s when I started hating war,” he said.

******
Whether or not there is life after death or not, we really won’t know until we get there.  Some believe when it’s over, it’s over.  This life is all there is.  Others of us believe we are eternal beings and life continues in some form after we shed this earthly shell.

I’ve spent a lifetime studying the Bible and other religious/spiritual books.  I’ve listened, and continue to listen, to well-known religious leaders of all persuasions.  The ones that impress me are the ones that stress the importance of love.

God IS love and ALL-KNOWING, ALL-SEEING, ALL-PRESENT.  IF there IS a God.  (That’s for all you folks who don’t know or think there isn’t).

Love is the key.  Whether there’s a God or not.

Desmond Tutu was interviewed a few months ago by Ted Koppel on Up Close and he made a comment that has stuck with me ever since.  He meditates every morning from 6-9 a.m.

He was speaking of God.  Paraphrasing, he said the very essence of God is love.  God loves US completely, unequivocally, absolutely, and God expects US to love each other IN THE SAME MANNER.  Then he said something else.  I will never forget it:

“God loves George Bush and Saddam Hussein the same.  To Him, they are brothers.”

If the world could grasp the meaning of those words, there would be no more wars.  “The world” being made up of millions of individuals.  Individuals who CAN comprehend and act on the meaning of those words.  If they so choose.

There’s lots of things I haven’t figured out yet.   Some things I think I’ve figured out but I may change my mind if I get more information.

For now, this is what I believe.

Whatever heaven is--assuming there is one--it is only filled with love.  To the furthermost edges, every nook and cranny.  Filled with love.  All the negative emotions that we humans feel from time to time-- anger, frustration, intolerance, resentment, self-righteousness, hatred, impatience, prejudice--those things are not present in heaven.

So if you harbor those thoughts, if you act on those emotions, if this is

Who . . . You . . . Are . . .

you might want to think about overcoming those feelings with LOVE.  (so-called Christians beware; wake up; I’m speaking especially to you.)

In the largest darkest room or cave, where you can’t see your finger in front of your face, light just one small candle.  The darkness is dispersed.  Light another candle and the darkness recedes a little more.  Every small candle lit gets rid of a little more darkness.

Individuals, one by one, understanding what love really means, practicing it, joined together become nations.  And nations who act in love will have no need for war.

Music Takes Me Back . . .

So this morning I turn on my TV to Easy Listening, as always, open the LR blinds, and head to the kitchen to make my coffee. Decide to mop the kitchen floor and wash the rugs. THEN, make the coffee. 

Once again, the music takes me away. This time it’s "Grandfather’s Clock." OMG, now that’s one I haven’t heard since . . . wow, a long time.


It was, of course, just one of the many – I thought at the time – silly little dittys we kids sang as we played and ran around the neighborhood.


Grandfather’s Clock, and "It’s Raining, it’s Pouring" , Eeny, Meeny, Miney, Mo, Catch a Tiger By the Toe ( well, some kids sang it different but MY Mom taught me some words are just too ugly and we don’t say them).


And then there were the popular songs of the day – like " Don’t Sit Under the Apple tree," " I’m Looking Over a Four-Leaf Clover," " I’ll Be Seeing You," "White Cliffs of Dover," "When the Lights Come On Again". All those heart-rendering, patriotic, romantic war-time melodies.


Do you remember them too?


My Beautiful Old Detroit Neighborhood. Mostly demolished now. One and a half blocks from my grade school, Grayling Elementary, and two streets over from the State Fair Grounds (where we spent many a summer day – all day – back in those long-ago times of my – can I say– perfect? – childhood.


There was a vacant lot two houses down from my house – just about in the middle of the block – great for playing baseball and kick the can. Of course we all knew the rules – come in when the street lights come on. Often of a summer evening, our parents were visiting back and forth on someone’s front porch. Keeping an ‘eye out’. Every house had a front porch, of course.


Back in those days, after school, or in the summertime when there was no school, we – mostly my (3) girlfriends and I – neighbors all – played together. And this is how it went. You went down the street to your friend’s house and stood on the sidewalk in front of her door – and called her name. (Sing-songy voice required).


Mar – il – lynn . . . (pause) . . . Mar – il – lynn.


Glor – ee – ah . . . . Glor – ee – ah.


Dee – Aaannn


Mare – ree


After one or two calls, the girl would come out to play. Or her mother would come to the door and say, "Marilyn can’t come and play right now."


On the opposite end of the street from the one that led to the school was a huge piece of property. Mostly filled with cinders and dirt. Probably a 4-5 acre piece of land. At the back the land rose about ten feet or so and that’s were the railroad tracks ran. And still do, of course. We spent a lot of time running around that land, sometimes catching frogs or tadpoles in the pools that formed and, god forbid – climbing up and "walking the tracks". Yeah, we did. When I think about that . . .


But that’s enough for today. Don’t want to repeat myself; most of these precious memories have been recorded in my first book, Sarah’s Story (available on Lulu.com--30% discount-- and Amazon.com.)