FOREVER SMILING

At some time in our lives, most of us have wondered about Heaven. We don’t know what it’s like because no one has ever reported back to us. In our society, unless we hear or see something, it is not true. Imagining what Heaven is like can be an endless source of thought and entertainment for me.

There is the obvious thought is usually: Heaven is where good people go when they die - the good that lived on here on Earth. This would probably include saints, certain peacemakers, like Dr. King or Gandhi, and an incredible amount of everyday people, doing the right thing each day. We would think Hell would be reserved for the likes of Hitler, serial killers and rapists.

I think we all get a chance at Heaven, and if we realized this, our life’s decisions would be quite different. There is a possibility psychopaths or sociopaths have apologized and God thinks that is enough. Our idea is that God knows all, so wouldn’t He know when someone is truly sorry for their deeds? I wonder if it is possible God would allow us to see the “truth” as He sees the truth, and if we get to fully understand where we went astray. If this is the case, we all end up there, but really do not want to come back to Earth, and this would explain no further information given to us by people who have passed. Everything is pleasant and everyone has changed for the better, and we’re finally where we should be for eternity.

I wonder if a father who deserted his children will have to explain, in order to gain access into the Gates. I wonder if Apollo had more or less leeway when he went up, or anyone else married or related to an accomplished person. I wouldn’t think there would be nepotism in Heaven, because it’s a fair and just place. We all stand on our own deeds, actions and words from our lives on Earth.

Some believe there is a stop in purgatory or limbo, before being able to go to Heaven. With a life of nuns and the Catechism, this was a difficult concept for me when I was young. What do you mean, if I’m good, I still have to go there? What the hell? No, did I say hell -- I meant heck. In my mind, I think Purgatory is a place to stop and watch a complete recording of your life. They sit you in a chair and you have control of the remote. You are allowed to fast forward through the good times, if you choose, but for the bad days, you have to relive and watch, until the correct answer strikes you. This concept could work, because this means innocent babies would receive immediate access to Heaven. The demented and gruesome would have to sit through their acts, over and over again, until they saw the error of their ways. Only love would be the correcting force for us to get out of the chair, give the remote back to St. Pete, and walk toward the Gates.

Would He greet us when we got there? Since He can appear to be anything or anyone He chooses, this could be a lot of fun. (We’ve all seen His sense of humor in our lives.) For bigots, He could appear to be the racist’s opposite color. For atheists, He could appear to be Jerry Falwell. For narcissists, He could appear to be the narcissist themselves. For the people who always think they’re right, it could be Flip Wilson as the Judge from Laugh-In. The possibilities are endless.

Some will gain admission for what they gave to others; some their intelligence; some for using their time and gifts wisely; some for changing for the better. We will all have to answer the inevitable questions, and come up with some good answers too. We probably can not lie or bend the truth here either. The actual will be the factual, and most of us realize what our list of questions will sound like.

The only other thing I’ve wondered about Heaven is I don’t know if there are any jobs to do there, or if we just sit around talking. Some people never use their God given talents on Earth for a variety of reasons. These people don’t even know where their talents lie, but muddle through life taking care of what they think they’re supposed to be doing. Work, responsibilities, and sometimes, dumb luck get in the way of our gifts or the things we truly love to do. We know Heaven is filled with our favorite musicians, artists and movie stars. Are they working their craft there, as they did on Earth? God, I hope not for some of the B-List. I don’t want to name names because I don’t care for hate mail. There is always a fan, no matter what I think. Without the mediocre though, we would never be able to identify the great talented ones, so I guess the B-List has their place too. Then there are the talented we have yet to hear or see their works on Earth. I don’t think my current profession would do too much good in Heaven.

Which brings me to the job I want in Heaven. With severe stage fright, the piano is out, and the only other talent I have is tasting wine. On Earth, with human imperfection, there is good and bad wine. In Heaven, there is probably only good wine. What I think I’d like is to be a part of the laugh track team. The people who giggle hysterically on cue when He needs to get others to laugh at themselves or at His jokes. Yup! Smiles for eternity. : D

ONWARD AND UPWARD

I’ve moved beyond hurt feelings now, because they are a waste of important energy. It was also pointed out, by someone who does not know me personally, that I should love the people who treat you right and forget about the ones that don’t. It’s absolutely the best advice I took in this past week. So it’s now onward and upward to the better parts of life.

I am looking forward to this weekend, and catching up with people from my high school years. Living out of town for the past 25+ years, I have only been able to reconnect with some on line. This is something we all must face during our life. We’ve had to face it sooner with the internet and social networking available now. Our faces are plastered on the web, along with our personal information. Though I still feel 17, the reflection in the mirror casts a more realistic truth. However, this will not stop any of us this weekend. We will all revert back to the teenage girl attitudes with make up, clothing and cliques. The boys will act cooler, and more aloof, as they did way back when. LOL! I can’t wait!

So, after all of these days past take place, I line up expectations and hopes for a great time. With all of the girls’ reversion to seventeen, there will be cattiness, bragging rights and stuff you just can’t unknow. Who slept with whom, how much surgery some have had, and deeper details of lives, will be the gossip for the evening. The memories are more difficult to discuss because we are all much older, too many things have taken place in our lives since then, and most importantly, we were all high in some way in the early and mid 1970s. This was back in the days when a nickel bag was $5 and the lower drinking age was merely going over the bridge, across the Mississippi River. The old memories tend to get a little murky.

If you think the old school yearbooks help, they do not trigger the memories either, especially when you read what your old classmates wrote. One boy, Joe, wrote “I wish you would have gone to the Lynyrd Skynyrd concert with me.” I have NO IDEA what I was thinking back then!

Then it will be onward to Aunt and Uncle’s house. My cousin and her family live in the same town too, so it will be a very nostalgic walk with old and fond memories. Sunday morning, I will go to Mass, eat breakfast, have a massage, then get on the road to see Aunt and Uncle. My visit is long overdue, and must put them on the rotation to visit every three to six months. Since The Baby is older now, and everything seems in order (for now), I will keep up with the visits to the wonderful people in my life. There is a three hour drive, so there will be plenty of time to recuperate from the prior evening.

I am looking forward to the month of September. So many things are planned with so many fine people I truly love. There may be some memorable times to drop off and other new ones to pick up. Now I realize the advice was so true, and could not have come at a better time for me - the people to spend time should be selected from the group who treats you right.

TRYING TO MAKE SENSE OF LIES

(I apologize in advance if this sounds confusing. I just had to sort things out.)

There is no way that we can know what is best for us. Pride and stubbornness sometimes gets in the way. If we take what we know, from life, our gut feeling or intuition is not necessarily something we can depend. Once in awhile, it gets cloudy, and it takes a step back to access the situation.

There is something brewing now, and I’m not sure what to do, or if I should do anything at all. It is a very detailed story, and goes back through so many lives, but has affected different people in very different ways. Some are trying to cover up, and pretend it doesn’t or didn’t exist. Some have faced it with the same mistakes made in their own lives. There are a few who walked away completely, knowing it was a waste of more life to try to convert a bad energy into a good one. I’m sure this is sounding confusing, but it is the only way I have to make it more cathartic, and to help me sort out some things.

After much more thinking and discussing with people close, I have come to realize there is a vast difference between good and evil, and there is no gray area. If people do not tell the truth, or be honest with themselves and others, shit rolls into their life. There are some who continue with masks and facades, without knowing they are doing anything wrong. There are some who want to show the world they have perfect lives, when they actually live two different lives. The lies catch up to everyone, and without realizing that even a subtle change towards good can make all the difference in the world, they continue on building lies upon lies. Soon, it gets contorted and a messed up version of the truth, until no one can distinguish between the two.

It’s just too much to keep up with. We all have crap we must deal with, and some days, it’s a lot to bear. But with strength, determination and honesty, I believe we can overcome the bad and turn the energy into good. Without exception, facades are no more than lies we are living, and lies must be overturned into truths - God willing, one day.

I have a person in my life, whom I love dearly. He has overcome sadness, and with a truckload of good in his heart, he was and is determined to find the love and good in everything around him. I am so lucky to have him share with me, because I don’t think I ever would be who I am today without him. Even as children, he taught me so much, and still look to him for guidance. Recently, a piece of advice from him has stuck with me. If it is good, leave it alone and go on your way, continuing with the good in your life. If it is bad, leave it alone and go on your way. We can not go back and change others, but we can take the good forward and leave the bad behind. So I now look back, and once again, try to pick and choose the good in someone else’s pile of shit.

It used to be very difficult for me to do this, but as I go forward, the good outweighs the bad in every circumstance. Truth forever will reign over evil. The hard part is to remind yourself of this every day. You would think it is a simple statement most people believe, but that isn’t necessarily the case. Too many contradictions can make you question the easiest belief.

I will be traveling soon, and with every single minute of planning this trip, something has happened to change plans. Every small event has become a monster problem to decipher. After each notation or correction is made on the itinerary, it becomes clear to me I’m being guided through this. Everything is happening for a specific reason, and there is a more powerful hand swaying me into a different direction, in every aspect of the trip. I’ve come to realize the importance will be with the two people I will see at the end of the trip. The directions I choose to make, keep changing back to the visit of these two people. When I add or change something, God is steering me back to them.

When do we give up to fate or God’s hand? It is something I’ve relinquished in the past, always reluctantly, until now. I will go where it is important for me to be. I have no idea why yet, but I have faith it will be known to me soon enough. I will go towards the good.

~~sigh~~ I feel much better.

WOMEN VOTERS

There are many things I am passionate about, but there are many things I am totally unconcerned about. The economic crisis is and example of this side saying that the other side is wrong, and vice versa. To be honest, there is not a party system that will work for this country, because they are dividing our nation incorrectly.

If you really want to win an election, divide the parties into male and female. Everyone knows who would win. Most women do not want to run for office, because, in the long run, it doesn’t really matter. Women have been running everything on Earth for so long, a title just would not impress us. Continue the pretending, and someone else can be called President.

Most of the time, women are the ones wiping asses, noses and tears. We are trained and it exists in most of our intuition to take care of defenseless creatures as babies. Most of the time, it’s women that are holding the dying person, nurturing and caring for them. The male nurses in this country are rising, and now at a mere 6%. It is not because the opportunity does not exist for males, but it is not as natural. In our country, only 3% are male homosexuals, and of those men, only about 12% are parents. Nurturing can take place in either sex, but women have the statistical percentage down pat. Our natural roles are to be caregivers.

If politicians could easily win elections if they put an emphasis on the female voters. It doesn’t matter if they are poor or rich, conservative or liberal, married or single, old or young, and cross all color lines. If there was a clear speaking sincere person, running for office, interested in the woman’s point of view, the election would be a incredible landslide.

So, if this is so clear cut, why hasn’t anyone figured this out yet? Because most of the politicians running for office are men. They care about titles, power and telling people what to do. It’s how the world has been run for many thousands of years, and will probably continue. They are the starters of war, rulers of most lands and controllers of most businesses. There is no changing, nor denying, the basic instincts in either sex.

As far as titles, women have many titles we are known by, including the bullshit about changing our name when we marry. Additional notation: we also have to change from Miss to Mrs. - men get to keep Mr. forever. We have so many titles, the list would be endless to cite here. Men have Dad (only if they are an active participant) and whatever they do for a living.

We don’t want the same power that men seek either. We have the power. Men just don’t realize it yet. We are the ones making the economy go up and down, and if you don’t believe me, look at the statistics on what items a woman purchases versus what a man purchases. We tell you where to live, how many kids, where we send them to school, what you should wear, don’t wear Old Spice, zip your zipper, tie your shoe, change your tie, hit the toilet this time, blah, blah, blah. This list is endless too. We control everything! If you don’t believe this, ask your mother, wife, girlfriend, sister or daughter.

Which brings us to what a politician’s campaign promises would be to clinch the female population in the voting booth. Here are just a few items to get our attention:

1. Outlaw pantyhose. No further explanation needed, unless you’ve never had to wear a pair of these blasted things. If you have never had the pleasure, I suggest trying it just after shaving your legs when you get out of the shower.
2. Do not make us pay for Midol, Pamprin, Advil or any other pain relievers. The smartest Federal Health Care Plan idea yet. Think hard about this one, boys, before you laugh.
3. Send each child in America to work on a mission trip to a third world country for two weeks while they are 12 to 14 years old, and this should be mandatory. Not only would this stop the ungratefulness, and give parents a two week break, but would probably make a huge leap for poorer nations. The philanthropy and kindness would carry on for generations to come.
4. Any man convicted of abusing a woman or child, in any way, should have a toe whacked off. Try to explain that when you’re jumping in the sack with a girl.
5. Give women an incentive for being a housewife, and put the dignity back into taking care of man, kids and home. Make it a proud profession again, instead of a shameful “I’m a stay at home mom” thing. Bullshit! These women should be praised much more than our society is giving them.
6. Every OB/GYN and mammogram technician MUST complete 50 hours of courses on compassion, and two hours on how to warm your instruments.
7. Change the unwritten rules of society, like having a woman’s blouse, size 10, cost twice as much to get dry cleaned than RT’s XXL shirts, with TWICE the cloth.
8. We do not want coupons for toilet paper or fabric detergent. We want coupons for manicures, wine and chocolate. Subsidizing these items to poor women, or women with more than two children or two husbands. It could be paid by the federal government, sort of like Cash for Clunkers, except we could call it (manicures) Mannies for Nannies, (wine) Consign the Wine or (chocolate) HER-SHE. Again, think about it before you laugh.
9. Instead of a blood test, to get the couple ready to marry, the bride’s birthday should be tattooed on the groom.
10. Football, baseball, NASCAR races and all other sports need to switch spots with the daytime soap operas. Women can lay on the sofa every weekend, catching up, while the man sets the DVD during the week.
11. Passing gas in public, in any form, should be outlawed, and considered pollution.
12. Mandatory hearing aids for men at the age of fifty.

One of the most important promises would be to tell us we are appreciated. This one is overlooked by most every man, in every profession. The only time I’ve publicly heard a general thank you to all women was from a parish priest during a homily. Pretty sad, that the only man to say it aloud, is unmarried and celibate, but not surprising.

There has been, at least, one day in your past that a woman has wiped your ass, and God willing, that day will come again. Be nice to women. It’s really not that hard to figure it out. After reading this, if you still can’t figure it out, run for office.


P.S. I apologize if I’ve offended any loving man here. It will not be long before I am ratting out my own species.

MAKING RESERVATIONS

I have no legitimate excuse. I have been telling myself, and the ones close around me, that I have been too busy to make the phone call. I tried to dissect my psyche to see why it was so difficult for me, but could not come up with an honest answer. I absolutely love my aunt and uncle, probably much more than they realize.

This is the Aunt who was my surrogate mother. The one, throughout my life, who knows me - really knows me - from the beginning to now. The one who I trusted my young woman confidences to, and she never broke them - not a single one. And if she did, she would have been right to do so, and I would have not been pissed at her. Choosing me as a favorite from the many nieces and nephews, her love for me never once wavered, no matter what a little shit I was or how much trouble I caused. She had always, with no exception, accepted me for me. I love her dearly for this.

Her husband, my uncle, was always a favorite of mine too. When I was a little girl, I thought he looked very distinguished. He is first generation immigrant from Croatia, when the old Croatia existed. (Then it became Yugoslavia, then Croatia again, then Yugoslavia again, and now we’re back to the original Croatia. No, I was never a whiz in geography, but kept up with it because of Uncle.) He was tall and slender, with dark hair, brown eyes, and olive skin. Never had I heard him yell, as he is low keyed and laid back. His extensive cancer battle has been ongoing for about twenty years. No matter which cancer has been thrown at him - pancreas, bone marrow, lymph node, leukemia - he’s been able to fight it and come back. Radiation, chemotherapy, medications nor death sentences have ever broken his spirit.

Aunt and Uncle have three kids of their own - one a year older, two younger than me, by one and two years respectively. During my childhood, they lived about 4 blocks away. The visits were easy to make on foot, and my cousins and I are very close in age, so we got along well. To this day though, I can not believe how my mother and Aunt are so entirely different from each other. Though these two women are sisters, and once from the same family, and reared in the same house, when they had their own families, their two homes could not have been more different and opposite from one another.

One home was filled with anger, fear and abuse. The other filled with love and understanding. One had a woman who screamed, and the other had a woman who smiled so hard, deep dimples are impressed on her cheeks. One home had no hugs and the other had many. The four blocks became smaller for a young girl, and became an easy walk to their sanctuary. I realized from a very early age my home life was different than others. Aunt and Uncle’s home was an escape, and, with no doubt in all my years, I was always welcomed.

There is an extended family reunion soon approaching. I have not sent my response or regret for attending yet. I could say I was busy, and, actually, it has been a busy summer, but I need no more alibis for myself. I have deliberately not responded, because that would mean I would have to call Aunt and Uncle to let them know if I was coming. Apparently, they were not going to attend, but had a change of heart and are now going, if Uncle feels up to it. Because of his health, they will not know until the day of the reunion.

What was I to do now? Was it too late to call them? The Baby set me straight today. Her and I stopped at the bank for her to make a deposit. As we both were getting out of the car, she reminded me she didn’t need my help in the bank (duh!), and I should stay in the car and call Aunt and Uncle. What is the matter? You love them, and you’re fighting love being offered to you, and this love has been a steady stream to you all of your life. Just call them and quit pissing real love away. Not many times does the child correct the parent, but I was absolutely reprimanded.

I reluctantly made the call, and of course, I was still hoping for the voice mail to pick up. Uncle answered instead. Just hearing his voice melted my heart, and a smile was plastered on my face. Just after my diagnosis, he and I shared cancer horror stories. Wait. That’s not really true. He let me unload on him, he hugged me, and told me he loved me. He said to be strong, to pray, and not to put my energy into worrying, but into the fight instead. I was scared out of my mind, until he spoke to me. I was eight again, with Uncle talking to me, telling me everything was going to be alright. I have a photo of this moment. ~~sigh~~ His voice on the telephone pierced right through my stupid little girl attitude. After a minute or so, he gave the telephone to Aunt. In the front seat of my car, I melted again when she spoke, with the same unending smile still embossed on my face.

Why would I take on so much in life, and not have a few minutes for people so loving to me? I kept thinking I must figure this out before next weekend, but in the deepest part of me, I know why I made this task such a blockade. I know they know. After many years experience of being a mother myself, I now know Aunt and Uncle knew what was at my childhood home versus what was at their home. They didn’t do anything to correct the situation, but really, it wasn’t theirs to correct. However, they did create a safe haven for me, a warmth that has lasted inside myself for many years, and a memory of what a home could be, so I could pass along the same type of home to my children. They, their home, and my cousins gave me hope - and I used this hope to ask for help, so a cycle could and would be broken.

Some days I feel old, with creaking and cracking bones, taking medication to keep from getting sore, while force feeding chemicals into my body to make it cooperate. Though today, I felt like the goofy, clumsy kid from years ago, and ashamed I didn’t appreciate what was given to me.

Good is good. The good is great when it stands by itself, because it is very easily identified as good. But when the good is mixed up with shit, it becomes somewhat cloudy and confusing, and sometimes makes the good appear to be shit too. I will have make a conscious effort to remember what they gave me, and separate the bad that took place four blocks away. It’s long past the time I be grateful and tell them how awesome they are.

I am humbled.


“Once there was a way, to get back home. Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry. And I will sing a lullaby.” -- Sir Paul

HELL NO, I'M NOT GETTING ON THAT!

I found out this week I hate roller coasters and other thrill rides. I used to ride them when I was younger, but I don’t anymore. While watching from the safe area behind the fence, it bothered me for all of two seconds, until I heard the shrills from the people on the ride. Apparently, these thrill rides give a biochemical reaction in the brain from the intense physical reaction to the body. I had a lot of spare time to think while The Boy and The Baby enjoyed all of them together.

A huge amusement park reaches every sense of the body. The air was filled with the smell of the fried junk food and sugary cotton candy in the air, as well as the occasional smell of a sick kid. The screams on the rides, the zoom of the power in the ride’s engines or the hydraulic lift of others could be heard with every step around the park. The lights of the carnival games and the neon outline of the rides could be seen for miles when it got dark.

While waiting in the safety zones with other middle aged parents, and even with all the noises, I had a lot of time to think and observe. My most pressing personal question was why I once loved to go on these stomach turning rides and now I get so petrified at the thought of being on one of them. After much pondering, the answer was so very obvious. I don’t want to die.

Yet all of these people, usually in the age bracket of twelve to thirty were in these long ass lines, waiting for an hour or two per ride, for a one to four minute thrill. I realize this age bracket is not yet afraid of dying and are more trusting than me. They trust the inventors and engineers of these rides know what they are doing, and I’m sure they do. However, I’m far more cynical at my age. They trust the ride would be shut down by inspectors if they were dangerous, but I think it can break at any time.

I’ve had the kind of scare, where it raises the hair on the back of your neck. I have experienced this with car crashes, doctor appointments and just being a victim of a few close calls. I don’t feel the need to capture that few seconds of “Holy Shit” to have an exciting life. I’m not really a stranger to trauma and drama, and don’t feel the need to seek it out my adrenaline on a ride that terrorizes me to the quick of my being.

As I’ve gotten older, I have gotten a bigger fear of heights. I think it’s hard for me to relinquish control to another human, so I resist it at all costs. I also am a “what if” person, and a very active imagination. Being on the Empire State Building on our trip to New York was enough for me. I had to back away from the edge and go inside for a bit. I try desperately to get an aisle seat on airplanes, and will keep my mind occupied as much as I can during the flight. After traveling many miles for business, I was absolutely ecstatic to forego the travel part of the job. I strongly believe in the law of gravity and appreciate it more than most people.

The kids convinced me into going on the Sky Bucket ride. Simply a steel cab across the park, up in the sky, suspended on cables, similar to a ski lift with closing doors. I made the mistake of looking down at the tiny, little bitty ant people on the ground. The rest of the ride I took pictures with my eyes closed, only peeking through with one eye to check the camera.

I’ve also learned my luck is not so great either. If something is going to happen, it may happen to me or while I’m on the ride, because I’ve been known to have streaks of bad luck. People who know me well personally always rib me about how crap follows me. I’m also in the steel business, and will see the spot of a little rust on the track or piece of the roller coaster, knowing something is not as strong as it was when it was originally built. Why push my luck?

Knowing I was going to this famous amusement park with the kids, I caught a show on the Discovery Channel, the morning I left Atlanta. It was called “Terror Rides” and this same park had four rides on the show. It showed these type of rides across the country, with some parks, including this one, with specific bragging rights on scaring the crap out of patrons on the rides. When the camera followed these screaming people, I got a preview of what was to come. I gladly waited on the ground, keeping my eye on them through their long lines, and snapping photos of them while they were actually on the rides. My stomach churned as a spectator. I needed no more of a thrill than this.

I take chances on other things in my life. I can make thrills right here, with the same intensity, on solid ground, far more exciting than any roller coaster ride. There is no wait and they last much longer than one to four minutes.

; )

TO KNOW ME IS TO LOVE ME

Nothing ever goes off exactly as planned. We all have to adapt to every situation, no matter what our expectations are or were. Some believe it’s in the hands of a higher power, and some think it’s fate. I think it’s more human than anything. Everything that happens is in our hands, and our choices – good or bad – make different outcomes in every event.

Whether we accept or fight with these inevitable changes, makes every one of us different. There are too many people who do not accept change very well at all. They are set in their ways and find it difficult to accept any other opinion or way of doing things. These are the people who get anxious or angry, because their expectations were not met. Others see their side as more victorious and need to add salt to wounds, instead of trying to see both sides. This writing is for a particular person who chooses to argue with my feeling on certain issues, who may never read this.

I try to be a person accepting of whatever comes my way, and try to look at certain issues in a more positive light. It doesn’t always happen, and yes, sometimes events are disappointing. As time passes, I can usually find something about the change that was for the better. Part of me has completely changed and other parts of me remain the same. For those who have not spoken to me for awhile, I may be the same or I may be a disappointment.

Recently, I have been approached about faith and politics. I have said it many times before, but still believe these two powerful subjects are relevant with our life experiences, what we do for a living or our environment surrounding us. I have based my living standards on what has been presented to me in my life, and have adapted in certain situations by having a strong belief system. I can not possibly explain this personal belief system to another human, unless they have knowledge and details of my personal life. Nor can I oppose anyone else with their beliefs, unless I have knowledge and details of their personal life.

It is not a matter of disagreement on which side is correct. No human on Earth could possibly know this, in any situation or event. We are all correct and we are all wrong. To ask me to defend your position in faith or politics is a worthless conversation with me, and I think it is a waste of time to convince another of your position on either subject. In my case, I can only show by example; not words.

Presidents, politicians, pastors, priests and other community leaders have made many mistakes, both professionally and personally. There have also been an enormous amount of good in these people over the years, but is it really our duty to be pointing fingers? Isn’t there something good from everyone who have ever had these positions, even if there are mistakes in their lives? Shouldn’t we be banding together with the changes of our world, and not be fighting and fussing with each other? Can we find something positive and good in certain people’s achievements, even if they show the tiniest spot of progress?

I don’t want to be a hateful or judgmental person. In my life’s experiences, and everyone else that breathes, we’ve all had the crooked little finger pointed at us. Sometimes it may even be deserved, but still feels like crap. Good people feel guilty when they screw up and make mistakes. Better people own up to their mistakes. Mean people are blaming others.

Now, before I burst out in a chorus of Kum Ba Ya, maybe everyone should first point at themselves. We should clean up our own messes before trying to show how dirty others are. At times, life is difficult enough without making arguments with each other. Instead, we can talk about so many other things. The best song with the best memory attached is a great conversation. The first time you did anything – first kiss, first car, first trip, first child. Who has the most incredible smile you’ve ever seen? What is the worst or most challenging thing you’ve ever witnessed on your job? Any fond memories we shared with each other is a far better conversation to have with me, than telling me my opinion is wrong and should be corrected to reflect what you think.

And, as it goes, I will not succumb to your arbitrations any longer. My responses will always be light and airy, because I don’t like being called wrong, nor do I think I am doing the wrong thing in life. I’m trying to be a successful human being, and I know you are too. Please quit trying to change me when you don’t know me. Maybe we should just leave it at that.

"Love is still the only dream I know." -- John Denver

THE LIES OF TOYS

When we are young, the easiest way parents teach their children to be good, constructive adults is through toys. Toys set the main example of some problem solving or a look into the future, if we use our imagination. Nothing on Earth can be further from the truth.

I have had a rant about giving dolls to little girls. This teaches crap about being a mother. Each doll had a gimmick: one would wet, one cry, one had hair that grew. The one that wet herself was nothing but a small tank filled in the back of the doll. It was harmless water, and a very tiny amount. We knew it wasn’t real urine. The one that cried was as heavy as a real baby, because it had four D cell batteries in her. Although I can go in any major city and immediately see 100 different colors of skin, all the dolls had the pink, fake Caucasian color, matching up to no one in the world. Looking back, none of the dolls prepared you for being a mother of a screaming baby, with various colors and smells of excrement coming out of every orifice on the body. When you were bored, you just ripped out the batteries and stuck her in the back of the closet.

I know of two professional sculptors, and neither of them personally. Yet Play Do seems to make it in every kids toy box. This stuff is non toxic, which is good, but has a smell like nothing else in the world. Parents give it to their kids for the simple reason of thinking it will keep them busy for hours. The Type A personality, like myself, used to get pissed when a playmate mixed the colors. I would spend hours picking the pink out of the blue and sorting the right colors back into the little cans. Of all the museums, sculptures of art and statues I’ve seen, none of them have been pink, yellow, blue and white.

The Easy Bake Oven is another fallacy of childhood. This thing does not teach you to cook or bake, but does teach little girls how to get a burn in the kitchen and deal with it. I remember melting crayons in it once, and coming out with really cool psychedelic disc shaped crayons. The smaller, fake kitchens with fake food and tiny dishes were not realistic either. Cleaning something green, fuzzy and smelly out of a refrigerator has no prior training from these days.

Dollhouses does not prepare one to take care of a house. Once everything is set in place, nothing gets messed up. No one comes around and dirties dishes, misses when they pee or leaves their little items scattered around the house. No weeds in the garden; no whiny kids; no absent parent. Often there is a dream of a maid now, but never for a young dollhouse owner.

The most ginormous lie of all would be the Barbie doll. There is only one person with these same measurements at any given time, and that is why she is a celebrity. There are plenty of women with breasts this size, waists and hips this small, but all three traits are improbable on the same average woman. Her feet are slanted to make the high heels slip on and “wear” easier. Barbie has no bunions, scars, or flaws, and every feature is perfectly symmetrical, and “wakes” every morning looking perfect – naked or not. The poor Ken doll prepares girls slightly. With our little girl imagination, we can make Ken say, wear or do anything, but this is the only truth about Ken in real life. Undress this guy and compare to a real man can be a total shock for the unsuspecting girl.

Keeping within the boundaries is a life long lesson some people never learn. Coloring did not make me an artist, but taught me to stay in the lines. Tinker Toys certainly did not make me an engineer, but the sticks were great to stir my melting crayons in the Easy Bake, and the wooden sprockets would make great launching in a slingshot. When we played “dress up”, I learned quickly I couldn’t wear a pink tutu and be cute forever. Candy lipstick only made my tongue red, with the carcinogenic red dye the FDA banned in the 1960s. Let’s not forget the delicious candy cigarettes, to make the addiction for life even more appealing.

I feel remiss continuing the misdirected education of my children, plus, I added four Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles to the mix. (What the hell were they smoking with this idea?) What did I do to my unsuspecting kids? I let them play with their toys, buying into Mattel’s idea that their imaginations would take over, and they would know the difference one day. Today, with high hopes, I try to scramble. With the youngest at 21, I hear the big ass tick tock, and worry if I taught them enough about the realities of life. This will be an interesting week.

DNA IS NOT THE ONLY LEGACY

All is peaceful here tonight. I’m at the homestead in Cleveland and playing around on the computer and goofing off at the piano. Even the stack of work I brought with me is down to a few pieces of paper. Beautiful weather keeps my spirits up, and I’m finally able to look at this place as a getaway to create, write or relax. The seasons seem very divided here, in equal parts, much more than in Atlanta, where summertime melds into autumn, long into October. I look forward to the change of the seasons here, because they are so different. Quiet and reflective times are here tonight, but with some dumbass honky tonk playlist from my iPod for my background of white noise. I don’t know what I was thinking while creating this list, but it seems to work right now. (Bela Flek – Sunset Road)

The peacefulness hasn’t come easily, but life has finally seemed to wind down a bit lately. Too many problems, too many crossroads in life, and too many decisions have been made in the past few weeks. Although they do not all belong to me, I’ve come to realize my shoulders must carry baggage of my loved ones as well as my own, at times. As I’ve always said, a good Mum is a good filter. She keeps the shit from rolling in on the family.

The Boy and The Baby will fly up tomorrow, and will spend some time with Big Sister. Not a forced trip, but a promise to be a great little paid vacation for them, while Mummie pushes the adult children together before their lives become too busy. The Baby begins her fourth year at college, The Boy still prays for his dream job since graduating college, and Big Sister trying to start a family with her new husband. It will give us some one on one planning time too, so the rest of the year can be a little easier for everyone. It’s been a long road to combine both families, but I think we’ve all come so far with each other. (Janis Joplin – Get It While You Can)

I can’t even think of the calendar after this week. It’s looking like the game of Boggle, trying to make the words make some sort of sense and put them into the correct order, while being under a time restraint. Everyone is in a hurry lately, and it seems there isn’t enough time in our short lives to get everything accomplished. Mortality strikes me again and sobers me up, and my peace wanes a bit, when I think of upcoming doctor’s appointments and all I need to accomplish this month. Uggghhh. And the earned quiet seems to be a memory of a short dream.

I force myself to get back to the peace, and some days it becomes tiring. Since birth, every four years there was a major struggle in my life. After many years of quietly comparing other peoples’ lives, I realize the ebb and flow of the crap was given more to me than others. I’ve turned 50, and though it could and would depress some women, it’s not divisible by four, so I’m good. With my record, I have two years before the dam breaks again. (Norah Jones – Come Away With Me)

Looking for the peace is easy, if I’m quiet and I concentrate. My only regret is that it’s taken me fifty freaking years to realize a few things. Surrounding myself with genuine people who truly love me has helped. Choosing my battles has been another lesson learned. Writing, reading and music has calmed me. Prayer gives me much needed reflection and accountability. Knowing there are some people I can help in this world, has brought much needed humility back to me. Forgiveness has taught me that judging is not in my job description. (Alison Kraus – Simple Love)

So I continue, on with my search of a peaceful life, wondering if it is possible on Earth. I see so much confusion, retaliation and jealousy, and it’s not on the evening news, but within arms reach. I keep it away from the family and me, as best as I can. Tonight I look at the platter of life in front of me, and not of anyone else. This week, I look forward to the upcoming smiles of these three people who are so important to me. It’s like when they were young, trying to convince them vegetables are delicious, but they want to eat a Twinkie. Mummie is pushing a bit, but they don’t see what I see, but they’re not supposed to yet. This will be good for all of them, but I don’t think they realize it yet. Because of hard work on our part as parents, the financially legacy left will be sound. The legacy of love is what I’d really like to leave them one day. (Nickel Creek – Tomorrow Is A Long Time)

My concerns for next week will wait. I’ve created a devious plan for the week, and there will be fun and beautiful memories made – damn it! I will look for the love and peace for the three of them, and hopefully, point it out to them and convince them it’s there within the three of them, while I watch from the background. What they could have should not be wasted. (Rosie Thomas – Much Farther To Go)

THE RIGHT TO BITCH

I have accomplished some personal things, while here at the place in Cleveland. Everything here is settled now, and it’s nice coming in and just being still for awhile. Being alone makes it difficult to practice being a bitch. I can only bitch at myself. I guess it just isn’t an insult anymore to me, mainly because I guess I am a bitch. I’ve now reached the age where being a bitch may be a pride thing. I think I deserve the title. Hell, I guess I’ve earned the title. I’m shouldn’t be ashamed of being called a bitch. I think it may be a way of life.

I’ve been called a bitch when:

-- I pull my little car up into the parking space and make a phantom parking space. You know the type when you can’t see the little car in the space until you try to pull your car in and realize the little car has the spot.

-- I caught someone cheating.

-- I saw someone mistreat The Baby when she was in a day care center years ago.

-- I asked for correct change from a cashier.

-- I didn’t go fast enough on a road.

-- I didn’t bow down and kiss someone’s ass, because I didn’t “know who they were”.

-- I left a horrible marriage.

-- I asked someone else’s child to behave while I was responsible for their safety.

I’m sure there were many more times I was called a bitch, but these are absolute examples of when I heard this title with my ears. No worries here. I guess I’m might be a bitch.

There are other people (yes, even men) who are bitchy. There seems to be a difference though. This afternoon, I witnessed a customer, at the grocery store, get bitchy at the cashier, for a minor and easily correctable mistake. The customer had two small children with her, and we all know this is a horrible example for them. The poor cashier was more flustered after the bitchiness came out of the customer’s mouth. I made it a point to console the cashier and even made the poor girl laugh about it, after the bitchy woman left with her bags and kids.

Though this is extremely judgmental on my part, some bitchy people seem to have more time on their hands than me. I have been undoubtedly busy for the past 25 years, and don’t have the time to be bitchy. Some bitchy people complain because they lack attention in their lives and look to do nothing but blame everyone else. Some bitchy people don’t leave themselves enough time and want the world to speed up for their lack of time management skills. Some people are bitchy because they think if they point out people’s faults, their faults will look smaller. Some people are bitchy when confronted with the correct or normal way to do things. Some people are bitchy because they don’t have control of every situation in life. Some are bitchy because they are incapable of love, are envious of others or think they are better than other people.

If being a bitch means taking up for myself or going the speed limit or possibly doing right, I guess I’m guilty. However, I’m not bitchy. There seems to be a good reason to be a bitch, but never a just reason to be bitchy. Being bitchy is shear meanness and should be against the law. I’ll bet if you locked up 20 bitchy people in a real jail or penitentiary for a week, they wouldn’t be bitchy when they left.

There is a slang term called “bitch slap”. I think it should be changed to “bitchy slap” and all of us should be able to slap any bitchy person. Maybe we could mark a big “B” on their foreheads, so we could all identify them. For traveling on the roads, a big “B” magnet on their car would work. We could make them all do community service and be kind to people to earn the right to take the “B” off of themselves or their vehicle.

Come to think of it, whether I heard it with my own ears or not, of all the times I was called a bitch, it was by a bitchy person.