Paper Trail

I was shopping in the paper goods aisle of my local supermarket the other day. I needed to purchase toilet paper and was comparing my choices. Did I want the 4 pack that was really 8 rolls, the 6 pack that was really 12 rolls or the triple sized 8 pack that was really 24 rolls. Quilted or smooth. Scented or not. Recycled or unbleached. Aloe Vera, anyone? I didn't even focus in on whether or not it was one ply or two ply. I was annoyed that purchasing toilet paper now involved math and comprehension skills. As I stood there contemplating what to do, it struck me. What ever happened to colored toilet paper? Years ago we did not have a choice in the size of the package but we did have a choice in the color. I used to buy pink or blue paper to match my bathrooms. I can't remember when the colored papers were phased out, but I do remember why. The dyes became an irritant and no one wanted to be irritated in the area that the paper was used most. We lost the freedom to decide our color, but we gained control of the sizing. I want to go back to the years when no decision making was necessary. We just threw a 4 pack into our carts and continued shopping.

Till Then

As I get older, I find it harder to say goodbye to the people I love. It started when my sons left for college. Each time they went away, I stood in the street crying, as I waved goodbye. They would only be gone for a few weeks at a time, but I still took it hard. It continued when my older son moved away to get married, As happy as I was that he moved away to marry a wonderful girl, the farewells became more emotional. I actually got to the point where I would hang onto his neck as he dragged me along to his car. Part of this routine was a joke but part of it was real. When my parents moved to Florida, each time we said goodbye, for the six months they would be gone, I held back the tears. I knew that if I cried, they would cry, so I tried to be stoic. Many years ago I was talking to a stranger in a store and when it was time to part ways, I said goodbye. She said, never say goodbye...... say "Till Then". I loved that. It was a way of just continuing life until we meet again..................

Territorial

I am a very generous person. I would share my last bite of food with you. There is one thing that I do not share with others. My parking spot. Over the years, my family has become quite territorial with these. When I come home from work and find someone in my parking spot, I see red. I want to send out a search party to locate the offender. Punishment should be swift. During the winter snow storms, I was glad to see that I was not the only irrational one. There were packs of us. Placing garbage pails in our spots and laying in wait for anyone who would dare break the unspoken code of the shoveled out spot.Once the snow cleared I did become a bit more relaxed. I now impose the 12 hour rule. I will allow a stranger to park for 12 hours. After that they will get a stern note, scolding them. I would never damage anyone's car but in my fantasy I would have it crushed by a backhoe. We are probably known as the "parking spot nuts", but who cares. It just makes the spot trespassers stay away.

A Step In Time

Most people chart their lives by the measurement of time. Something we look forward to doing in the future. Something we did in the past. We have the concept of Past, Present and Future. It is even represented in jewelry. Companies manufacture a three stone ring to remind us of the times in our lives. In reality there are three levels of time, but I see them a different way. Past, Nano Second and Future. Our pasts are concrete. They hold memories that have happened and cannot be changed. Our future is yet to be. We still have a hand in our destinies. But is there really a present. If there is, it lasts for a fleeting moment in time. By the time a thought is finished, it has already become the past. Decisions that we make, can change our lives, in the blink of an eye. It only takes one second to say words that will have an impact on someones life forever. It only takes one turn of the steering wheel to do long lasting damage. A nano second of bad judgement can lead to a lifetime of "If Only....". I guess when people say to live in the moment, they are correct.

The Jury Is Out

Most people over 18, who are registered voters, know the feeling. That sinking moment when you take in the mail and see the dreaded Jury Duty notice. It feels as if we have been trapped. We were located after many years of hiding. We are being forced to call a government bureau each night after 5 PM, to find out our fate. Our number is up...literally. Then, the adventure begins. For some reason we have to reach out to friends and family for reassurance. We disclose our juror number and seek peoples opinions as to whether or not they think we will be called. There is a big debate if the numbers are called in order, from lowest to highest, highest to lowest or from the middle out. The only worse scenario is if you get called for Grand Jury. That means a train ride to unfamiliar territory. If we have children, they are used as an excuse not to serve. We all know that we haven't picked up our kids from school since they were 11, but for some reason, we want the court system to think we are devoted parents that must be home when the school day is over. Even if the kids are 16. Some people seek doctors notes. We would rather be classified as mentally ill than to sit for one day in a jury room. If you want to see a bunch of sad faces go to the jury auditorium at 9 AM. In this case, misery does not like company, as no one talks to each other. We sit silently as people slowly disappear from the room. Sheep to the slaughter. We pray that our punishment will end before lunchtime, and check our watches every few minutes. If someone is thinking of committing a crime, they should spend one day looking at who a jury of their "peers" could be. I wouldn't want any of these people enforcing punishment on me.

Roll Down Your Sleeves

When I walked into my dollar store yesterday, I saw Halloween decorations! It is still July, but retailers feel the need to rush the seasons. Other signs of Autumn are also arising. Political campaigning. Television is being flooded with the annoying commercials showing each candidate. To me, they are all the same person, with exchangeable faces. They tout the same promises and portray themselves as the only politician that sees the truth and is here to rectify all the wrong doings of their predecessors.These commercials have one subliminal message that I do not like. They are trying to make us believe that the candidate is a hard worker, a hands on person, who gets into the trenches, if needed. It is done with only one visual aid. Rolled up sleeves. What have they actually done all day, to need their sleeves rolled up. Have they scrubbed a bathroom? Have they tilled the land? Have they changed the oil in their car? No. They have done none of these. They have spent the day, memorizing speeches and having luncheons. But the allusion of a rolled up sleeve, makes us think that they are exhausted and sweating from all of their hard work. I find myself not focusing on their words, but on their cleverly planned wardrobe. Roll down your sleeves and speak the truth. Is that too much to ask.

Friendly Arguments

The internet age has stripped us of many simple things in life. Technology has made things easy, but along with that, we have lost some fun. Years ago, people had friendly arguments and made bets on the correct answer. "Who played the lead role in Gunsmoke?" If no one was certain of the answer, a friendly argument would ensue. The guesses went back and forth. Sometimes things even got heated. Then, someone would call up a friend and see if they knew the answer. Everyone had a friend that "knew everything". Finally someone would come up with an answer that everyone agreed on. What a relief. Now, no one would have to go home and ponder the question all night. Since the internet, no one has that type of fun, anymore. If a question needs an answer, ten people whip out their cell phones or ipads, and in less than a minute the answer is found. Although it is now easier to communicate, we seem to communicate less.

Fly, Robin, Fly

When I came home from work on Thursday, I found a pile of dirt in the middle of my driveway. As I got closer to it, I realized that it was a birds nest, that had fallen from a tree. Twigs and dirt. There were no eggs in it, so I picked it up and threw it in the garbage pail. Early Saturday morning, I heard chirping from inside my garage. I walked around but did not see any birds. I kept hearing the chirping. After about an hour, I finally located the tiny "chirper". He was hiding underneath a tire ramp. I did not want to touch him, just in case his mother was looking for him. I once heard that if a mother bird senses a human scent on her baby, she will abandon him. Once I cleared the pathway, the baby bird ran off, flapping its wings. Later that day, while walking outside my house, I saw the tiny bird, laying in the street, in front of my car. He was baking in the brutal sunshine. He looked weak and tired. I guess he did not have the strength to fly, since he was so young. He just gave up. I scooped him up in a newspaper and put him onto the cool grass, in the shade. He was still breathing, but I knew he would not live much longer. There was nothing I could do to save this fragile life. I could only make him more comfortable, until he died a peaceful death. When I checked on him a few minutes later, he was dead. I felt so bad. Even though he was not human, he was god's creation, and a life is still a life. I stood over him and said a prayer, that his life in birdie heaven would be better than his life on earth.

Just Because

Yesterday was the hottest day I can remember. Too hot to go out but too hot to stay in. For the first time in a long while, I decided to just sit on the couch all day and watch television. The only other time I ever did this was when there was a blizzard. Too hot, too cold. Those are the only situations that stop me. To tell the truth, it was a bit depressing. Television is not that entertaining when you are forced to watch it. I felt like a senior citizen, watching TV, dozing off. At some point my dog started barking at the door, but I was too tired to see what he was barking at. I found out a few hours later when I opened the front door. There was a long box, sitting on the chair of my front stoop. I took the box in, and it was burning hot from laying in the sun. It was a dozen long stemmed roses. Three red, three white, three pink and three blush. I was a bit confused. Who would send me roses. It wasn't my birthday. I hadn't done anything earth shattering lately. I opened the box and fished out the card. It said "Just Because We Love You". They were from my older son and daughter-in- law. I immediately called them, almost in tears. It was so thoughtful. I was very touched by the gesture. I asked them why they did this and they said that they wanted me to know that they appreciate everything I do, not only for them, but for others. They sent them "Just Because".......

Summer Senses

We are in a heat wave. During the snowy winter we all looked so forward to the hot weather. But not this hot. There is a limit. Yesterday, as I left my house, I heard the James Taylor remake of the song "Up on the Roof". For some reason, just hearing that song sent my mind back to 1960's Brooklyn. Air conditioning was a luxury and most stores still had overhead fans. It is amazing how we can remember the scents of summer. I can still recall how the local bank smelled on a blazing summer day. It was as if all of the paper and currency filled the air with a warm ink odor. I can recall the smell of the hot pavement, mixed with the diesel fuel of the trucks as they rolled over the hot asphalt avenue.  Even people had a musky, sweaty mix. I can still bring back the scent of a rubber bathing cap, that all girls were required to wear, in a public pool. I loved to pop the rubber bubbles and always picked out the cap with the most flowers attached to it. But the best smell of all was the way the pavement smelled as the sprinklers hit the sidewalk and then passed over the wet grass. Last night as I took a walk around my block, I stopped in front of someone's sprinkler and just breathed in the air. The smell was exactly as it was in 1960. Nothing changed. I felt like I was 5 again. Itsy, Bitsy, Teeny,Weeny, Yellow  Polka Dot Bikini.........

The Circuitous Path

Years ago, when my son was in nursery school, I became friendly with the mother of one of his classmates. She was the nicest woman, but one thing stood out about her. Her vocabulary. She had a way of saying things, that were thought provoking. I described my children as being total opposites. She said her children were "on opposite ends of a continuum that contained many variables". Years later, I described college move-in day as grueling. She said it was a "war story... that would be embellished over the years, become humorous and be passed down as family history, to our grandchildren". Last year, when my sister told her that she ran around all day doing errands, she said, "I guess you took the circuitous path". For some reason, hearing a word, is different than seeing a word. My sister called me and said that she was looking up the word circuitous and could not find it. I went to my dictionary and started searching....ser, sir, sar. Then a light bulb went off in my head! Circuitous, like circuit, as in circle. A round path. When I called her to tell her I found the word, we couldn't stop laughing. We felt so dumb. Just this weekend, my sister and I were talking to a cousin from out of town. He said he took the circuitous way to the restaurant we were in. We both started giggling and he looked at us, as if we were crazy. We then explained why we found that word so amusing. He said that from now on, every time he said circuitous, he  would think of us.

24/7/365

We all know what those numbers refer to. Twenty four hours in a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year. Not including leap year. These are my work hours. Not at a job I have to do, but at a job I love to do. Being a mother. While my responsibilities grow less and less, my hours never change. When things go wrong, I am called to action. It doesn't matter the time of day or the country my sons are in. On call, just in case. Although my sons are now married and fend for themselves, there are still situations when a mother's know how is needed. Just today, I was able to get my son a ride, from an airport, to a hotel, in a foreign country, when he found out that all taxi cabs were on strike. Mothers can make magic happen. A mother's love can move mountains and when her children are at risk, no one can stand in her way. It doesn't matter what race, religion or nationality, we are all cut from the same cloth. One that is soft when needed, bends when asked to and firm when we think it is best.

One Extra Bun

Since it is now barbeque season, I realized that I do not understand the food industry. The rationale for packaging certain food items makes no sense to me. A standard pack of frankfurters contains seven franks. A standard pack of buns contains eight. In order to come out even, 35 franks would need to sit in 35 buns. It is simple math. Too bad, a normal family of 4 people eats less. There is always an extra bun. I never know what to do with it. I hate to toss it out that day, so I usually freeze it. When we eat franks again, nobody wants the flaky, frozen bun, so, into the garbage it goes. Over my lifetime, I have probably trashed hundreds of buns. What a waste. Has anyone ever informed the frankfurter manufacturers, that one more frank is needed? Are they in cahoots with the bun people? It might just be a big frank and bun conspiracy. And don't get me started on the beans. What the heck is that glob that sits on the beans when I open the can. I think that I would rather not know.......

Great Expectations

I remember coming home from my sweet sixteen and crying. I had the best party and received the most wonderful gifts. But I still cried. After months of planning, everything went perfectly. No loose ends. No drama. All according to plan. But I still cried. When the party is done and the gifts are opened, a sadness overcomes you. Last week I heard a song on the radio. It was named "Is that all there is". It was kind of depressing. You look so forward to something and then it is over. Is that all there is. What will the focus be on now. What will I plan for. For so many months I lived one type of normalcy. After  today I must find a new normal. How can I be blue when everyone else is rosy. So after a good cry, my new routine begins.

A New Daughter

Today we will welcome a daughter into our family. We already have two sons and one daughter. Now we will have a matched pair. The sons came via the hand of god. The daughters came via the grace of god. We are lucky. The addition of these two beautiful girls has added a light into our family. Unfortunately not all families are as lucky. Do relationships just start off poorly or do they turn bad from neglect. People always say "A son is a son, till he gets a wife. A daughter is a daughter the rest of her life". I have my own saying. "A son is a son, then he gets a wife. A daughter-in-law will bring joy for the rest of your life".

To Each His Own

I was at my community pool the other day. When I walked in, I was trying to locate a friend. I surveyed the area, person by person. That particular day, the pool was crowded. I would guess about a few hundred people. As I scanned the crowd, I noticed that no two people had on the same bathing suit. Not the same style nor the same pattern. Each one had a slight nuance. Hundreds of people, each one unique. I walked a lap around the pool just to confirm what I saw. I was right. No two alike. The area I live in has three malls within a 10 mile radius. Of course not every store sells bathing suits. And still, each person walked into a store and searched the racks and found something that appealed to them. And no one duplicated each other. It just goes to show how our minds work. What makes one person like stripes and another like flowers. Bathing suits are like life. We have a choice in all of our decisions.

The Beginning.....of the Beginning

Every new beginning, comes from some other new beginnings........end. Life is change and change is good. This weekend starts a new beginning for my son. His first beginning, began with me. The first important woman in his life. The one who cared for him and loved him and tried her hardest to mold him into the man he is today. I was the FIRST important woman. His mother. The one who takes over, will be the MOST important woman. His wife. Both are women, both will nurture him, but in two different ways. He will leave my house on Sunday morning as my son, and return Sunday evening as her husband. Nothing....and everything, will change that day. It is the progression of life that a parent looks forward to . A changing of the guard, so to speak. I will have to learn a new set of rules, just as I did with my older son. Happy rules are easy to learn. So as I put a close to the old beginning, I cannot wait to unwrap the new one.

Bubbles

I love bubbles. Not the kind we blow from gum. Not the kind we blew into the wind as children. Not the kind we make in soda with our straws. I mean the kind we all have floating over our heads. Just like in cartoons, we all have that imaginary bubble that contains our true thoughts. The one with the solid border is what we say. The one with the jagged border is what we think. More and more, my bubbles have the jagged edge. Maybe it is the heat. Maybe my stress level is just higher than usual. As I am speaking with people, the thought bubble is looming. All I hear is blah, blah, blah. I start to think .....boy, does this person realize how stupid they sound, or how misinformed they are. Sometimes I try to read other people's bubbles. We can all do it. Just look at a person's eyes and body language and the message in their bubble shouts out at you. I always tell people that they should be glad that my bubble is tightly sealed. One small leak and the truth will flow.

Junior High School Revisited

We all remember our school days. Some of us even remain in contact with our old school friends. Facebook has rekindled many dormant friendships. As we graduated from grade to grade, we matured. The way we acted in elementary school was not the way we acted in Junior High. Our personalities in Junior High changed as we entered High School. I think that Junior High was the toughest. We were no longer children, but not quite adults. We were testing the waters. Cliques were formed and dissolved. A friendship could be broken if you had a bad haircut. Your clothes were scrutinized. Friends were left out of plans. Everyone wanted to hang out with the popular kids. Mean girls whispered. Teasing was at its highest level. Most of us were glad to leave Junior High and move on in life. Life coasted along smoothly for the most part. Then comes retirement. If you are lucky, you can afford to sell your house and move into a retirement community. Condominiums, clubhouses, shows, trips....and the pool. That is where Junior High School is revisited. Cliques are formed and dissolved.  Clothes are scrutinized, friends are left out of dinner plans and everyone still wants to hang out with the popular "kids".Feelings still get hurt. Life has come full circle

Happy In Go Go Boots

I had a wonderful childhood. It makes me what I am today. I attribute this to my parents. My mother was a stay at home mom who fed us milk and cookies after school, even through college. My dad was a business owner who worked hard but made sure he was always available for "the girls". I had everything that I could ask for. We were and still are a team. All for one and one for all. Each one placing the others happiness above their own. I have so many fond memories of my childhood. I remember snippets as far back as kindergarten. One of my fondest memories is going clothes shopping for the first day of school. All four of us would go in the evening to Miles shoes. In those days my dad wore a shirt and tie to work and sometimes he was mistaken for a salesman. We thought that was so funny. We went to A&S and Martins, in downtown Brooklyn for our clothes. My mother was one of the first women to have a charge card. In those days it was a small embossed metal disc. I can still feel the newness of the clothes as I tried them on. Each year a new color was popular. I loved the marigold and plum tone year. But the best by far, was buying those white leather Petula Clark Go Go boots. I felt like a movie star. I can still feel them on my feet. I was so happy in my white Go Go boots!

Witness Protection

Today is Monday. Today I will enter the Witness Protection Program for one week. It is not government imposed. It is self imposed. For the next week I will be too busy to talk to anyone or go anywhere. It will be as if I disappeared. Sometimes there are just not enough hours in a day to do what we have to, when there is a time limit. As of today, I am in wedding mode. My lists are growing lists. Even my lists are not enough. I am up to the point where these lists are posted in clear sight. The next step is rubber banding them to my car keys. Then I know I will not forget. Unless, of course, I misplace the keys, which could very well happen, as my head is no longer planted firmly on my shoulders. It is floating in the world called "I Have To Remember". I am not alone in this chaos. I have a great support system, but somehow I was elected the captain of the ship. I am trying my hardest to keep it afloat and on a charted course. The only thing that I will not disappear from is Shelbys World, as it is my one source of relaxation.

Hatetriotism

I made up a new word. Hatetriotism. It can be interchanged with the word Hateriotic. I thought that since Patriotic is being proud of something, hatetriotic is hating what someone else has. It differs from jealousy. Jealousy is wanting what someone else has. A hatetriotic person doesn't want what you have. They already have it. They just do not want YOU to have it. They will try to put a damper on anything good and turn it into negativity. The worst offenders do it in front of others. They like the audience appeal. Almost like being on stage. But I know their game. They are too self involved to realize that I see right through them. I watch as they thrust their hatetriotism on unsuspecting others, who will be blindsided and not know how to react. As long as I have what makes me happy, who gives a damn about what you have. It is not a competition. Hatetriotism will eventually eat away at you. Thankfully, it is not inherited. It seems to skip a generation.

Don't Put Off

I am not a procrastinator. I never was. When I was young, all school assignments were begun the day they were given out and handed in early. I have always had a calendar and mark each chore on it. I even mark the date that a bill has to be mailed. My goal is to do the chore, before that date. The only odd thing is, that I mark the calendar one full week earlier than the chore is really due. I pretend that I don't know this. It is sort of like setting your clock ahead and then trying to forget about it. So far it has never failed me. When I started my current job, they were amazed that all time goals were met. They were used to having things done late and then having to clean up the mess. My desk always looks empty. That's because by planning ahead, there is never a backlog. I always joke, that before I came there, the office must have been run by wolves. Last week, for the first time ever, my theory was tested. A situation came up that immediately took me away from home for a few days. Nothing mattered, except what was going on in the moment. My mind was at ease, because due to good planning, the time away did not hinder my schedule. When I arrived back home, everything that needed to be done on time, already was done. There was no added stress. The old saying, "don't put off until tomorrow, what you can do today", still holds true.

The Mountains

When I was a child, every summer we would go to the Catskill Mountains for a two week vacation. The ride up there seemed endless, like we were going to the other end of the world. We would stack up our belongings between my sister and myself, as the car trunk would be full. I can still envision my father's hat on top of the pile. Men wore hats in those days. As we arrived at the hotel, the air smelled so fresh and the cooking smells from the kitchen hung in the air. Most of the time the dad's went home for the work week and returned on Friday night. The question of the day was "how long did it take you to get here"? The women wore gowns on Saturday night and even wore mink stoles. No one seemed to care that it was 90 degrees out. Times were simple and having fun meant running up and down the hallway floors banging on peoples doors. There was swimming and shuffleboard and dance classes. I tried to continue this tradition with my own children, going to the mountains each winter for many years. It made me smile to see them repeat the same activities that I did, even running through the halls. Unfortunately times changed and the simple fun that we used to have changed with them. Video games replaced hiking. We became too high tech to enjoy old fashioned fun.

One Man's Garbage

One man's garbage is another man's gold. Things that some people think of as trash, others think of as treasures. Lately, I love to watch shows like American Pickers and Pawn Stars. I find it so interesting to peer into someones life and see the things that they have held onto for years. Some are hoarders but most are not. The difference is that a hoarder is ashamed of his collection, but a collector is proud. Most of us have thrown out bits of Americana that can never be recreated. When their usefulness is done  we replace the old with the new. New is not always better, it is just new. Along with that we are throwing away our heritage. Of course we can't keep everything, but some things are just so well crafted and unique that it is a shame to discard them. I come from a family of collectors and value every piece I have. I see the history behind it and picture the person who owned it before me. I think they would be glad knowing that it is still treasured.

The Verdict

America has a jury system that, for the most part, serves us well. In some cases though, the jury is still out. Take the OJ trial for example. There were staunch believers on both sides and their minds will never be changed, even 17 years later. What some saw as a victory, others saw as a travesty. Yesterday, history repeated itself. It took a jury of 12 so called average Americans only 10 hours to deliberate a case that pulled at the heart string of millions of people. A baby was murdered in a brutal manner. Most of us thought that since the deliberation was quick, a guilty verdict would follow. Possibly even the death penalty. We were wrong. They decided that the mother was not guilty on most charges and only held her accountable for some minor ones. The world was shocked. What did those 12 jurors hear that made them render that decision. My gut feeling is that while they knew she was guilty, they could not prove it beyond a reasonable doubt. I am sure, that if paid enough, the jurors will come forth with their stories. In America, money talks, literally. The prosecutors were saddened by the decision. The defense attorneys jumped for joy and had a champagne celebration. Did they even remember that a child was murdered?

Little Angel

This morning I woke up after a pleasant holiday weekend. I got dressed and went to work. The roads were unusually empty, so I arrived early. It was just another normal work day. But not for everyone. One of my co workers will not be in today. From the day I hired her, she told me that she never works on July 5th. It has nothing to do with extending the holiday weekend. It is a day to memorialize her daughter. It is her birthday. She passed away 9 years ago at the age of 15. She was never ill. One day she woke up with a headache and it lasted for a week. By the time she went to the doctor, she was diagnosed with leukemia. Six weeks later she died. I cannot fathom how a parent goes on living after that. It is not natural for a child to die before a parent. I never knew her but I look at her picture every day. She was beautiful. When I hire a new person I always pull them aside and tell them about the picture. It is better for them to know, otherwise there will be an awkward moment when they ask about her. Some things are just to hurtful to explain. My friend has no idea that I do this. It makes it easier for her. I am glad that today is sunny and beautiful. The family will spend the day together, at the cemetery, remembering a precious girl . A beautiful little angel.

Happy July 4th

Happy Birthday America. For all of it's faults, it is still the greatest country on earth. As I look out of my window this morning, I see hundreds of American Flags. The civic association in my town places one on each lawn and most people have one hanging on their front porch. Just looking at them makes you feel proud of this country. Thank you to all of the young men and women that are fighting for us in the Middle East. Thank you to all of the World War I and World War II veterans. A special thank you to the Vietnam War veterans. They never had the respect they deserved when they returned from war. What a shame that it took so many years to show them how grateful we were, for fighting such an unpopular war. Decades later, many of them are still paying the price both mentally and physically. I hope that everyone enjoys the day whether it is at a barbeque, at a town pool, or at the beach. Just take a moment and say thanks that we are so lucky to live in a country where Freedom Rings.

Buddha

Some of my favorite sayings are attributed to Buddha. Even thought they were written many years ago, their interpretation stands the test of time. It goes to show that human nature has not changed even as the world modernizes. I find his readings comforting and sensible. There are pages of quotations that I refer to when I need to be uplifted. I use these sayings as a rough guideline through life. Even though it was hard to do, here are just a few of my favorite ones:

• Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn't learn a lot today, at least we learned a little and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick, and if we got sick at least we didn't die, so let us all be thankful.
• Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.
• Holding on to anger is like holding a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else. You are the one who gets burned.
• Nothing is permanent. Everything is subject to change.
• It is better to do nothing, than to do wrong. Whatever you do, you do to yourself.

Words that were written years ago, but mean as much today.

Gold and Pearls

This blog is not about jewelry. It is about something much more valuable. It is about being appreciative. We all have busy lives. Sometimes I feel like I am in a race with the clock. Never having enough time to do what I need to. And most of the things I have to do, are not that earth shattering. Quite the contrary, they are mundane. In this case being appreciative is not of things, but of people. Having time for the special people in our lives. Years ago, I was on the telephone with my parents. I was in a rush to do something so trivial that I cannot even remember what it was. I was listening to them tell me a story that I was sure I had heard ten times before. Senior citizens tend to do that. I politely cut the conversation short, in order to get on with what I thought was so important. But I felt guilty. How could I find something more important than my parents. I realized that life can change in the blink of an eye and you never know when you will hear someones voice again. From that day forward I vowed that nothing would ever be more important than speaking to a loved one. Their voices are gold and their words are pearls. More valuable than anything.

Garden Party

On October 15, 1971, Rick Nelson and the Stone Canyon Band performed at Madison Square Garden. Rick had been a popular child star in the 1950's appearing with his family on the Ozzie and Harriet Show. As he grew up he segued into a singer, songwriter and recording artist. Teenagers loved his music and he was one of the first teen idols. As the 1960's approached, his career waned, as the English Invasion happened. The Beatles, Rolling Stones, and other artists like them, took the United States by storm. When Rick and his band arrived at Madison Square Garden he was now singing Country Music. As he matured, so did his musical tastes. It was a sold out house and Rick was ready for a comeback. He started to sing his country music and the crowd began to boo him. They wanted to hear the old songs. The ones they grew up with. The ones they could sing along to. He was booed off stage and truly devastated. How could his loyal fans turn on him. He had grown up, but they still saw him as a teenager. He watched the finale of the show from the sidelines. In 1972 he was inspired to write a song titled "Garden Party". It's lyrics told the story of being true to yourself and not having people influence what you want to do in life. This song reached number 6 on the Billboard charts. He made his comeback, but not in the way he had planned. Sometimes when I make an unpopular decision, I think of Rick Nelson. "It's alright now, I've learned my lesson well, you see you can't please everyone, so you've got to please yourself".