At 6:30 a.m. this morning, I was jogging and trying to catch up with my walking friends. After a few minutes, I decided that I didn’t want to catch up. I needed to sort some things out in my mind and also think what I wanted to do today.
It wasn’t light yet, there were stars out and one stood out more than all the others. It was thebrightest start.
Through this beautiful shining star, I had a moment of clarity and truth. The truth was subtle and yet sharp and precise. I could be my own shining star. Ihadto be my own shining start. I had to be my own cheerleader, my own best friend.
If I wanted to progress in this writing path that I have chosen, I need to quit making excuses and just do it. I need to quit waiting for someone to “discover” me or hold my hand. I need to send my Christian Novella manuscript to publishers and not be afraid of rejection.
After all, T.S. Elliot, a British Poet and critic (1888-1965) said, “Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go”
Today I vow to get out my finished manuscript and stop being afraid of rejection. If it is never accepted, I will know that I have tried.
I probably should take a formal writing class. I should write every single day. Kindling is what keeps the fire burning. (Kindling will stay burning long enough to get the larger fuel ignited; therefore if I keep writing, perhaps a larger inspiration or idea will come.)
I think it is the same for everything one wants from life. The answers are all inside of us. God has made us that way.
Sometimes, when it seems we are progressing too slowly towards our goal, we need to think about the following fable – The Crow And The Pitcher:
A Crow, half-dead with thirst, came upon a Pitcher which had once been full of water; but when the Crow put its beak into the mouth of the Pitcher he found that only very little water was left in it, and that he could not reach far enough down to get at it. He tried, and he tried, but at last had to give up in despair. Then a thought came to him, and he took a pebble and dropped it into the Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and dropped it into the Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and dropped that into the Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and dropped that into the Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and dropped that into the Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and dropped that into the Pitcher. At last, at last, he saw the water mount up near him, and after casting in a few more pebbles he was able to quench his thirst and save his life.
My daughter Cherise noticed some children gathering and looking down a drainage ditch at a baseball field.What they saw was both amazing and sad.Five beautiful kittens were all cuddled up; four were barely hanging on for life. One had already died (or was born dead). Their Mom was not around anywhere.
Cherise and her daughter Mikaela, being animal lovers had an idea. They brought the remaining four kittens home. (After Cherise did research, she believed they were only hours old).They went to the store and bought food and other things that might lure the Mother to come back to her kittens.When Cherise and Mikaela saw that it wasn’t going to happen, they knew what they had to do.
They brought four little orphans home.Perhaps their Mother was unable to come back.I am sure she was not alive or she would have rescued her babies.Anyway, Cherise went on the Internet and found out what kind of formula to get (how to make it, when to feed them).She even learned how to make them have a bowel movement, which is what their Mom usually does.This feeding schedule went on for days…day and night.
The four kittens not only lived, but they thrived in the midst of much love and attention.Of those four, two they found good homes for when they were about 12 weeks old. One died at about 4 months old (they said he was probably born too early and had some internal organ, kidney issues.
The remaining kitten they kept.Her name is “Lily.”Lily is a beautiful female- a Manx.
TheManxbreed originated before the 1700s on theIsle of Man(hence the name), where they are common. They are calledstubbinin theManx language. Tail-less cats were common on the island as long as three hundred years ago.)From Wikpedia
Lily loved to sneak out of the house and climb up on the roof and explore.One day Lily got out and got into some trouble…yep, got herself pregnant (before Cherise could have her fixed).Cherise thought she was just star gazing on the roof, but no, Lily was doing more than that.
Lily gave birth to two boys and a girl.
Cherise told me,“As they got older, the two boys (Stump aka Professor Cuddles and Twitch) turned into twins with exact markings. They must take after their father because they have more of a wide/smushed looking face than the girls and they are much larger. The girl, whom we named Daisy, is more like the mother, very Siamese markings and a very petite body. We kept Daisy.”
Then I got this e-mail: Sure you don't want to adopt a couple of cute twin brothers; I could bring them over on Saturday....take a look. Forward to anyone that may want a kitty.
Cherise told me she had just found homes for the two boys. In fact, last night was their first night in their new home. The lady that adopted them sent her a few pictures. She said she woke up at 1:30 in the morning and the boys were in bed; one between her husband’s feet and they other at his head.I would say they are adjusting nicely.
I should have known Cherise would always love and take care of animals.She used to bring ducks in (from our miniature farm) and let them swim in her bathroom sink..She also broke in “Shy Guy”. a Tennessee Walker who had never had a saddle on him.
Now, Cherise’s daughter, Mikaela has a love for animals.She has trained her golden retriever to run an obstacle course and rides her horse, Allie with a grace and expertise that comes only through a natural love and understanding of animals.
We are like soldiers going to battle. Each with determined looks and clutched fists
reaching out...reaching out to power and confidence. I hear our feet in sync as we march up the hill. We are a force together fighting the enemy.
It all started about three months ago when my husband Jim and I moved to this lovely and scenic community in Florida. It is surrounded by a beautiful Scottish golf course that is named Scotland Yards.
At our first homeowner's meeting, Diane came to me and introduced herself. She made me feel most welcome as we chatted about various opportunities in the community, such as writing classes, art, water aerobics, cards and more. Then, on a last note, she said that I was welcome to join her walking group. They start off at 6:30am and they would be passing my house about 6:45am. The last thing I wanted to do was walk. It had become boring and isolating in the past, as I would walk through a park that was adjacent to our subdivision in Palm Harbor, Fl. However, I was shocked to hear myself say, "oh, yes, I will be there." (Prior to this, I was staying up half the night and sleeping until 8:30am or 9:00am.)
Reluctantly and with much will power, I shocked Jim almost into cardiac arrest, as I arose at 5:30am. I made coffee and toast as I tried to work out a story in my mind as to why I could not continue to walk after today. When I bent down to tie my sneakers, I winced at the extra spare tire that had accumulated around my waist. Surely, I could lose this weight on my own and without getting up at daybreak, I told myself.
Nevertheless, as I peered out my glass door, I could see the troops coming. I hurried out to meet them and pasted a smile on my face. There were about 5 of them. They were laughing, talking and most of all walking briskly as I strived to keep up the pace. Just as I was getting used to the pace, we started up this big, long hill. I then realized that this hill was the reason the subdivision was called "The Highlands of Scotland Yards." I struggled, trying not to let the others hear me gasp for breath. How did I get so out of shape? Wasn't it just a couple of years ago that I was teaching exercise classes and water aerobics. Now, I wouldn't want to even get in front of a group of people with my expanding body...that was 15 or 20 pounds ago.
The doctor had warned me that when I went on the prescribed medication, I would probably gain up to 30 pounds. "Watch the carbs," she said, as she scribbled on the pad. That was easy for her to say. I craved cards and ate carbs and gradually the weight came on. Since then, I had tried the South Beach Diet, and my own diet schemes to no avail.
Oh, did I mention that this group invited me to go to weight watchers? I again said, "sure", as I thought to myself that this would be a good way to get acquainted with the other women. I could always drop out after a couple of weeks. I didn't really think I could be helped. I thought I was doomed to carry around this unwanted weight.
After the second day of walking my legs were so sore...every step I took was sheer agony. I mentioned this to the girls. Debbie suggested I go to the gym for the bike work out. She was sure it would work the soreness out. I am thinking to myself "what have I got myself into? Now, I have to go to the gym, too? Ugh!"
Sure enough, Debbie was right. After a few days in the gym, I could walk the hills without any pain.
The thing that really brought my feet to the floor at 5:30am each morning was the wonderful warmth and friendship the girls gave to me. The walks became a social event and a time for talking about recipes, news, or whatever was on your mind.
It is also a spiritual thing for me. The beauty of the sunrise over the hill amidst the fog is awesome. The skies are a different color every day, as if an artist painted them. I found myself excited each morning about walking with these Highland Lassies.
I was assured by weight watchers that if I counted my points and exercised, it would pay off. (I was on the flex plan; the other plan is the core plan.) I could do that for one week and then maybe drop out because I knew I would not lose any weight.
The morning of the second week came all too soon. We all went to weight watchers together. When my turn came, I got on the scale, thankful that no one else except the receptionist could see my weight. She wrote down something on my card that I brought back from the previous week and silently handed it back to me. I glanced at the card, as I went to sit in our "Highlands Group" and was shocked. I had lost 2.4 lbs in one week. The lecture following and the weight watcher recipe exchange enhanced my euphoric feelings even more. I couldn't believe it
The weeks following were slower losing but steady, averaging about a pound lost every week. (A couple of times I gained a few ounces.) I have lost 9 pounds in 9 weeks.)
One day when we were all walking, I jokingly told Debbie I needed a personal trainer. She wasn't joking when she answered back and said she would be happy to write a program and even train me. Mariana joined me the first time. Now, there are about 6 of us going to our wonderful work out room with Debbie twice a week for instructions. Remember, just a few weeks earlier when I went to the gym for my bike work out, I thought Ugh! I actually heard myself ask Debbie to personal train me at the gym.
It is now 9 weeks since I started walking. Every day I walk with these wonderful friends that support and encourage me. They never judge. They never lecture. They are always positive and encouraging as I take baby steps towards a more active life and a brighter future. Thanks, Zoe (Lyons), Diane (Brown), Nancy (Meech), Mariana (Marz), Darlene (Herman), Debbie (Riss) and Betty Thibault). Thanks for your morning wit and laughter. As we walk together to fight the enemy, (bad food and being inactive) I feel our combined energy that makes us know we are powerful enough to change our lives from good to super-good.
I have three great rules for successful weight loss:
Find a group that will support you in your quest to lose weight
Find a group that will support you in your quest to lose weight.
Find a group that will support you in your quest to lose weight.
(If you would like to join our walking group, please call or e-mail one of us)
* Please note: I am in no way affiliated with "Weight Watchers", nor is this meant in any way to be an advertisement for "Weight Watchers."
Please see your doctor before exercising or dieting.
“Just pull the plug if I have been in a coma for 30 days.That is my limit.
After 30 days, that means I am resting and do not wake me.Let me rest.”
I was in earshot of Trish talking on the phone.I continued measuring the Cinnamon Plum Tea to put in the tea ball.Water was already steaming for Irish Cream Tea and the coffee was perking away. This was my morning routine before customers would arrive at The eavenlyHHeavenly Angel Tea Room in Dade City.I have to admit my ears perked as I listened for more.
“That’s right.Now remember all of this or I’ll come back to haunt you.” Trish’s cute giggle escaped.
I began to mentally do math.I knew approximately how old her children were.Therefore, she had to be 10 or 15 years younger than I. We had been working together for about three weeks.
Was she ill?Was she having life or death surgery?
I don’t know why I was wondering about why she was doing this because Jim and I had finalized our funeral plans just a few weeks prior to this. I think it was because I knew she was much younger than I and so full of life.
“Sorry about the telephone call.That was my daughter.”Trish picked up the container to get crushed ice while promising to also prepare a pitcher of ice water.
“That’s Ok.I’m doing fine here.Cinnamon Plum is almost done and Irish Cream is just beginning to seep. I poured the first batch of Cinnamon Plum into the big Carafe.
“ I had to do this you know.First there was ovarian cancer, then open-heart surgery, then last year, I had a heart attach.I battled the cancer when my first child was just 3 weeks old. That was so long ago but it’s my heart….I just don’t know.”
Her voice did not change pitch.She did not talk slower or become more dramatic. She was just sharing a “by the way….”moment.Trish was bright, articulate and very educated about restaurant work, unlike me..
I was intrigued with this upbeat person who apparently had been through so much.So, being the curious one that I am, I began to ask questions.Trish told me about her life as she laughed and made light of each memory.
She grew up right smack in the middle of 9 children.Her parents were in the restaurant “training” business.They would have to move about once a year to train new people. She had three unsuccessful marriages and eight children.(Five were adopted.)She also was a foster mother to children that did not have homes.She loved children and laughed even more and she told about the day two of the foster children finger-painted each other’s face with toothpaste.
“I laughed so hard that day.I will never forget how they looked.”
Trish was already past the moment (death plans) while I lingered there, mesmerized by this true heroine and icon of faith, hope and Americanism.
Long after I had finished my day’s work and returned home, I was still thinking about Trish. Since her children are not nearby, she is pretty much on her own.Do we get stronger when we have more storms in our life?Does our physical life here become even more precious as we face the inevitable?
Even as Jim and I faced each other at the Olive Garden, I was still wondering out loud about Trish.I was making pretty lively conversation but still wondering and amazed by Trish.
Finally, out loud, I said to Jim, “We really do have a great life, don’t we?”
This week I was doing some shopping. One of the salesgirls made a rude comment to me while ringing up my sale. She seemed uncaring and distant. I felt unappreciative of that undeserved comment and thought about what I should have answered back to her.
This department store is awesome. I have been going there for years. There is a free gift wrap policy, no matter how little money you spend. I put my gifts on the counter to be wrapped and sat in one of ther comfortable chairs. I then heard one of the managers talking about the girl who had been rude to me. They were saying they knew something was wrong with her, as she was shaking all over. My anger melted at that moment, as I began to wonder what could be wrong. Had she just received some devastating news? Was she in some kind of trouble or maybe she just found out she had a terrible illness?
My point is, we never know what is going on inside another person's mind. I used to work in a doctor's office. The doctor always told me when someone was grumpy or out of sorts, they were really afraid. I am telling myself to be patient and kind in the midst of a troubling world and many personal hurts.
When editing my web sites, I rediscovered a wonderful web site. It is Random Acts of Kindness at: htttp://www.actsofkindness.org/people/site.asp. This site not only encourages kindness, it provides a free web site so that a teacher may share with the world a "kindness" project the children are doing. There are places to insert pictures, notes, etc. It's all there for you. Maybe it could even be catching. Wouldn't that be exciting? Yes, I know I am just a never-give-up Pollyanna.
Just let your mind go crazy and think about it for a minute. Think how just the flap of a butterfly in another country can affect us! One of my favorite site is http://www.care2.com. I am a member of that site and they give me butterflies by my name when I help with one of the projects. Here is a quote from that site in regard to the Butterfly Effect, which is derived from the Chaos Theory:
"The flap of a butterfly's wings in Brazil can set off a storm in Texas. Isn't that an amazing statement? Physicists call this theory "The Butterfly Effect" to explain how the breeze produced by a butterfly's wings could set of a series of reverberations that over time have a tremendous affect on weather patterns thousands of miles away. Now imagine the impact of millions of butterflies..."
Good Character Press Helps You Zip Through November with Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving makes me think of Oprah. She is mostly responsible for teaching us to keep a journal amd write down things that we are grateful for. I'll admit, I don't keep a journal but I do keep a journal in my head. When thoughts come to me about some things going on in my life that I could do without, I quickly pull myself to the other end of the spectrum. We all get frustrated and angry and that is human but we cn't let those thoughts lure us into a dark place.
Please note my free lesson plan for November. Hope you enjoy teaching this as much as I loved writing about it! I think this subject, gladness is life-changing for both children and adults. Maybe we can all teach ourselves this valuable lesson. Web masters, feel free to use my free lesson as long as you link back.
Parents, how would you like to take a four part online parenting class? Christine McClung, author of "Epic Heroes, Dinnertalk for Champs" is offering this gift to you. We can all use some helpful ideas on parenting. Just select Epic Heroes to get your free lessons.
I would like to share my Thanksgiving family traditions and recipes with you for Thanksgiving. Also, I can suggest some helpful ideas about preparations that you can do a few days before Thanksgiving if you are hosting Thanksgiving Dinner and/or having guests also.
It's all in my November's Thanksgiving Good Character Press Newsletter. Just click on the navigation link on your left or select http://www.goodcharacterpress.com/id43.html.
I can’t tell this story. It is just too sad and yet I must. I simply must tell you because if I tell you, maybe you won’t ever do what I did…..to Sammy.
As far as I know, Sammy never did anything wrong or sinful in his life. He was not mean-spirited and loved everyone. He didn’t ask for any favors or anything special. He was loyal. He never ever did wrong to me or to Jim, my husband. And yet…and yet…how did it happen that I did something so wrong to Sammy.
You see, Sammy is a dog….a loving, faithful dog……a beautiful apricot Shih Tzu.
It all started one day when Jim and I decided it was time to get another pet. Our dog, Tiffiany died at the age of 16 about two years previous to this. Yes, it was time to have a little fur ball jump in our lap and we would watch him grow and thrive.
We found a very dog-loving lady that I will call Patti. Patti raises Shih Tzus and knows so much about their personality traits. The thing that sticks in my mind is what Patti said about Shih Tzus. She said that some dogs are put on this earth for certain things like hunting, helping blind people, sniffing out drugs, etc. but Shih Tzus only want to make you happy and that is considered their “job.” Patti said more than once, “they only want to make you happy.”
We found Patti was so right. However, I am getting ahead of myself.
We went to Patti’s house one Sunday afternoon and watched four little fur balls chase each other while curiously sniffing out Jim and I. Patti told us about each one’s personality. After a few moments, a little male Apricot and White puppy shyly approached Jim and I. In his own quite manner, he seemed to say, I’m the one. The others may be more “showy” and aggressive but I’ll be your loyal companion always. I scooped him up in my arms and held his fast-beating heart next to mine. He wanted to go with us but he would be the first to leave his brothers and sisters. I held him close, reassuring him that we would try to fill those pockets of emptiness and homesickness.
When we left with Sammy, all his brothers and sisters and mother just silently stared at us. They had such a helpless, pitiful look that Jim and I will never forget. If they could speak, they would probably say. “OK, Sammy can come with you, but you darn sure better treat him right.!” Their eyes pleaded with Sammy to please not go away…..we will miss you….we’ll never see you again….My heart was breaking. I had a flash thought…can’t we just take the whole family? No one breaks up my family. Help! Those eyes staring at me…lets just get out of here.
Jim named him Sammy. The name appeared in Jim’s mind and it just fit. He just looked like “Sammy.”;
I held Sammy in my arms with his tummy resting on my chest all the way home. I stroked him and assured him that he would not regret going home with us. He didn’t make a sound. His big brown eyes shyly stole a look at me once in a while.
Patti gave us all his health papers and everything looked fine but we wanted our own assurances, so we stopped by Pets Mart. We bought the special kind of food that Patti recommended and all the other essentials and of course some toys. Everyone in Pets Mart was ooowing and ahhhhing over Sammy. He just clung to me. We took him to the back of Pets Mart where the animal clinic is located. They fell in love with Sammy and the vet looked him over. Everything was fine. Sammy was healthy just like Patti said.
Sammy was easy to potty-train. We did it by the crate method. Soon he was happily running around and begging for Jim and I to play with him or pick him up. He would jump in our lap almost every time we sat down. Only once is a while did I see the far- away look in his eyes that probably meant he was thinking about his mother and sisters and brothers. When I noted these times, I would pick him up and play with him or try to distract him. (I know you are probably saying, “Is she nuts?”….”dogs don’t miss their families…..” ..but don’t mess with me when I am talking about Sammy. He was “love” all dressed up in apricot and white fur.)
The weeks went by. I was taking care of my baby granddaughter, Alayna. When I would take Alayna for a walk in the neighborhood, I would place Sammy in the stroller seat right in front of her. She would naturally put her arms around Sammy and off we would go. No, he wasn’t jealous of the baby. He had fallen in love with her and although he was still a puppy himself, he wanted to protect her. I don’t know how he knew this but he never would touch her toys, only his. Some of his toys were rubbery and soft like Alayna’s but he knew the difference and absolutely never tried to play with her toys. (Sometimes the toys would be all together on the floor.)
Sammy fit in our life and we considered him a God-send. So much so, that I got a bright idea…”why not get another dog, a companion for Sammy?” Jim said he didn’t think that was a good idea, but after much prodding, he finally agreed to check it out.
At this time, Sammy was about a year old. He had given up his puppy ways and was loving, loyal and good-mannered. He was also well trained, potty-wise. He enjoyed his role as entertainer and friend to little Alayna. He was always sniffing around her tiny little feet to make sure she was ok.
Now, back to my bright idea about getting another puppy for Sammy. So, anyway, Jim and I found ourselves back at Patti’s house. She had a puppy left from a litter that was oh, soooo cute. This little female was brown and white and unlike Sunny very spunky. She paraded around Jim and I with confidence and a touch of “sneakiness.”
She certainly did not have Sammy’s shy ways.
We thought the two dogs would compliment each other since they seemed so opposite, so we brought her home and named her Sophie.
Sammy seemed annoyed with Sophie most of the time. In the beginning, he just flat stayed away from her. She would try every thing to get his attention and annoy him. There was no peace for Sammy but he just tried to stay on board with us.
We did all the beginning things that we had done for Sammy. We took her to the vet regularly and gave her the same kind of healthy food. We bought her toys and began to potty train her.
This is where my story takes a turn….a turn for the worse. This is when my nerves became frayed and I began asking myself “what have I done?”
Sophie began eating her poop. As if that wasn’t enough, she liked to bring it in the house and show us, I'll not only eat my poop, but I’ll bring it in the house and eat it in front of you, thank you very much. We tried all the methods we could think of…things you put in food to make the dog NOT like their poop. Sophie liked it anyway, anytime, all the time!
Frantically, I called Patti. Patti said that unfortunately, eating poop was a trait of this breed and that Sophie would out-grow it. She also told us to be much more stern with Sophie for this on-going event.
Things went from bad to worse, Soon, Sophie had convinced Sammy that this eating poop and bringing it in the house was just the thing to do. You may be asking by now, “how does this happen, can’t you see them when they come in from a walk?”
Here’s the thing. Jim had invented a “doggie out-house, “ which I am going to write a book about. (It is a wonderful invention and has worked well with our present dog, Sunny.) Anyway, Sammy and Sophie went on the back porch, down a ramp and into a beautiful screened-in doggie out-house. They did what they were supposed to do and either dined in the out-house or brought in back in the house to eat.
Sophie, although being female and was smaller, had self-proclaimed herself as boss and leader and in so doing, had also convinced Sammy that this dine on doo-doo was quite OK.
The thing is, I wasn’t OK, Jim wasn’t OK. And, to top it off, suddenly we were in the midst of trying to sell our house. We tried even harder to teach our dogs how to overcome this habitual feat every day. I worried that the baby could pick up some poop that I overlooked…Oh, that would be just horrible!
My mind was racing…watch, the poop....someone is coming to look at the house…watch the baby……clean up the poop……watch the dogs poop…..catch them in the act….the baby is crying…..someone is coming to look at the house……clean the carpet….poop in the carpet…..what is Sophie doing……..HELP!
“What did you say, honey? Did you say that maybe we should find a home for Sophie and Sunny?” In my temporarily frantic and slightly insane state of mind, those words were music to my ears. We were at our wits end and saw to answer in sight. I took a deep breath and knew what we had to do.
Jim was pale when he got back from Patti’s.
“She’ll find them a good home, she promised.”
Even though Alayna was cooing and the television was going, the deafening silence from that day forward is just that….a silence…a little part of my heart still has a hole in it, especially for Sammy. Sophie we loved, but Sophie really didn’t need our love and approval like Sammy did. Sammy was good. He loved us unconditionally. We probably would have eventually worked the problem out, but it was a frantic moment of slight insanity.
Please don’t write me and tell me what an awful thing we did. I know that. Even though I am sure Patti found them a good home, I let them down, especially Sammy.
So, Sammy, wherever you are, please forgive us. Please be happy and know that you are the world’s greatest lover of human souls. When I mention your name, Jim gets a far-away look in his eyes and I feel sick.
Where are you Sammy? ,,,,,,,I just keep wondering…..where you are you?…….
I know Father’s Day has passed, but I am still thinking about my Daddy…..
Daddy’s Shoes
It seemed so strange. They were slightly scuffed and worn but now lay unmoving and silent. They were placed on the closet floor just the way Daddy had left them, as if they were waiting for him. My heart heavy and searching for peace, I stared at them – Daddy’s shoes. No one else could ever fill those shoes. No one would ever have an imprint in those shoes like Daddy. He left an imprint in my heart, as well as his shoes.
Daddy had just passed away. My eyes locked on his shoes, the shoes that would never be worn by him again as I let my mind drift……
My father was the Depot agent for the Atlantic Coast Line, a southern railway. History tells us that during the 1940s, Citrus was the bread and butter of the community. Tons of citrus were shipped from Palm Harbor, Florida to all parts of the country. The Palm Harbor Citrus Association was active at this time. There were 46 growers in the cooperative, which had been formed in 1924. The “fruit season”, as the locals called it was bittersweet. The season was when all the orange growers made their money but it was also hectic. Daddy knew all of the orange growers, as they shipped their fruit through the depot. My two sisters and I would go help Daddy at the depot after school. My mother would work from about 8 am until after dark. I walked to the depot right after school. The first thing Daddy would say to me was, “Are you hungry? Here’s some money. Go to the Gas Station (next door) and get yourself something to eat.” Usually, I would get crackers or peanuts and a soft drink. Of course the peanuts were really good, if you put them in the drink and let them soak in cola. After that, I would usually stamp pads (shipping labels) at 5 cents a pad. My mother would write out tickets (name, address, etc) for each individual bushel of fruit. Sometimes there would be 200 or more bushels filled with oranges or grapefruit. We worked away, stopping only to greet the growers as they came in to give us an order. The old black pot bellied stove sitting in the middle of the big depot gave just enough heat. This went on from about November till May. Daddy looked so tired but no matter what, was always polite, as he would murmur, “Yes Sir” and " Yes Maam.”
Working at the depot was a way for my sisters and I to make money because Daddy would pay us by the hour. When the season was over, we would all go to Tampa for a shopping spree at O’Falks. What fun that would be! Maybe we would get to go the Columbia Restaurant for lunch and have Spanish bean soup and hot Cuban bread. Or we could have a Cuban sandwich and that wonderful Coconut Ice Cream.
One day, after school I went to the depot, as usual. The first thing Daddy would do was to give me money to go get a soft drink and snack at the gas station next door. However, this particular day, Daddy had something on his mind. He said he wanted to tell me something. He said that I needed to have an operation. I didn’t ask him what that was or why. If Daddy said I needed an operation, that’s all I had to know. He also told me that I would be going to Waycross, Georgia with Aunt Christine by way of the train. (All traveling on the train was free for all of us.) The facility at Waycross was where the Atlantic Coast Line sent us for any kind of surgery. I am guessing that it was paid for or almost paid for by going there.
The most meaningful thing that Daddy taught me was, “don’t worry about things that you can’t do anything about.” It is such a simple thought but has carried me through the trials of life. I am sure that is how he dealt with my undiagnosed illness and my mother’s bouts with depression.
Most of the time Daddy called me “Shug” or “Prissy.” When he called me Francine, I knew he was upset or sad about something.
One day, we got a terrible telephone call. Mother cried and Daddy was shut up in the bedroom. Daddy’s mother had died unexpectedly. I went with Daddy to Jacksonville to the funeral. Mother wasn’t able to come. I can’t remember if my sisters were there or not. I had never been to a funeral before. I was frightened. Most of the people were sobbing loudly and wailing. It was a long funeral. I didn’t know what was happening. It seemed like the world was coming to an end. I tried to think of a way to comfort Daddy. Tears were rolling down his cheek. I didn’t know what to say or do. I was too scared to be sad about my wonderful grandmother because everyone was crying so loudly. As I sat there, I tried to think of something to help Daddy. Then one thing came to my mind. I pulled out my handkerchief, turned to Daddy and wiped the tears from Daddy’s check. Daddy didn’t say anything and I couldn’t come up with anything either. Neither one of us said a word.
It was my father who taught me compassion. Even though my mother was ill, intermittently, throughout those years of my young life, Daddy always had time to think about others. He knew a family in the area that was very poor. We packed a box of food and toys, and he delivered it to their house. We were not rich, by any means but Daddy had a job and wanted to share. From time to time, I would see the mother of that family. Daddy would employ her when he could afford it. He always treated her like royalty, not like the family that lived in the shack. I can still hear him saying to her, “Yes Maam” or “No Maam.”
My father taught me to be interested in what was going on in the world. During my early years, he attended the Democratic National Convention in Chicago. My job was to fill up a scrapbook with anything political that happened while he was gone. Every day I would scan the newspapers for articles and information. I felt important because he trusted me this job. Again, that was a paying job. Even at ten years old, I was learning the value of my time and most of all, responsibility.
When I was around ten years old, a girl one grade below me lost her father through a car accident. I didn’t know what to say or do. A friend in my class came over to my house to talk about the accident. Her mother had instructed her to tell me and other girls that she knew to just “be" with her.” We didn’t have to talk about the accident. We were to take walks with her and do normal things. We all went for a walk that Sunday afternoon. My heart was heavy for her. I could only imagine how she must feel, as my mind drifted to Daddy.
Years later, on my wedding day, I stood in the rear of my church with my father. Our arms were entwined as we prepared to walk down the aisle. Daddy said, “Are you sure about this?” I knew what he meant. Life away from him, my mother and our precious Palm Harbor. “Yes, Daddy”, I answered. As the music swelled, I knew the memories of this small town and the honor of having parents so loving would remain in my heart forever.
Daddy’s shoes carried us both down the church aisle.
……………………..by Francine Larson
This is an excerpt from a book I am now writing, “My Life in Palm Harbor.” These were my most recent thoughts, although my father passed away many years ago.
What Will Happen to Clemente? I look out the window and see my neighbor, Norma pushing the stroller on the sidewalks of our subdivision.The stroller passenger is curiously looking at his surroundings.His depthless dark brown eyes captured my heart the first time I saw him.He is healthy-looking, perhaps a little on the chunky side. He looks lovingly at his small-framed Grandmother, as she proudly nods to the neighbors while passing by. How can he know what is about to happen to him?How do I know what is about to happen to him?I only know what is NOT going to happen.He is not going to be allowed to live with his wonderful grandparents. You are probably asking where are his parents?Why is he spending his days and nights with his doting grandmother and grandfather? The answer is that his parents are in the Armed Forces.His father is in Iraq and soon his mother will also ship out to Iraq.We used to hear the song, When Johnny Comes Marching Home but now we need to make up a new song:When Johnny and Jane come marching home. The most significant title for Clemente would be: When Mommy and Daddy Come Marching Home. I live in a 55 or older neighborhood and it seems that our bylaws state that Grandchildren can only live with their Grandparents for 90 days. The “busy people” have already been around to talk with Norma and Joe to make sure they won’t cause any “trouble.”They are busy promoting rules.They are busy making sure that an innocent 18-month old boy doesn’t destroy their quiet, secure domain. They are busy making sure that Clemente will most likely be with strangers. He will already be experiencing a lump in his throat as his little mind tries to grasp where his Mommy and Daddy are.He can’t talk enough to express this. Perhaps he can point and say “Mommy” or cry and hope someone will bring her to his waiting arms.When he gets a booboo, will the stranger know how to comfort him?Do they know what foods he likes?Maybe someone could show him a picture of his parents'…..some stranger. Too bad the busy people can’t turn their head the other way.They usually turn their heads the other way and are too busy to notice the rule about dogs having to be under a certain weight or people parking their cars on the sidewalk.No, it’s just this one thing that they are not too busy to notice…just this one rule. They don’t have to worry.It’s not their children in Iraq risking their lives; it’s not their grandchildren crying out, mommy!They can don their best outfits, go to church and pray for our people in Iraq as long as they don’t get personally involved. They don’t really have to look into Clemente’s innocent courageous eyes and explain why his whole world is falling apart.Do they even care….what happens to Clemente? by Francine Larson
1 1/2 cups cubed chicken or turkey (I use lemon pepper chicken from deli)
1/2 cup celery, chopped into pieces
1 1/2 cups very thin spaghetti, cooked
OPTIONAL: olives, extra cheese
Saute onion and celery in vegetable oil or olive oil. Add soup, milk, cheese and sour cream. Then, add spaghetti. Toss to coat. Spoon into 1 1/2 casserole dish. Bake at 375 degrees for 30 minutes. Serves 3-4. You can serve this with extra sliced chicken, if desired. I think for the casserole, a balance of dark and white meat is best for flavor.
Nothing is predestined.The obstacles of your past can
become the gateways that lead to new beginnings.
Henry Davis Thoreau
I hear myself saying out loud, “it’s ok, it is really ok.”It’s ok that I am now having a harder time losing 10 pounds, it’s ok that I can’t remember names as well as I once did.I suppose it’s ok that my husband and I no longer have the earning power to make money that we once did.
Change is unwelcome, especially as you get older and yet, change is the only thing in life that is for sure. As we age, I think we are a little reluctant to embrace a different world.Ironically, at this age, we are facing the most changes in our life.
Some of the changes that stand out for me are:(1) Rearing children in a different way.(2) Marriage is not accepted by everyone in our society.Some prefer to live together.(3) Even though technology is moving forward, (cell phones, e-mail) I think people are feeling even more isolated.(4) Many employers shy away from hiring “older people”, thus making the older population feel unwanted and unappreciated.
Now that I think about it, maybe it’s not so much the change itself, as the realization that values and memories from childhood are disappearing.That makes us feel invisible.That tears our beloved memories apart, as if it never happened.
Remember your childhood.Remember how safe you felt.We never locked our doors.Doctors made house calls. Dry cleaning and fresh milk was delivered to your door.The grocer in the small town where I came from always let you have groceries, whether you had the money or not.He would keep a running tab but I am sure some of the people could never pay.
(I am not suggesting that grocers go by this example now.) Of course, 50’s Music was the best!I don’t remember such a thing as an “R” rated movie.
There are times when I feel that God made a mistake and I was supposed to be born in the “Little House on the Prairie” era.Recently, when my grandchild came to visit, she didn’t know what a thermometer was, that is not the kind of thermometer I had.She knew what a digital thermometer was.Needless to say, she was confused when I had to “shake down” the thermometer before taking her temperature.
She also showed me how to open “child-proof” medicine bottles.When I complimented this six year old child on how great she looked in her aqua tee shirt, she answered, “only people over sixty use the word “aqua.”We have a good relationship but I bet she tells her mommy how strange grandmother is at times, especially to use the word, “aqua.”
I have to turn this around quickly, lest you think I am negative and bitter.
First of all, if you don’t have a sense of humor at this age, you need to get one. Most of the time, I don’t REALLY listen to my husband and he doesn’t REALLY listen to me.Therefore, we have come to an agreement.Never preface a statement with “like I said” or “I guess you didn’t hear me but…….”
We have to laugh at some of the things we do or don’t do.I think it is funny that we are “Mommy” and “Daddy” to our pet dog, Sunny,I’m sure my grown children think it is funny, too.
If you can laugh at yourself and what you are experiencing, you will be a much happier and more age-accepting person.
Besides having a sense of humor, what about the changes I mentioned?Let’s look again.
(1)Rearing children in a different way; this isn’t necessarily a bad thing.In fact, I see my daughters wisely spending more time with their children versus trying to keep a perfect house all the time.That seemed to be the prize in myyounger days.Let’s see who can have the whitest diapers (I hung them on the line) or who can do the most.I would sew all our clothes, cook, do housework and when taking them to dance or swimming class, I would take some craft work to do while waiting.You know what I wish now?Wish I had watched the classes, did less cleaning and played and read more to my four daughters.I think that my daughters are actually better at parenting than I was.Each generation seems to evolve.In my mother’s day, children were seen and now heard…..that wasn’t good.Look how we have improved and evolved.
(2)Marriage is not accepted by all in our society;Maybe this is a good thing.When I was in college, most of the girls came back to school after Christmas vacation sporting an engagement ring.That was the ultimate.Oh, how I worried that I wouldn’t ever get married and have children.You definitely had to have all of your children by the age of thirty.Marriage, for the sake of being married was definitely the ultimate for a young girl.Having said that, I really lucked out because I have a wonderful husband that loves me.We have grown together as time marches on.I really believe in marriage but I am glad the young women of today are preparing to earn a living and be independent.Marriage is a good thing but it is not for everyone.
(3)Even though technology is moving forward, I think people feel more isolated;What can I say about this?I do get so annoyed listening to cell phone conversations everywhere that I go, but then, if you need to get in touch with someone, you can.E-mail is great because it takes the place of letter writing and we are more likely to express ourselves.How about the cute e-cards that you can send out?I have to say that technology wins on this one, too.
(4)Many employees shy away from hiring “older people.”I do think that is true in some work cultures.However, I think they will be forced to accept older people more willingly as the median age of our society climbs upward.I think the baby boomers will get all of this straightened out.Until then, if you must work, try to find a fun job.Try to do something you have always wanted to do and don’t be so serious.You don’t have to run a corporation in your sixties.Let the baby boomers do it.We don’t have to prove anything anymore.We can just be ourselves.
I didn’t mention this earlier but I think as we grow older, there is a certain “knowing” that we really will die.When you are younger, you feel that you have plenty of time but it is different in your fifties and sixties.Just look at the obituaries in the newspaper.I believe you are happier if you accept this fact the best you can.Accept it by making or at least talking about funeral arrangements and get your life in order.Once you face it dead on, it doesn’t seem to be like a monster in the dark. I think most of us face this.It isn’t so much the dying, as hoping that we won’t die an awful, painful death.
Keeping the death thing in mind, enjoy each day fully.The past is gone, the future is not here.So, we only have today.Life is a gift and that’s why each day we live is called the present.
Something wonderful has happened to me the last few months.Underneath the “knowing” that I really will die is an undercurrent of my strong Christian beliefs that there is another life……a wonderful life…and I know that for sure…I hear myself singing hymns that I used to sing years ago.In knowing how to live, I will know how to die……..I hear myself singing and I am happy that I am at this age…..it’s like a well-kept secret.It’s a happy, satisfying time of your life!I’m Moving on…..
by Francine Larson, co-author of CHARACTER KEYS TO A BRIGHT FUTURE
This week I was doing some shopping. One of the salesgirls made a rude comment to me while ringing up my sale. She seemed uncaring and distant. I felt unappreciative of that undeserved comment and thought about what I should have answered back to her. 
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