The Other Side of the Glass Door

It's Wednesday afternoon and I am attending to Dad at their home while my Mom gets a much needed break with her lady friends at knitting club. They have planned a nice birthday "party" surprise for her today. Having friends like that makes me so happy for her that she has a bright spot in her days. While she desperately wanted to go, the anxiety of leaving Dad's side scared her to death. I likened her to a new mother leaving her baby with a babysitter alone for the first time as she nervously showed me all the supplies, medications (with full instructions) and food directions for Dad. Within minutes of her departure Dad was settled in his recliner and telling me he wanted a nap before eating his lunch.

Looking at him relaxed in his chair in his fresh, clean pjs with notes from Mom about this or that surrounding him, side table with his books carefully stacked and water jug iced down, he is in restful slumber.

We have a family tradition in the Harris family. When we are leaving from one another's house, we will stand and wave until the leaving party is out of sight. A new tradition my mother and I started a few years back was blowing a kiss to each other and waving as I would back out and leave her driveway. Today, as I stood at her back patio door and blew her a kiss as she rode away with Lena down the driveway, it occured to me that this had never happened before. I, standing at her door blowing a kiss to her as she was leaving. I stare at the empty driveway. Feeling and living her world on the other side of the glass door.

Patience is a virtue...

Patience has never been my strong suit. I look back on my younger days and how impatient I was with drivers who were too slow, people who took too long in the check out line, waiting for food to be ready, long car rides to a destination, computers that took too long to boot up. Little did I know at the age of 23 that by 42 all of those "important time stealers" would mean very little to me anymore. Hurry does not work well with patience. Why does it seem everyone is in such a hurry? What are we in a rush to finish? Do we rush and rush, only to be at the same place at the same time if we just would have been patient and let it happen naturally?

I pondered this theory when driving with my kids this past week to the mountains. Going up the last of the straight stretches at Alpena we were following a huge flatbed with a gigantic propeller wing for one of the windmills they were installing in Davis. We had followed the truck from Elkins. We were traveling at about 8 miles an hour. It was obvious by the flailing arms and "mouthed" expletives from the driver in the car behind me that he "was in a hurry". Risking life and limb, the driver swerved around us and gunned it to barely make it past the truck just before the road drastically curved to the left. He about lost it in the ditch, but made it past. The truck and I continued on our slow journey over the mountain and as we approached the gas station at the top of Laurel Mountain, we were met by a road construction crew... controlling traffic down to one lane. Guess who was there waiting in line? Mr. Speedypants. Same place, same time. Was his risk worth it? I'd like to think not.

Patience is something I'm constantly working on. My patience level took a drastic change when I got married, again when I took on each of my pets, it changed dramatically when I had my children and now, I am learning a whole new level of patience with my parents. I'm getting there, I'm just a slow learner.

I've spent my whole life being in a hurry. I'm tired.

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The Power of Music

Anyone who knows me, knows I love music. All kinds of music. From the head-banging notes of The Violent Femmes to Chopin's soothing and melancholy Nocturnes and everything in between. One of the best things about music is that no matter what your mood, there is a song for it. And even when there might not be just the right song for it, you can make one up.

Music is the international language and bridges so many cultural divides. It heals, soothes and educates. Even when our oldest daughter Elena had her horse, it always amazed me that Leona (the horse) would respond to the type of music we played for her. Slow, calming songs when we groomed her, and then snappy songs for riding. Her natural rhythm would follow the beat of the songs. Different steps and patterns for different songs and rhythms.

Music expresses emotion. It builds us up. It calms us down. It evokes memories. It makes memories.

Music is educational! Math was never my forte, but had it not been for beats per measure, time signature, scoring and my faithful friend the metronome, I may have been lost about the fundamentals of music and mathematics. Music is a valuable teacher.

Recently music has been my motivator. Beginning the second mile of my morning walk uphill and breathing hard, if it weren't for Taio Cruz and "Higher" I don't think I could make it. My drive to work right now usually involves the old dance tune "Knock Knock Knock on Wood" to get me revved up for the day. I apologize to anyone reading this blog if you pull up next to me at the light in town. That's right. I'm the crazy woman who always plays her music too loud. If the doors are thumpin', the music is pumpin'! Even with the windows rolled up I know I have to be breaking a sound ordinance somewhere. If something happened to my iPod I think I might have a nervous breakdown.

Finally, and most importantly, music is from God. No other music touches me more than the old hymns I grew up with in church. When I sing them now on Sunday mornings I can't help but get choked up with emotion. It touches something deep inside me. I think the newer contemporary songs are great too, but they don't have what the hymns of yesteryear have. Even at Vacation Bible School I miss the old standards like "Deep and Wide" and "I've Got the Joy Joy Joy Joy Down in My Heart", they have been replaced with "hip", rockin' tunes with video. While some of these newer songs can certainly bring tears to your eyes, it's the old standards that work for me.

There is one song above all others that encompasses everything that music is to me. I cry uncontrollably upon singing it, playing it and even thinking about it. Blessed Assurance. Written by a blind hymn writer visiting her friend who was getting a new organ back in 1873. It was a jam session for the two of them. The song is now 138 years old and means just as much now as it did then, if not more. That's the power of music.

Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens

Ahhhhh.... the snoring hour. It's quite a rhythmic household tonight between the thunder, subsonic snoring and raindrops on the roof. I'm watching my favorite channel, the Weather Channel, and seeing that we're in for more of the same this week.... rain. Rain, Rain, and more Rain. The only good thing? I'm not having to haul the watering can around. The roses are absolutely beautiful soaking up all this liquid sunshine.

Listening to the wind whip around the house and through our woods I can't get my mind off our new little friend. Sweetie. A stray mama kitty who has completely captured my heart. Sweetie showed up on Friday looking a bit "round" and by Sunday evening looked quite the opposite. We have scoured the woods. We have searched high and low. We have looked in the hollows of trees. We have sifted through brush piles. We have done the perimeter. We cannot find her kittens. She arrives as quietly as she leaves and is quite cunning at keeping anyone from finding her nest. She is worrying me to pieces.

Wet food, dry food, fresh water, dry cedar box with fresh towels out of the wind and rain. I have rolled out the red carpet for her. But no occupants yet. She comes and hungrily scarfs all of the food down, gets a good long cuddling and head/neck scratching, stretches out on the cool concrete of the garage floor, then .... quick as a whip, you turn your head for one second ... and she's gone. Without a trace. The cat is a master. Yoda himself would be amazed.

I was able to get her to Dr. Lutz today for a quick check and blood test (good report all around!) and back home within 35 minutes so she wouldn't be away from her babies too long. Dr. Lutz said not to worry, she must have a good hiding spot.

Still, I can't stop worrying. The driving rain, booming thunder and flashing lightning make me scared for her. She won't move her kittens if she feels they are safe, so I need to stop being an impatient control freak and let her do the protecting.

Whiskers on kittens... one of my favorite things... hope I get to see them soon.

The Virus that Started a Virus

I will be the first to admit that I have a Facebook problem. When it first came out on college campuses it was a hit. Migrating into the public sector it grew like a virus by leaps and bounds. Hmmmm. A virus. Funny to mention that as I type on my good old Dell laptop back from the repair shop with an invoice blaring the following:

22 Virus Infections Removed
924 Trojans and Spyware Items Removed
45 Hijacked Items Removed
257 Registry Errors Removed
250.2 MB Temp Files Removed
Removed Corrupted Mcafee

The expert at the computer shop explained to my husband that the majority of the mess on my computer had come through Facebook. Then to top it off as he's packing up the computer he says to my beloved... "Your wife sure does like Facebook!" Geesh. I felt like a scolded child.

My husband HATES Facebook. I get a chuckle teasing him about his Facebook page he actually registered long ago. It shows a shadowed silhouette of a man's head with the simple statement... "Bob has no friends". He refuses to participate. Its not for lack of Friend Requests, he gets them all the time, he has made the staunch decision to have unwaivering opposition to Facebook. No social networking for Mr. Donnelly. His social life is in person, never on a computer. His social networking is around a firepit with his best buddies swapping stories and doing some swilling.

Today he got his day in court.
Lydia's laptop viruses = riddled beyond recognition
Bob's laptop viruses = 0

It's irresistible for me however to sign on and see what's happening in everyone's world, to feel connected and stay in touch. Human contact. That's what it's all about. And whether you do it in person or by computer the risk is the same... you just might get a virus.

Kids, What's the Matter With Kids Today

When my brother was in high school his class did a school musical. It was my first real "show" and I am still amazed at how much I remember about it. The musical was Bye Bye Birdie and it completely rocked my world. One of my favorite songs from the production was originally sung by Paul Lynde in the movie who played the role of Harry MacAfee entitled "What's the Matter With Kids Today". It had a catchy tune, hilarious words and what I thought as a child, a very silly meaning.

I found myself singing that song tonight, and the meaning didn't seem so silly to me anymore.

Have I become Harry MacAfee? I've spent the evening collecting my real estate signs kids have stolen from houses and placed in other yards all over town, only to be topped off with a call from the Marietta Police Department about a vacant house. What IS the matter with some of these kids today? It makes me cringe at what our world is turning into. Such disrespect for others and others' property.

I realize that each generation evolves, but I find it interesting to see how manners have UN-evolved. Excuse me for a minute for some history. Take the G.I. Generation (born 1912-1927) for instance. Hard work, self reliance, respect for authority and civic obligation are characteristics of this generation. The next changeover, the Silent Generation (born 1925-1945), this group includes my parents, is said to have been concerned more with being cautious and conventional, women started to desire a family AND a career. Then there are our Baby Boomers (born 1946-1964). Known for being goal oriented, work-centric, affected by strong political events either drawing them closer to social causes or perhaps driving them away and creating distrust, however this generation is responsible for so many individual freedoms like civil rights, feminist cause, gay rights, privacy rights and handicapped rights. They were a busy group making changes.

When we get to Generations X and Y it is frustrating to experience the vast differences of ourselves and the GI Generation and how far we've fallen when it comes to manners. What kind of children are our generations raising as a whole? What values and morals are being emphasized? WHO is raising our children? Why is it that so many of the grandparents of today are raising their children's children? What is going wrong?

As I mentioned, I received a call from the Police Department about a group of children vandalizing one of our company's listings. The children had been caught thankfully before too much damage was done, and I was asked to come to the property to determine what fate was to become of the children. It was quite a diverse group. Some sincerely sorry for what they'd done, some indifferent and emotionless, others actually brazen enough to laugh about what was happening. With charges of vandalism, trespassing and littering facing them, they were willing to accept responsibility when I gave them the option of restitution for what they had done versus charging them and sending them up to juvenile hall. This was a chance for them to make good for their actions and hopefully learn a lesson.

Who would actually show up?

What I experienced next confirmed my theory of our social deterioration from generation to generation. I witnessed a 75 year old grandfather bring his grandchildren as well as tools and material to make sure they did their job and to "make right what they did wrong". It is important to note that this gentleman was ON TIME. These children are very fortunate to have a grandfather who is doing all he can to guide their paths while it is apparant their actual parents are not. Another child was there with his father and grandfather and ready to do what needed to be done, and had actually shown up early. On the other end of the spectrum I got to witness just why the troubles exist with some of these children. Little to no adult supervision from their parents, starved for attention and forced to be taking care of themselves at too young of an age. Not all of the children showed up. That was a disappointment. Even when given the opportunity to "take the right path", some children still choose to refuse it, and the parent isn't there to make them.

Too much. Too soon. Too fast.

Blossoms in the Breeze

As we rest in our room for an afternoon break, I am listening to the snores emanating from my dear mother (she will not be happy that I shared that with you) and was inspired to write a quick post while I am in our great nation’s capitol. There have been many reasons to bring my mother on this pilgrimage to Washington, DC, many that some folks might find surprising.

Firstly, my mother has always wanted to see the cherry blossoms on the Tidal Basin. As a girl growing up I can remember around Easter time every year she would get the new Ideals magazine. Quickly leafing through the pages together to the issue’s colorful scene of the Jefferson Memorial and the flowering trees we would be in awe. Every spring issue was guaranteed a cherry blossom spread. She would look at me with a big smile and say “wouldn’t that be something to see?!” And indeed it was. And we finally saw the real thing… together.

Secondly, my mother is an amazing letter-writer. She has written letters to our politicians and community leaders, to missionaries overseas, to strangers in need, to our military soldiers, to scores of people for a multitude of reasons. Maybe concern, or support, others for questions about decisions being made, whatever the reason, the power in her pen has been mighty. It pleased me greatly to watch her face light up as we explored the halls of the Library of Congress and the National Archives. There, at her fingertips were letters that created a country, letters that expressed the deepest of concerns, and letters that made a difference.

Thirdly, my mother is very patriotic. Most likely the most patriotic person I know next to my father. The drums and brass of John Philip Sousa can be found in her boom box any day of the week. The Pledge of Allegiance at the raising of her porch flag, Veteran’s Day parades and services in the cemetery, wearing poppies, memorizing patriotic verses, believing in everything the United States stands for, and supporting our troops and their families.

Finally, a trip to DC because every now and again, we two girls need to escape together. A mother-daughter out of town trip where we can talk non-stop, eat yummy food, go exciting places, indulge ourselves and just act plain silly. As the colder weather pushed through today with winds of 30 miles per hour, the beautiful white blossoms we came to see were floating through the air, like a soft, delicate snow of petals. Just as the blossoms were departing, so would we in the morning.

I am thinking back on our past three days and all of the wonderful sights, smells and sounds we have experienced.

There have been so many memories made and smiles shared. My favorite memory of this trip though will be of my beautiful mother, looking out over the Basin to the Jefferson Memorial, taking off her scarf and letting her white hair blow in the wind. Giving herself the freedom to be a blossom in the breeze.