Tag Archives: Amen

The Final Sunday Report

Last week I spent some time staring at the campfire and contemplating. Something inside me kept saying “I’m done” in a loop. I’d been feeling my age lately and this year’s Camp Sonnystone really brought it home as I cope with my grandies growing up in what seems the blink of an eye. But there’s no reason to think that I’m done, not at all; with so many good times to look forward to and our health still strong, I couldn’t justify that sort of morbid thinking. So I examined it more closely, listened more intently.

This blog means so much to me; it is the Chronicle of my Life. Including the defunct blog, for the last 16 years it has witnessed the birth of all my grandchildren and my evolution as a JoJo. Through two organist jobs, two nursing jobs, Christmases, Birthdays, Camps, and plenty of Disney Trips we’ve watched the grandies grow. But there were also lots of topics; I did interviews, reviewed every “Best Motion Picture” Oscar winner, went through my CD collection with comments, occasionally talked politics, often talked about Peace. There were some deaths, as well: Aunts Thelma, Almeda, and Shirley; Uncle Jr; my friends, NuNu, Lois, Chuck, and Beaver. I’ve taken you on lots of trips with us, kept you apprised of what’s growing in the garden, what birds are at the feeder, and sometimes just blathered.

Even though I upgraded my WP account, I have now very nearly filled up all the allotted media space for Sonnystone and for the garden blog, Growing Every Season, which I started around the same time. At first I thought I would do a whole lot of work to download and delete old posts, but I kept putting it off. The next upgrade costs quite a bit more money and is more for a monetized blog. I believe the voice that was saying “I’m done” meant that I’m done with this particular blog and the obligation that I feel to keep it going.

To give The News a proper send-off, I compiled a video of photos. In order to not make it an hour long, I concentrated on just the people, then had to pare it down more to mostly grandies growing up. The music that I chose is poignant; Over the Rainbow and Wonderful World by Iz, the wonderful Hawaiian artist. He speaks in one part, almost unintelligible, but he’s using two Hawaiian words: “kuleana” has multiple meanings, including “land divisions”, but represents your space or spirit; “pono” which means “to make correct” or “to make good”. So what he means is that kuleana pono is an “automatic plan”, that if you make your space, your spirit good, “stuff” is just waiting to come to you, waiting until you are ready.

It makes me kind of anxious to think of not blogging every week, so I remind myself that I’ll still be keeping up the ancestry blog, and our trips will still be recorded over at the travel blog. The fact is I need to let go and open my mind up to new things, especially regarding my writing. By letting go, I will open up my spirit for some of that “stuff” that has just been waiting until I’m ready.

Thank-you for following along with me. I have truly enjoyed your company. Now I’m taking one long look back, then turning out the light, closing the door behind me.

Peace

Happy Thanksgiving!

I was taught early on to say “please” and “thank-you”, but it took me many years to learn to Be Thankful, a state of Grace often called “Thanks-Living”, or an “Attitude of Gratitude”. It is my Way of Life, one that brings peace and abundance.

I’m so thankful for the ties that bind, the Love that is flowing between all of us, sustaining and inspiring us.  Despite the distance that is measured in miles or minutes, that Love transcends all barriers and makes us as One.  Sure, I wish we were able to be physically together, but I Know that being With family is not always as pleasant as thinking of them fondly…

“With your Feast now feed us. With your Light now lead us. Unite us as One in this Life that we share…”

from “Sent Forth by God’s Blessing”

My blessings are too numerous to list, but You are definitely one of them.

May Peace and Plenty be yours, today and Always…

Sunday Report

I guess that nostalgia got to me…last week I was in a bit of a funk.  I went off on a tangent of thought and decided that we needed to buy a full-size van, something like the one we’d owned back in the 90s: a 1987 Ford Econoline 150 that was the scene of many good times. I pictured us throwing a tent in the back, loading up a cooler, and hitting the road.  I jumped right into the rabbit-hole that is the FB marketplace and searched out a couple of contenders, newer and more up-to-date, and messaged the owners. I figured it was a good sign that they were available, though 87 miles away in Paducah, Kentucky.

We were looking for a day-trip anyway, so off we set early Friday morning.  We stopped in Madisonville to pick up cash, sure we’d be making a purchase.

Of the two that I found, I felt the first one was the obvious choice with less miles, a new transmission, brakes, tires.  The owner was a mechanic, which I felt was an advantage, and the vehicle could be viewed at his Auto Repair Shop.

The van was out front of the garage when we arrived and we looked it over.  There were some flaws that weren’t mentioned in the ad, but hey.  Up in the auto bay, a guy spotted us from under a car and grabbed a rag to wipe his hands.  We asked for “Mike”; he was “Mike”.  He went to get the keys and as he brought them to us, he pulled a Marlboro 100 out of the pack in his pocket and placed one in his mouth, where it remained…  He never lit it, but he proceeded to talk with this cigarette dangling and bobbing with every word.  I was fascinated, watching the ciggie move as he spoke, impressed with the guy’s lip flexibility.  I couldn’t really understand what he was saying, but he was talking to Casey, not me.

As we opened up the doors to the van…what a sight to see…there were greasy smears of black on the carpet with a toolbox sitting in the center of the floor; other mechanical items were piled on the seats.  There were floor mats thrown under the passenger seat that were way too big and nearly fell out when I opened the door.  A large baby seat sat like a throne on the back bench seat with a play station laying beside it.  Clothes were hanging from a rack in the back…  I felt like I had walked into the guy’s bedroom.

We climbed in to take it for a drive and just as we were backing out, the owner, unlit-smoke still hanging from his lips, ran back out and stopped us.  Leaning in the driver-side window, he mumbled something I didn’t catch to Casey and pointed to something between the front seats…his gun.  Casey handed him the revolver and the guy contorted a smile, Marlboro to one side now, and said, “I take it everywhere I go.”

Uh, not really, buddy.  If your business were robbed while you were working, your gun would be in the freaking car, idiot.  We drove to a shady spot and said, WTF?  It didn’t even run that well, kind of rough, and so we returned it to the shop.  The owner, now cig-free, shrugged and said, I’ll just keep driving it…  Then why did you run an Ad to Sell it, dolt?

We were more surprised than disappointed, and since we were in the vicinity, I sent a message to another van-owner who lived about 30 miles away in Golconda, IL, a little town that is kind of on our way home.  That van had an impressive FB marketplace ad with lots of pictures.  It was newer, less miles, more bells and whistles, but the owner was very candid about the rust along the running boards. I’d ruled out looking at it because the owner’s asking price was Firm.  How can you deal with someone with a Firm price?  But we were there, so I figured we’d check it out…

“We’re in the area and would like to look at your van. Is it still available?”  I messaged.  The reply:  “You can come by if you want.  It needs a battery and new brakelines and is not driveable.”

Whaa????   What about that Firm price? What the aitch is wrong with people???

We really don’t need a van, you know.   I was just wishing for the Way Things Were; thinking about the days when our old van was full of boy scouts every month (who left a smell of dirty-socks); remembering the family all piled in and heading out on vacations to Shenandoah or South Dakota, or Disney World; picturing when it was “just us” camping at Harmonie and Lincoln State Parks.

Back in the Present, we just shook our heads and steered the Minivan toward Eville, returning via a scenic Southern Illinois route. We tooled along the backroads and enjoyed the conversation and the silence, two old people with a bag of cash, trying to buy back the past…  You live and learn, eh?

Peace

P.S.  Before the pandemic, I took the Jr girls to the mall every Saturday.  Yesterday, eight months after our last visit, we returned…(of course we wore masks inside, though many around here still don’t)

 

 

A Collective Moment

We’re All feeling it, though some are scared and others defiant.  All of us are affected by the shut-down of schools, libraries, museums.  I still don’t get the run on toilet paper and groceries, but my usual grocery pick-up order from Walmart was cancelled because they ran out of stock.   I made my way down to Schnucks and the IGA today and witnessed for myself the empty shelves.  The workers are somewhat stunned from the long lines and the supply trucks have been diverted to larger stores, so they’re not sure when they’ll be able to restock.  Crazy.

Yes, there have been so many reactions of this pandemic. My heart goes out to the healthcare workers and their families on the front line of this epidemic.  I am so grateful for their selfless service.  Our governor is doing a good job of handling things here in Indiana and I’m hoping that other state governments have stepped up, too.

Life here at Sonnystone has always been a bit like “self-isolation”, so it hasn’t changed much.  Seems to me that it’s a good time to Practice Being Present.  We are fine and so are our loved ones. We are grateful beyond words for our health and wealth.  No dark imaginings, we are distancing from fear or worry. There are books to read, Netflix to watch, music is everywhere.  Right Here, Right Now I breathe in Love and breathe out Peace.  Now Smile.  Really, make yourself Smile…it’ll do you a World of Good.

Since getting back from Florida we’ve planted potatoes, onions, and peas, brought out the over-winters, and started work in the  Peace/Bird Garden.  I’m ready to Revive my Garden Blog this week andsSince you will have a little time on your hands, you’ll want to follow along.

Remember this from “Desiderata”

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams

it is still a Beautiful world.

Be Careful.  Strive to be Happy.

 

Peace, dear Readers

 

Remembering that day…

17 years ago…what a different world it was.  I managed to get in a call to my daughter, living on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, as soon as I heard that a plane had hit the Twin Towers…her voice broke as she told me she was okay, that another had hit, that Eric had already left for the day and that she was determined to go to her doctors appointment… I told her to stay home, but she didn’t.  Her doctor never made it across the bridge that morning, but the doctor I worked for kept me busy, didn’t allow me to watch the TV in the waiting room, and let me close the door of my office and weep.

Whether you considered NYC a rat-infested garbage heap or the Emerald City, on That Day, we were all New Yorkers…  I wish it didn’t take Tragedy to bring our country together… but even then you could see the schism forming…When I got home and could talk to them, my mom and sister both decried Melissa’s presence in the city at all –“why is she even in that godless place?”

Melissa has lived in New York for nearly 19 years now, raising her children, pursuing her singing, and working her day-job well into the night.  I have made at least 40 or so round-trips, have walked Manhattan Island from stem to stern, have adopted the apartment up on 102nd as my home-away-from-home.  The people there are friendly, hugging and blowing those little air-kisses around both my ears when they greet me.  I wade into the fountains at Washington Square, or sit in Central Park and notice that children play just the same there as anywhere else.  I visit the museums, drink coffee at the diners, ride the bus or subway with a little help from my friends. I didn’t expect to love it so much, and still wish it was closer physically to the Acres…

That day, that day… I begged her to come home…  She refused…   I am so awed by her strength, by her conviction that The City was where she was supposed to be.  (I believe Eric would not have caught his cancer “in time” if he had been living in Eville) (I believe my grand-daughters are receiving a world-class education because she didn’t listen to my pleas)  When people ask me, and they inevitably do, how they “make it” there, I just shrug.  They make it on Faith…because God Is in that place, leading them along and making sure they always have enough.

If you hear the song I sing
You will understand (listen!)
You hold the key to love and fear
All in your trembling hand
Just one key unlocks them both
It’s there at your command…
 Come on people now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another
Right now

Right Now

Peace

 

 

Fathers Day 2018

I adored my Daddy… To me, he was the strongest, smartest, and surely the most fun guy in the World.  Even after I grew up and realized he wasn’t the strongest or smartest,  he still was the most fun.

After his retirement in 1988, he would go have a few drinks at the VFW every Wednesday.  He got in the habit of coming by my house afterward, allegedly for a cup of coffee, but we would end up listening to music, or making music at the piano.  After a while, he arrived earlier and earlier, lugging a 12-pack;  eventually, he brought his uke and kept it at my house, and we had Music Night every Wednesday, drinking and singing and laughing, and doing the Charlie Brown with the Willie Break…

Dad died in 1997, 5 months after he was diagnosed with metastatic renal cell cancer. He still made it to my house for Music Night whenever he could.  Weeks before he died, on the occasion of meeting Melissa’s fiance’,   he got out his uke and played his last song…”and the band played on”.

He jokingly had me promise that I would take a 6-pack out to his mausoleum on Wednesdays, and one Wednesday about a year after he died, I picked one up and took it by.  I sat on the little folding chair in front of his drawer and sneakily popped one open … I thought how he must hate that cheesy piped-in music… I started giggling, the music got cheesier and went into–I swear!–“those were the days, my friend” ! That struck me as hilarious, and I laughed until I cried, “Come on, Dad, let’s ditch this place.”   We left together…

Dad is such a part of me that I often feel him standing behind me when I’m playing his favorite part of Maple Leaf Rag, and he communicated with me through Phish….but that’s another story.

Still, there’s nobody to sing with anymore, and I miss that more than anything…

Peace and Love to All Daddies!!

Going dark…

I’ve been doing this blog thing for…oh, my gosh, it’s been nearly 14 years!!!  Over a thousand posts, hundreds of thousands of words, a plethora of pictures, and about 300+ readers followed along the way.

The original Sonnystone Acres morphed into The News, then expanded to include 3 other blogs:  Growing Every Season, Rave On,  MadWoman, and Trailer Trippin’.  (Growing is a seasonal gardening blog and the trippers only post when we are traveling —unless it’s to Disney, which goes on The News.)

Anyone who has tried to maintain a blog can tell you it’s not easy. Each post takes a couple of hours to write, even if it’s a photoblog.   It’s intimidating to hit the publish button…you are putting your Self out there…and I’ve written plenty of stuff that I decided to not share. If you want folks to come back, it has to be published consistently and it has to be at least decent, and interesting, or have pictures of darling children!..  Over the years, I’ve often sacrificed quality just to get something posted, but overall, I’m proud of what I’ve written.  It’s been rare that anyone has actually criticized me, though I can always count on my family to point out my weaknesses.  It’s almost as rare that anyone has actually “liked” my posts on wordpress!!

My faithful readers have shared my joy–births of 4 grand-daughters, 5 Camp Sonnystones, 6 Disney trips– and my pain–Eric’s 1.5 years of fighting cancer, deaths of friends, that damn hip thing.  I sincerely appreciate you.

Lately, though, I’ve felt more obligated than inspired…

So I feel like I have to tell you that I’m taking a 6-week-sabbatical from The News.  The MadWoman will likely be in touch, and I’ve got a few other writing projects going, but mostly I want to just shut up for a while.

I know I’ll be back in time to celebrate the February birthdays, so we’ll get together then!

Peace

The Perfunctory New Year, New You Post

The aroma of hoppin’ john — my stock new-year-day lucky food–is filling the air, warming us on this frigid (10degrees), but sunshiny First Day of 2018.

I’m a little skittish about making Resolutions…  I’ve done it before, but I’m just not a Resolute person.  I have only a passing understanding of Determination or what on earth a Firm Decision would be.  Same way with Goals…  The very word implies Effort and there is a whiff of competition that has never appealed to me.

I reject Bucket List, because I do not have a terminal diagnosis, and I sincerely hope to have done Everything before I get the diagnosis…

But just like the traditional lucky food, and kissing at midnight, I usually make a list on New Year Day.  The List was aimed at Self-Improvement, being healthy, changing my habits… The usual stop smoking, stop drinking, lose weight, join a group, take a class…I Would Become a Better Person!!!  January was always full of hope…  By February, I would be making excuses, and March always saw me in the line of shame to d/c my gym membership.

Why did I spend so much time criticizing myself, always falling short of my expectations.  I set myself up to fail, then beat myself up, feeling undisciplined, even lazy!?  Some of those habits changed, but never because I wrote it down on New Year Day.  Time flew in and changed me.  It works much better that way.

At the ripe old age of 64, I see the Year Ahead much differently.  I look at the Year as an Adventure, Each Day as a New Experience, Every moment present and aware.  So I’ll call it my Adventure List?  My Experience List?  My Learning List?  My Here’s What I Want to Do in 2018 List?

Whatever you want to call it, here it is…
(in no particular order and not necessarily complete)

1. Enjoy Each Moment, no judging

2.  Write

3.  Travel

4.  Spend Time with Family

5.  Learn New Music

6.  Read

7.  Garden

8.  Walk/Hike

9.  Spruce up the House

Asking a lot of myself, aren’t I?  I hope you feel free from self-criticism, too.   You don’t always need to Change yourself, trying to please or fit in.  You Will Be Changed, believe me;  that’s what Life is.  Don’t be so determined to be something.  Open yourself to Just Be.  Enjoy the Journey.
Peace

Bye-Bye, 2017

Before I tear off the rear-view mirror and cruise happily into 2018, let me linger just a moment…

January

1/26/17

February

March

April

May

Olivia is in the middle
Olivia 9, Samantha 2

June

July

August

before

September

October

November

December

Peace

Have a Safe New Year’s Eve!

Memorial Day, 2017

Busy week, this last one, full of people I love.  Between babysitting, elder-sitting, and good, old friends, I haven’t had time to do much more than maintenance.  I’m way behind on my reading challenge because I didn’t have the challenge book with me at Cades Cove and started reading another, so now I’m finishing up two.

Many confuse Memorial Day with Veterans Day.  The former is for those who have made the ultimate sacrifice and lost their lives for their country in military service, the latter for all those who served.  No one in my mom or dad’s family has died in combat, but for the millions of lives cut short by war, it is good to take time to pause and reflect with prayers or meditations of remembrance and thanksgiving for all we, the living, have in this wonderful country.

I remember when we called this Decoration Day and we would go with my great-grandmother in Southern Illinois to walk around dozens (it seemed) of cemeteries littered with Maynes and Kinkades.  Casey and I made our way through most of the old cemeteries at one time or another in the last 20 years, but the weather isn’t always co-operative.   This year would have given us a beautiful day to re-enact the trip, but we chose to stay put, doing mostly nothing.

Casey’s working on putting up our little pool and the week ahead looks sunny.  We are leaving next week, flying to NYC for Eliza’s kindergarten graduation/party and both girls will be dancing Irish at their school’s

Ceili  –  ˈkālē/

a social event at which there is Scottish or Irish folk music and singing, traditional dancing, and storytelling.

Both PawPaw and I are going, and this will be the first time he has seen the girls dance in person, so we are All excited.

Till then, we’ll be laying around the shack, watching the garden grow.  Well, I will. I can’t keep track of Casey, but he’ll be doing something helpful, I’m sure.

Peace