Archive for children

The Ballerina Clock

The Ballerina Clock

I don’t usually go in for garage sales, but something about the hand painted sign attracted me. I pulled into the long dirt drive lined with cars, and headed toward the door of the 1960′s rancher,wondering what was drawing me to this house.

At first, it was just the usual, nick-naks, old clothes, furniture, books, a few silver vases, photographs. Then I saw it! A ballerina clock, like my aunt had once had. It was beautiful. I had missed it at my aunts sale when I had to go change a diaper. I know she would have wanted me to have it-I should have just taken it at the family preview, but I didn’t.

The clock was about 15 inches high. It had a windup on the bottom and played “Fur Elise”. I had wanted it for my daughters so badly! A ballerina came out a door and danced to the song when the clock was wound up. I truly thought it was one of a kind.

Of course, I will never know if this ballerina clock was my aunts, I doubt it. But it was now mine!

I carefully placed the clock, wrapped in old newspapers into a cardboard box and sat it gently in my car’s trunk. I couldn’t wait to finally give it to my daughter!

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Lilith Watching

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School was out for the summer at last. Families toured  the bird reserve.

Everyone seemed happy, except poor Lillith, neatly spinning her web on a high post that she hoped would be out of the view of visitors who may not like her. She was beautiful, a young Black and Yellow Argiope (some called her a garden spider). She was useful, she dined on insects that humans did not admire.

The sun was setting, she had caught five meals, and was ready to settle down for the night.

“Goodnight, Lillith” I whispered. ” I will check on you tomorrow.”

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Commercialized Holidays

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Valentines Day, Mothers, Day,

Fathers Day, so many more.

What if we don’t get a Valentine or box of candy?

What if we don:t see all of our kids, or parents

or put flowers on their graves?

If we must have a special day to recognize those we love,

then our love is shallow and lacking.

If we do not recognize them on these “special days”.

We are not appreciative, thoughtless…

Think of those you love every day, tell them every day,

love them every day. All of your lives will be much richer.

Today, I did not eat with all my kids,

I put flowers on my mom’s grave and my then-15 year old sons.

Today, I stood in line to eat lunch with part of them,

my lonely father order food he didn’t want and didn’t eat.

Having a friend take a photo of my son and I with my flowers.

Or my son showing me bullfrog tadpoles, meant much more.

Remember how short time is and how much today means.

Take the little treasures and keep them, for soon they slip away.

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Outside My Window

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Outside my window

I smiled as I pointed the irises out to my son on our way to the bus stop.

“There must be over 100.” I told him. “My grandmother got the rootstock from grandpa’s aunt, the rootstock of those irises are over 100 years old!”

“Flowers can live that long?” he said.

I explained how the rootstock of a iris grow and multiplies, much like people or animals.

I told him their names: Portwine, Lilac Bush, Sunshine. I looked at him, how life goes on, if we are lucky. I thought of how fragile we are, how that one plant living a hundred years ago meant that 100 plants were living today.

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Inspirational Qoute prompt

Don’t let life discourage you; everyone who got where he is had to begin where he was.
Richard L. Evans

Although I missed the” Saturday” prompt, my last effort to write was deleted by my computer after much work.  I felt discouragement was a good topic to think on.

I thought of all the hard times I have been through, some my own doing, some unthinkably cruel and it made me realize that despite the difficulties that life had thrown at me, I am still, still fighting, even smiling once in a while.

I think of all that would not have been accomplished if I had given up the first time life knocked me down and realized that even having survived the loss of my child, my health, losing so many friends and family members, I still have things to rejoice. I have six beautiful grandchildren, a teen who is my heart and soul, a dad who has struggled, like me through the worst of times and is still her. a family who has always been there for each other.

Life is short, we do not always reach all of our goals, but each life we touch, each tear we dry, each person that decided to give it one more try, is a small victory. We often overestimate what we are capable of doing and underestimate the true effect we have on the lives of others.

Today, I will celebrate the meal I cooked, the baby I fed, the kid I took home in the pouring rain.  Today, I will be glad my dad looked up and smiled at me at the exact time I did, took my daughter and her family breakfast, hugged my teen.

I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I accomplished more today than I imagined that i would. I didn’t let the hurt of all the yesterdays stop me from making someone smile today.

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Earth Day, 1969-2013

I remember the first Earth Day. I was in Junior High, in the downtown area of my city for the first time, my generations first step away from our neighborhood elementary schools. It was the year schools were integrated in my town. How excited we were, to be part of this first Earth Day, we were the “babies” of the “hippie” culture and were anxious to be considered part of the idea behind Earth Day-cleaning up the environment, getting back to home gardens and self-sustaining ideas. Of course at our age, our ideas were limited, as the concept of waste and growing up in a throw away society was our world.

We had just begun to think like adults, have our own ideas and concepts. This is one of the very first days I remember with my mind in an “adult” format. I will never forget it. In celebration of Earth Day, our art class went out and sat on a grassy bank in front of our school and were told to draw pictures of what downtown looked like. I am sure there were kids who were just glad to be outside, but for me, sitting on that hill drawing a picture my perception of the small city was eye-opening. I had lived there all my life, but for the first time, I REALLY looked at my city. I noticed the huge church next door with the domed roof, I looked out at the dogwood trees blooming on down the hill on our school grounds I looked back at the small chipped-rock playground where “recess” and P.E. were held.

Suddenly” my city” became more than simply “my neighborhood. There were still rows of 20′s era building lining the streets beyond the school. There were woods and grassy areas behind the area where the old brick school building set. A red brick wall divided our school grounds from the street below. s I took this all in, the world seemed like a much larger place for the first time in my 14 years of life. i noticed a possibly homeless man wandering the sidewalk beyond the school. His clothes were old and tattered and he appeared to be rather unaware of where he was or in what direction he was going. Having grown up a protected only child who spent her time shopping uptown with my mother, I had given little though to life outside my safe urban world. There were no real “malls” in my town, a few “shopping centers”. No drunks staggered down the streets where I lived. Being “Homeless” was something that happened “somewhere else”, not in my town.

We had a speaker on that first “Earth Day” that introduced us to the concepts of taking care of the world we lived in. In 1969, the world was beginning to seem much smaller and it was happening very quickly. I could not imagine, at that time, how quickly those changes would take place. There were three black and white channels on TV, huge, unsightly receptor antennas stood on top of our homes to bring them to us. Telephones had dials and curly cords. No one that I knew had a microwave, although, I imagine some of the “rich” kids” did. Most moms didn’t work unless they “had to” or at least until their kids were old enough to get off the bus and stay home alone until she got there. Now, letting even a 14 year-old come home to an empty house gives moms an uneasy feeling. I lived in a very innocent world.

There were many more Earth day celebrations in my future, all in an increasingly frightening, yet more aware world. We planted trees, cleaned up river banks, volunteered in homeless shelters. We became aware of the world around us. Sadly, the opening of the door to the fact that we MUST start taking care of our world, was the beginning of the end of the innocent world I grew up in. The old brick Junior High was torn down the next year. The hill was leveled, along with the woods and playground. An interstate now “by-passes” the tunnel through the mountain, which long separated my side of town just as the high bridge across the river separated us from the other side of town.

Integration was the rule and we were at its inception. The concept of Middle School replaced Junior High. There were several big race” riots in the remaining years old my secondary education. Surprisingly, I don’t remember having problems with people with different colored skin. I do, however, remember that though we went to “same” schools, we rarely did things with children who were of a different color form u, or from a different part of town. Earth Day songs played by John Denver Appeared. The whole concept of saving our world from pollution and saving our poor from deprivation became a project for various civic groups.

Earth Day, in 2013 is very different from the first Earth Day. The focus, has ironically returned to its roots, but it is now organized, with special events, a more modern focus. As I talk to my grandchildren, who are still young, and to my teen, who is the age I was at earth Days inception, their world is already a much bigger place. News spreads fast, violence is everywhere, most moms have to work, cable TV, cell phones, technology in general are a part of their world from the time of their birth.

Still, I feel something very important is missing from their more protected, more violent, more technological world. There is an expectation of “things”, there are less moms fixing dinner for the family as they talk about how their day went. The is a lack of innocence, a lack of closeness and dependence among each other in families that to me is simply sad. Everyone is in their room playing with their ipods, ipads, computer games or watching recorded programs from Cable TV. They are not together, not reading books to the little ones at bedtime, not growing up appreciating the bonds of family or the importance of relationships with real people.

I would like to see Earth Day become part of a new trend towards family, community, doing things because they are right or good, rather that to get extra credit in school or bragging rights at the office. I would love to spend a day, heck a lifetime with my children and grandchildren able to savor the simple things in life, like sitting on a hillside drawing pictures with a pencil and table. My daughter, now the mother of two, won a regional prize or a report with the topic, “We must learn to ‘baby’ “Mother Earth”.

Today, I feel a good topic would be, “We must learn that ‘family life’ exists beyond electronics”.

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The Park

Children laughed and played within the city park. Swings swayed with giggling playmates, A whoosh of boys flew down the slide. A group of toddlers played quietly in a sandbox as their mothers discussed the fun and frustration of motherhood.

The call of birds could be heard among the trees, Ducks glided across a rippling pond. Bees sipped nectar from a patch of wildflowers by the edge of the pond. A group of teenaged boys shouted and scuffled as they played basketball on the court.

The old lady shuffled along beside the shrubbery where a mother dog peacefully nursed her puppies. I can believe it! She sighed.

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Requiem for a Sycamore and Poplar Tree

Fifteen years ago, my dad had to cut down a Sycamore, giant and majestic, that he had planted when he built the house in the 1950′s. He left a very high stump, which soon sprouted and the new branches, themselves became a problem. They got in the way of power lines, blocked the view of ‘ and the mountains. Everyone fussed at dad, but he continued to just “trim” back the limbs.

Now my son has built a house next to my father and has become concerned that a tall poplar that dad also planted nearly 60 years ago could fall onto the house or damage property if we don’t cut it down. Not only is dad’s heart broken, I find myself grieving it too. I now understand dad’s feelings. It isn’t just a tree, even a majestic tree, it is a collection of memories, a diary of sorts. They are two trees, one ruined, one soon to be that deserved to be giants in some preserved forest. I see both myself and my children gathering sycamore balls, poplar blossoms, the trees were part of what “home” meant”

I have no answer, I have thought of ways to donate the wood and such but have found no affordable options. When I see a tall tree, still safe in the forest, I smile. And, as with the Sycamore tree, I can’t help but hope that sprouts will appear from that immense root system and at least be a reminder of what was and what should be.

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An Irishman’s Laugh

To say that my great grandfather was a n Irishman went back a few generations.  His family began their trip tow hat was the the “colonies” in the 1700′s. Yet, they kept their Irish customs, the Irish brogue and considered themselves ” Irish” despite generations of being in America.

I used to give my grandmother a “Saint Patrick’s Day” card every ear.  It always brought a smile to er face and a good story of her fathers love for the Irish heritage that had been handed down to him largely by oral history.

My grandmother always loved to hear her father’s laugh when something that aggravated him happened.  A a father of 12, he would laugh and ay, “At least I don’t have any red-headed children.”

I always though that was an odd way to be thankful.  As the generations progressed, quite a few red-headed descendants appeared.  I am sure he would have loved them, and with a jolly Irish laugh, think of another way to be thankful for the little things that go right.

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The End of Her Dream

Corrina admitted to herself that she had scanned the obituaries for year, hoping, silently that his name would not be there.  It had been over half her lifetime since the less that two years they spent together, but those two years had changed her, made her what she was, Today, so was that short column in the obituaries, a story of life after her, of a few short years when he had tried to settle down, have a family, be free of his demons.

Her most daring adventures, were with him, her look into a world she had no idea existed were during her time with him.. The lights of LA from San Bernardino, the distant curves of the San Juan from a pull-off on the edge of a cliff.  Eating burgers from a grill in the forest by the side of a road.  saving a secret souvenir found among the shacks and shadows near those Mississippi tenant farms.

She remembered the big cities up north, staying with French-speaking Canadians with snow piled high on the road side in late April. She remembered the fear from some of the things that happened there,and from some that happened nearer to home.

There were things Corinna  did, and did well, in  that long ago day, that she can not imagine even trying, now as a grandmother. In  these few years and in all the ones after, she was always hoping he had  loved her like she lived him,though  in her heart of hearts, she knew he never did.  No the for even kind, maybe the for now kind.

His family was good to her when she was not close to her own,  She still smiled, when she thought of her visits wit them, after he left and they still hoped they hoped he would go back to her. He didn’t.

Time went on, life went on, they had separate lives, a few strange connections, accidental ,meetings with each other,  family members, a silent pain in the quick conversations, always a feeling of “what if…”

Corinna had countless dreams of him, he made her, but never knew it.  Why did  she often dream of him, crazy dreams, a little too real, instead of dreaming of the man she spent her life with smiled and suffered so many years with.  She didn’t know.

Tonight, the dreams were different. There was no quiet ending, no sad goodbye, no answer to the “what if…”.  The dreams-no, nightmares, were surreal, unimaginable.  She woke up shaking, her heart thumping, time after. time.

Corinna was miserable, She finally told her daughters, one who knew a lot about those days and the younger,  who knew only  little, why she was in such a strange mood. She had to think of a way to find out what happened why, who was thee, who had been by his side.

Finally, she though of an answer.  A bit crazy, but probably not unwelcome.  There was one person who would care that she still cared and tomorrow, she would write an old fashioned letter, never knowing if it would be answered or not.

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