Blogbits: Passing Thoughts on Someone Passing

I knew there would be memories, but I forgot the anniversaries. 

After her husband died, I would call her on significant days. Of course I called on the day he died (December 4), but also their wedding anniversary (April 3), and his birthday (June 28). 

The first couple of years - maybe few - I would say, "I was thinking of you today; how are you doing?" Later, I stop bringing it up but I would still call on those days and just let her talk. 

After she was gone, the first time I saw one of those anniversaries (December 4th) my automatic response was an impulse to call. Of course, in a couple seconds, I realized there's no one to call. 

And so it goes. I suppose there will be other anniversaries to add to those I've remembered so far and certainly other thoughts and memories. 

I feel oddly detached, as though I'm an observer of someone else's life - not unfeeling, just detached.

Strange business when someone passes.

#blogbits #bluemissn

Grandma's Secret Closet

Hi, friend. Thanks for stopping by. I wrote this for older kids but I'm not sure what age. What ages do YOU think are appropriate? 

My grandma had a closet for coats that had a high shelf. We were not allowed in the closet except to get our coats. When grandma said something like that, she meant it and was very stern about it. She often said, “Everyone needs a secret place, and that’s mine.” She was serious but had a glint in her eye that I didn’t notice until I was older. 

She seemed to work magic with the things she brought out of that closet and she enjoyed it. When grandma enjoyed something, she changed to someone very nice.

One day, my younger brother was crying because he hurt himself. Nothing could calm him down. First, grandma did what she always did when we got hurt. She cleaned the sore spot, put medicine on it, and put a bandage of some kind on it. When she was finished, she always said the same thing, "There. Now you'll be fine." And we always were fine – and my brother was fine.

Before we left her house, she would go to the closet and pull out a bag. Sometimes she gave us candy or a small gift, like a small chalkboard. She always included a hug. When grandma hugged, it was a big, long hug – sometimes with a kiss on the cheek – and all wrongs were forgiven.

Grandma's closet seemed magical. In fact, I used to call it her "magic" closet but she told me there is no such thing as magic. It's just that when something really special happens and maybe surprises us, it can seem like magic. Grandma didn’t fool around with silly ideas.

One day, when I was sad and angry, nothing worked. My best friend's grandmother had died. Grandma tried talking about it and giving me snacks but, though I felt better for a moment, the sadness didn't go away. 

Then she got very quiet. I sat at the table, staring off into space. After a while - I don't know how long - she asked me to sit next to her. Without saying a word, she put her arm around me and we just sat there, staring out the window. It was raining and that made me even sadder. 

When she finally did talk, she quietly said, "You know, sometimes there is nothing special that can make our sadness go away. We just have to live through it - as we live through the rain. We can't make the rain stop but, eventually, it will. We can't make the sadness go away but it will stop or least not seem as bad.”

Now that I am older, I realize a lot of things about my grandma. She was sad a lot of times but never asked for hugs. Maybe our long hugs from her were for her, too. She was sick sometimes but no one made her feel better. I wish I knew then what would have made her feel better.

The last gift I received from her didn’t come from the closet. It was a better understanding of what she really was and what she did. I realized that she seemed so amazing because of how she made us feel, but actually, she did ordinary things to make us happy, and so consistently showed she loved us that the effect was wonderful. I learned from her that small things, done with love, and taken seriously, make a difference.

I also learned that truth matters. Her closet wasn’t magical, her actions were not extraordinary, and she never encouraged us to believe in anything artificial. She offered realism and, with that, real love.

The Clever Clipper Caper

by Bibi the Cat

I should have been suspicious when my servants began to hold me. The pet human with whom I live held me while the "other" (the one I trusted) clipped my long, gorgeous nails. I cried and squirmed; all to no avail. The claws were clipped.

As soon as I broke free (their version states they "let me go"), I ran into the other room and hid. I'm clever at hiding, so they never found me.

Later, I returned to the dread room wherein said crime occurred. Anger and resentment surged up within me and I bounded across the room, leaped on the table where the instrument of torture lay, and knocked something off - all in one, fell swoop. After the fact, I realized I had knocked off the file - the one they never use. I didn't care; the point was made. I'm no one with whom to toy.

After my display of strength and clever aggression, they left me alone. Once again, I rule. I am the queen of the residence, and no one bothers me. There is order in the universe once again.

(Though, strangely, it seems this has all happened before. Perhaps a dream...?)

Is This Moment to Be Believed?

“1920! Is it to be believed?” – the Dowager Countess on Downtown Abbey,* commenting on the new year. She, who had her prime in the 1800s, seemed amazed at another decade in a new century.

Every year – in deed, every day – can hold the same wonder if we pause our electronic slave masters long enough to reflect.  Even a busy person can pause occasionally to see what might be missed if they push past it too quickly.

Some random moments when anyone can hit the pause button:

-        Early mornings, before the kids wake up

-        At night, after the kids go to sleep (as opposed to “go to bed,” a major distinction)

-        A quiet moment with a cup in your hand, sitting alone

-        Looking out the window for a moment, even at work

Allow your mind to pause and reflect. It might only be half a minute but, with practice, it becomes a moment of connection and with hardly an effort.

What we connect with can be open to interpretation.

We get hints about moments that matter. A slight natural pause, almost as if the psyche is saying, “What?” as it turns to look at something. A sunset that catches our attention. Noticing the change of seasons as we walk to our car. A green sprout in the concrete. A tug of the heart, a piece of a solution we need for work, realizing we repeated a mistake…you will recognize your own moments.

You will move past the moment and tend to your duties, but you will be different.

The surprising thing is it doesn’t “just” relieve stress (but wouldn’t that be great?). It connects you – even momentarily – to your authentic self.

Going forward and being busy again is different now because you are different. Potentially, you will be bringing your best to the next task. Our authentic self is always our best self.

I am not just recommending a way to relieve stress, be authentic, and move forward with your best self.  I am talking about the survival of your very being. The core that needs nourishing, The “self.” You.

It might be one of the most important ways in which we take care of our Self.

*Created by Julian Fellowes

Confessions of a 5th Grade Liar

I was the awkward kid. The one who felt so painfully self-conscious I could hardly think. My feelings were so strong they seemed to short-circuit my brain.

Also, I was frequently the new kid at school. I was moved from home to home so often I didn’t develop friendships.

So, into this soap opera comes my friend, the librarian. I‘ve tried so hard to recall her name but I can’t. It breaks my heart because her kindness and her attempt to connect with the kid who was so disconnected still effects me strongly, even 60 years later.

I’ll call her Miss (not Ms.) Marian because “Marian the Librarian”* doesn’t offer the same respect. It was the late 50s, so in keeping with the manners of the time, she is Miss Marian.

She invited me to help her in the library.

I was ten years old and completely enthralled. The library was my favorite place! I could work there?

It gave me so much confidence to oversee returning books, checking the card index (everything was paper and ink stamps then), and putting the index cards for the returned books back in the library card index files.

I was careful. I was good. I loved it.

And then I lied and cheated.

I still cringe when I think about what happened and why. I had forgotten a book was due that day. When my class went to the library room, I quickly looked for the index card, so I could dispose of it. Any card left over at the end of the session indicated a book was not returned. I was so embarrassed it never occurred to me to just tell her – and take the consequences. I was in a panic. I had to be perfect. After all, I was chosen for this special job. I threw the card into the wastebasket.

I wasn’t a thief, so the next day, I brought the book back and announced to her I had “found” this book. I went to my classroom, confident I had gotten away with my crime (but sick inside).

For some reason, Miss Marian didn’t need my help any more. When I offered, she simply said, “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.” She never accused or confronted me.

Many years later, I knew why she stopped my “job.” Of course, she would notice an index card in a wastebasket (it was likely empty except for the evidence I wanted to destroy).

She also may have had another step in the checking out and checking in process. Perhaps I didn’t cover my crime adequately.

I still feel ashamed for trying to deceive one of the few people who tried to connect with me in my lonely childhood. I also feel sad I could never apologize or reconnect with her. If I had the means, I’d have done it even as an adult - even now.

I never saw her after I left school, but I’ll never forget her – her insight, her kindness, and her magnanimity-after-the fact.

*from The Music Man 1957

Morality, Not Politics (Dear Democrats)

Dear Democrats in Congress,*

In the upcoming election, I hope you become a majority in congress. At least you will be in a position to accomplish some important tasks, not the least of which is to return the government to the rule of law and to protect national security, both of which are currently at grave risk.

You are not, however, free to resume politics as usual. We can no longer simply go back and forth between so-called conservative and liberal tendencies. Most of us have a mix of views even if we don’t seem to on the surface.

You, as with other parties, are too beholden to funders and lobbying groups who do not have our best interests at heart. In the last couple of years, much has been said regarding the one percent, “dark” money, and political corruption. It’s very easy to see with the current holders of the highest offices in our government; it’s not always so obvious with the minority party. But you share in the crime of corruption and it must stop.

Many of us are sick and tired of the same old games where WE are the pawns. You will not have a day of peace until you (as the saying goes) “grow some.” By that, I don’t mean to become as criminal as the current office holders, nor do I mean you should play the game their way. I mean don’t be weak and passive in the face of wrongdoing – it’s not the same thing as being cruel and immoral. Learn the difference and act accordingly.

More to come, if you win in November.  Much more.

*See also: Dear Republican Voters

Morality, Not Politics (Dear Republicans)

Dear Republican Voters,* 

Now is the time. If you honestly are a person who cares about family values and human life, you cannot vote for republicans. I'm sorry, you just can't. Perhaps, at some point in the future, you can give the party a try again when they regain their sanity.

I am not joking and I am not being simply sarcastic. I'm very serious, deadly serious as it happens, given recent news.

Up until very recently, one could easily argue that Democrats could be different things, and Republicans could be different things, but not now. Inciting violence, attempted murder – even attempted assassination of a former president, kidnapping and selling kids (deja vu), and a determination to set off a "war" is not "respect for human life," "pro-life," and it most certainly is NOT "family values."  Anyone who is passive in the face of this is complicit in the crimes.

This is no longer between the Democratic party and the Republican party. That is not the choice now. The choice has now become really being truly pro-life or making a mockery of human life and existence. Oh, yes, and our democracy. 

I applaud those Republicans who have already resigned the party very publicly and told us why. They didn't become Democrats, as far as I know, but they at least became Independents. 

Unlike most of us, they are politicians. That means they have severed ties with people who were part of their professional network. They have severed ties with some of their funders and some of their constituency.

Most of you are like me; we're private citizens. We don't have any public support or professional connections that are affected by our decisions. We simply follow our conscience and do the right thing.

This is a golden opportunity. This isn't playing at political slogans, it's not posting snarky items on Facebook, or smugly debating that "my party is better because...".  It is an opportunity to stand up and make a truly moral decision, a decision of conscience. It is making a statement that, regardless of our political differences, we stand together against violence and those who incite it, attempted murder or worse, any kind of "race war," and anything that disturbs the life of law-abiding citizens.

Now is the time. Are you in or are you out?

*See also: Dear Democrats in Congress