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Monday, December 31, 2012
The last day of the year...
This year has been amazing and powerful in so many different ways. I am grateful for a number of things but nothing more than the fact the Mayan calendar of ending the world didn't happen. I imagine he just got tired of doing it one day and walked away, thinking he had done enough and in the year 2012 surely someone else will have figured out a way to calendar events.
Boy, was he correct! Everyone has, wants, or is getting into the "smart" phone world of continuous communication. I found myself just on Saturday telling someone to send me a text for an appointment in lieu of handing me an reminder card. We both know the card will be lost in a matter of minutes after leaving anyway, and the text will be there way longer as a permanent reminder. Someone told me the other day that it was time they cleaned out their inbox on their phone, they try to do it annually. Really? Annually? I'm much more anal about my texts than to leave them hanging around for a year at the time. I like clean mail boxes. Keeping for a week troubles me.
I'm grateful for good friends. Those near and far who keep me sane, hold me close, protect me at times from myself, laugh with me, laugh at me, teach me on a daily basis not to take life or myself to seriously, and encourage me when I feel nothing but defeated. I hope my friends can say the same thing about me. I hope that my brief time upon the Earth will result in more than a thimble of carbon to dissipate when I'm gone.
Tomorrow is the first day of 2013. It causes us to reflect on our past, wonder about our futures, regrets shadow accomplishments.
What will my goals be? Will I make any New Year's Resolution? Will you?
Happy New Year to us --- one and all.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Wednesday
Wednesday began in the usual way, me not wanting to wake up but unable to sleep. I remembered an early morning appointment as soon as I glanced at the clock and saw the yellow sticky note blocking out the time. Since I don't do mornings well my initial thought was about what I must have been thinking when I scheduled a dentist appointment for 8:45 today. Rolling out of bed with only a few minutes to spare, I never imagined how my day would unfold in such an amazing way.
After the dentist appointment I decided to drive directly to the mall where I had made plans to meet a friend for lunch. I would be early, but it would give me some time to walk around in the mall. During the drive I began noticing various police cars stationed at intersections. No lights, just men in uniform standing beside or sitting in their vehicles. After a few miles my interest was more than piqued, it was as if an important event was about to happen.
Further into the drive I noticed ordinary people lined up beside the road, on sidewalks, in front of their businesses, all quietly waiting, standing silently, solemnly. Coming into the business district yet more people lined the streets, firemen, police officers, hundreds of people lining the six lane highway on both sides, but more concentrated on the East-bound lanes. It reminded me of a parade route, only children were ominously missing. There was no joy, no laughter. I saw more and more American flags that varied in size from the largest requiring two or more men to hold it in the January breeze to the smallest flags held tightly in the grasp of the waiting patriots. I couldn't resist the temptation to witness whatever was going to happen, so I turned into a parking lot, grabbed my jacket and camera and looked around for the best possible place to wait.
The wind was crisp, cold even, and a chill swept through me as I braced myself against it pulling my light hoodie closed. I walked about fifty or so feet to the edge of the pavement and stood a little ways from the largest part of the crowd. Something clicked inside my head and I remembered hearing something about this on the early morning newscast. I understood now what the waiting was for. A hero was returning home. The crowds were honoring his return, paying respect in the only way that they knew how.
The longer I stood waiting the prouder I became that so many people had stopped everything to become a part of his homecoming. This community, these people, strangers to the man who would pass by, were all briefly united. No politics, no agendas, no discussions of right or wrong. I didn't see anyone protesting the war, no political signs, no one pursuing the crowds as we all waited. Everyone here, all of the hundreds of patriots that had lined up on this cold January morning along side a busy highway had only one intention and that was to honor this American hero.
It isn't too often that you feel that kind of spirit, the kind of concentrated effort of a large group of people from all walks of life. I was impressed by the quietness and simplicity; or maybe it was the raw emotion so easy to read on many of the faces. In a word the atmosphere was somber, quiet, even the traffic seemed unusually so. I stood there and experienced this entire event standing away from the crowd.
The sirens signaled that the procession was getting close. Sherriff's deputies, four cars, two abreast led the precession. They ignited their sirens and the intersections were closed for them to pass. There was a large gap in traffic, more sirens, and then I could see their approach. The lead vehicles were flying flags from the antennas and they rode with their windows down. The pace of the motorcade was slow, respectful in nature. The black hearse was next in the line driven by Army personnel dressed in their working uniform. Briefly, I wondered why they were not wearing a better uniform, one with more dignity; but I came to the conclusion that they were wearing their work uniform. I hoped that at least one of the soldiers seated in the front of the hearse might have been a friend bringing him home. I don't know if that is even done, but I did allow myself that hope. It just seemed wrong to me that he would be brought home by soldiers who were just doing their job with no connection to him emotionally.
Hand on heart, I stood there in the January sunshine with the wind at my back, my sun-glasses removed and I honored the man who passed before me. His family was in the next car which had tinted windows. The limousine gave them much deserved seclusion. Following the family was a couple of cars and then the motorcycles behind. It was a parade of sorts, a parade for a man who had given everything he had to give at only twenty-two years old. The family who would deal with their loss in the only way that they could, with prideful determination to just get through what the following few years days would bring. A community literally stood still, all in one mindset to honor that sacrifice. I felt pride in my community at that moment as I never had before. I felt part of something big.
As the hundreds of bikers passed, some of them dressed in their former military jackets, some decorated with flags, others just doing the only thing they could do for the man and his family; offering protection from media or protestors. I quickly snapped a picture of the bikers. I had read about the motorcycle clubs who participate in these processions and funeral services. I felt oddly ashamed that grieving families would need protection from protestors. There were a few active military in the procession on their bikes as well, and I think I was most proud to see that they were participating. This was something that brings their jobs and the danger of what they do home to them and their families in a way that few civilians understand.
Slowly, everyone returned to their day, their schedules, their lives. The roadway returned to its normal noise level with horns blaring and tempers flaring. I didn't get in my car alone though. I took something with me. Maybe it was pride of community, patriotism for my country, but most certainly sorrow that one so young had given his life in a place thousands of miles away, in a country where he might not have even understood the conflict.
You just never know what you will encounter during the normal course of your day. And today mine was marked with something that will stay with me for a while. There are no words that one can say to his family to accurately give measure to their sense of loss or grief. But perhaps, just maybe, this public display did show them they are not alone in their grief, allow them to see that, if only briefly. We all shared their loss while standing in the January chill on that blustery Wednesday morning.
After the dentist appointment I decided to drive directly to the mall where I had made plans to meet a friend for lunch. I would be early, but it would give me some time to walk around in the mall. During the drive I began noticing various police cars stationed at intersections. No lights, just men in uniform standing beside or sitting in their vehicles. After a few miles my interest was more than piqued, it was as if an important event was about to happen.
Further into the drive I noticed ordinary people lined up beside the road, on sidewalks, in front of their businesses, all quietly waiting, standing silently, solemnly. Coming into the business district yet more people lined the streets, firemen, police officers, hundreds of people lining the six lane highway on both sides, but more concentrated on the East-bound lanes. It reminded me of a parade route, only children were ominously missing. There was no joy, no laughter. I saw more and more American flags that varied in size from the largest requiring two or more men to hold it in the January breeze to the smallest flags held tightly in the grasp of the waiting patriots. I couldn't resist the temptation to witness whatever was going to happen, so I turned into a parking lot, grabbed my jacket and camera and looked around for the best possible place to wait.
The wind was crisp, cold even, and a chill swept through me as I braced myself against it pulling my light hoodie closed. I walked about fifty or so feet to the edge of the pavement and stood a little ways from the largest part of the crowd. Something clicked inside my head and I remembered hearing something about this on the early morning newscast. I understood now what the waiting was for. A hero was returning home. The crowds were honoring his return, paying respect in the only way that they knew how.
The longer I stood waiting the prouder I became that so many people had stopped everything to become a part of his homecoming. This community, these people, strangers to the man who would pass by, were all briefly united. No politics, no agendas, no discussions of right or wrong. I didn't see anyone protesting the war, no political signs, no one pursuing the crowds as we all waited. Everyone here, all of the hundreds of patriots that had lined up on this cold January morning along side a busy highway had only one intention and that was to honor this American hero.
It isn't too often that you feel that kind of spirit, the kind of concentrated effort of a large group of people from all walks of life. I was impressed by the quietness and simplicity; or maybe it was the raw emotion so easy to read on many of the faces. In a word the atmosphere was somber, quiet, even the traffic seemed unusually so. I stood there and experienced this entire event standing away from the crowd.
The sirens signaled that the procession was getting close. Sherriff's deputies, four cars, two abreast led the precession. They ignited their sirens and the intersections were closed for them to pass. There was a large gap in traffic, more sirens, and then I could see their approach. The lead vehicles were flying flags from the antennas and they rode with their windows down. The pace of the motorcade was slow, respectful in nature. The black hearse was next in the line driven by Army personnel dressed in their working uniform. Briefly, I wondered why they were not wearing a better uniform, one with more dignity; but I came to the conclusion that they were wearing their work uniform. I hoped that at least one of the soldiers seated in the front of the hearse might have been a friend bringing him home. I don't know if that is even done, but I did allow myself that hope. It just seemed wrong to me that he would be brought home by soldiers who were just doing their job with no connection to him emotionally.
Hand on heart, I stood there in the January sunshine with the wind at my back, my sun-glasses removed and I honored the man who passed before me. His family was in the next car which had tinted windows. The limousine gave them much deserved seclusion. Following the family was a couple of cars and then the motorcycles behind. It was a parade of sorts, a parade for a man who had given everything he had to give at only twenty-two years old. The family who would deal with their loss in the only way that they could, with prideful determination to just get through what the following few years days would bring. A community literally stood still, all in one mindset to honor that sacrifice. I felt pride in my community at that moment as I never had before. I felt part of something big.
As the hundreds of bikers passed, some of them dressed in their former military jackets, some decorated with flags, others just doing the only thing they could do for the man and his family; offering protection from media or protestors. I quickly snapped a picture of the bikers. I had read about the motorcycle clubs who participate in these processions and funeral services. I felt oddly ashamed that grieving families would need protection from protestors. There were a few active military in the procession on their bikes as well, and I think I was most proud to see that they were participating. This was something that brings their jobs and the danger of what they do home to them and their families in a way that few civilians understand.
Slowly, everyone returned to their day, their schedules, their lives. The roadway returned to its normal noise level with horns blaring and tempers flaring. I didn't get in my car alone though. I took something with me. Maybe it was pride of community, patriotism for my country, but most certainly sorrow that one so young had given his life in a place thousands of miles away, in a country where he might not have even understood the conflict.
You just never know what you will encounter during the normal course of your day. And today mine was marked with something that will stay with me for a while. There are no words that one can say to his family to accurately give measure to their sense of loss or grief. But perhaps, just maybe, this public display did show them they are not alone in their grief, allow them to see that, if only briefly. We all shared their loss while standing in the January chill on that blustery Wednesday morning.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Its been a really long time......
Its been a long time since I was on here, posted anything, and because of the time I'm sure that my former "fans" will have forgotten all about the musings that I posted here from time to time and that more or less this will not be read. However, given all of the circumstances that might take place, I chose to still write something and post it to the dead air space that blogs create in the universal system of blogsites in general.
Its Christmas time and, for all intents and purposes, I truely wish it were all over with. I've tried, my friends have tried, my family has made sincere efforts, but I don't care about it. I find that the crowds, the shopping, the traffic, and the general misery of all it together is almost more than I can take. I wish I were Jewish. Where is that boy from freshman year who wanted to take me home to his parents and sponsor my venture into Judaism? For that matter where is the Catholic boy who I sometimes still miss a little bit?
Which just leads me to again say that......we are a culmination of those people who we have met and interacted with on both long term and short term time periods. My true friends may remember that little thing that I shared with them so very long ago about the symbolic train ride that we take through life and how people constantly get on and off of our train-car. No matter how long they share our ride through life they leave their mark. I think of this when I give someone an unexpected smile or do some small kindness for a stranger. Letting someone go in front of you in a line at the store or in a parking lot or even my favorite thing to do which is to pay the toll for the person behind me on the expressway; as long as it was unexpected it counts and I get points somewhere with someone who is keeping count.
Arn't these gifts the ones that matter?
Its Christmas time and, for all intents and purposes, I truely wish it were all over with. I've tried, my friends have tried, my family has made sincere efforts, but I don't care about it. I find that the crowds, the shopping, the traffic, and the general misery of all it together is almost more than I can take. I wish I were Jewish. Where is that boy from freshman year who wanted to take me home to his parents and sponsor my venture into Judaism? For that matter where is the Catholic boy who I sometimes still miss a little bit?
Which just leads me to again say that......we are a culmination of those people who we have met and interacted with on both long term and short term time periods. My true friends may remember that little thing that I shared with them so very long ago about the symbolic train ride that we take through life and how people constantly get on and off of our train-car. No matter how long they share our ride through life they leave their mark. I think of this when I give someone an unexpected smile or do some small kindness for a stranger. Letting someone go in front of you in a line at the store or in a parking lot or even my favorite thing to do which is to pay the toll for the person behind me on the expressway; as long as it was unexpected it counts and I get points somewhere with someone who is keeping count.
Arn't these gifts the ones that matter?
Friday, January 30, 2009
On Second Thought !
I have been reminded often of my failure to continue with my postings of random thoughts, and so after a short time away I've come to realize that I have missed the opportunity to freely rant. And, my friends, I pick up my pen again to write down my thoughts and post them here for you to puruse at your convenience during your boredom.
I was gifted with a wonderful song this week. And it made me do some thinking and of course sent me here writing......and these were my thoughts.
It is true that I don't often get things right the first time, and I'm reminded often of this fact. It is those wrong turns, stumbles, and falls; the scraped knees, cuts, bruises and resulting scars that have brought me to the place where I stand today. But mostly, when I gaze into the crowd, I'm looking for those pairs of eyes who will see me for who I am, or try to be, even if I occasionally fall short of perfection.
Thank you for giving me the encouragement to continue my writing. The ability to sometimes laugh at my own mistakes along with the patience to accept the times when I refuse to make corrections based on principle. My own, of course! Stay tuned.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
.....so I was thinking....
As I sit here and try to write down my thoughts of thankfulness on this the eve of Thanksgiving, I was reminded of the proclaimation written by Abraham Lincoln which made the last Thursday of November a National holiday. It was during a time when the nation was torn to shreds by the civil war and times were hard for families who had soldiers away from home, and widows and children found themselves alone with little direction of where to turn for help or assistance. It did not matter which side of the war you were on, because the losses were felt on both sides and the nation needed to heal, it needed to take stock of itself, and although times were hard there was still much to be thankful.
I wonder how different we are today from that time? We are torn now, families are seperated. Airports are full of people trying to get back home today, roads are filled to the limit with those driving back home so that they can experience the peace that home can bring. The familiar smells of home, the food, the laughter, dare I say the love that you only find at home? The unconditional kind of love.
My wish is that my readers, my friends, my family, those whom I love the most, would find that peace that transcends all understanding this holiday. That we each would search our hearts, our souls, our minds, and acknowledge that for which we are grateful. And, for once take a chance and tell someone that you may have never told what they mean to you. That they have inspired you to be a better person, a stronger individual, or that they have sheltered you when everyone else failed to give you that unconditional love that we all need at one time or another in our lives.
If you have held back and not told someone special what they mean to you, or that you love them, do not assume that they know. Sometimes the words need to be spoken. Not that they need to hear it as much as perhaps you need to say them. So that it becomes easier to say next time, and the time after that. If I die tomorrow, those whom I love would have heard the words from me, as I do not hold them back.
Be thankful, rejoice in what you do have, and set your goals for what you can yet achieve. Happy Turkey Day to all.
Friday, November 21, 2008
.....so I was thinking....
It has come to my attention recently that I might have just a few 'quirks.' Oddities really, if you ask me. You know those funny little things that make us individuals and not cattle or sheep? In taking a bit of a personal inventory of some of these I thought it may be enlightening to share a small list with my readers. Some of you who know me on different levels will be familiar with one or two of them, while those who've known me longer or more personally may laugh and want to add to my short list, but in either case here goes my attempt at somewhat of a list.
The way I order my breakfast at McDonald's can be entertaining. It goes like this. "Good morning, I'd like a sausage muffin, please, (always polite) with no egg and no cheese. I would also like a small coffee with two creams. Can you please put the cream in the coffee for me? And, please add four ice cubes." Ordering a salad at Chillis is also fun because in addition to the dressings that comes with my favorite salad I'd also like two additional servings of that dressing that has avacado in it. The funny part to this is that I never remember the name of the dressing and they have to run through the list each and every time for me. I will send steaks back that are over-cooked, and tip very well for good service. The meek diner probably doesn't want to go out with me.
Eggs are another of my paculiarities. I can't see or realize that I am eating any of the white. If I see it, I can not eat it. My favorite thing is deviled eggs because its so easy NOT to eat the white part when all you have to do is lick out the centers and leave those yucky whites behind. Scrambled eggs can be eaten if they are beaten well enough, cooked softly, never browned and I watched the entire process. I know it will never make sense.
Where I sleep is a special place, almost like my nest. It must be tidied up before I can crawl into it. Habit dictates that I make my bed as soon as I wake up, but if time does not permit I still make it up before I can go to bed at night. My ritual is that I must shower before bed as well and if life were perfect someone else would change my sheets on a daily basis. Living in a hotel would be nice. Clean white sheets on a daily basis, that is what I call a perfect way to sleep.
Smoking is the last thing I'm going to list here, and although I don't smoke often, when I do there is protocol. I do not light my own cigarette but much perfer to steal a lit one from the hand of someone else. And, I imagine that you've guessed that I don't buy them. Not sure if that is another oddity or just that I'm cheap, uh or frugal. And, no we are not going to list frugal as being another of my 'quirks!'
As I said before, it's the little things in life that make us individuals. Each of us have these little things, the way we eat, little rituals we go thru, the things we do, the way we go through our day to day activities. Some may call them quirks, but me, I'd just prefer to call it........living in Bekka's world.
The way I order my breakfast at McDonald's can be entertaining. It goes like this. "Good morning, I'd like a sausage muffin, please, (always polite) with no egg and no cheese. I would also like a small coffee with two creams. Can you please put the cream in the coffee for me? And, please add four ice cubes." Ordering a salad at Chillis is also fun because in addition to the dressings that comes with my favorite salad I'd also like two additional servings of that dressing that has avacado in it. The funny part to this is that I never remember the name of the dressing and they have to run through the list each and every time for me. I will send steaks back that are over-cooked, and tip very well for good service. The meek diner probably doesn't want to go out with me.
Eggs are another of my paculiarities. I can't see or realize that I am eating any of the white. If I see it, I can not eat it. My favorite thing is deviled eggs because its so easy NOT to eat the white part when all you have to do is lick out the centers and leave those yucky whites behind. Scrambled eggs can be eaten if they are beaten well enough, cooked softly, never browned and I watched the entire process. I know it will never make sense.
Where I sleep is a special place, almost like my nest. It must be tidied up before I can crawl into it. Habit dictates that I make my bed as soon as I wake up, but if time does not permit I still make it up before I can go to bed at night. My ritual is that I must shower before bed as well and if life were perfect someone else would change my sheets on a daily basis. Living in a hotel would be nice. Clean white sheets on a daily basis, that is what I call a perfect way to sleep.
Smoking is the last thing I'm going to list here, and although I don't smoke often, when I do there is protocol. I do not light my own cigarette but much perfer to steal a lit one from the hand of someone else. And, I imagine that you've guessed that I don't buy them. Not sure if that is another oddity or just that I'm cheap, uh or frugal. And, no we are not going to list frugal as being another of my 'quirks!'
As I said before, it's the little things in life that make us individuals. Each of us have these little things, the way we eat, little rituals we go thru, the things we do, the way we go through our day to day activities. Some may call them quirks, but me, I'd just prefer to call it........living in Bekka's world.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
.....so I was thinking....
The election is over, the ballots cast, and the people’s choice has been made. For once it is a clear cut decision and the majority of Americans have decided who the leader of the country will be and for that I think I am grateful. I will not enter into a discussion or debate within my page on my preference, although my friends surely know I would have written in a name had I the courage to waste my vote, but my one true thought is that it is done and for that I am exceedingly glad.
The direction our country will take, the financial decisions, the military along with lack of insurance for the masses and multitudes of other issues all will be dealt with I’m sure with the same vengefulness that the last few administrations have, both parties by the way, because there is no easy fix. And, even if there were an endless stream of money to be thrown at these issues they still would not be solved in a short period of time because of the mounds of paperwork involved in making a decision seems to create only more problems and less solution.
Some of the problems could be solved though if it were contracted out. Honestly, if you consider what you can do with an Ipod or an Iphone, I say ask Apple to solve for the energy crisis. Give them a couple of years and I’m sure that every appliance will have a battery pack the size of potato chip. If we really wanted to have dealt with our energy crisis and fossil fuel use it could have been done a generation ago and enhanced by now into something that we all would be proud to drive and our society would have changed completely. Fact is, for reasons that we all know, there are financial resources within our country who do not want our habits to change nor our dependence upon fossil fuels.
I suppose, hard as I try, I can not really believe that this new administration will be the big answer for Amercia. Perhaps there isn’t a big answer. Maybe it’s a bunch of little answers and he will be the first to find a way to change a lot of small things in big ways. Maybe he will reunite our country? Do we dare to hope?
In any case, the world goes on, the election is over. The signs can be taken down, the streets and light poles cleaned up. The commercials on television are back to normal and I can answer the phone again without fear of having a recorded message on the other end trying to convert my vote. Small changes.
The direction our country will take, the financial decisions, the military along with lack of insurance for the masses and multitudes of other issues all will be dealt with I’m sure with the same vengefulness that the last few administrations have, both parties by the way, because there is no easy fix. And, even if there were an endless stream of money to be thrown at these issues they still would not be solved in a short period of time because of the mounds of paperwork involved in making a decision seems to create only more problems and less solution.
Some of the problems could be solved though if it were contracted out. Honestly, if you consider what you can do with an Ipod or an Iphone, I say ask Apple to solve for the energy crisis. Give them a couple of years and I’m sure that every appliance will have a battery pack the size of potato chip. If we really wanted to have dealt with our energy crisis and fossil fuel use it could have been done a generation ago and enhanced by now into something that we all would be proud to drive and our society would have changed completely. Fact is, for reasons that we all know, there are financial resources within our country who do not want our habits to change nor our dependence upon fossil fuels.
I suppose, hard as I try, I can not really believe that this new administration will be the big answer for Amercia. Perhaps there isn’t a big answer. Maybe it’s a bunch of little answers and he will be the first to find a way to change a lot of small things in big ways. Maybe he will reunite our country? Do we dare to hope?
In any case, the world goes on, the election is over. The signs can be taken down, the streets and light poles cleaned up. The commercials on television are back to normal and I can answer the phone again without fear of having a recorded message on the other end trying to convert my vote. Small changes.
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