Giving Thanks

Can it be nearly three months since I last posted? And why today did I decide the time was right to resume writing? I guess I am in a reflective mood, and when I get in those moods, I want to write.

Since the last post in early October I took a new job -- one helping older people get the services they need to remain living independently or in jargon it's called aging in place. I once worked in a senior center, got side-tracked with other matters, and have now returned to a job whose focus is this age group. To me, age is relative. Some of the "youngest" people occupy the oldest bodies.

Through the new job, I am becoming reacquainted with how Thanksgiving (and other holidays) may be observed among older people.

Is there a more iconic portrait of the American celebration of Thanksgiving than Norman Rockwell's Freedom From Want illustration, which was published in the Saturday Evening Post in 1943? A modern version of this scene is still repeated around the country, but I have found older people who prefer to celebrate in their own fashion. Maybe it's a free Thanksgiving meal from a local church, a meal they make themselves, or one delivered by a volunteer.

Some continue to embrace the traditional family celebration, often traveling to be with children or other relatives. Others prefer the comfort of their own homes and say traveling and adjusting to the younger crowd's schedules and ways is too much. Then, there are those for whom holidays are a stark reminder that as we age, we lose loved ones and friends. One of my older relatives tells me she "hates holidays." She humors her closest relations, though, and dutifully goes to the family farm where she grew up to spend holidays with them. I imagine her niece tells her that it wouldn't be the same without her. And it wouldn't.

Split Infinitives and New Year's Resolutions

Never much for New Year’s resolutions, I have nonetheless resolved the following:

1. I will try to live in the now and not the past nor the future.
What is this day like? Can I enjoy it and not worry about the number of days or years that I may have left? Can I banish the ‘what ifs’? What if the car breaks down (oh, I know it will eventually—it’s got quite a few miles on it just like its owner)? What if I get sick, or slip and fall, or lose my job, or become homeless, living out of the car with quite a few miles on it? What will I do now that I am living alone for the first time ever—just yesterday College Boy left for a new college a day’s drive away? What will be my passion? Should I return to school? Should I join a group to stave off loneliness? If I do, what kind of people should I surround myself with?

Can I let go of past hurts? Can I hold onto pleasant memories without wishing to relive them? Can I go forward al a Star Trek with a personal “five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before”?

We shall see. Perhaps, yes, with these fears and old habits verbalized.

2. I will finish reading more books, and subscribe to some magazines and the newspaper.
This is doable. I already read a lot, but since chemo, my concentration has been off and sticking with a book seems like an impossible chore. How many books I have started and put aside! That can change. I am nearly finished reading a book now. Strangely, for a person who majored in journalism, I have fallen away from reading magazines and the daily paper. What a shame! TV is a poor substitute. I resolve to change.

3. I will move forward with creative pursuits.
This is the one resolution I am most excited by, but more on this later.

Three resolutions, about the right number I think. I have a couple of others but they are the rather common ones that we all seem to share and then quickly toss aside. You know—lose weight, eat right, exercise, save money.

Happy New Year! May the coming days be filled with good health, good times, growth, and kindnesses both given and received.

A Patriotic Rocky Road to Recovery

What better than a cone of ice cream to celebrate the Fourth of July? I found a new flavor of Edy’s ice cream at the grocery store today.

What caught my eye in addition to the patriotic colors was the little product note on the back.

At Edy’s®, we have a history of lifting spirits. In 1929, we introduced a new flavor of ice cream to bring a smile to people during the dark days of the Great Depression. That flavor was Rocky Road. Now 80 years later, we’re at it again. To brighten the summer, Edy’s is proud to unveil a new Slow Churned® Light Ice Cream Limited Edition Flavor: Red, White & No More Blues!

I’ll let you know what we think, but I’d be surprised if I didn’t like it.

The Edy’s folks are doing their part to further economic recovery. Now, go out and buy something. That’s is if you still have a job.

Valentine’s Day Thoughts

Life's a box of chocolates, Forrest. You never know what you're gonna get. Mrs. Gump

Winston Groom’s Forrest Gump became a beloved book and movie, but Forrest Gump just sort of fell into good fortune. He seemed to be in the right place at the right time.

Mrs. Gump’s wisdom is hard to argue with since we don’t know what will come our way. We can strive to craft the story of our lives with goals and objectives, but there is little security here.

However, there is to me one constant and that is love. Fleeting, lost, puppy, enduring, tumultuous, volatile, lustful, impulsive, friendship, romantic—there are as many kinds of love as a big box of chocolates.

It’s up to us to give and keep love in our lives. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Enough of Christmas—How About a Little Hanukkah

For the sake of seasonal balance, I’m including a link to Old and in the Way, where Sank gives us a brief primer on what it’s like to be Jewish this time of year with
Musings on The Meaning of Hanukkah. Sank writes:

I don't buy much for this holiday. A few games and books for kids, and the customary gift certificate and catalogue, with suggested items circled for Mrs S to Victoria's Secret, which she ignores for this seasons latest patterned flannel head to toe burqua.

I would dearly love to know if Mrs. Sank ever reads her husband’s blog. Thankfully, mine doesn’t.

Christmas in Branson, Missouri

The White Flight exhibit at Branson, Missouri’s Butterfly Palace provides a rather unique twist on the meaning of white flight. Now regular dear gentle readers know that last summer we moved from Montgomery, Alabama, to Springfield, Missouri. When you mention white flight down South, it certainly doesn’t mean pretty black and white butterflies flitting around Poinsettias. I never thought I could say white flight is pretty.

Good Works at Christmas

If I had money, I’d want to give a lot of it away to organizations and schools. I’d give some to the Salvation Army since I know the kind of work they do to help the disadvantaged. I’d give some to my son’s old performing arts high school, Booker T. Washington Magnet High School in Montgomery, Alabama, for a stage. The school is full of talented kids who have to rent out a stage in order to perform for larger audiences. I’d give money to build a Habitat for Humanity house. I’d give enough money for a scholarship or two. The wonderful community college, College of DuPage, which taught me a thing or two about design could see a student benefit, and maybe I’d give some to the University of Alabama. Save the Children, the local food bank and other worthy charities might receive my money.

But, you know what? I wouldn’t want my name on anything, not even if they insisted.You can skip publishing my name in any publication. Better yet, use that space to write about the good you are attempting to do. Here's the thing. I’d want to be like that little old lady in Mississippi who cleaned houses all her life and who through her frugality amassed a fortune, which she left to charity when she died. Until I amass my fortune, I always stuff a dollar of two in the Salvation Army's kettle this time of year. Don't you think you could too?

Limoncello for a Liquid Christmas Gift

All of my Christmas gift ideas this year will be unique in some way, and none will be over-the-top expensive.

If you get started today on this first idea, you should have a batch of pretty good limoncello right before Christmas that you can divvy up for your best friends. I am not going into the details since my son and daughter-in-law have posted their limoncello recipe on their Vino e Vittles blog. This wonderful Italian digestivo is nice packaged in little bottles, and Jeff and Natalie give a low-down on where you can get the bottles as well as how to procure and clean the lemons for the best possible product.

Of course, the lemons we find in the U.S. and Canada are quite unlike the huge lemons you see everywhere in Sorrento, but this is the best limoncello recipe out there and comes very close to the limoncello you’d find being made on Italy’s Amalfi Coast in Sorrento.

Is It Old-Fashioned to Send Christmas Cards

Jeeze, I had to go back and edit yesterday’s post title. I got the countdown number wrong. Today marks the 27th day until Christmas. Why didn’t y’all point out my error?

I was at the post office on Monday and I’d recommend getting those Christmas cards and packages ready if your local post office is anywhere near as busy. The line snaked way long even though they had all clerk positions open. Maybe it was because once you finally get to the clerk, he or she makes you feel like you are the most important customer in the world. Well, that’s been my experience so far in Springfield, Missouri.

I decided to come back later for the Christmas stamps, but did you know you can order them online and save a trip and gas?

And I thought, is it old-fashioned to send out cards these days? I like the photo cards but can never find a suitable picture to inflict on family and friends. I am not photogenic to put it nicely. I always look like a prison inmate let loose on good behavior. Unlike some folks, I also love the Christmas letters a couple of friends send out each year.

Even though I have made cards with my own designs, I found myself picking up a couple of boxes at Target this year. Only after I got home did I discover they were made in China. That strikes me as strange and I wish I’d gone to more trouble to find cards MADE IN AMERICA. Is every blasted product made in China? Well, I think nearly everything in Hobby Lobby is. It bothers me because I wonder if are we buying ourselves out of our position as an economic world leader just to save a few cents.

Sorry for the digression. Now, go mail those cards!

2nd Annual Christmas Countdown--28 Days

I’m a little late getting started with the Christmas Countdown. My spirits are a bit down and maybe thinking about this wonderful season will help. Bear with me long-time readers if I repeat myself, but I’m sure there will be plenty new to write about. However, for the first post, I am reprinting last year's kickoff. Here it is:


As I promised, I’m launching my countdown to Christmas with my favorite Christmas book, The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson. I was a new mom 30 years ago when the president of the Alabama Alumni Association, Ann Pritchard, gave Bill a copy of this classic. Sometime in the next few weeks we will sit down and reread the story of the horrible Herdmans and how they and those all around them discovered the real meaning of Christmas. I get choked up each time I read the words aloud. If you have kids and have never read this book, rush right out to your bookstore or order it online (paperback and hardcover available at Amazon), and please read it to them. If you don’t have children, please read it anyway to remember why we celebrate this day. It’s short and wet your pants funny. And yes, it’s sweet and sentimental.

An excerpt from The Best Christmas Pageant Ever:

The Herdmans were absolutely the worst kids in the history of the world. They lied and stole and smoked cigars (even the girls) and talked dirty and hit little kids and cussed their teachers and took the name of the Lord in vain and set fire to Fred Shoemaker’s old broken-down toolhouse.

The toolhouse burned right down to the ground, and I think that surprised the Herdmans. They set fire to things all the time, but that was the first time they managed to burn down a whole building.

I guess it was an accident. I don’t suppose they woke up that morning and said to one another, “Let’s go burn down Fred Shoemaker’s toolhouse” . . . but maybe they did. After all, it was a Saturday, and not much going on.

Recipe for Sweet Potatoes

Note: I usually have to bake this a little longer than the recipe indicates. Also, watch the potatoes while you are boiling them as it is easy to overcook them.

Talking Turkey

I’m doing a little shopping for Thanksgiving dinner today. My two sons, daughter-in-law, husband, granddog and I will be together Thanksgiving for our traditional dinner. Last year I wrote about my Thanksgiving “disaster” and if you are so inclined, you can pop over and see what dumb thing I once did.

Stories abound of similar cooking disasters. Feel free to share your mishaps if you dare. Or better yet, share a pleasant memory.

The Uncarved Pumpkin

Halloween is a bit strange this year. Will I carve a scary jack-o-lantern face on the small lonely pumpkin sitting on my front stoop?

For years it fell to me to guide first my older son and then the younger one in this annual family tradition. Because of hungry squirrels eager to chow down on our pumpkins, we always waited until Halloween afternoon to commence the carving ritual. I never brought in the pumpkin soon enough for it to warm up, and it was always cold when I cut the top off and delved in to remove the seeds and goop, sometimes up to my elbows if it was a large pumpkin.

I don’t remember exactly how old sons were before they were entrusted with a knife. Kids wielding knives scare me as much as kids wielding paint brushes. I never asked them to help with painting projects, but I did eventually pass my pumpkin-carving baton to them.

The last several years, I took the role of pumpkin purchaser and then watched as younger son learned to do a fine job without incident. After he finished, I’d admire the work, search for a candle and we’d set the creation out by the front door so the trick-or-treaters knew we had treats for them.

Alas, with College Boy away this year, I may leave the pumpkin uncarved. My heart just isn’t in it.