White Picket Fence....

I only lived in one house that had a white picket fence, and it was when I was very small. Doesn't matter, it isn't the fence I miss, it's the symbolism. The times. The way of life. The simplicity of every day.

I want it back.....

I know, I know. Impossible, you say. It was such a small window of time: the war was over and the troops had returned home. Korea was on some other planet, perhaps. Life in small-town America was coming together again.

In the summer, the grass was greener, the trees were bigger (really) and the fruit and vegetables were abundant. I had no idea how much money my daddy made and I didn't care: we had enough to eat. And my mother made sure I had flouncy, frilly dresses to wear. Too many dresses: I preferred my overalls. I never got in trouble for getting my overalls dirty....

Life was home and family, friends, school and church. A HUGE treat, once a month or so, was to go out to dinner. My older brother hated it: we had to share a dinner and I always got to choose and I always chose fried chicken.

We stood in class, in the morning, and said the Pledge of Allegiance. With gusto, mostly. We knew our fathers had gone off to the war and fought hard and kept our freedom safe. We didn't know where, or how, but we knew they were heroes.

We had one car and Daddy drove it to work. If my mother wanted to use the car, she had to take Daddy to work in the morning. If it was raining, she might drop us off at school but mostly, we walked to school, rain or shine.

And when it did rain, we took our roller skates to school. During recess, we were allowed to skate on the walkways outside our classrooms. Teachers were posted at the corners to slow us down, if we were going too fast. And if someone got hurt, there was a nurse in the school office.

I knew every kid in the neighborhood. Played with the ones who were close to my age. We ran all over the neighborhood, barefooted, all summer long. We didn't have to go home until our mothers called us and then we hurried home. For supper.

My mother wore an apron when she cooked. All our meals happened at the dining room table. My brothers on one side, me on the other, and my parents at each end of the table. I didn't have to have a sibling “elbowing” me when I ate. I had something worse: when the telephone rang, I had to answer it, since my chair was right next to the phone table.

On summer nights, we sat outside, on the patio, and talked or read or played games. The windows were open so we could hear the radio and the tunes wafting out the window on the summer breeze. Sometimes, we listened to music, sometimes to news, and sometimes to a program like “The Lone Ranger.”

When we finally got a television, we were only allowed to watch it for an hour a day: “it'll ruin your eyes!” My mother said that constantly. My parents chose the program and, if we were interested, we watched it, too.

I could go on and on, but it's futile. The memories will have to sustain me. Thomas Wolfe was right: we can't go home again....

Once, Twice, Three Times a Lady...

I first met her about 4 or 5 years ago. She was subdued, but friendly, when we were introduced. I was visiting Tommy and she didn't know who I was, so she stayed very close to his side during my whole visit.

She didn't say much, but she didn't take her eyes off me for very long, either. I read her attitude as being protective of him, not jealous of me. She didn't seem to mind that we talked for a long time, or that I was in her home.

She is very pretty. Tall, blonde, athletic and very, very smart. She has very good manners and doesn't forget them very often. Tommy only has to tell her once, usually, and she does what she is asked to do. That's pretty good, I think, considering how much energy she has and how curious she is about everything in her life.

She has been schooled in the appropriate behaviors for specific situations. She knows her place and she tends to it diligently. She approaches her “lot in life” with enthusiasm and grace. She loves unabashedly and is fiercely protective of those she loves.

She has taught me many lessons. In fact, she taught me, on that first visit, or maybe on the second, where the cookies are and how to tell if she wants one. Well, that part was easy: she always wants a cookie. From that visit on, she knew that cookies would be served every time I came to see Tommy.

Her name is Lady, and she is......a lady. A yellow labrador retriever, too, but mostly, a lady.

The last time I saw her was in January of this year. Tommy gave me a ride to the airport, to catch a flight to Chicago and she went along for the ride. She loves to ride in the truck. It doesn't matter what she is doing, or what she might have planned, she will always drop what she is doing in order to go for a ride in the truck.

Just the other day, Tommy posted her picture on Facebook. It seems that she has been ill. And now, the results are back from the veterinarian and it isn't good. She can't be cured....

And so, Tommy wrote this quote on his Facebook wall:

"When despair grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great Heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I lie in the presence of still water. Above me I feel the day-blind stars waiting for their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am FREE". 


God loaned her to me, a beautiful gift I cherish. We are going to live and love for as long as she has.

It's a chance we take, having pets and treating them like people. This beautiful creature, named Lady, has been a mainstay in my friend's life for many years. Through the good times and the bad times, and there were some very bad times, she has been there for him. At his side. Ready to defend him with her life. And even more ready to make him smile and laugh with her precious antics.

So many of us have taken that chance, more than once even, and given our hearts to a pet. Or several pets. In turn, they give us comfort, and company, and an ear to listen. They stay with us when others abandon us. They show their love and loyalty in every glance at us. They ask for nothing in return except their due: some food, some shelter, and an occasional treat....

And when they leave us, the heavens open and the rain pours down. It fills our eyes and runs down our cheeks. Sometimes, it causes us to convulse with the pain of losing such a dear, devoted friend and companion. But then, the sun comes out again and all that's left is the joy in our hearts. And smiles, as we think about the good times.

Lady, I'm glad I have had the chance to know you....and see your smile.

Post Script: I heard from Tommy last night. Lady is going to So. California to have surgery. The vet is going to remove the tumor that is impinging on her airway. It won't save her life but it will make her last days more comfortable. Tommy wanted to know if it was okay with me for him to share what I wrote with his family.....of course, Tommy. I wrote it from my heart, for you and for Lady. Cali Update: Her surgery was yesterday. She had a tumor the size of a melon removed from her lung. Tommy has been updating us on her progress on Facebook. I have received two text messages from him, too. She was able to go outside today for a walk and they took this picture.. Then back to "doggy ICU". She has a chest tube, an IV, telemetry, and a fentanyl patch for pain. We are hoping for the best.

And anotherPost Script: Six months after her diagnosis and initial treatment, Lady succumbed in her sleep yesterday. Rest In Peace, Sweet Lady, I will miss you!

Living in the Moment...

As I sit here, collecting my thoughts, I look up and see the most beautiful sight: dappled sunlight on the wall in front of me. It's beautiful. The reds and greens illuminated by gentle golden light.

The picture on my new calendar is a view of a centuries-old city on a Greek isle. Whitewashed buildings with bright blue or yellow roofs. Touches of orange dot the hillside in the picture. Was it always that bright? Or did the sunlight emphasize the colors?

It's that time of year: the sunset happens quickly. I have to hurry, or I will miss it. I could be at the seashore, sitting in a chair, sipping iced tea and watching the sun go down. Or on that Greek isle, watching the sun melt into the ocean.

But no, I'm here, at home, noticing something that is too often taken for granted. The gorgeous show put on by the sun, most evenings of the year. No cover charge, no minimum. No reservations needed. No planning ahead. No dressing up for the occasion. Just a remembering: that it is happening and that it is more spectacular and worthy of watching than anything else that is going on.

Well maybe, the birth of a baby. That might be worth missing the sunset....

Ah, there's always tomorrow night. Or is there? I have been without my sunshine for several days now, and without the sunset, too, obviously. Will there be sunshine tomorrow? I certainly hope so. But, just in case.....

I'm off to watch the sunset right now. Right here. In the moment...

Stop the World!!!

I want to get off....

Well, maybe not leave completely. I just want things to slow down. At least a little. I just had a lovely vacation and yet, little more than a week later, I'm back in the rut. Sort of.

It's not really that bad. I have lots of good things in my life. I'm fortunate, to be sure. What I miss, at times, is what I remember as the simpler times in my life. The peaceful times when things happened at a slower pace.

I was thinking today about something very mundane: hanging clothes on the line. I remember shaking out the diapers and hanging them, two to a clothespin, along the wire clothesline in my backyard. I would go out with an old rag, while the clothes were washing, and clean off the wires.

When the clothes were washed, I filled the basket and carried them out in the backyard. It was usually a sunny day and, if it was breezy, the clothes would dry quickly. I would be back out in a few hours to gather them off the clothesline and fold them into the basket.

Nothing smells better than sheets hung out to dry. To me, anyway.

Long, leisurely days filled with babies and diapers and clothes hanging on the line. Pulling weeds with a toddler's “help.” Sweeping, mopping, dusting and cleaning with a little one on my hip. Ah, the antithesis of a feminist, I guess.

There were times to rush and there were times of great activity, too. But mostly, there seemed to be plenty of time. For everything.

I do think the pace of our culture has sped up. I know that leisurely times are few and far between, for me, anyway. There is always something that needs to be done right now and something that needed to be done yesterday. And then, there's always tomorrow. Or the next day.

I also know that some of the things that seem important at the time, really aren't. I remember staying up most of the night, the night before Easter, to make cupcakes that looked like Easter baskets. I dyed some coconut green, for the grass, and put miniature jelly beans on top, like Easter eggs. I used pipe cleaners (remember them?) to make “handles” for the Easter basket/cupcakes.

I was so proud of my creations. I just knew that my kids would love them. They looked so festive. How could I have known that my kids wouldn't like coconut? To this day, my kids don't like coconut. I could have gotten some sleep instead.....

Maybe it's just my rose-colored glasses: things seemed so simple and so sweet back then. I realized at the time how good my life was and I did appreciate it immensely. I had the best of everything: family, home, purpose, and sweet little babies.

And now those babies have babies of their own. And life has gotten more and more complex. And the earth is spinning much faster than it seemed to back then. Or not....

I think I'll just sit down and savor the moment....