Big heads, Big butts

At last we can lay to rest the unresolved family question. H.B has frequently declared that his is the highest I.Q. based on his claim that Mother dipped into the school files and reported her findings to him. Hmmph. Highly unlikely, but turns out there may be some truth to the matter. According to this fascinating article:

http://www.sciam.com/article.cfm?id=high-aptitude-minds

From "High-Aptitude Minds: The Neurological Roots of Genius" (Scientific American Mind, September 3, 2008):

In humans, brain size correlates, albeit somewhat weakly, with intelligence, at least when researchers control for a person’s sex (male brains are bigger) and age (older brains are smaller). Many modern studies have linked a larger brain, as measured by magnetic resonance imaging, to higher intellect, with total brain volume accounting for about 16 percent of the variance in IQ. But, as Einstein’s brain illustrates, the size of some brain areas may matter for intelligence much more than that of others does.


So there you have it. The biggest head has the highest I.Q. Next new scientific discovery will be linking A.S.S. size to ability to do math. And that will be a relief. Cs math skills = tiny bum.

When the cure is worse than the disease

On the ride down to Home Evening in Santaquin:

Ld: So, I’ve given up using deodorant.

Cs: huh? Pray, what brought this about?

Ld: I read that deodorant contains little bits of metal. The metal has been shown to contribute to Alzheimer’s.

Cs: hmmm. So, how long have you been deodorant free?

Ld: Since yesterday morning, or maybe it was just today, I can’t remember.

Cs: I see.

On the ride home:

Ld: (takes a whiff of his underarm) Maybe I’ll start using deodorant again.
(Pause and sigh) It’s a risk I’ll have to take.

Cs: Good call.

as good as she is fair

Finally another girl in the fam. Cathy opened my eyes to curlers, Mary Kay makeup, cooking, sewing and other domestic arts. She profoundly shaped my views on mothering, both in her willingness to have lots of children and by her phenomenal nurturing skills. In a family full of brothers I appreciated her feminine and refined influence, both then and now. Were it not for you Cathy, I would still think drinking milk directly from the carton, scratching where it itched and fluffing in public was socially acceptable behavior.

Thanks for saving me.

Happy birthday, sweet lady. (belated, I know, our DSL was down yesterday). Love you.

highly recommended

ld came through for my birthday and gave me the 3 movies I asked for. I watched Cranford in one sitting last night. Loved, loved it. If you have not seen it yet, get a copy now. As always you will love and embrace Gaskell's richly drawn characters. Cranford society is filled with independent, hysterically funny, proto-feminist Amazonian women.

The movie is really, as I understand it, a compilation of 3 of her works and it delights with such quotable wit and dialogue as this:

[Mary has brought oranges as a present for Matty and Deborah]
Miss Deborah Jenkyns: I would prefer it if I did not enjoy oranges. Consuming them is a most incommodious business.
Miss Matty Jenkyns: There is not such a lot of juice, Deborah dear - only when they are sliced with a knife.
Mary Smith: At home we make a little hole in our oranges and we suck them.
[Deborah looks horrified]
Miss Matty Jenkyns: That is the way I like to take them best, but Deborah says it is vulgar and altogether too redolent of a ritual undertaken by little babies. My sister does not care for the expression [whispers] "suck".
Miss Deborah Jenkyns: [primly] We will repair to our rooms... and consume our fruit in solitude.
[embarrassed, Deborah gets up and leaves the table]


Is that not delightful? And now if you will excuse me, I will repair to my room to consume Gaskell's book in solitude:)

another year around the sun

I turned 18 years old the day Dana was born. I was living at Riviera down in Provo. I remember Larry calling me to tell me the news. I didn’t believe him at first, then became ecstatic when I discovered it was true. Dana Joy. Aptly named. You brought so much joy to all of us then and continue to do so now. Happy birthday, lovely niece

long walk part of gift

Here’s what I did yesterday. And the day before. I made this cake for the daughter of a dear friend and ward member who passed away the end of February from cancer. Her daughter was one of my Laurels back in the day.


I had volunteered to make the cake pro bono and promised her mother one day in the hospital that I would do so. I did this because I loved her and because I knew she would do it for me. This is the same woman who showed up at my doorstep on the eve of Mackenzie’s wedding with a beautifully sewn handmade quilt as a wedding gift. I was stunned. Not just at the skill, beauty and time involved but at what it must have really cost her. There she stood, frail and bald (from all the chemo) with her offering of love. Lance and I looked at each other and fought to keep back the tears. She sacrificed her precious little energy (by working on it here a little, there a little, and then taking rest breaks by lying down on the couch, I later learned) to make that gift. I was so touched by this.

There is a story I have always loved (you probably are familiar with it) about a foreign person who was working in Central Africa. This man had taught a group of native people about the Christmas story and about the wise men. He told them the story of how the wise men had traveled hundreds of miles on foot from ‘the east’ and how they had searched and walked for more than two years in their search for the baby Jesus. He told them about the gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh, but he explained that the real gift was the walking for hundreds of miles for two years. One young boy heard the story. One day, this boy disappeared from his tribe and was gone for more than two weeks. He finally returned with a gift for the foreign man. His special gift was a beautiful shell. The man asked the boy where he found that shell. “I have never seen such a shell my whole life.” The boy replied, “I have walked to Great Sea. It is only in Great Sea that this shell is found. Long walk part of gift.”

I wanted to do this cake in the worst way. It was important that I do it Wedding cakes are labor intensive and can be a pain. That’s the whole point. When I delivered it yesterday the Bride’s dad hugged and thanked me. He was teary eyed appreciative and said he knew I was busy with my family and the Society of Relief. I wanted so badly to blurt out, “long walk part of gift”.

The long walk is part of the gift we give each other, receive from each other, it’s where we give of our self to another person in love. Most gifts I give aren’t expensive or labor intensive at all. Which is why it’s nice, even necessary sometimes to give up a little bit more.

And as always when we give of ourselves like that we are the one most blessed. There is lots of leftover cake and frosting scraps and it’s very sweet☺

in defense of pollyanna

I'm sure by now you have all heard of the poke fun blog called Seriously, So Blessed.

http://seriouslysoblessed.blogspot.com/

It's gotten some press lately as well being the talk on a lot of blogs. We all laugh at it and pronounce it spot on. It is painfully revealing.

A taste: "When I pack his lunch every day I make sure to cut the sandwiches diagonally because we call it "the love cut" so when he sees his sandwich cut that way, he knows I love him, and that's one way we don't let the sizzle fizzle."

Others have weighed in as well. Go see, if you haven't already.

http://www.ericdsnider.com/blog/2008/06/25/a-funny-mormon-princess-blog/

http://www.deseretnews.com/article/1,5143,700244928,00.html

But! (and you knew there would be a but) I can't laugh too loud as I'm not so sure the young women they are poking fun of aren't so air heady and silly by nature as just really young (and maybe uneducated, dumb maybe). You really can't fault someone for their lack of life experience. And okay, okay, most of those 'young mormon blonde' blogs do suffer from really bad writing and lack of vocabulary (everything is sooo fun, the cutest, cool, neat) I still maintain it's the nature of the beast. Give them 20 years. They won't be writing the same stuff. In fact, don't be surprised if their catch phrase then becomes Seriously, So Bitter. Life will beat and shake them down soon enough. I say, let them be. Let them feel so blessed and pollyannaish. No one would read, (least not for long) a blog called Seriously, Everything Sucks. Not a good name for a blog and not a good theme for a life.

Time and events will temper all their 'blessedness' with some hard knock realities. I wouldn't take their smiley face posts away from them for anything.

help a sister out

So I guess you noticed my blog change. I was messing around last night and don't know how it happened but I now have a new color on my blog. I clicked on a few buttons and poof! you see the result. I have no idea exactly what I did. Obviously I need some help. I can't figure out how to make a header with some kind of picture. I would like it to exude good design principles and use a music staff, a book and a flower in a sea of grass. Oh, and some pearls would be nice too. I also like the idea of a pirate treasure map and how the pages are all yellow and aged. Could any rellys out there help me? How do I do this?

Help. me. now.

p.s. I also really like the painting The Gleaners, love it in fact. Could that be on my blog too? hmmm?

Merlin is spot on

Merlin to Wart:

The best thing for being sad, is to learn something. Which is why I'm sharing one of my fav links with you, people.
Go look, go look.

http://www.aldaily.com/

Yup, learning something new really is the best cure for melancholy I know.

The rest of the quote:

That is the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then—to learn.
Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you. Look what a lot of things there are to learn—pure science, the only purity there is. You can learn astronomy in a lifetime, natural history in three, literature in six. And then, after you have exhausted a million lifetimes in biology and medicine and theocriticism and geography and history and economics—why, then you can start to make a cartwheel out of the appropriate wood, or spend fifty years learning to begin to learn to beat your adversary at fencing.
After that you can start on mathematics, until it is time to learn to plough.

T.H. White in The Once and Future King

Quit! Give up! You're Beaten! (not!)

Yesterday, I stumbled across Emily David. I don’t know why I should be so touched by her story and talent but I am. I get all teary and blubbery every time I watch this. It’s the same feeling I had when Dana, Lacy & Linds ran their races, or when Cam became an Elder. Mustn’t forget JLW. The first day I dropped him off at UVU for classes, I wept. It was a day I thought might not ever come. The thing is, fam, we all face obstacles. Might even lose our way sometimes, get tripped up, or fall flat on our face. I've done my own share of lying on the ground and refusing to get up. Thankfully, experience teaches us in our own way and in our own time, that we are all capable of finding the strength to pick ourselves up, catch our breath and move forward. And not just once or twice but as many times as needed. Resiliency is part of our divine nature, I guess.

I am highly in favor of the 'life as a race' metaphor and rising each time you fall, especially when we’ve been down and beaten or stumbled. Ha! In my case, even undone shoelaces can and have caused a major tumble or two. (How's that for deep, eh?) It's helpful to remember though, that given the type of race we are all running, no one runs it perfectly, that's for sure. The medals don't come for 'fastest' or even 'better than'. Which is why I have long loved the poem Rise Each Time You Fall or maybe it's called "Get up and win the race" (I can't remember) and yes I know it’s kinda lame and long and not great poetry (a little sappy, even, hey, there can be truth in kitsch, too:) but it’s one my Mom used to have in her files. I wanted to post it, but it really is too long. Still it always makes me cry. Speaking of which, life gives us all lots and lots of reasons to weep and bawl, but the tears you gotta absolutely LOVE and that are the very best kind are the tears produced by seeing someone (especially someone we love!) overcome. It doesn’t get any better.

So yeah!! to all you striving, trying, pushing on rellys. Your overcoming in the face of obstacles helps me in my own race. Do you know how much courage you inspire in me?

Go have a look. Sob as you cheer for Emily David.

A man ought to live so that everybody knows he is a good guy...and most of all, his family ought to know

H.B’s birthday party, thrown by his children, was a lovely, light hearted affair. For me, it could also be described as inspiring. Not because aging and degenerating are worth partying it up for but celebrating a life well lived is.

I was touched by the little tributes given by Penee and the chillun’s. They each, and in their own way, expressed their love, gratitude and respect for H.B. Sometimes that’s important to hear. It’s good to have one’s influence acknowledged in our relationships.

The kids mentioned his support, his sacrifices, his selflessness, his humor, his belief in them. They talked of his good example. His dedication to the gospel and his commitment to living the Savior’s teachings. They said they knew he loved them.

I thought of his kind and soft heart, his willingness to do anything for me no matter how inconvenient. How he tries to keep the extended family close and together. How his gift of words and wit has brightened and cheered others.

I sat there at the party thinking about how remarkable all of this was - that a man could be feted with such accolades by those closest to him on his 60th year and have it be sincere and heartfelt. Not too bad of an achievement, eh? And for all his many gifts of personality, good looks☺, money☺ and talents they pale in comparison to this one thing – his wife and children love him. He’s a good husband and Dad (and brother, uncle, nephew, son, too.) That matters enormously. Because if you want to take the measure of a man then ask those closest to him. They can’t lie. They have lived with him and seen him at his worst.

As Sturgeon put it: “I question whether any man is much better than he is thought to be by his wife and family, for they, after all, see the most of us, and know the truth about us.”

I can only hope to so live that my little fam could say some nice things about me. That would make 60 or 70 or any age worthwhile. It really is an achievement to have those who know and love us best vouch for our character and our goodness.

“Indeed, if one can say that one has built genuinely loving relationships with a spouse and children, then one has already succeeded in accomplishing more than most people accomplish in a lifetime.” (M.Scott Peck)

So true. To be able to enter a new decade feeling so loved and appreciated and to know that your fam is in no doubt of your love for them, well, that has to be a good feeling. Happy Birthday, H.B. You’re a great brother and a great guy.

another game of tag

Ten years ago:
The kids and I (er, okay, mostly me) have an early morning paper route. I endure this by listening religiously to the news and Art Bell on my van’s radio. Thus begins my enthusiastic penchant for all things weird, improbable and U.F.O.’ish. The Clinton/Lewinsky scandal and Princess Diana’s funeral, I catch it all while chucking papers out my window.

Five years ago:
Iraq war. Saddam Hussein.

JLW returns home from his mission to his very proud family.

Elizabeth Smart is found wandering the streets with some religious extremist wackos. (Btw, saw her play her harp recently at ld’s BYU Stake closing social a few months ago. She and other students were part of the entertainment.)

One year ago:
Meghan returns home from her mission to her very proud family. Kody shows up, Meghan falls in love.
Kenzie and Brig move in for the summer. I participate in my one and only garage sale. We all make the pilgrimage to Nauvoo. Lots of Society of Reliefing meals. Costco is my best friend.

3 days ago:
Family picnic up South Fork to celebrate the 4th. Kody introduces us all to Bratts, which are big sausage thingys that you eat like hotdogs. I discover that I have redneck racist leanings and come down with a massive propane headache.

Yesterday:
Spent all day downing aspirin and Tylenol in massive quantities trying to rid myself of said propane headache. Proof read JLW’s college paper. ‘Deep socks’ discussion follows.

Today:
Today was a sleep-in as I have no meetings, read my news sites, read some more, reflect sort of day. Only one dose of Acetaminophen required.

And now I tag all my peoples and everyone I love. And if they don’t respond then no more laffy taffys, kit kats, butterfingers, m & m’s, book and movie recommendations or shared recipes for you. Prize goes to first responder. (Hint: the prize is good). Prizes go to 2nd and 3rd responder, too. (Hint: nifty prizes). After that, I have no more good prizes. Only stuff like bubbles left over from girls camp, and a broken yellow whistle. So you should consider very seriously being a first responder.

would have been 63 years, today

Today would have been my parents 63rd wedding anniversary.

Thank you, thank you for showing me what love looks like. Thank you, for enduring the rough patches with faith and commitment.

Thank you for allowing me to inherit the fruits of your hard work in making a life together. Because of your example my own marriage flies the flag of hope and possibility.

Happy Anniversary, Mother and Dad.

(The following is taken from the above newspaper clipping. Hard to believe they misspelled mother's name. Should be Ethel, not Ethyl. I typed it out as the clipping is yellow, faded and nearly illegible.)

Ethyl Clifford is Bride of Sgt. Arnett

Ethyl Clifford, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Alfred Clifford of Tucson, and Sgt. Howard Arnett of Duncan, Arizona were united in marriage at 6:30 p.m. Saturday at the Vern Busby home on 33rd street. Bro. A.G. Kimball, bishop of the Church of Latter Day Saints, officiated.

A pale blue dress with white accessories and a corsage of gardenias was worn by the bride. Her attendant, Mrs. Charles Arnett, wore a lavender frock. Mr. Arnett, attended his brother as best man.

Mrs. Clifford, the bride’s mother, was attired in a gray dress. Her corsage was of white carnations.

A reception followed the ceremony. The couple left for Duncan, the bridegroom’s home, for a short wedding trip.

The bridegroom returned recently from Italy, where he has served for the past two years. He will report to Santa Ana Calif for reassignment.

The bride attended St.David’s high school near Benson and the University of Arizona. She is a member of Lambda Delta Sigma sorority. Sgt. Arnett attended Duncan schools.


Couple United in Home Rites
(Caption under picture)
Sgt and Mrs. Howard Arnett are shown after their wedding ceremony at 6:30 Saturday at the Vern Busby home. The bride is the former Ethyl Clifford, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Alfred Clifford.

The Aunties step out…

Penee had the great idea to celebrate Kathleen’s birthday with a visit to Thanksgiving Point Gardens. Great idea, Pen. We chatted and strolled and shared a $2.00 pop when it got too hot. The gardens are truly lovely, almost made me feel like I was visiting Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s estate.

Afterwards, we finished up the funfest by eating salads at Café Rio. I loved chillin’ with my Sis in laws. It was delightful. Also, big birthday wishes to Kathleen, a truly great sister-in-law and wonderful person. I love you, lady.

And if you are wondering why there are so many shots of rumps in this video, well, let me just say that my sisters-in-law can be less than cooperative. They should have heeded my photographic suggestions. When you won’t pose for the camera, ladies, this is what you get. Just be glad your fannies are still in such great shape ; )

Remembering HMA

best summary yet on why I blog and keep a journal

Came across a quote from Emerson this morning. Tell me what you think, he challenges.

I don’t always know what I think, I have middle age brain fuddle. But…!

That is what writing is. Telling people what you think. Telling other people certainly, but mainly yourself. That is why we must write. To find out what we think. To discover what we believe. Until we say it or write it down we are unaware of what is actually at the root of our lives.

Talking, conversation is good and goes a long way in clarifying what we think, but writing is best. Writing requires revision and revision aids precision. In any case, at any age it’s good to learn the truth about ourselves — the truth as best we can put it into words. The bummer of it all is that by all accounts it’s hard work even for the best.

You should know, my blogging rellys, how much I love reading what you think. Sometimes you are the catalyst to my gleaning a new thought. It’s good to come upon someone who sees life in a slightly different way and a few golden sentences from you is sometimes all it takes to stretch my mind for the day. So I guess along with the family mantra of Keep the faith we could also add, Keep writing ☺

Tell me what you think. No better reason to post, eh?

Happy Birthday Meghan Candace

Soon after Meghan married she announced one day that she was going to change her name. I looked at her and responded casually, “Well, of course.”

“No, I don’t mean just my last name. I’m thinking of giving myself a middle name”.

“Oh” I said.

This had been a regret for me since she was born. I had always wanted her to have a middle name but her Dad did not think it was necessary for girls. I was too tired to push for it, too distracted and upset, as my Mom was admitted to the same hospital the very next day, and for these reasons Megs came away without a middle name. She and I have always been sorry for this. As the years passed and she grew in beauty and strength of character it became even more apparent I should have given her a middle name. Grace would have been my first choice - it’s beautiful and a name that signifies for me all that I felt she was and is as a person.

You can imagine my surprise in early January when I got a phone call asking me to meet her at the County building to sign the paper for her name change. It appeared that she was serious. I was struck by a couple of things. How very like Meghan it was to take matters in her own hands, to not be content with the status quo but to make right or remedy an obstacle to her sense of self. I have always admired this about her as she possesses the understanding and ability, quite like the Cheryble brothers in Dicken’s Nicholas Nickleby, to surround herself with ‘happiness chiefly of her own making’. Meghan is, and always has been, a pro active, make it happen person. Suffice it to say, the blood of Ethel Rose runs strongly through her veins.

Anyway, she had mentioned once or twice previous to that the name she wanted to add. Candace. She wanted her middle name as Candace. And though I wondered why on earth she would want part of my name, I was secretly very pleased. Still, I was not prepared for the pang of emotion I felt when she actually added officially that name.

How interesting. It’s one thing to choose a name for your child when they are newly born. They have no say in the matter and you hope they will grow up happy with your choice. It’s quite a different experience altogether when they choose to take your name for their own as an adult. I have to say I have never felt more honored, respected, validated and unworthy all at the same time.

I have always loved my name. I really have. It’s biblical and was an ancient hereditary title used by Ethiopian queens. It suits Megs well. And to think I didn't have to offer her a horse for it. (As did my Grandpa Ahijah Arnett:)

The other thing that struck me was that the older I get the more I understand and know that a name is special and important to the life of a child. What is in that name imbues the child with the qualities, hopes, and wishes of the parents and extended family.

Jewish teachings say, “Every person has three names: One his parents gave him, one others call him, and one he acquired himself.” This applies to Meghan, literally, I think, as she chose her name for herself.

Megs, you have no idea the honor you paid me by taking part of my name. What a tender, sweet thing for you to do. Names do in fact inform our identity and carry memory. They are our imprint, our personal stamp. And by choosing to add my name you said to me that your roots were worth identifying with and maybe I didn’t screw up too badly as a Mom.

This is significant to me, and makes me weep because if you only knew how many times I felt our roles should have been reversed, with you as the Mom and with me as the child. In so many ways you have been my superior: in temperament, character, ambition, style and grace.

As today is your birthday my sweet daughter, please know that if I had to do it all over again I would name you Meghan Candace without hesitation. You are forever a part of me as the name suggests. Thank you for recognizing this and for fixing this.

Happy Birthday, Meghan Candace Walker Staples. That tiny, sweet and precious little baby born 24 years ago today has far surpassed her Mothers’ hopes and dreams. E.M.S.H.A.D.L.Y.

Love, love you.

Happy Birthday, Kodison

My first impression upon seeing Kody for the first time (okay apart from the fact that he was really really tall) was that he was intelligent, well mannered, and funny. Oh, and he was crazy about Megs. That was pretty clear.

As things progressed I bent Megs ear ‘a tick’. She already had drawn up her own assessment of him, she just wasn’t ready to admit she was falling. So I nudged a bit. Just a bit. “What the heck are you afraid of Megs?” and “ You’d be hard pressed to find a finer young man”

In time (rather quickly in fact), she discovered and admitted to herself that her prince had in fact come. Kody was all she had been hoping for and more.

The surprise to everyone (okay mostly me) was the ‘and more’ part. It’s true, he is intelligent but not in a nerdy or superior way. He’s insightful and sees through a lot of crap. (I might even go so far as to label you ‘alternative’, Kodis:)

It’s also true that Kody’s manners are impeccable without being Mr. Collins like, as in giving them a studied air. He is polite and socially adept but it’s based in a genuine caring for the feelings of others. When he always compliments my cooking or thanks me for some small favor it’s always sincere. No Eddie Haskellness at all.

Perhaps the biggest surprise turned out to be his wit. Kody is really funny, but not in a ha ha ha in your face be the center of attention kind of way. No, his humor is much more subtle, keen, sometimes sarcastic (but never mean). Very Howard-like in his delivery.

These are things I love about Kody but wait there’s more. I appreciate his goodness, his kindness, his gentle demeanor. I love how he treats and respects Meghan, and how kind he is to me.

Kodison, I am so happy you are a part of our little fam. You have brightened and cheered and taught us all one can be obsessed with little men in helmets and tight pans and still be much loved.

Happy Birthday. Love, Velma

Announcing New Blog

In light of my recent desire to update the Arnett Family Cookbook, a new idea came to me while soaking in the tub this morning. It’s this: I am starting a new Cooking/Recipe blog for all Arnett wimmens, (and menfolk too, if they care to participate) called The Humble Pie (as this is the year I am renouncing my A.S.S.dom )

As soon as I get my technical advisor (um, that would be ld) to help me figure out how to let everyone post on it, I will be launching it by this weekend. I can’t wait. There are so many great cooks in this family, and it will be fun to share. What think ye?

The only criteria to submitting recipes is that you have to be an Arnett, or descended from one, or married to one, or related to someone who knows an Arnett, or a friend of a friend of an Arnett, blah blah blah. You get the idea.

Arnett Wimmens Unite! Bust out those fav recipes.

Here Jeff

Under the Ramada at Cibola

On Acacia

Waiting for Candy 1957

Ethel Rose

Today would have been my mother’s 83rd birthday. Happy Birthday, Mom.

I remember a conversation I had with her while driving home from a doctor’s appointment, let’s see, that would have been like 18 or 19 years ago. The realization that she might not live as long as she had hoped and prayed for had begun to sink in, I think. We were talking about her radiation treatments and when the next scheduled one was, when suddenly she blurted out, “You won’t forget me, will you?”

Fat chance, Mom. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t remember and think of you in some way. Because it’s the month for Mother’s Day and because it’s your birthday, here’s a little poem I have always loved. For you, Mom. Loved, missed and never forgotten.


A Mother’s Love Determines How

A mother’s love
Determines how
We love ourselves and others.

There is no sky we’ll ever see
Not lit by that first love.

Stripped of love,
The universe
Would drive us mad with pain;
But we are born into a world
That greets our cries with joy.

How much I owe you for the kiss
That told me who I was!
The greatest gift—a love of life—
Lay laughing in your eyes.

Because of you my world still has
The soft grace of your smile;
And every wind of fortune bears
The scent of your caress.

Nicholas Gordon

a little stroll in The Park…on a Sunday afternoon

like moths around a flame

Penee’s ability to strike up a conversation with anyone, anywhere and anytime is legendary. She is famous for this and takes a fair amount of teasing about it.

Her family and those who know her have witnessed this many, many times. Most recently, on our return flight from NYC, I had to smile to myself. I was sitting a couple of rows ahead of her (due to a delayed and missed flight) and could hear laughter and animated conversation coming from the back of the plane. I could make out Penee’s voice and knew it must be some good convo they were having.Turns out it was.

HB drove us all home from the airport and Penee shares:

Pen: I sat next to the nicest lady on the way home. Oh, we had a good time. She was molested when she was a child.

HB: (he expresses what we are all thinking) Penee! How is that possible that people just reveal that kind of stuff to you, I mean how does that come up in the conversation?

Penee chuckles, shrugs and passes it off. It’s an unknowable.

But I will tell you why.

Her ability to engage others in divulging their hearts and souls (as in recent surgical operations, their cats proclivity to depression and their bra size!) is due in large measure to Penee’s goodness. People sense a good woman, with a delightful and warm sense of humor and are drawn to that.

Who can resist a kindhearted woman with a genuine interest in them? When you throw in her willingness to reveal her own hilarious antics and uniqueness, well then, it’s little wonder.

Penee attracts people simply by being Penee.

So glad you were born, Pen. What would the world look like or be without you? Love you. Happy Birthday. (belated!)

nyc musings

I meant to post as soon as we got home from New York but I came down with a killer feel like crap cold/flu. So much for my healthy running streak. I started feeling feverish and terrible on the flight home and have been sick since. So sick in fact I would even label it ‘a man cold’, that’s just how crummy I feel.

But I can’t let any more time pass without making comment on our trip to NYC. Oh people, we had a great time. Ld and I saw all the typical sites: Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, Ground Zero, Times Square. Even took in a Broadway play. Oh, and the Brooklyn Bridge, we walked across. Very cool. Loved it all.

My all time favorite places visited, though, were the Metropolitan Museum of Art (including the Cloisters, Lacy! You were right) and strolling through Central Park. Those places were absolutely amazing and so aesthetically enriching, I kid you not. They were so wonderfully memorable that on dark days I will be able to pull up a memory and it will be enough. I won’t even have to be there, like Julia says in Orwell’s 1984 about the room she and Winston escape to, “it’s enough to know that it exists.”
Such beauty hung in the halls of one’s mind, that should get anyone through the day, eh?

I will carry with me forever the sights and sounds of NYC: the bright lights, honking horns, hordes of people and most all of them in a hurry, sirens blaring, the stench of cigarette smoke, steam rising from the ground, pigeons, street vendors, musicians playing in the subway, bagged garbage stacked onto the street, and so much more. What surprised me was that I didn’t feel shocked at anything I saw and that includes the homeless on the subway or the beggars or the ethnic diversity. In fact, when we ate at a highly recommended Mexican restaurant in Harlem all I could think of was that it reminded me of Benefield’s in Ripley (only on a much, much larger scale) So, I guess you could say if you’ve lived in Blythe, you’ve seen New York☺.

I loved it all and I loved seeing it with ld. He is essential to travel with as I’ve mentioned before his great skills in deciphering a map. He is also, umm, how shall I put it, interesting to travel with as he is game to see everything and walks purposely, sometimes leaving me 3 paces behind. But he always noticed if I fell too far behind and would turn around and clutch my hand tightly so I wouldn’t get lost in the crowd.

The only downside to traveling with ld (okay, the most exasperating thing!) is he likes to see his sights with music blaring in his ear and more than once he had to be reminded to ‘take the dang earphones out’ of his ears so I could talk to him. Seriously, this was quite an embarrassing problem.

I guarantee you would all cringe with chagrin if you had sat next to him on the subway with his Ipod blaring:

Ld: (speaking really really LOUD) HEY, SEE THAT GUY OVER THERE, THE ONE WITH THE ORANGE PANTS? DO YOU THINK THAT GUY NEXT TO HIM IS HIS GAY LOVER? PRETTY SURE THEY ARE GAY.

Me: (I put my finger to my lips and shoot him a stern look of reprimand) Shhh, they can hear you. Take. Out. Your. Earphones. NOW! And stop talking so (I’m blinking wildly for emphasis) loud!!

Oh, the mortification. You have no idea how unsettling it is to be out and about with such unpredictable outbursts. Imagine walking around Central Park trying to look nonchalantly mainstream when ld comments, (loudly, did I mention LOUDLY?) on a distinguished looking man who has just passed by:

Ld: WHY DO GUYS USE GRECIAN FORMULA ON THEIR HAIR? WHY DOES IT ALWAYS MAKE THEIR HAIR LOOK RED? HUH, WHY IS THAT?

Again, I try to shush him. Is it too much to just speak in normal tones?

Or try this horrific scenario. We are sitting on a double decker tour bus, Penee sitting next to me, ld behind. We are oohing and ahhing over the sites when I turn around and my earphone plugged in hubby looks me in the eye and pronounces solemnly and matter of factly (only it wasn’t subdued as he doesn’t realize he is shouting)

Ld: I’VE GOT GAS.

I smile weakly. For this very reason alone it was impossible for ld and I to look like anything other than what we were: a couple of eccentric country bumpkin old fart tourists. The ones who talk REALLY LOUD and don’t know it because they have earphones in their ears. But, I am here to tell you people, that once I got past that, once I accepted my inner tourist, I simply didn’t care.

It was a once in a lifetime trip. And ld, lest you think I have been too harsh in my poking fun, rest assured I can’t think of anyone, past or present, I would rather have made the journey with.

Thanks for taking me.