Some Monday recommendations

Hey, loved ones, came across some interesting reading recently and thought of you. Consider it a measure of my love for you that I feel compelled to share.

For Kody, a little insight into Fanhood. http://www.boston.com/bostonglobe/ideas/articles/2008/09/07/the_secret_benefits_of_fandom/

For BG, explains why you believe the Lost Tribes of Israel are on the moon.
http://www.sciam.com/article.cfm?id=smart-people-believe-weir

NannyJanny, duh. http://setgame.com/set/puzzle_frame.htm

For ld: http://swissmiss.typepad.com/weblog/2008/08/food-for-though.html
Consider purchasing one of these, the quality of your lunches will improve dramatically.

Megs, if you're looking for sumpin' to read, how 'bout: "The Dead" by James Joyce (from The Dubliners) (can read it online)
http://www.bibliomania.com/0/0/29/63/frameset.html

And Kenz, that whole motherhood thing. Not only does a woman have an expandable body but becoming a mommy changes how you think, too.
http://www.brainchildmag.com/essays/spring2004_feature.htm

Enjoy, fam.

C.M.A.

Quick now. What makes today special? I know, I know. You are thinking, duh that's easy. Agatha Christie, Oliver Stone, Merlin Olsen and Prince Harry all have birthdays today. Think harder, people. I'm thinking of someone else. Someone more important to our family and certainly more loved. Yup. You guessed it. Happy birthday, bro.

A.S.S. Turkey Trot

It's no secret I started a walk/run program in an effort to lessen the aches, stiffness and pain I feel every time I move. Also, in an attempt to stem the tide of my rapidly deteriorating brain cells. It's not about wanting to look good, people. We are way past that. No. I simply want energy enough to be able to walk to the mailbox daily. Oh. And I want to do a river rafting trip next summer with some friends. There is that.

Anyhoo. When Lacy was here last all the Arnett's gathered for a little Sunday night dessert bar. The conversation came around to running and about the upcoming 5k on Thanksgiving morning. I threw my hat in the ring. Yup. I will be joining Dana, Lacy, Lids, Lexie and whoever else. No comments, please from all you nay sayers who say I can't do it (and you know who you are). Remember I wrote down what you said on a piece of paper (and you watched me do it) and I CAN'T WAIT to make you eat it when I'm successful. Would you like ketchup or syrup on it, sir?

2nd Anyhoo. So, yesterday I returned HB's phone call. You all knew, of course, that he finally went to the Doctor (first time in like 17 years) and was diagnosed with diabetes. Shocker, I know. Not like there's a hereditary connection or anything, is there? So, HB has taken up exercising too and as he told me, 'the Doctor said if you want to get mean you can beat this diabetes thing'. Apparently HB has decided to get mean and his competitive A.S.S. has come out. The gist of our conversation yesterday consisted of this:

HB: I'm gonna run with you all on Thanksgiving day. I'm gonna whip everyone's butts. I can beat all Arnett wimmen combined. I have the highest I.Q. I am a mean, tough man. You should be scared.

Me: Whatever. You're on, dude. I ain't scirred of you. Bring it on.

Now I am sharing this with you all because HB wanted me to. He wanted me to publicize his outlandish, braggadocio taunts as only a true A.S.S. person would.

So, there you have it. Arnett Wimmens Unite! We can so kick his hiney on this. This is turning out to be just the motivation I have needed. C'mon, rellys. Get off the couch and train with us. Thanksgiving morning. A 5K.

(By the way, what is a 5K, exactly?)

If there are 23 people in a room, there's a 50% chance that two of them will share a birthday (it's been proven mathematically).

Today is JLW's birthday, too. He shares it with Chea.
Happy Birthday, GB. May the coming year find you less reliant on Tums:)

Doctor, I get heartburn every time I eat birthday cake."
Next time, take off the candles."

birthday shout

The first time I laid eyes on the newly born Chea was at my Grandma Clifford’s house in Tucson. She couldn’t have been more than a week or so old. I had fallen asleep on the couch and I remember my Mom coming in and gently waking me. “Look Candy, here she is. Isn’t she beautiful?” Mother and I oohed and ahhed over her profusely, commenting on her little hands, her perfect little face and her general sweetness. How we loved her. Who could guess then how wonderfully endearing she would grow up to be.
Happy Birthday, Chea. Love your spunk, spirit and abundance of talents. Love your charisma and goodness. But mostly, just love you.

Nothing has changed over the years, your family fans (of which I am one) still ooh and ahh over you.

a tender note

I came across this little handwritten note quite by accident this morning. I was looking for an old photo for Cathy and there it was. As so often happens, sometimes we stumble upon something wonderfully unexpected while on the way of looking for something else. (Story of my life. Sigh:) Anyway, I was so touched and stirred by Grandpa's words. Thought I would pass it on to you. Let it yet be more proof to the power of writing. Our words, written down, really can reach across time to those we love.

reunion update

The plans for the 2009 HMA Fam Reunion are coming along nicely. Thanks for all your great ideas and thanks for nominating me as the person in charge. We still don’t have a firm date yet but know for sure it will be in the summer. Oh, and we don’t have a location yet but that is a minor detail. Here’s what we do know. It will be fun and inspirational and rewarding and whatever else you need it to be to intice you into coming.

The program itinerary so far:

Day 1
Arrive, unpack, eat and stuff, Roll call of Families (bust out your family cheers)

• Family Band, ala the return of The Bathtub Ring. Everyone choose your instrument now, everything is available, well, except for the accordian. Email me or leave a comment as to your chosen instrument. I will be sending out the music soon after I confer with our Conductor Lindsay. Instruments still available: Mandolin, Banjo, Guitar, Kazoo, Recorder, Violin, Drums (we need at least 3 of these), Cymbals, Triangle, Clackers, Chimes (we need at least 26 of these) and Harmonica (need 2). We need at least 18 people for the Heavenly Choir, too.

• Talk show with a return performance of the Latin Oprah, (you won’t want to miss this!)

• So You Think You Can Dance? (Arnett style)
(This is where we all get a chance to shake those A.S.S. booties. Hurry, fam and choose your genre. Our family has nabbed the Modern Dance category, and Chea’s family wanted Salsa, and I’m sorry but H.B. really, really wanted Square Dancing for his category. But, no worries there’s lots left: Riverdance, Turkish March, Ballet, Russian Folk Dancing, Cowboy Line Dancing, 70’s style, Hip Hop, Minuet, Lizzy and Darcy’s famous dance from P&P, and more!)

• Keynote Guest Speaker (speaking on a keynote subject)

Day 2

• A.S.S. Athletic games like: Golf, Eat off, Nap Off, Eat off
Who has the highest I.Q?, Smart A.S.S., A.S.S. Bingo (with cool prizes)

Workshops like:
• Group therapy session for the women folk led by our resident family therapist and addressing such topics as What does it mean to be an Arnett? And A.S.S. recovery, is there hope?

• Do you Remember? (this is where the old farts reminisce about Mozelle Renstrom, Billy Lilly, and Augie Westman)

Special Guest Speaker and Slideshow. Topic: Arnett’s in the World today - Personal Experiences from having lived Abroad.

Puppet show (little kiddies you won’t want to miss the re-enactment of the love story "The Cowboy and the Rose” followed by the beloved fairy tale “The Nuts Don’t Fall far from the Family Tree”)

And more stuff I haven’t come up with yet. I am open to suggestions.

Closing Devotional (covering a topic that is very devotional and very closing)

There you have it. Mark you calendars for sometime next year. No excuses, be there. The prizes are cool (and I don’t mean just Candy Bars)

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.