| It was a beautiful sunrise here in the heartland. Because Daylight Savings time lasts longer this year I get an extra week of sunrise meditations. With the clock going back on Sunday, I may not get up early enough for sunrise for a while. I can't remember a Halloween with such nice weather. Usually it is cold and wet, a few years ago we got a huge snowstorm, still referred to as the October Surprise by weather forecasters around here. The trick or treaters will actually get to show off their costumes rather than hide them under winter coats this year. Halloween chills and thrills are fun for some, but for others it is simply the harbinger of a time of year fraught with difficulty. The holiday season draws nigh!!!! It is amazing isn't it how many emotions get stirred up in us as the holiday season draws near. There are those of us who had less than functional families growing up, and this time of year always seems to be a time when family dynamics can be trying at best, and downright dangerous in some instances. I remember the first Christmas stocking I ever had. I was a freshman in college, and in conversations with a new friend, it came out that we didn't have pleasant holidays in my family. I loved hearing the stories told by my friend Lizzie of the traditions of her family. Christmas stockings were important to her family, so much so that her stocking was being sent to her to hang in her dorm room before she took it home with her for Christmas. When the package came, there were two stockings. The one she had treasured all of her life, and a brand new one for me. As alien as the concept of loving family was to me, the concept of a non loving family was even more alien to her, and she had asked her family to make me a stocking. I visited her home several times over four years of college. Stopped off at her parents house a few times in my travels as an adult. I will always remember that they taught me about Christmas. So when I became a mother, I purposed in my heart to create traditions for my son. There was just the two of us for the first 12 years of his life, and we created wonderful traditions. Then I met my husband, and we adapted some of our traditions into family traditions. We have pizza on Christmas Eve because I was too tired from working at the store to cook, so my son is in charge of Christmas Eve. He cooks the pizza and serves us. While I am at work he bakes 2 batches of cookies. One batch is a recipe he has baked every year since middle school, and then he combs the holiday magazines for a new recipe to try. Christmas morning my son opens presents, there usually aren't any for the 'grownups' we spend the money on my son. I fix biscuits and gravy for breakfast, and we go to the movies in the afternoon.We come home and have our dinner, ham and wild rice dressing. I am not sure how that came to be our tradition, but it has been since my son was small. Traditions can be created where there were none. Traditions can be changed when the original traditions no longer fit, traditions can be thrown out the window when they simply aren't good for us to continue them. We can choose to make healthier traditions. Do we usually cook too many things that are tempting? Try new recipes. Yes, stick to those one or tow things that you have to have, but honestly, we all cook things that no one will miss. Think about what goes into the fridge as leftovers. Maybe that's a dish that can be changed. Not only can we change the things we cook, but if there are issues that come up for us in this emotional time of year, we can change how we think about them. If there are expectations from others that aren't in our best interest, we can choose to not feel like we are letting someone down. Our well being is our concern, and we are not dishonoring anyone, or disrespecting anyone when we choose to honor our needs and respect our choices. Choose to take care of you! YOU are then better able to take care of the ones you love. Do something spectacular for yourself today, choose to not let the candy dishes take control. Choose to be in control of what you eat. Peace and Blessings, EstherBelle | <><>
Showing posts with label tradition. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tradition. Show all posts
Monday, October 31, 2011
Halloween,oh my!!
Monday, July 4, 2011
Fourth of July
I am not a very patriotic person. Yes, I pray for our military, and I love to read history books. But I am just not one to get all worked up over a flag waving holiday. My late husband, on the other hand was a Marine, who loved the 4th of July!! We really did balance and complete each other! I tend to think of him often on these flag waving days because of the flags flying in our subdivision. Our subdivision has approximately 100 homes. It has been a close knit neighborhood since the late 1930's early 1940's.My home is over 75 years old.
This neighborhood welcomes new families from the moment you turn into it's streets. Mr. Bill was so happy here. He soon noticed that on every holiday, flags flew, and it did not take him long to become part of the team that put them up and took them down. I Think every utility pole in the neighborhood gets a flag. Which means that there is a flag in front of most houses.
I usually sit on my deck, but for some reason this morning, I was sitting in my wheelchair on my front porch as the flags were being placed. The guys all waved at me, and I was pleased to watch them place the flags. They still miss Mr. Bill I am told!
It was a beautiful morning this morning and I took a couple of pictures in my yard...
I had a lovely morning, even though I am using my wheelchair today instead of my cane or walker. Just one of those days!! I don't have anything profound to share, just a slice of my life today. Thanks for stopping by! I totally appreciate it when you do!!!
Blessings,
EstherBelle
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Totally Random Thouhgts
First, I was in a really cranky mood when I posted on Sunday. As I read what I wrote it appears that I was feeling quite sorry for myself for a few minutes. So, I poured that pity into a post and hit publish! But, amazingly, someone let me know how much they were helped by what I wrote. I have to attribute that totally to the working of Most High.
Here I was feeling sorry for me. Here I was wallowing in a pity party, and Spirit was able to use those words to reach something in someone else. Wow! I am so humbled by the fact that when you allow yourself to be used of Spirit, even your pity party can be of use!
We woke up this morning totally socked in with fog. As I looked out the windows I could only see fog. With a fleeting glance, I could imagine that we had been transported to living inside a cloud where the rest of the world had disappeared. How many times have I cried out for the things of the world to disappear. The worries, the stresses, the problems. Take them away. And there it was, all gone, but instead of feeling better I felt closed in. So perhaps I need to start praying for the strength and wisdom to deal with the problems, rather than for the problems to go away.Lessons, every where you look!
The lesson from the Elders recently was this..."Sometimes, life is very simple, but it is we two-leggeds,we who are thought to be smart that make it complicated."~Larry P. Aitken, CHIPPEWA from Meditations with Native American Elders.
This is such a profound truth in such a simple sentence. Life is not all that complicated. We make it so. We make it complicated in so many ways. Sometimes we complicate life by allowing fear to com in to our thinking. I know that is an issue for me. I can't be the only one! Fear is the mindkiller. If you read Science fiction you will recognize that as the mantra of a group of strong women from the Dune series. Such a basic truth, fear is the mindkiller. When the spirit of fear rules us, we can't think straight. We think wrong things and get stuck where we are because we are afraid to take the next step. Fear must not rule, we must that remember that we are each one of us special. Now that doesn't mean we are better than anyone else, or that any one else is better than us. It means that we must remember that it is Creator that has made us special, and that we do not have to choose to allow fear to work in us. It is our choice. We can choose to live a simple life. Simple doesn't mean poor, it means keeping our mind and spirit focused on the things that matter, and when it comes right down to it, not a whole lot matters. If we keep our focus on the things that our God has told us to do, it really does become quite simple. The Christian sacred literature tells us that all that is required is to Love God,the who pretty much tells us over and over to keep it simple. The requirements are simple, seek justice, love kindness and walk humbly. Nothing in there about choosing fear, so we can choose to step out and live simple.
It always seems to come back to choices, doesn't it?
Choose well today! I know I am going to try to!
Here I was feeling sorry for me. Here I was wallowing in a pity party, and Spirit was able to use those words to reach something in someone else. Wow! I am so humbled by the fact that when you allow yourself to be used of Spirit, even your pity party can be of use!
We woke up this morning totally socked in with fog. As I looked out the windows I could only see fog. With a fleeting glance, I could imagine that we had been transported to living inside a cloud where the rest of the world had disappeared. How many times have I cried out for the things of the world to disappear. The worries, the stresses, the problems. Take them away. And there it was, all gone, but instead of feeling better I felt closed in. So perhaps I need to start praying for the strength and wisdom to deal with the problems, rather than for the problems to go away.Lessons, every where you look!
The lesson from the Elders recently was this..."Sometimes, life is very simple, but it is we two-leggeds,we who are thought to be smart that make it complicated."~Larry P. Aitken, CHIPPEWA from Meditations with Native American Elders.
This is such a profound truth in such a simple sentence. Life is not all that complicated. We make it so. We make it complicated in so many ways. Sometimes we complicate life by allowing fear to com in to our thinking. I know that is an issue for me. I can't be the only one! Fear is the mindkiller. If you read Science fiction you will recognize that as the mantra of a group of strong women from the Dune series. Such a basic truth, fear is the mindkiller. When the spirit of fear rules us, we can't think straight. We think wrong things and get stuck where we are because we are afraid to take the next step. Fear must not rule, we must that remember that we are each one of us special. Now that doesn't mean we are better than anyone else, or that any one else is better than us. It means that we must remember that it is Creator that has made us special, and that we do not have to choose to allow fear to work in us. It is our choice. We can choose to live a simple life. Simple doesn't mean poor, it means keeping our mind and spirit focused on the things that matter, and when it comes right down to it, not a whole lot matters. If we keep our focus on the things that our God has told us to do, it really does become quite simple. The Christian sacred literature tells us that all that is required is to Love God,the who pretty much tells us over and over to keep it simple. The requirements are simple, seek justice, love kindness and walk humbly. Nothing in there about choosing fear, so we can choose to step out and live simple.
It always seems to come back to choices, doesn't it?
Choose well today! I know I am going to try to!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Who Am I?
OK, Here I am struggling with some issues that I shouldn't be struggling with. Issues I have dealt with over and over again. So, I beat myself up a little, I know better. But, I do it. The question goes deeper than why do I do this, the question becomes who am I?
I start my day with centering prayers and meditations. It helps me to meet the challenges of my day. I use several sources for things to meditate on. I use a daily reflection from Sunshine Cathedral.It's from a publication titled Spirit and Truth. I also use Meditations with Native American Elders:The Four Seasons by Don L. Coyhis.This is a book of meditations for learning to walk the Red Road. This is the path I have chosen for my healing journey.I also use the Sacred literature-Scriptures of my Christian traditions. More often than not, they work together on the issue that I need to be working on. Spirit is very good at working things to my benefit like that. But, then I get down to it, and I get fearful. I slide back into old habits, and I know better.
Who am I? The problem is I don't know anymore.
I know who I have been. I know how I became those women, but I don't know who I am anymore, and that is a problem. Since I am not who I used to be, I need to figure out who I am in order to go forward. I need to figure out how to become who I am supposed to be.
I have been lots of different people in my lifetime. I have grown and matured and changed over the years. I have used prayer and meditation to seek my Higher Power and to attempt to let go of my self will and live Most High's will for my life. As I walk the Red road I use wisdom found in nature, in the medicine wheel, and wisdom from the elders. Our lives grow in seasons, and we may be in a spring season as it snows outside.But we can learn from nature, and the Medicine Wheel and the elders no matter what season we are in. Every season has lessons for us. I find myself in a winter season of life right now.
In the winter season we often find ourselves lost. Our identity is gone and we seek a new one. According to the elders, in the winter season we are faced with three questions. Who am I, why am I, and where am I going? As we seek the answers to these questions we will learn and grow and transform ourselves once again. So here I am, who am I?
I am totally aware that I have been feeding the wrong hunger the last week or so. I know that in feeding the wrong hunger, I have been sabotaging myself, keeping me from becoming who I am supposed to be. I gave into the fear, and fear is the mindkiller.
When I was growing up I was an outsider looking in. I didn't fit in with my family, my circumstances or my neighborhood.I didn't fit physically, mentally, or spiritually. I needed to learn, I studied everything.Knowledge was my downfall and my future. Everybody called me "the smart one", which sounds positive, but in my family it was an insult. It was said in a way that I knew it was not acceptable. But I had no other way to be. I was Esther, the smart one, who was also the fat one, the big one that nobody understood, or cared to get to know. I wanted to be my little sister, the cute one, the one who had a nickname, who was allowed to sit in laps and be hugged.But, I was Esther, and nobody wanted to hug me.
I learned to accept that that was who I was. Esther spent her time learning and applying that knowledge to the world around her. She kept her own counsel, and built walls to keep the pain contained. Fortunately, Spirit put people in my life to teach me about love. I lived for the summers, we would come to Kansas City and stay with my father's favorite sister, My Aunt Emma. My auntie was an amazing woman, she loved all of us. If we were family, especially those few of us who were 'black sheep' for whatever reason, she loved us. So I could make it through the rest of the year, because I knew that at least in the summer, someone who loved me would be there. There were other people, a friend of my brother. They were in boot camp together, and he was from the Navajo nation, and the reservation was too far for him to go, so he came to our house when they had leave. He talked to me, and more importantly he listened to me. He talked to me about his traditions, and walking the Red Road. He taught me that I was strong, and that our Creator loved me. My third grade teacher, Mrs. Schultz. She saw greatness in me, and never let a day go by that she didn't tell me that. I visited her even after I was in junior high, and we were friends for the rest of her life, we wrote when I went off to college, and I visited her when I came back during breaks. She was my great friend and my greatest encourager. These all called me Esther Belle. I was named after my Mother and my Aunt Emma. Emma Esther Belle, and so Auntie called me Esther Belle. That was the name and the 'me' I associated with love.
When I became a mother, loving and advocating for my special needs child was who I was. Again I was able to use my intellect to solve problems and educate myself and others about my son's needs. I loved being Ms. Jones, William's Mom. Ms. Jones was able to love her son and to also love other children in the neighborhood. They needed someone to love them enough to set boundaries and hold them to those boundaries. Children do not like being out of control. This lesson applies to the child in us when we are in our winter changing seasons. We do not like being out of control, and so part of learning who we are is learning what our boundaries are. Boundaries are not the walls I built to protect me from pain. Boundaries are the paths I walk, the bricks I place to get me Brick by Brick down the path on my healing journey.
Then Ms. Jones was walking down the street one day.It was a beautiful day. The kind of spring day that we wish they all could be. Bright sunshine, about 60 degrees. I had been to a meeting and after my friend dropped me off I remembered that William needed something for school the next day. It was the perfect day for a walk, so I decided I would walk to the neighborhood store. As I was walking down the street I looked up and this tall thin man was cutting across the street diagonally. He was going to end right in front of me. My mind immediately started searching for a reason, but this was not someone I knew. He walked up to me and said "I have been trying to get up the nerve to talk to you for six months. You're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." I laughed. It definitely was not a pick up line I had ever heard before. But when I laughed I saw his eyes, and he meant it! "Excuse me?" was all I could say. He said it again, "I've been trying to get up the nerve to talk to you. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." I am still kind of speechless, and I say "Thank you, I guess." He goes on to explain that he lives at the bottom of the hill and he sees me walk my son to the school bus every day. He has tried a couple of times to speak to me, but he was too nervous. But when he saw me walking down the street today he told himself it was now or never, and he crossed the street. I was prepared to continue walking, but he kept talking. He told me how he had just got out of rehab 4 days earlier, and that he was on his way home from putting in job applications. Well, I had been clean and sober for 16 years and the friend of Bill W. in me wouldn't let me just ignore him. I told him I had to go to the store, but if he was still in the park at the end of the street when I got back I would talk to him. He was there, we talked for 2 hours that afternoon, and every day after that.
I start my day with centering prayers and meditations. It helps me to meet the challenges of my day. I use several sources for things to meditate on. I use a daily reflection from Sunshine Cathedral.It's from a publication titled Spirit and Truth. I also use Meditations with Native American Elders:The Four Seasons by Don L. Coyhis.This is a book of meditations for learning to walk the Red Road. This is the path I have chosen for my healing journey.I also use the Sacred literature-Scriptures of my Christian traditions. More often than not, they work together on the issue that I need to be working on. Spirit is very good at working things to my benefit like that. But, then I get down to it, and I get fearful. I slide back into old habits, and I know better.
Who am I? The problem is I don't know anymore.
I know who I have been. I know how I became those women, but I don't know who I am anymore, and that is a problem. Since I am not who I used to be, I need to figure out who I am in order to go forward. I need to figure out how to become who I am supposed to be.
I have been lots of different people in my lifetime. I have grown and matured and changed over the years. I have used prayer and meditation to seek my Higher Power and to attempt to let go of my self will and live Most High's will for my life. As I walk the Red road I use wisdom found in nature, in the medicine wheel, and wisdom from the elders. Our lives grow in seasons, and we may be in a spring season as it snows outside.But we can learn from nature, and the Medicine Wheel and the elders no matter what season we are in. Every season has lessons for us. I find myself in a winter season of life right now.
In the winter season we often find ourselves lost. Our identity is gone and we seek a new one. According to the elders, in the winter season we are faced with three questions. Who am I, why am I, and where am I going? As we seek the answers to these questions we will learn and grow and transform ourselves once again. So here I am, who am I?
I am totally aware that I have been feeding the wrong hunger the last week or so. I know that in feeding the wrong hunger, I have been sabotaging myself, keeping me from becoming who I am supposed to be. I gave into the fear, and fear is the mindkiller.
When I was growing up I was an outsider looking in. I didn't fit in with my family, my circumstances or my neighborhood.I didn't fit physically, mentally, or spiritually. I needed to learn, I studied everything.Knowledge was my downfall and my future. Everybody called me "the smart one", which sounds positive, but in my family it was an insult. It was said in a way that I knew it was not acceptable. But I had no other way to be. I was Esther, the smart one, who was also the fat one, the big one that nobody understood, or cared to get to know. I wanted to be my little sister, the cute one, the one who had a nickname, who was allowed to sit in laps and be hugged.But, I was Esther, and nobody wanted to hug me.
I learned to accept that that was who I was. Esther spent her time learning and applying that knowledge to the world around her. She kept her own counsel, and built walls to keep the pain contained. Fortunately, Spirit put people in my life to teach me about love. I lived for the summers, we would come to Kansas City and stay with my father's favorite sister, My Aunt Emma. My auntie was an amazing woman, she loved all of us. If we were family, especially those few of us who were 'black sheep' for whatever reason, she loved us. So I could make it through the rest of the year, because I knew that at least in the summer, someone who loved me would be there. There were other people, a friend of my brother. They were in boot camp together, and he was from the Navajo nation, and the reservation was too far for him to go, so he came to our house when they had leave. He talked to me, and more importantly he listened to me. He talked to me about his traditions, and walking the Red Road. He taught me that I was strong, and that our Creator loved me. My third grade teacher, Mrs. Schultz. She saw greatness in me, and never let a day go by that she didn't tell me that. I visited her even after I was in junior high, and we were friends for the rest of her life, we wrote when I went off to college, and I visited her when I came back during breaks. She was my great friend and my greatest encourager. These all called me Esther Belle. I was named after my Mother and my Aunt Emma. Emma Esther Belle, and so Auntie called me Esther Belle. That was the name and the 'me' I associated with love.
When I became a mother, loving and advocating for my special needs child was who I was. Again I was able to use my intellect to solve problems and educate myself and others about my son's needs. I loved being Ms. Jones, William's Mom. Ms. Jones was able to love her son and to also love other children in the neighborhood. They needed someone to love them enough to set boundaries and hold them to those boundaries. Children do not like being out of control. This lesson applies to the child in us when we are in our winter changing seasons. We do not like being out of control, and so part of learning who we are is learning what our boundaries are. Boundaries are not the walls I built to protect me from pain. Boundaries are the paths I walk, the bricks I place to get me Brick by Brick down the path on my healing journey.
Then Ms. Jones was walking down the street one day.It was a beautiful day. The kind of spring day that we wish they all could be. Bright sunshine, about 60 degrees. I had been to a meeting and after my friend dropped me off I remembered that William needed something for school the next day. It was the perfect day for a walk, so I decided I would walk to the neighborhood store. As I was walking down the street I looked up and this tall thin man was cutting across the street diagonally. He was going to end right in front of me. My mind immediately started searching for a reason, but this was not someone I knew. He walked up to me and said "I have been trying to get up the nerve to talk to you for six months. You're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." I laughed. It definitely was not a pick up line I had ever heard before. But when I laughed I saw his eyes, and he meant it! "Excuse me?" was all I could say. He said it again, "I've been trying to get up the nerve to talk to you. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." I am still kind of speechless, and I say "Thank you, I guess." He goes on to explain that he lives at the bottom of the hill and he sees me walk my son to the school bus every day. He has tried a couple of times to speak to me, but he was too nervous. But when he saw me walking down the street today he told himself it was now or never, and he crossed the street. I was prepared to continue walking, but he kept talking. He told me how he had just got out of rehab 4 days earlier, and that he was on his way home from putting in job applications. Well, I had been clean and sober for 16 years and the friend of Bill W. in me wouldn't let me just ignore him. I told him I had to go to the store, but if he was still in the park at the end of the street when I got back I would talk to him. He was there, we talked for 2 hours that afternoon, and every day after that.
Such a simple act, crossing the street. No big deal. But in that simple act of walking across the street the world would never be the same. In that moment our lives became eternally joined, entwined. We would never again make a decision without discussing it or considering the impact it would have on the other one.We would never again think of ourselves as Bill or EstherBelle. From that moment on we were BillandEstherBelle.
So, I must learn to be EstherBelle again, or just Belle as my husband and friends came to call me, or maybe EB the nickname my friends use. I must learn that I need not be afraid to go forward. I must stop allowing my fear of the unknown keep me from sculpting my bricks and making my path as I journey to wholeness. I have some genetic dispositions that are obstacles. I am genetically predisposed to gaining weight and holding on to weight. In prehistoric times I was the survival of the species. But this is 2011, and the extra layer of fat is no longer necessary for survival. As I get close to the numbers changing on the scale, I must not fear the things that come my way. I must not fear men paying attention to me, I must not fear jealousy from others. I must embrace the new me, a me that has not weighed less than 250 pounds since she was a child. I must stop sabotaging my weight loss journey and work to be in control of my eating and choose to joyfully discover what being a normal healthy weight feels like.
I am genetically predisposed to depression and alcoholism. I must not let that determine who I am. I do not allow the pain of my physical diseases win, so I must apply the same intent and purpose to overcoming the pain of my mental health issues. I am going to celebrate a really major milestone in a few days. On January 19 I will have been clean and sober for 30 years. As I choose one day at a time to not use drugs and alcohol to mask the pain, I must also choose to not use the most widely available mood altering drug-food-to mask the pain either. I must choose to come into a healthy relationship with food. Allowing food to be what it was meant to be and nothing more.
I must choose to be who I am supposed to be, as I spend this winter season of my life pondering the answer to that question.To ponder is to consider something deeply and thoroughly; meditate; to weigh carefully in the mind. Pondering for me is to find the answers and apply them to my life as I become who I am supposed to be.
Who am I? I don't know yet. But, as I continue to sculpt the bricks, and to choose to not give in to the fear I will find out.The fears used to blind and bind me for years, and now they only blind me for a few days. That is victory along the journey. It will be an amazing healing journey through the season of darkness, and of course Spring should follow.
So, I must learn to be EstherBelle again, or just Belle as my husband and friends came to call me, or maybe EB the nickname my friends use. I must learn that I need not be afraid to go forward. I must stop allowing my fear of the unknown keep me from sculpting my bricks and making my path as I journey to wholeness. I have some genetic dispositions that are obstacles. I am genetically predisposed to gaining weight and holding on to weight. In prehistoric times I was the survival of the species. But this is 2011, and the extra layer of fat is no longer necessary for survival. As I get close to the numbers changing on the scale, I must not fear the things that come my way. I must not fear men paying attention to me, I must not fear jealousy from others. I must embrace the new me, a me that has not weighed less than 250 pounds since she was a child. I must stop sabotaging my weight loss journey and work to be in control of my eating and choose to joyfully discover what being a normal healthy weight feels like.
I am genetically predisposed to depression and alcoholism. I must not let that determine who I am. I do not allow the pain of my physical diseases win, so I must apply the same intent and purpose to overcoming the pain of my mental health issues. I am going to celebrate a really major milestone in a few days. On January 19 I will have been clean and sober for 30 years. As I choose one day at a time to not use drugs and alcohol to mask the pain, I must also choose to not use the most widely available mood altering drug-food-to mask the pain either. I must choose to come into a healthy relationship with food. Allowing food to be what it was meant to be and nothing more.
I must choose to be who I am supposed to be, as I spend this winter season of my life pondering the answer to that question.To ponder is to consider something deeply and thoroughly; meditate; to weigh carefully in the mind. Pondering for me is to find the answers and apply them to my life as I become who I am supposed to be.
Who am I? I don't know yet. But, as I continue to sculpt the bricks, and to choose to not give in to the fear I will find out.The fears used to blind and bind me for years, and now they only blind me for a few days. That is victory along the journey. It will be an amazing healing journey through the season of darkness, and of course Spring should follow.
Who am I? Not sure, but I think I will love her into existence.
Peace and Blessings,
EstherBelle a.k.a EB
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Some of my favorite stories of my father
Even though my father was very stern and reserved with me, I do still have some very good memories of him.
This one starts out hard, but ends up with a great line...
I had to pretty much run away from home to go to college. My father forbid me going, and I ended up living at home a couple of years until I turned 18 and could leave on my own.My mother understood it was something I had to do, and I think that is because she couldn't afford to go to college when she graduated from high school in 1930. So, I turn 18, and I am on my way to the bus station to head to college. The last thing I hear my father say to my mother is that "Nothing good will come of this, she'll go off and come back pregnant." He had such faith in me! So of I went to college, majored in theatre, ended up working in theatre and radio, won awards in both careers. My father saw me on stage one time, and heard me on the radio once. A few years later, when their health was failing, Papa had congestive heart failure, emphysema,and Alzheimer's. Hard to believe, this was a man who retired from a roofing company at 65, and went back to work at the roofing company at 67, and the young guys couldn't keep up with him. He fell off a roof when he was 73, around Halloween. He broke his hip and had surgery to implant screws and a rod the first of November. Doctors said he would take 8 months to a year to walk again. On January 1st, we were watching the news and there was a fire at the company where he had worked for 50 years. He said "They're going to need everyone and went back to work on January 2nd. He worked for several more years, until the Alzheimer's got bad enough that he couldn't work anymore.But I digress...when his health was getting worse and he and mother couldn't manage on their own anymore, I left my career in radio and back to California to take care of them. I did not know at that time that I was pregnant. After I had been there a couple of months it became obvious I should see a doctor, and I was shocked to learn that I was expecting. Remember what my father said when I left for college? Well here it was decades later,I was an award winning actress, designer,and broadcast news director, afraid to tell my father that I was pregnant because I was his old maid daughter. So, I call my little sister (two years younger than me) who was a married mother of two. My sister tells my mother, and my mother goes in to tell my father while I sit on the porch. It is late summer, and the windows are open and I can hear my mother telling my father what the doctor had said and the next thing I hear is my father's voice..."I told you if we let her go off to college this would happen, she came home pregnant."
Did you notice that I was his old maid daughter? This is one of my favorite stories. I was working at a theatre on my 25th birthday. We didn't have a phone back in the costume shop, so if there was a call someone would have to come get us. So it is the afternoon of my 25th birthday, here comes the office girl who says "You have a phone call, it's you're father." My father? My father never calls. He always has my mother call, even his favorite sister. He will talk on the phone but he never makes the call. Assuming the worst, that something is wrong with Mother I run to the office to answer. I pick up the phone and say hello. My father says hello, and I ask him if everything is OK. Is something wrong with mother? Here is the rest of the conversation...
"No, your mother is fine, I wanted to talk to you."
"Is everything OK?"
"Do you know what today is?"
"Yes, sir, it's my birthday."
"Do you know how old you are?"
"Yes, sir, I am 25."
"What did you do last night?"
"We had a show, I worked."
"What are you doing tonight?"
"We have a show Papa, I am working."
"Did you get married since the last time we talked to you?"
"No, sir, you know I didn't."
"Are you sure? Do you have plans to get married tonight?"
"Yes, sir.I am sure.No, sir, no plans to get married.""
"Do you know what it means when a girl turns 25 and she's not married?"
"No, sir, I don't."
"It means you are an old maid.If you turn 25 and you're not married you are an old maid. there has never been an old maid in my family.I'll be the first one to have an old maid daughter.Do you know what happens when you turn 35 and you're not married?"
[By this time I am laughing]
"No, sir, I don't know."
"If you turn 35 and you're not married,and it doesn't look like you're going to be,at 35 you become the little old lady who lives on the corner."
[I am really laughing now]
"Papa, I am 6'1" and weigh over 300 pounds, I hardly think I will be a LITTLE old lady."
"It doesn't matter, at 35 you become the little old lady who lives on the corner. I won't be able to hold my head in my family."
And then he hung up. I am not sure to this day whether he was serious, but once again I did not disappoint my father. I was 47 when I married. I wish he had still been alive to come!
Here's the last one I will share today. I only talked back to my father twice in my life. The first time was when I was 13, and it was the last time he whooped me with the leather strap. It had to do with me sassing my mom, and that was NOT allowed. The second time, I was 22. It was the night before my sister's wedding. For reasons that don't really matter anymore, my father had decided he was not going to the wedding. My sister was hurt. Some in the family thought he didn't want to get dressed up. He wore bib overalls every day of his life. I only saw him dressed up in slacks and jacket one time. But my sister didn't care if he came in his overalls, she just wanted him to come. One of our older brothers would be walking her down the aisle because of my father's stubborn stand.So, since we are all busy getting ready for the wedding, it is decided that we would go pick up some take-out food. I ask my father to go with me, and he does. While waiting I get my nerve up and I say to him "I am going to say this and you can whip me if you want, but you are going to that wedding." "No, I'm not," he answers. "Yes, old man," I say, "you are going to that wedding if I have to knock you out and take you there myself." Nothing more was said, the food came and we took it home. We all went to the wedding the next day, and left him at home. We got dressed, and the music started.As the maid of honor I start down the aisle just before my sister, and there in the last pew, sitting on the aisle, was an old man in bib overalls. I looked him in the eye and smiled. He did not smile back. My sister, who had not cried yet that day started crying when she saw him. So, later as I drove him and mother home from the reception,a reception where he had a great time and maybe got a little tipsy, he said to me "you were right, but don't you ever talk to me that way again." I never spoke back to him again.
The morning he died, his mind was amazingly clear. I had him up and bathed and dressed in his beloved overalls. he was playing with my son, who was about a year old. Papa told my son he loved him, then looked at me and said "He's going to grow up to be a fine young man, I wish I was going to be around to see it."
I treasure those words, and I miss my father, and I wish he were here to see that his words are true. My son is an amazing young man, and I tell him the stories of my father.
This one starts out hard, but ends up with a great line...
I had to pretty much run away from home to go to college. My father forbid me going, and I ended up living at home a couple of years until I turned 18 and could leave on my own.My mother understood it was something I had to do, and I think that is because she couldn't afford to go to college when she graduated from high school in 1930. So, I turn 18, and I am on my way to the bus station to head to college. The last thing I hear my father say to my mother is that "Nothing good will come of this, she'll go off and come back pregnant." He had such faith in me! So of I went to college, majored in theatre, ended up working in theatre and radio, won awards in both careers. My father saw me on stage one time, and heard me on the radio once. A few years later, when their health was failing, Papa had congestive heart failure, emphysema,and Alzheimer's. Hard to believe, this was a man who retired from a roofing company at 65, and went back to work at the roofing company at 67, and the young guys couldn't keep up with him. He fell off a roof when he was 73, around Halloween. He broke his hip and had surgery to implant screws and a rod the first of November. Doctors said he would take 8 months to a year to walk again. On January 1st, we were watching the news and there was a fire at the company where he had worked for 50 years. He said "They're going to need everyone and went back to work on January 2nd. He worked for several more years, until the Alzheimer's got bad enough that he couldn't work anymore.But I digress...when his health was getting worse and he and mother couldn't manage on their own anymore, I left my career in radio and back to California to take care of them. I did not know at that time that I was pregnant. After I had been there a couple of months it became obvious I should see a doctor, and I was shocked to learn that I was expecting. Remember what my father said when I left for college? Well here it was decades later,I was an award winning actress, designer,and broadcast news director, afraid to tell my father that I was pregnant because I was his old maid daughter. So, I call my little sister (two years younger than me) who was a married mother of two. My sister tells my mother, and my mother goes in to tell my father while I sit on the porch. It is late summer, and the windows are open and I can hear my mother telling my father what the doctor had said and the next thing I hear is my father's voice..."I told you if we let her go off to college this would happen, she came home pregnant."
Did you notice that I was his old maid daughter? This is one of my favorite stories. I was working at a theatre on my 25th birthday. We didn't have a phone back in the costume shop, so if there was a call someone would have to come get us. So it is the afternoon of my 25th birthday, here comes the office girl who says "You have a phone call, it's you're father." My father? My father never calls. He always has my mother call, even his favorite sister. He will talk on the phone but he never makes the call. Assuming the worst, that something is wrong with Mother I run to the office to answer. I pick up the phone and say hello. My father says hello, and I ask him if everything is OK. Is something wrong with mother? Here is the rest of the conversation...
"No, your mother is fine, I wanted to talk to you."
"Is everything OK?"
"Do you know what today is?"
"Yes, sir, it's my birthday."
"Do you know how old you are?"
"Yes, sir, I am 25."
"What did you do last night?"
"We had a show, I worked."
"What are you doing tonight?"
"We have a show Papa, I am working."
"Did you get married since the last time we talked to you?"
"No, sir, you know I didn't."
"Are you sure? Do you have plans to get married tonight?"
"Yes, sir.I am sure.No, sir, no plans to get married.""
"Do you know what it means when a girl turns 25 and she's not married?"
"No, sir, I don't."
"It means you are an old maid.If you turn 25 and you're not married you are an old maid. there has never been an old maid in my family.I'll be the first one to have an old maid daughter.Do you know what happens when you turn 35 and you're not married?"
[By this time I am laughing]
"No, sir, I don't know."
"If you turn 35 and you're not married,and it doesn't look like you're going to be,at 35 you become the little old lady who lives on the corner."
[I am really laughing now]
"Papa, I am 6'1" and weigh over 300 pounds, I hardly think I will be a LITTLE old lady."
"It doesn't matter, at 35 you become the little old lady who lives on the corner. I won't be able to hold my head in my family."
And then he hung up. I am not sure to this day whether he was serious, but once again I did not disappoint my father. I was 47 when I married. I wish he had still been alive to come!
Here's the last one I will share today. I only talked back to my father twice in my life. The first time was when I was 13, and it was the last time he whooped me with the leather strap. It had to do with me sassing my mom, and that was NOT allowed. The second time, I was 22. It was the night before my sister's wedding. For reasons that don't really matter anymore, my father had decided he was not going to the wedding. My sister was hurt. Some in the family thought he didn't want to get dressed up. He wore bib overalls every day of his life. I only saw him dressed up in slacks and jacket one time. But my sister didn't care if he came in his overalls, she just wanted him to come. One of our older brothers would be walking her down the aisle because of my father's stubborn stand.So, since we are all busy getting ready for the wedding, it is decided that we would go pick up some take-out food. I ask my father to go with me, and he does. While waiting I get my nerve up and I say to him "I am going to say this and you can whip me if you want, but you are going to that wedding." "No, I'm not," he answers. "Yes, old man," I say, "you are going to that wedding if I have to knock you out and take you there myself." Nothing more was said, the food came and we took it home. We all went to the wedding the next day, and left him at home. We got dressed, and the music started.As the maid of honor I start down the aisle just before my sister, and there in the last pew, sitting on the aisle, was an old man in bib overalls. I looked him in the eye and smiled. He did not smile back. My sister, who had not cried yet that day started crying when she saw him. So, later as I drove him and mother home from the reception,a reception where he had a great time and maybe got a little tipsy, he said to me "you were right, but don't you ever talk to me that way again." I never spoke back to him again.
The morning he died, his mind was amazingly clear. I had him up and bathed and dressed in his beloved overalls. he was playing with my son, who was about a year old. Papa told my son he loved him, then looked at me and said "He's going to grow up to be a fine young man, I wish I was going to be around to see it."
I treasure those words, and I miss my father, and I wish he were here to see that his words are true. My son is an amazing young man, and I tell him the stories of my father.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Traditions
Today is Christmas Eve. In our family that means that my son is in charge of the kitchen. Not a bad tradition! I can hear the dishwasher going as I type. We came up with this tradition because I was a working mother- well we all are, but I went back to work full time outside the home when my son started middle school.We were attempting to establish new traditions for our new family. The first couple of years, I would get home from work on Xmas Eve, tired, but I would fix dinner and attempt to go to the movies with my husband and my son. We had the beginnings of a lovely tradition, but as most traditions do, it needed some tweaking to become just right for us.
I worked in a huge grocery store. I would finish the midnight shift on the 23rd, and then go back in and work the day shift on the 24th. By the time we closed the store at 6:00 pm, took care of all the customers, and allowed the teammates a few minutes to grab that last item, it was often close to7:00 by the time I got to my car.I would drive home, tired. So, the next year we decided that we would just have pizza for dinner, and if I called home just before I headed to the car, it could go in the oven. We also decided that Xmas day was a good time for a movie if I wanted to stay awake. My son had begun the habit of baking cookies while I was at work, and so that grew to include the pizza, and then to include his being in charge of the kitchen. He would wait for me to call, and by the time I got home, changed my clothes, and sat down in my recliner to put my feet up dinner would be ready and he would serve Mom and Dad. Then he would finish his cookie baking, while Mom and Dad wrapped presents in their room. It became a lovely way to spend the evening.About the time the gifts were wrapped, the cookies were done, and the three of us would have time together enjoying warm cookies and cold milk. The dishwasher would run again as the plate for Santa was prepared, and then our family would be snuggled in our beds.
We are, once again, in the process of allowing our traditions to evolve to fit our circumstances. This year it is just the two of us once again. This year Mom is again an at home Mom. Because of my health, I am no longer able to stand on my feet and check out hundreds of customers a day, in fact I am no longer able to work outside the home. Because of financial problems this year, there won't be any gift wrapping. But, we will be able to share our kitchen traditions. Today, my son is in charge of the kitchen, and our house is filled with the wonderful aromas of years gone by mixed with a new aroma. My cookie baker makes 2 different recipes every year. He makes the original recipe that he brought home from school all those years ago, and then he bakes a new recipe-either a recipe he has created, or one that caught his eye in a magazine or on the back of the packaging from one of his ingredients. This year the new recipe involves cinnamon chips, and we are eagerly looking forward to trying them.
I hope that you and those you care about have traditions.Traditions are an important way to bridge the gap between generations, to enlarge your tent and bring new people into the circle of your hearts.Traditions are an important way to share memories, to make memories, and to anticipate new memories the next time you act upon the tradition.Tradition is a way that our families, our friends,our communities can stay connected one to another.Tradition can be the way that we remember what it is to love and to be loved. In our house, a boy who was born blessed by autism did not have the ability to tell us with words that he loved us, so he learned to bake cookies.
Peace and Blessings,
EstherBelle
I worked in a huge grocery store. I would finish the midnight shift on the 23rd, and then go back in and work the day shift on the 24th. By the time we closed the store at 6:00 pm, took care of all the customers, and allowed the teammates a few minutes to grab that last item, it was often close to7:00 by the time I got to my car.I would drive home, tired. So, the next year we decided that we would just have pizza for dinner, and if I called home just before I headed to the car, it could go in the oven. We also decided that Xmas day was a good time for a movie if I wanted to stay awake. My son had begun the habit of baking cookies while I was at work, and so that grew to include the pizza, and then to include his being in charge of the kitchen. He would wait for me to call, and by the time I got home, changed my clothes, and sat down in my recliner to put my feet up dinner would be ready and he would serve Mom and Dad. Then he would finish his cookie baking, while Mom and Dad wrapped presents in their room. It became a lovely way to spend the evening.About the time the gifts were wrapped, the cookies were done, and the three of us would have time together enjoying warm cookies and cold milk. The dishwasher would run again as the plate for Santa was prepared, and then our family would be snuggled in our beds.
We are, once again, in the process of allowing our traditions to evolve to fit our circumstances. This year it is just the two of us once again. This year Mom is again an at home Mom. Because of my health, I am no longer able to stand on my feet and check out hundreds of customers a day, in fact I am no longer able to work outside the home. Because of financial problems this year, there won't be any gift wrapping. But, we will be able to share our kitchen traditions. Today, my son is in charge of the kitchen, and our house is filled with the wonderful aromas of years gone by mixed with a new aroma. My cookie baker makes 2 different recipes every year. He makes the original recipe that he brought home from school all those years ago, and then he bakes a new recipe-either a recipe he has created, or one that caught his eye in a magazine or on the back of the packaging from one of his ingredients. This year the new recipe involves cinnamon chips, and we are eagerly looking forward to trying them.
I hope that you and those you care about have traditions.Traditions are an important way to bridge the gap between generations, to enlarge your tent and bring new people into the circle of your hearts.Traditions are an important way to share memories, to make memories, and to anticipate new memories the next time you act upon the tradition.Tradition is a way that our families, our friends,our communities can stay connected one to another.Tradition can be the way that we remember what it is to love and to be loved. In our house, a boy who was born blessed by autism did not have the ability to tell us with words that he loved us, so he learned to bake cookies.
Peace and Blessings,
EstherBelle
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