Time and Tide
It’s that time of year again. Time to spend a little extra time counting our blessings. I have one blessing I would like to spend some extra time counting.
Time.
Yes. The blessing of Time. Funny thing, Time. There is quite a lot said about time. Time is fleeting, time flies, time marches on, Time Is On My Side. You can have a time out, waste time, loose track of time, live on borrowed time. Sometimes, only time will tell, and time heals all wounds (or so they say) and time can work wonders. Something can be just matter of time, a race against time, all in good time. You can be in the right place at the right time, save a stitch in time, be ahead of time, have too much time on your hands. You can loose time and make up for lost time, be pressed for time, pass the time. Some say time is money. You can mark time, give someone the time of day (or not), be on time, be subject to the sands of time.
Time is precious. Time, to me, means so many things. It means snuggles with my husband, games and laughter with my son, conversations with friends. Time gives me Thanksgiving Dinners, happy birthday phone calls, Christmas Mornings. Memories of Time with Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins are priceless, and they are all part of me, of who I am. With time, I became best friends with my Mother, learned to appreciate and respect my Father, have been blessed with in-laws. Time taught me what wonderful individuals my siblings are, their spouses are, their children are. Through time, I have learned patience, kindness, and gratitude. Without the gift of time, I would not have an education, degrees in theatre, and all the valuable lessons that journey gifted me. Time brought me music through singing and piano, and through music, comfort and solace. Because of time, I have learned to appreciate even the smallest spot of beauty, to be left breathless at the largest ones, and pause at so many in between.
The truth is, we all are given only so much Time. Time is a trickster, though—we don’t ever know how long Time is going to be around. Oh, sure, I’ve heard of Time Eternal and Time Immemorial. But the gift of Time is only ours to hold for so long. They say that time and tide wait for no one. None of us have all the time in the world; sooner or later we will all run out of time.
I am grateful for the time I have, the time I have been given, the time yet to be. All in all, it’s been a whale of a good time.
Cheers,
Kathie
Perspective
My son gets bullied at school.
I have a friend that told me, the difference between getting bullied and getting picked on, is that getting picked on happens maybe by different people but happens only occasionally. Bullying, on the other hand, is the same type of mean, picking, rotten behavior, happening by the same people, day after day after day. Another friend, though, feels that it is all bullying.
Perhaps it is a matter of perspective. Maybe it depends on where you are standing at the time. Or how tired you are of getting picked on by anyone at the time. Or whether or not you are truly friends with that person. Or how mean-spirited the picking is.
These boys told him that he is an idiot. Now, anyone that knows My Kid knows that word does not describe him at all. But this other kid called My Kid an idiot because My Son didn’t know something about what this other kid was saying. You know how they say that a person tries to make themselves feel better by cutting others down? Yeah. I think that applies here. I tried to explain that just because you don’t know a thing that someone else does, that doesn’t make you stupid. I couldn’t walk into my husband’s place of employment and do what he does any more than he could do a Theatrical Lighting Design. That does not make either of us idiots.
It’s all a matter of perspective. How you react and interact with the world and everything in it depends on so many factors. Where you were, where you are, where you hope to be. Past hurts, current trials, education, interests, influences…they all affect how a person sees and is seen. It affects your fears, your hopes, your daily life. It changes how you hear and interpret what is said to you. Your perception is your own responsibility, and understanding your perception of the world around you affects your relationship to it.
You have to check your perspective, though. What is keeping you fearful? What keeps you angry? What hurts are you holding onto? Is your perspective keeping you from living your life, loving others, having hope? Does it keep you afraid of the world, in your own world, shutting out the world? It is okay to ask yourself questions, change your mind, alter your perspective. It is one way that we learn, one way that we grow.
It doesn’t hurt to try another perspective on, just to see how it feels. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to see a situation from another perspective, from another person’s point of view. You don’t have to stay there, you don’t even have to agree. Wouldn’t it be nice, though, if seeing something from a different perspective lead to just a bit of understanding? Wouldn’t there be a bit more peace in the world if we tried a little harder to see a little differently in order to understand a little more?
Just my perspective.
Kat
Words, Words, Words
“Rise and Shine! Up and at ‘em!”
My mom used to wake us up with those words to get us out bed and start getting ready for school. What a cheerful way to wake up! I do the same to my son, although I add music. I pick a song and tell Alexa to play it to start his day. This morning, it was the theme from The Addam’s Family. (For the record, Ride of the Valkyries is not a preferred song first thing in the morning.)
Every parent has sayings. You know, the words and phrases that they always use. My Dad used to tell me that sometimes it’s better to be lucky than smart (usually when my luck saved me from a stupid situation). He told me that if it doesn’t kill you it makes you stronger. If you ask him how he is doing, he either “can’t complain” or “feels like a million bucks.” My cousin tells his kids that “There’s a lesson in that somewhere.” There are less pleasant ones. How many of us heard the “I’ll give you something to cry about” line?
Remember that old schoolyard saying? “Sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me.” I never really figured that out when I was a kid, and now that I’m older, I know why. Words hurt. They can hurt a lot. If words didn’t hurt, bullying wouldn’t be a thing, cyberbullying wouldn’t exist, and people being driven to suicide just because they were being bullied wouldn’t happen. I see those stories in the news all the time. Words hurt. Kids know that. Adults need to see that truth, and teach kids that the words you use matter.
Take, for instance, the difference between “That’s the best you can do??” and “That isn’t bad-can you think of another way you could have done that?” Which would you rather hear? Oh sure, I know people that truly don’t let words hurt them…but these people (at least the ones that I know) are also hyper-aware of the effect that words have on others.
A song from “Into The Woods” (Stephen Sondheim) says,
"Careful the things you say
Children will listen
Careful the things you do
Children will see and learn
Children may not obey, but children will listen
Children will look to you for which way to turn
To learn what to be
Careful before you say "Listen to me"
Children will listen"
Be aware, though. It is not just the children that are listening. Everyone is listening to what you say. What you say tends to reflect who you are. In this age of internet and social media, what you say could potentially be out there forever. I don’t know if it is possible to watch every single word that comes out of your mouth; everyone makes mistakes. But it wouldn’t hurt to think before you speak. And try to speak words that build people up. Not tear them down.
I’ve heard it said that actions speak louder than words. Often , however, your words are all people see.
Choose carefully.
Peace,
Kat
Thanks For The Memories
I love my son. You might have guessed that by now.
I haven’t loved every minute of raising my son, or of being a mother. I am thankful for every experience and lesson that has come with being a mother. But loving every minute of it? Nope. I remember being told to enjoy every minute of it, that time is so short, that I will miss this. Listen, I am not criticizing anyone who happened to tell me these things, I am just saying……don’t. Please don’t.
Would I enjoy the feeling of my 4-year-old running and jumping into my arms again like he used to? Do I sometimes wish we could spend hours covering the driveway with sidewalk chalk drawings? Do I sometimes miss time with him in the snuggle chair? Sure. I delight in the memories that I have of my son and the life that we share. I am going to miss him when he leaves, it is going to break my heart. And I know that the time is short.
But. To tell a mother to enjoy every minute instills a sense of guilt when she doesn’t. Raising a child is a lot of work. When the child isn’t listening. or the baby won’t stop crying, or the parents aren’t getting any sleep. The truth of it is that every minute isn’t enjoyable. Teething isn’t fun. Sleepy, grumpy people aren’t usually much of a joy to be around, no matter how old they are. Sometimes hormones make things a bit—tense. To tell a mother that the dishes can wait…well…whether you like it or not, chores have got to be done. You might not have to do the dishes right now, but they do have to get done eventually. The simple fact is that at some point, the dishes must be cleaned, the clothes have got to be washed, groceries must be purchased. You can leave some things. Maybe instead of making the bed, get some extra time eat breakfast, discussing the upcoming day. Forego chores on an occasional Saturday afternoon to play a game or go geocaching. It’s all about balance.
Stephen Sondheim said, “If life were only moments, even now and then a bad one. But if life were only moments, then we’d never know we had one.”
I have no doubt that parents look back and wish for more time with their kids. I am not saying that it isn’t legitimate. But you can’t look back and second- guess every time you cleaned a sink instead of drawing a flower with your child. Give yourself a break. Give other mothers a break too.
Everything you do with your child, or with anyone in your life for that matter, will sooner or later be the last time. The last time in the snuggle chair. The last time you read a book out loud. The last time they want a good night kiss. That seems to put the focus in the wrong place, though. It focuses on the ending of things. It seems to me that it is better to remember that it was, and when it was, and be thankful both for the happening and the memories of it.
We can’t get so bogged down in the memories of what was, the sadness of what no longer is, that we loose the joy of today. The every day business of life can easily get in the way of taking time to appreciate the people that we are blessed with in our lives. We absolutely must take the time to play that game, give that hug, make that phone call. And then, get the dishes done.
And don’t forget to take a nap.
Peace,
Kat
“Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine,
I’ll taste your strawberries, I’ll drink your sweet wine.
A million tomorrows may all pass away.
But I’ll never forget all the joy that is mine.
Today.”
Marriage. A Most Blessed Event.
My One And Only Brother got married this summer.
His story isn’t mine to tell, but I think I can tell you a few things. We shared a room till I was 12, we had bunk beds. We used to build blanket forts around the lower bed and spend time playing games there. We used to play “Hide The Penny” in our room until I hid it in the handle of the closet and we couldn’t get it out. We learned that it didn’t matter whose side of the room was dirty, it was our room and we were in it together. We learned that while there were differences, boys and girls are also similar, and sharing a room with him helped me appreciate both the differences and the similarities. We also learned that when the chips are down, and it was him and me against the world, he was a great person and brother to have at my side.
I think My Brother has had a hard row to hoe, in his life. If I am to be honest, I don’t feel that I know him that well. I know he is one of the most intelligent people I have ever met. I believe he watches the world around him and observes it, and will even tell you what he thinks if you give him time to choose his words very carefully. I know he is loyal and inspires justifiable loyalty in others. I know he feels things deeply even if he doesn’t always let on. I know that if I need him, he has my back and will stand up for me and protect me, like he did in elementary school. I hope he knows I would have his back too. And I know he is really good at Toss Across. And Backgammon.
I saw him smile more at his wedding than I have seen in a long time. I love that. They are a good team, and truly love and respect each other. I am so happy for him, for them, and wildly thankful for his new family. Cheers! Congratulations! All the best!
My husband and I are celebrating our own anniversary here in a few days. It has been 15 years, and there is this odd dichotomy where we feel both “That’s it???” and “Already?!” all at once. I am not going to sit here and give a list of “Tips For A Successful Marriage,” because what works for me might not work for you.
I will offer a few thoughts, though.
I think that whole happily ever after bit is misleading. It implies that after the wedding, all is smooth sailing. Anyone who has been there can tell you that marriage is a lot of work. You have to make your spouse/partner/helpmeet a top priority. Every day. You both have to do this or its doesn’t work. You have to be high on each other’s list in spite of jobs and kids and dreams and triumphs and tragedies. You need to mean it when you promise to stick together through thick and thin, better or worse, because chances are there will be so much of both. Just ask my folks, they have been married 64 years. Oh sure, things like communication, laughter (this one is critical, in my opinion), personal time, trust, patience, listening, forgiveness are all important. Personally, I would put Love and Respect at he top of the list. In marriage. Or in any relationship that you what to keep.
See there. I went and made a list anyway.
Peace and love,
Kathie
The Games People Play
I like playing board games.
Well. Not all board games.
I love the cooperative board games, where you work together and win or loose together. We have this game called Pandemic, we bought it for Our Son for Christmas 2020, mostly because we think we’re funny. Turns out, it is a very fun game. The object is to save the world from a pandemic. You draw a card that gives you a specific role to play, which gives you specific actions you can take throughout the game that help the team. You work together and win or loose as a team. We have another one that the object is to go into a haunted house and survive the journey…..but partway through, one of you (through the draw of a card) turns and is then in league with the entities that haunt the house. Your object then becomes to kill off all your teammates, their object is to survive. This one is half cooperative, half run-for-your-life.
Another category of game is the win-or-loose games. Many, many fall under this heading. Dominoes. Ticket to Ride, where you are trying to make train pathways from one destination to another, the object being to make the most pathways. Seven Wonders, an awesome game where you collect materials needed to build one of the seven wonders of the world. I think many, if not most, card games fall under this category. Like Cribbage. Hearts and Spades may depend on your mindset. Are you trying more to win or are you trying more to keep your opponents from winning? I honestly don’t mind loosing these games (naturally I would rather win!) because for the most part you have a decent chance of winning or loosing on your own merit, your own strategy, your own effort.
The other type of game is the Screw Your Neighbor game. I don’t do well with these. Monopoly is a great example of this. I am good at Monopoly when I choose to be. I had to be….my brother was extremely good at this game when we were growing up, so I had to learn to be good at it in self-defense. But the only way to win is to make sure to keep the other players down at all times. Make sure, to the best of your ability, that they don’t get any property sets, and build as many houses as quickly as you can. And those two light blue properties right after passing Go that no one tends to buy? Get those as soon as you can and start building. They are easy to build up quickly and people tend to land on them frequently. Or so it seems. Also, buy the Railroads if you land on them.
There are several games that can be either the win-or-loose or the Screw-Your-Neighbor. Sorry is one of those. You can be nice or you can be ruthless or you can be somewhere in between. I like Sorry. I like having a choice of how to play and being able to change my strategy partway through. I think there is a difference between being defensive and being malicious. Being defensive when playing a game means that you are doing what you can to make sure that you win. Being malicious means that you are doing what you can to make sure that everyone else looses. At least in my world.
It’s that mindset that keeps me from enjoying the Screw Your Neighbor games. I know it is just a game, but the malice behind “I want you to loose" doesn’t sit right with me. I would much rather we all do our best on our own, and help each other out along the way if we can, and play as a team as much as possible.
I know it is just a game. But, they say, life is a game. And it is frequently said that life isn’t fair. I suppose this is my way of trying to make the Game of Life just a little easier. At least in my corner.
Peace,
Kathie
Listen Up
I want you to do something for me.
First, practice this: breathe in for four counts, hold your breath for four counts, breathe out for four counts, hold that for four counts. Do that two or three more times.
Good? Now. Close your eyes, do the steady breathing, and listen. Just listen. Oh, don’t forget to come back. Ready? Go.
Are you back? What did you hear? At home, I hear the traffic on the street behind our house, and the chickadees in the trees. In the wee hours of the morning, I hear my husband breathing, sometimes I hear the dog whining, or the soft music from my son’s room. At work, I hear the highway, and whatever it is that is living in our ceiling. These are average days. On other days, I might hear sirens, or the bell on the front door, or children playing, or piano music, or any number of things.
How often do we take the time to truly listen? There is a difference between hearing and listening. You can hear a sound without listening to what is there. When I lived in Mississippi, my first husband worked at the county nursing home. I used to go and sing for the residents. There was one woman, quite elderly, who used to sit in her room and holler, loudly, for her mother. “Mama! Mama!! Where are you at?! Mama! Come ‘ere, ya old heifer!!!” (I’d get in so much trouble for talking to my mom like that!) This woman wasn’t entirely in her right mind, but if you took the time to listen, you could hear loneliness and longing in her words, in her tone. Sometimes, when you walked by her room, she would be having a conversation with her mother. I didn’t typically listen to those too closely, it felt like eavesdropping. But, I could hear love and contentment.
I have some amazing listeners in my family. My eldest sister listens in such a way that you feel that whatever you are saying is relevant and important. My other sister has a way of listening to people that lets them know that they are loved and cared for, no matter who they are. My cousin JC listens in such a way that you feel like whatever it is you are saying is the most interesting thing he has heard all day. They are role models for me. I don’t always feel like a great listener.
I do love listening to my mom, though. I call and ask her how she is doing, and then I sit and let her talk. I love that. I cherish that. I love hearing her voice, her laughter, her concern, her thoughts. I love hearing what she is going through, I always feel cheered by her positive outlook. I have also found that saying to someone in my store, that they look like they have had a long day, or asking them what they are doing with what they are purchasing, often leads to relieved or enthusiastic explanations. You can learn a lot by listening.
Listening is more than just hearing folks talk, though. I love the sound of my Dad whistling. He doesn’t whistle much any more, but it is one of the happiest sounds. You know, I used to think he wrote all those songs he used to sing and whistle? I got confused when I would hear them on the radio, and wonder why they were playing Dad’s music. What are your favorite sounds?+
We get so busy, we forget to take the time to stop and listen to the music that life provides. Go sit in a coffee shop, an airport, a park, and just listen. To the Rhythm of Life. That’s a song ln the musical “Sweet Charity”. “And the rhythm of life is a powerful beat, puts a tingle in your fingers and a tingle in your feet.” It is relaxing, to let that music of life fill your ears, your head, your heart. See, it takes us out of ourselves and serves as a gentle reminder that there is a whole world out there, that some of it is beautiful, that there might be something better around the corner. It’s a respite, however brief , from our own troubles and worries.
It may just put a song in your heart.
Tra La,
Kathie
Masks
“Gray skies are gonna clear up! Put on a happy face!”
I work at a store that sells theatrical makeup. With it, you can put on any sort of face you’d like. Happy or sad, pretty or ugly, scarred, comic, or smooth. You can be a clown, be a zombie, be any character you want. Mystique from the X-Men? Sure (with the custom prosthetics, 8 hours, and a professional artist.) Dracula? Absolutely-create your own version of him. You can be a superhero or super villain, a comic book character, a character of your own design. With stage makeup, you can put on any face that your imagination can conjure.
But then we all wear different faces at some point in our lives, don’t we? Most of them don’t even require makeup. It’s different than the “hats” you wear. You know, all the different job descriptions you have. A mother, for example, is at different times a nurse, a chauffeur, a cook, a server, a CEO, a CFO, a counsellor, a teacher, a companion… and that is just in her life at home with her family. The faces you put on, or the masks you wear, are another story.
You may, for instance, wear a different face at work than you do at home. At work, you may have to be cheerful, outgoing, organized, professional, knowledgeable, agreeable. So you go into the office and put on the face that portrays all of that. Your Work Mask. At home, you may have a Spouse Mask, a Parent Mask, Sibling Mask, Daughter (or Son) Mask. You may have a Mama Bear Mask (for dealing with those that hurt or threaten your children), A Pet Owner Mask, even a Niece, Nephew, Aunt, or Uncle Mask. They are all the faces you wear for all the people you try to, or have to, be.
Wait, what? You don’t have all those masks? I do. I am a different person around my Mom, for example, than I am with my husband. I would be willing to bet most of you are too, whether you see it, admit it, or not.
These faces are easy, though. The more difficult ones to put on and maintain are the Mood Masks. The Cheerful Mask, the Patience Mask, The Nothing Is Wrong Mask. The Task Masks don’t ask you to be different people, only different aspects of who you already are. They are easy to put on depending on who you are with, where you are standing, what you are doing. The Mood Masks, though….they are a challenge. They relate to what you think you are supposed to be, supposed to feel, supposed to do. And depending on where you get those definitions of supposed to, well, maintaining them can take all you have to give somedays.
I know…let it go. Let it all out. As to that, I offer this exchange from Star Trek, The Original Series, “Plato’s Stepchildren:”
“Dr. McCoy : The release of emotions, Mr. Spock, is what keeps us healthy - emotionally healthy, that is. Spock : That may be, Doctor, however I have noted that the healthy release of emotion is frequently very unhealthy for those closest to you.”I have to agree. There is only so much emotion that those around you are prepared to handle. I had a friend once tell me that I wear my heart on my sleeve, and he appreciates it because then people know exactly where they stand with me. This is and has always been true, and it has gotten me into trouble. You have no idea how much effort I have put into trying to Mask that. It isn’t always convenient to have people always able to read what you are feeling.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying to be something you aren’t, or to be someone you are not. I am saying that just like everyone you meet has their own struggles that they are dealing with, they very likely may be wearing a mask that you can’t see. In fact, that mask might be their struggle. Be patient. Be kind. Be understanding.
This is critical, though. Find a place where you can drop all your makeup, all your hats, all your masks. Find a person that lets you do that. It may not be the same person or the same place every time, but find it. Find your haven. Find the place where you can unwind, or you end up too tightly wound. Everyone needs that place. And do your best to be that for someone else.
The future may just depend on it.
Peace,
Kathie
Growth
Hello Dear Followers!
I’ve been silent for a while, it’s been busy around here! For one thing, my brother got married (hooray!), and then my husband, son, and myself spent two weeks Away.
We went to Washington D.C. for a week and a half. We bought our airplane tickets many months ago, before gas prices went way up. I was very nervous about going on this vacation. DC involves a LOT of walking, you see. And with my Parkinson’s, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep up. I was afraid of ruining the vacation. It preyed on my mind, heavier and heavier as the time got closer. I didn’t want to drag them down, or be in the way. I wanted My Son to see everything, learn everything, have the vacation of his young lifetime.
No pressure, right?
We stayed in a VRBO (which had a large painting of Adam and Eve in the garden before they discovered a need for fig leaves….I’ll let your mind wander on that one) in the hallway. It was this old Brownstone, homey and cozy. There were a few bumps (like, we couldn’t get the Colorado Avalanche games on the TV; fortunately, we brought our tablet), But overall it was nice to feel like we were going “home” at the end of the day. We made liberal use of the public transit systems, which again, had a few bumps, but overall very useful. And, yes, there was a LOT of walking. For the first 5 days, I pushed myself. Hard. I walked three to five miles worth of steps every day for the first five days. It was….hard. Mentally and physically. I wanted to be strong and healthy. I didn’t want to feel like I was giving up. At the end of each day, I had a bit of a minor breakdown, crying at how hard I had to try, how much of a challenge it was trying to push myself to my limit and then some.
On Saturday, we had a tour of the White House set up. I doubt I will ever be inside the White House again. I decided that I would rather enjoy the tour, revel in the history and the space, rather than worry about how hard I would have to push myself just to get through the tour. So we borrowed a wheelchair from the Secret Service.
(That’s a fun sentence, isn’t it? My Son was thrilled that we got to actually talk to a real-life secret service agent.)
The tour? It was amazing. I enjoyed every moment of it. We even saw a few things that others didn’t get to see because of that wheelchair. I don’t know if I am allowed to tell you about those, though. We weren’t allowed to take pictures back there. We did get to see part of the kitchen, though.
For the rest of our trip, I only walked between two and three miles a day, usually closer to two. Most places that you are there to visit (museums, for example) have wheelchairs you can borrow while you are in their space, so we did. I was in a much better mood, I tried when I could, rested when I needed. My Son even helped push the chair at the zoo, but got fired when he let go of me to tie his shoe, while I was going downhill, without telling me.
The thing is, all we can do is try our best. Have people by our side that will support us and enjoy having us along for the ride. Learn and know our physical and mental limits. Push the edges of those limits, but not so hard or so far that we have a breakdown, or spend our time and energy trying to be something we are not. Choices have to be made, as life changes, and all we can to is make the best choices we can with the information and circumstances we are given. There is no shame in that. That isn’t giving up. It’s growing.
Peace,
Kathie
It Has To Stop
I’m having trouble finding the words. But I have to try.
I did not want to drop my son off at school today. I wanted to keep him home, keep him safe.
I can’t begin to express the anger, the sadness, the horror, the despair I feel at the shooting in Texas yesterday. These were kids, 8-10 years old. They had their whole lives ahead of them. They have moms and dads, aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters, who will now have an unfillable hole in their heart, as long as they live. They have classmates and friends who should be thinking about learning to read, learning to write, learning math, deciding how to spend their recess. Instead, they are traumatized, afraid, saddened at the shooting and loss, marked by trauma perhaps for the rest of their lives.
I believe in the power of prayer, but it isn’t enough. Thoughts and prayers are nice and all, but they aren’t solving the problem.
People are getting shot in grocery stores, theaters, school, concerts, nightclubs. No place is safe. It is just a matter of time before each one of us is in some way or another involved in a mass shooting. It’s time. It’s past time.
I don’t think there is one simple solution, but we can’t let that stop us from trying something. Let’s start by looking at the easy availability of guns that are used to easily kill many people in quick succession. Is it really necessary to have those in the possession of the average human being? Can we look at balancing the desire to own a gun with the thought that killing a bunch of kids in a classroom shouldn’t be that easy? Why are the guns, all the guns, more important than the lives of our children? Is trying to prove that you are right so critical, that political posturing overshadows the actual issue? We as a country have lost sight of our priorities when we can’t sit down as civilized, rational human beings and come up with a list, even just 5 things, that we could agree to try to keep people from being able to walk into an elementary school and shoot at will.
Let’s look at gun control. Not banning guns altogether, maybe just universal background checks. Let’s look at the types of guns and ammunition that are readily available. Let’s look at our mental health system and see if something can be done there. Let’s look at the isolated kids, the ones getting bullied, the friendless. Let’s see if we can help them. Let’s find people who have had these violent thoughts and talk to them, see what got them to that point. Let’s remember that part of talking is listening to what they have to say.
These kids are the most innocent of our society. They deserve our protection. They deserve to be kept safe. They deserve to grow up. These children, these victims, don’t get that chance. It’s a tragedy, a travesty. It’s wrong.
We elect our government to be our voice, to preserve what works and fix the things that don’t work. There is quite a bit of gray area there, depending on which side of the aisle you sit on. Right now, it is the government that isn’t working, congress that isn’t getting things done. I keep hearing “No, that’s not the answer” without getting any suggestions about what the actual answer might be. What is not a gray area is the fact that children should be able to go to school without the fear, when they get out of the car or off the bus in the morning, that this time might be the last time they see their parents. Ever. And if Congress as it is right now is unable to fix that, maybe it is time for a change.
Write to your Representative. Write to your Senators. Write to them all. We need to be heard.
Kathie
Of Earth and People
About a month ago, a friend of mine had a going away party at his family’s home, about an hour north of Denver.
As you drive north of Denver, you leave the city behind and travel through towns sparsely placed between ranches, farms, grasslands full of livestock. This home we went to was one of those in between towns. We parked in a dirt field that contained a few well-worn trucks and a trailer or two. We were welcomed like family and walked into an old farmhouse, built in 1910, and full of character. There were memories sprinkled generously about the house in the form of knickknacks and books and various other things. The floors were raw wood, sanded smooth by long years of family footsteps. The farm was full of life, including 70 goats, 16 cats, 4 or 5 dogs, a horse, and one chicken.
Behind the house was an outbuilding that had been made of whatever was spare and lying around. Walls of weathered wood. a ceiling of burlap and netting and pieces of lumber, an old wood burning stove. Lightbulbs were strung together and hung up behind various shades that gave a warm glow to the place. On one end was a bar that was well made by someone’s hand. Scattered around were a few chairs made of other chairs, a workbench, a bed; an eclectic collection of stuff hung up on the walls. It felt like a great place to hide from the world, maybe with a friend, and read a book. Or write one. There wasn’t a lot of space….but there always seemed to be room for just one more person.
I had not met many of these folks before, but it didn’t seem to matter. We were there , we were invited, therefore we were welcome. Several people lived there. I got the impression that some of them wandered in and needed a place to stay and were given one. I’m sure it wasn’t really that simple, but the impression was that no body in need would be turned away. They were family, whether they were blood or not. Everyone was pitching in. They let the kids help feed the baby goats, which my son loved. It didn’t seem like they felt it was work, just something that needed done so they did it. The home was a place of love and cheer and warmth.
I kept thinking that they were people of the earth, like characters out of a Steinbeck novel. Another friend of mine said they reminded him of the Weasleys from Harry Potter. Lots of stuff everywhere and they were always warm and welcoming. It felt like walking into a different world from where I live. There is a certain draw in that lifestyle for me somehow. My Great Grandfather and Great Grandmother Thomas had a farm out in Nebraska a long time ago, maybe that feeling is in my blood. Oh, I don’t think for a moment that I have what it takes to make a farm or ranch successful. I could never brand an animal or help birth a cow. I tend to kill plants no matter how hard I try not to. But there was something out there, a feeling of a connection to the land, to the earth, to where I come from, that I feel like I am missing.
The people out there were just so—- real. Genuine. That drew me in also. How nice would the world be if we were able to extend a warmth, a welcome, a plate of food, a smile, to someone who needed it? Maybe we all need to reconnect to the earth, to each other, to the land, to whatever it is inside of us that makes us human. Maybe if we were better connected to the earth, we would take better care of it. And maybe, if we were better connected to each other, we would take better care of each other, too.
Peace,
Kathie
On Teaching
I love teachers.
I respect and admire teachers. They have a tough job. They have to herd 30 kids (plus or minus) for hours a day, trying to tame many different personalities into a cohesive unit that will work together to learn, play, and grow. I was teacher for a while, I get it.
I have known so many great teachers in my life. Mrs. Darcy at Fairmount Elementary. Mrs. Will, English teacher at Drake Jr. High. Mr. Moody, band teacher at Drake. Mr. Wendelin, AP English teacher at Arvada West High School. Just to name a few. These people believed in me, reached out to me, encouraged me. They shared my excitement, helped me understand new concepts. They were teachers I could go to with problems and questions of all sorts.
My Aunt Joan was a teacher. She was amazing. Well, she was an amazing person, but she was also an amazing teacher. In fact, she won Wyoming Teacher of The Year one year. Her enthusiasm for her job was evident every time she spoke of it.
Of course, there were some teachers that were not so great. My Humanistic Psychology Professor in college springs to mind. He taught exclusively from the text book and couldn’t expand or explore or defend the concepts beyond that. And I had a professor in grad school that didn’t speak to me for an entire week because I beat him at a game of cribbage.
My point is, there are good teachers and not-so-good teachers. I like giving teachers a free pass because I think they are generally under-appreciated and under-paid. I am learning, however, that I can no longer do that. Because sometimes? Sometimes kids need an advocate, and that means going into a situation without the rose colored glasses.
Most of the teachers I have known would bend over backwards to help a student who was behind. Some teachers, however, won’t always do the same for the kids who are ahead. I have known more than one student who is ahead, gets bored, and gets in trouble. They are told that it is somehow their responsibility to keep themselves busy when they are done with their work, their responsibility to not be a distraction, and their fault if they fail at these things. This leaves the student feeling like a burden and eventually tuning out of school altogether. It’s a pity and a waste. It is the teachers’ job to try to reach their students, no matter where they are on the learning curve. It is the students’ job to reach out for that, to try their best, to put in the effort.
And it is our job as parents, as adults, to be advocates for those students. No matter where or who they are. After all….the future may well depend on it.
Peace,
Kat
12 Years Ago
My Beautiful Son was born 12 years ago today. This is that story.
Because our son Stephen had been still-born a year and a few months previous at 36 1/2 weeks, my doctor wanted to induce me a week prior to my due date in case there were any issues. (Insert foreshadowing music here.) So on Friday, March 26, 2010, we went into the hospital to induce labor.
It didn’t work.
In spite of all our best efforts and a surprise visit to the delivery room by my Mother-In-Law (who unknown to us had decided to fly in from Nebraska to meet her newborn grandson—only to find out she had to wait), Michael decided the time was not yet right. We were discharged on the 27th. We spent the day walking, talking. playing on the WiiFit, trying to convince my son to enter the world.
We went back in to the hospital on the 28th (not my Mother-In-Law, she had to go home) to try again. I spent the night contracting, and all was moving right along. At about 7:10 on the morning of the 29th, Dr. Watson broke my water and Michael was on his way out. At about 7:20, the monitors checking his progress started going off and I was suddenly surrounded by a whole lot of medical people, getting me ready to be whisked out of the delivery room and into the operating room on the maternity ward, all the while assuring me that everything was going to be just fine.
Austin, who was texting everyone that it looked good, all was well, and we would probably be meeting Michael soon, looked up from his phone and I was gone.
Into the operating room I went. My doctor, Dr. Watson, was there prepping for a planned C-Section for another patient. They got bumped. He very calmly told me everything would be okay, that we had to get my baby out right away. Then he turned around and started getting his team ready. If not for that planned C-Section, he would have been in his office, in another building. As it was, he and his team and the room were ready.
The anesthesiologist (who seemed very tall) started to explain to me that we couldn’t do an epidural. I interrupted him, grabbed the mask. said, “There isn’t time,” put the mask over my nose and mouth, and breathed deep. (He came into my room and thanked me for this later.) The last thing I remember is praying. “Father God, this isn’t about me. Please protect my son. His life is in Your hands.”
Meanwhile. Austin was found by the doctor who delivered Stephen, who told him what was going on. He texted everyone. Mom made it to the hospital in about 5 seconds flat.
Every baby is given an APGAR Score when they are born. It stands for appearance, pulse, grimace (reflexes), activity, respiration. They like babies to be around an 8 when they are born. Babies in Colorado tend to be a bit lower, many are born a bit jaundiced because of the thin air. Michael’s score was a one.
When Austin was ushered in to meet our son, he was under some sort of large oxygen mask, and I was not sewn up yet from the C-Section. After I woke up and they brought our son to me. well, I sobbed. It was the single most emotional, amazing, miraculous moment of my life.
I was told later that the umbilical cord was tied in a true knot (a fact that all the doctors reacted to with amazement), so when Michael started down the birth canal, it tightened that knot and he lost all his life support. His heart rate had dropped to about 60 beats per minute. It all could have gone so much differently. But it didn’t. I am so very thankful. He was born at 7:30 a.m., March 29.
I sure do love that boy.
Isn’t life a miracle?
Peace,
Kat
I See You
I’ve been home with my non-covid sick son this week. One day, he wanted to make himself some lunch, so he put some tomato soup and some milk in a saucepan, turned the heat on high, and left the kitchen.
I moved quickly to the kitchen when I heard the soup boiling over onto the stove.
I cleaned up the mess ( he was sick or he would have done it), and it got me thinking. Here is this mess, which nobody saw, that I would clean up, which also nobody would see. It made me think of my mom, who has always kept a spotless house. How many messes has she thanklessly cleaned? How many days, years, has she spent cleaning and tidying, cooking and dusting, scrubbing and washing and ironing, with little to no appreciation and acknowledgement?
How many other parents are out there, doing the same thing?
I wondered if lack of acknowledgement is what leads to dissatisfaction in the home, in relationships, at work. Oh, I don’t expect a “thank you” for every mess I clean, every nose I wipe, every floor I sweep. But at work, the things I do are tangible, I can see the progress, people visibly benefit from what I do there. That soup mess on the stove? Nobody knew it was there. The stove was just as clean after as it was before. Someone benefits, they just don’t realize that they do. It seems that after a while, when the home is kept at a certain level of cleanliness, for example, that it becomes expected. To the point that the lack of cleanliness is what is noticed, therefore criticized, rather than the daily cleanliness being appreciated.
I think that most people, to varying degrees, want to be seen. Some by someone, some by everyone, seldom or always, but they want to be seen. And Appreciated.
To all you mothers, doing their best for their kids while cooking the meals, doing the laundry, cleaning the house, and keeping your sanity—I see you.
To all the fathers, doing the same thing and getting told how nice it is that you babysit your kids—I see you.
To all of you out there holding down jobs, trying your best to provide for yourself and those that you love, while maintaining some sort of balance in your lives—I see you.
To the folks out of work or retired, trying to figure out how to fill your time, or marveling that you are still so busy even without a job—I see you.
To the kids, and the young folks, trying to navigate this world full of lock-down-drills, pandemics, social media—I see you.
I see you on the streets, in tents, in the cold. You are in your homes, in your cars, at your desk, at work. You are in your own world walking down the sidewalk, in your yard, at the park, getting groceries. I see you.
The question I am asking is……Who am I not seeing? Every day in my life, what do I not see?
“Give me your eyes for just one second. Give me your eyes so I can see
Everything that I’ve been missing, give me your love for humanity.
Give me your arms for the broken-hearted, the ones that are far beyond my reach.
Give me your heart for the one forgotten, give me your eyes so I can see.”
~Give Me Your Eyes, by Brandon Heath
Peace,
Kat
Things I Don’t Understand
There are some things in this world that I just don’t understand. For example, I’ve always had a bit of trouble with Newton’s Second Law. (That’s your homework….look it up.)
I don’t understand Bitcoin. From what I can tell, it’s a Bit of Nothing that They decided was worth Something. Who are “They” and how did they get to decide that this Bit of Nothing was actually Something worth a whole lot of money? Can it be counterfeited? What keeps you from just deciding that you have more of it? How do you know how much you have? Where does it come from? Where does it go? How do you spend it? How do you get it? What do you do with it? Why does it exist? I want to come up with a Limited Bit of Nothing that turns out to be a Big Something worth a lot of money. I like to think I do a decent job of keeping up with technology, but this one is beyond my understanding.
I don’t understand how people can look straight in the face of tried-and-true science and simply say, “nuh-uh” and mean it. Look. The earth is round. Vaccines work, they are why we no longer see polio, among so many other things. Mankind has stepped on the moon. Sandy Hook happened. 9/11 was engineered by terrorists. Global Warming is real. The real Paul McCartney is still alive. Elvis is dead. The Covid Pandemic is real—people are dying. Many, many people.
I don’t understand how a person can see another person and decide they are good or bad, ignorant or informed, smart or stupid, honest or shifty, solely based on the color of their skin.
I don’t understand why some folks feel it is their right, or duty, or privilege, or need, to take the lives of others. Particularly children, or people shopping, or watching a movie. Or just going about their lives. I really wish I understood this one—at least, I wish somebody did. Enough to stop it from happening.
I don’t understand how to Give Things Over To God. As a Christian, I am supposed to do this. But I don’t know how to not worry. I know what it looks like when I don’t do it, but I don’t know how to do this thing.
There is one thing I do understand, though. That is, when things get rough, you just have to say a prayer and keep trying. With all that you have. Just tie a knot at the end of that rope and hold on.
Peace,
Kathie
Culpability & Hope
I feel I need to start this one with a disclaimer: I am not victim-blaming. I think that, while someone may be able to make a case for one specific crime or another to actually be the victim’s fault, I feel that is an exception, not the rule. Now, that being said….
Is it possible to not be at fault, and still be culpable? Can you, as a victim of a crime, be absolutely not to blame and still accept some responsibility? For example. I’ve been seeing on Next Door a rise in vehicle thefts. Some of these were because the owner left the keys in and the car running and went inside to get something they forgot. Some of those running cars were taken right out of the garage. I do not believe this is the fault of the car owner, but rather of those people who believe it is acceptable to help themselves to other people’s belongings. At the same time, this crime could have been prevented by not leaving the keys in a running car. Is it victim-blaming to point that out? Does the car owner not have at least some culpability?
Can one be somewhat culpable but not at fault? Am I quibbling too much over semantics?
Let’s do another example. This one is touchy. Ready? A woman is walking down the street and gets attacked. What are the first questions that generally get asked? Was it dark? Was she alone? Was it a dangerous neighborhood? What was she wearing? It’s as if she deserved to be attacked if she gives a “wrong” answer to any of those questions. She didn’t, any more than the other example deserved to get their car stolen. Could the attack have been prevented? Probably. Does that make it her fault? No way. Not at all. Does she bear some responsibility because the attack could have been prevented? Does she?
The truth is, we sometimes conduct our lives as if we live in a society that functions the way we think it should. It would be nice if I could leave that car for just a moment, walk down the street without fear, not lock my house and set the alarm when I leave, not have a password for every little thing I do on line. The reality is, we don’t live in that world. We live in a world where the worst can and does happen, and we have to be prepared and guard against that. Does that make the crimes themselves our fault? Not if we aren’t the ones committing them. But we do have to face reality and do our best to not be vulnerable. I am not advocating living in fear; there has to be a balance between paranoia and fear on one side, and protecting yourself on the other.
Don’t despair, though. It isn’t as bleak as it sounds. In any tragedy, as Mr. Rogers said, look for the helpers. There is hope in that, because they are always there. They are there in everyday life also. There is hope in donating time, goods, and money to fire victims, just as there is hope is shoveling someone’s walk or raking their leaves. There is hope in stopping just for a moment to smile and listen, whether you think you have time or not. There is hope in taking time out of your day to give it to someone who needs it. There is hope. It doesn’t have to start with the next generation.
It can start today. With you. Be some’s hope.
Peace,
Kat
On Friendship
“Maybe there aren't any such things as good friends or bad friends - maybe there are just friends, people who stand by you when you're hurt and who help you feel not so lonely. Maybe they're always worth being scared for, and hoping for, and living for. Maybe worth dying for too, if that's what has to be. No good friends. No bad friends. Only people you want, need to be with; people who build their houses in your heart.” —Stephen King, It
This is one of my favorite quotes.
Who are your friends? Who has a home in your heart? How did they get there? How long have they stayed?
My view of friendship has changed over the years.
See, I used to believe that friendship meant that whatever you liked, they liked, that your beliefs were similar, your views of the world were in sync. I felt that since I try to live by The Golden Rule. that my friends would not only do the same, but treat me exactly as I wanted to be treated. And I got easily offended when this turned out not to be true.
I have learned that is unfair and unrealistic.
How nice it is to have friends that are different from me, it gives me a chance to see life and the world from a different point of view. Oh sure, there has to be commonalities. But not everything. After all, how boring would life be if we were all alike?
I am sorry when I think of the opportunities for friendship that I missed over the years because my heart was closed, or my eyes were blind, or my attitude was bad.
I am blessed with some truly fabulous friends. They love me just as I am. And I love them, just as they are. They don’t always do things the way I would, or think they should, or wish they would. But until recently, I didn’t truly put aside that judgement in my head and appreciate with my heart. My heart is full, my life is rich, thanks to my friends. There is the friend that invited me into the group, whether I wanted in or not. There is the musician, the book lover, the observer, all who make my world a better place. I’ve got an amazing Theatre Geek and IT Geek, and a lawyer. There is even a Chiefs fan who is near and dear to my heart. I’m grateful for friends from high school, with whom I can share smiles and memories. My Mom, who is one of my best friends. My Siblings, who are beyond friends. And of course, Austin. My Best Friend.
All these people have built a place in my heart. I don’t need anything from them….well….a hug now and again is lovely….but I know without a doubt, that if I do need someone just to be with, sit in silence with, have tea with, they are there. They will stand by me, just as I would stand by them. That isn’t just enough.
It’s everything.
Peace,
Kat
A Soapbox
Last Sunday was Sanctity of Life Sunday. Basically, it means that at church there is a sermon about how all life is sacred, specifically centered on abortion, (we did not get that sermon, I am thankful for that) and prayers about abortion.
For the record, I do not agree with abortion. WAIT! Don’t go!
I also don’t believe that a 13 year old girl who has been raped and is now pregnant should be forced to have that child. I don’t believe that a woman who has a tubal pregnancy should have to jump through hoops to terminate that pregnancy. I don’t believe that a woman whose child is going to be born brain dead should have to carry to term if she doesn’t want to do so.
I do have issues with using abortion for birth control. But I am not sure I have the right to tell someone they can’t do that. It seems to me that one issue at the core of this debate is when you believe life begins. If you believe that life begins at conception, you may be more likely to question abortion. But, I can’t regulate how you feel about the beginning of life. And, I think abortion is hard on the woman and anyone else involved. It seems like compassion would be the way to go, here. I have thankfully never been in a position where I had to make that decision. Who knows how I, or any of us, would choose if we were not, or are not, in that position.
The problem with the whole debate is everyone is too busy talking and listening to themselves and not spending enough time listening to anyone else. I think they are all going about this wrong. Can’t we all agree that it would be great if the need for abortion was less? Then let’s meet in the middle and figure out how to make that happen. What we need to do is eliminate the need for abortions as much as we can. Let’s put our heads together and figure out why so many women are getting pregnant with babies they don’t want or can’t keep, and solve those problems. More sex education, perhaps. And teaching our people young and old that No means No. I’m sure it would be a long list.
Now. Here is my issue with Sanctity of Life Sunday. If you are preaching that Life is Sacred, then all life has to be included in that. You want to save the babies? Are you also going to make sure they have a safe home to grow up in? If not, this Sunday is just about abortion. Are you also against the death penalty? Because I don’t feel like you can be against abortion because you feel life is sacred and also be for the death penalty at the same time. If life is sacred, then all life is sacred.
Peace,
Kathie
Resolutions
It’s that time of year again! Time for those New Year’s Resolutions!
Yeah….I don’t make New Year’s Resolutions. More power to you if you do, I just find them problematic.
According to Forbes Magazine, only 8% of Resolutions are kept by year’s end. Why is that?
It seems to me that it is intimidating to commit to change for an entire year, let alone expect it to carry over to a lifetime of corrected behavior or lifestyle change. Also, they tend to be vague in nature. “This year, I am going to loose weight.” What does that look like? How will you do it? Diet? Exercise? How much weight? Will you also resolve to keep it off?
And when you don’t loose weight, or eat better, or exercise more, it can make you feel like a failure at the end of a month, or two, and you (we) give up. I find it to be very self-defeating.
Instead, try shorter term, more concrete goals. “This month, I am giving up caffeine.” “Thus month, I am going to exercise 30 minutes a day three times a week.”
Still to much? Try this. “Today, I am not going to eat any sugar.’ “Today, I am not going to loose my temper.”
Then, when you succeed in those goals, you have a feel-good victory to build on. “I did good yesterday/last week/last month. I can do it again. Maybe even add something small to it.” But if you don’t do so well, hey….it’s one day, and you can try again tomorrow.
The thing is, if you want to change something, just change it. Don’t wait for New Year’s to do it. Wake up in the morning, Rise and Shine and start your yoga, make your bed, eat a healthy breakfast. Whatever it you want you change, do it or don’t. It’s up to you. Waiting for a special day to make a resolution is, to me, much like waiting for Valentine’s Day to tell someone you love them. (But that’s a post for another day.)
But, and here is the kicker, you have to truly want it, in your heart of hearts. Or nothing will change. It is how I quit smoking. It is how I stopped my destructive drinking behavior. I truly, truly wanted it to change.
My faith helped too.
So, start today. It isn’t too late.
“Today, I will go for a walk. Today, I will stay calm. Today, I will work hard. Today, I will relax. Today, I will be kind.”
Today.
Happy New Year,
Kat
Pajama Party
I love Thanksgiving.
I don’t mean to be insensitive to the troubled history of the holiday itself, but I do love Thanksgiving Day. I love the family and the gathering and the planning. I love the smells and the sounds. I love listening to the assorted conversations, the music of the laughter, the same comments and questions that I hear every year. “It sure smells like Thanksgiving in here!” “I hope there is enough food!” (There is always more than enough.) “Everything looks delicious!” “MOM! Can you help with the gravy?!) (My mom makes excellent gravy, I have never been able to do that.) “Everything is perfect!”.
And at Thanksgiving, it seems like everything is perfect. Surrounded by family, with so many blessings to count.
Except this year, Thanksgiving was stressful. Covid interfered with people’s plans, and it took a while for anyone to be sure if they were coming or not. Had someone been exposed? Is it safe? Who have we been in contact with? (Spoiler: everybody is fine.) It is difficult to plan a large meal when you are never sure how many are coming. I ended up with a delightful day with my sister, Child #2, and her wonderful family, and a surprise visit from my brother (Child #3), but I missed those that couldn’t be there. And I have to say, I didn’t enjoy the stress of it.
Therefore, we have decided to do Christmas a bit differently. We are going to get up and open gifts, have a simple but tasty breakfast, and then….relax. We plan on staying in our jammies all day and just enjoying each other and the day. We are going to watch movies and play games. And for Christmas Dinner, we will get some nice meat and cheese and bread and make sandwiches. We will have fruit and veggie trays, maybe some deviled eggs, maybe even some fudge or some toffee.
Because, you see, that will help to shift the focus of the holiday from stress and a big meal back to what it really is about. I believe that God sent Jesus to Earth to teach us how to love one another. After all, Christ was sent here out of love, and we are told to love one another just as God loved us. So even if you don’t believe in Christ, you can believe in the love that he represents. And that is what this season should be about. So that is how we are spending Christmas Day.
If you are reading this, you are invited. Would you like to come to our pajama party? Feel free to show up in pajamas. Come because you love me, come because you have nothing else to do, come because you have nowhere else to go, come because we haven’t seen each other in years, come because you want to enjoy the simplicity of a pajama day. We can drink hot chocolate, eat a sandwich, chat, watch a movie, play a game. And celebrate love, in Comfort and Joy.
Let me know if you need my address.
Peace,
Kat