Tis' The Season

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Tis’ The Season for the holiday season.

From November 24 to January 1, everyone is in a frantic festival mood, on ladders stringing their abodes with flashing lights and strange objects that would get them arrested during the summer and urgently trying to purchase items beyond our budget buying affection from people we only see during this time of year.

It is the time of overindulgence and slovenly attitude, dressing up in costumes and eating too much poultry.

There is even special music for celebrating the last of the year

(Note: recording a Christmas song includes the artist into the royalties of all that performed that song before. Not a bad gig)

A time for family and friends to gather exchanging pleasantries and wrapped surprises, acting as if the roof didn’t leak or Aunt Sally wasn’t moving to an assisted living facility close to you which would require you to go and visit regularly or your son-in-law can not find a job or the scent that may distract others goes unnoticed or the new administrative assistant seemed to be giving extra attention during the Christmas party or the bill for the braces to your daughter was due or you wonder why the curtains needed to be changed just to impress the in-laws as if they need to be guided into a belief that your spouse married a righteous provider or wearing the green and red vest with reindeer and snow flakes that is too tight and would not match the 10 best looks in GQ or either saying the wrong thing to a neighbor trying to give some holiday cheer that will be regretted for another year or dropping a nickel into the red pot fulfilling your commitment to give to charity or giving your kids more than you can afford in hopes of buying their warmth or falling asleep during the evening gathering or forgetting the words to “Jingle Bells” with a bourbon in your hand or laying in the snow to make a snow angle and not being able to get up or hoping this time of year was over.

It will be soon.

Tis’ The Season.

Given Name

 

What single word identifies you?

The one word that identifies YOU is your “given” name.

Given to you at birth, due to the requirements at the hospital at conception or state registration licensing, hopefully by the people who spawned you, this one word will be carried to the grave.

Your “given” name has lots of different origins and definitions and your “given” name can designate your existence on this planet.

Now your last name is a family name declaring which clan you came from, but the “given” name, your first name, is chosen and handed to you without your approval.

So I looked up some of my friend’s names and was somewhat surprised.

(* Editors note: I never went through this process of identifying another human being, so this was a bit interesting to me.)

Many of the names were Hebrew from the Christian “Good Book”. Names like prophets and chapters reveling “The Lord is God” or “Beloved” or “God is Gracious” or "Who is like God”.

Some were ancient Britannia like “Artos” or Greek meaning “Water” or “Crown”.

I know where mine came from thought the researched meaning is now very exciting.

“Riverbank” is the earliest destination of the meaning, but in the geology of my ancestry it probably fits. It seems my clan wandered up through Europe selling salt.

The significances of my name come from the person I was named after. An uncle I never met who downed his plane in the Pacific during World War II.

At first I was not very happy with the name because it was rough like a “Bob” or “Butch” or “Hank” but over the years I recognize the honor of wearing his name.

But what’s up with hit middle name?

Not the name that everyone calls you. That’s the first name, your given name.

Not the last name that is the family name, usually from your father’s side. Everyone in the family carries that name. Even mom changed her last name to his name when she got married. That is part of the rules.

But like “middle school” is not elementary school or high school, but caught in the middle what’s up with a “middle” name?

And yet, those few years were probably more formidable than we would like to think.

So what the heck is a middle name?

On applications, all they want is an initial. Does that make the “middle” name less important?

Some are silly combinations with the first name like “Joe Bob” or “ Peggy Sue” which indicates the family couldn’t decide what to call you.

And some decide to keep all the names presented to them or even in extreme fascination to recreate their personal identity, legal change the word that is used for a call to attention in a crowd of others.

And that special word, used so many times to identify so many others, is your “given” name.

Embrace it for it is who you are.

Biding My Time

When are you the most comfortable? What do you do on your “free” time?

Sitting back and entertaining you without a schedule to meet or someone to see or chores to do we bid our time?

Sounds like “lazy doesn’t it? Yet, this is the time that we all say, “We don’t have enough of” and hold as precious. But do we really?

As soon as there is a little time on your own to do whatever you want without any restrictions, what happens?

Turn to the electronic distractions to waste what freedom there is.

And when you don’t need any clothing or furniture or transportation or communication or housing or food and there is no one else around to interfere with your “free” time or ask you to share in his or her projects or wishes, what do you do?

When the pile of dirty cloths can wait or the spider webs don’t bother or kicking around dust balls becomes familiar, then one realizes I’m just biding my time.

Listening for the Rain

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Nine o’clock seems the time to retrieve consciences. The repetitive syndrome seems to reappear. Awakening to liquid and a lighted word, wrapped in old clothing. Taking a look around the foliage and detecting the delicate changes while preparing for another long voyage. Strange sense awakens the thought that this could be the last time of viewing the familiar. Crumbling over the long gravel road to the city. Stop to review the cloud patterns and the change in seasons. Deep breathe and begin Yesterdays news is resting in plastic wrap awaiting someone to unfold and review what is already known. And the hill waits. Sunday pattern turns a different direction. More traffic than normal, but patience is a virtue. Indian summer brings dripping water but a smile at the refresh station. A turn and down the opulent neighborhood to two lads walking in the sunshine. Another turn to another slow downhill past the volumes of knowledge with an unused card. The dogs don’t bark here. And the hill waits. Traveling onward into the darkness of the last shade enjoying the waterfall of leaves. The street is paved now but the way is still bumpy. Fresh smells of coffee with the clink of dishes and conversations at a pause for light. The children play in the sunshine. Another rider passes in more of a hurry or to meet a tattooed deadline. And the hill waits. Perhaps taking a different route as last week, but return to the lane of streetlights. No one is walking? The shirt and sweatshirt is wet now. This is supposed to be fall. Wait for traffic when the street narrows. And the hill waits. A final water break is taken before the assent that stands before. Not a remarkably tall or even evil climb, but a constant incline bears witness to last weeks overwhelming attempt to catch air. Today was a continuous push without shifting gears or stopping. Success! Glide back into the quiet and remove the traveling equipment.

Another morning travel to refresh the mind and body.

Tonight, with the streetlight flashing off and on and the neighbor coming home to let her dogs pee and the other neighbor putting up candle lights and the runner going down the street while the jet flies overhead, the carpet of leaves catch the first sound of the rain that was felt earlier. Rocking and resting and listening for the rain.

Three is the Perfect Pair

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What? A pair is two. Maybe this is supposed to be pear? Or maybe pare?

Think about this.

Get your head out of the gutter. This is not about an Ménage à trois.

But we have all done it.

You meet a person. Boy or girl. You become friends. You hang around together and become a pair.

Then one of you meets another person.

Perhaps introduce that person to the first person.

So why is this the perfect pair?

With two people, there are mutual agreements and easily shared conversations, but a third person brings tension.

A pair can become romantically involved or become couples with another pair, but not with a trio.

The third person is the odd person out raising conflict to any situation.

Three is the Perfect Pair.

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Couples

You probably don’t realize it, but couples have an interesting interaction and conversational quality about them.

Just being a couple means you know each other better than anyone else. You know secrets and share experiences that only the two of you will ever be able to relate to.

Couples have pet names for one another created on some quirky reference only intended for special meaning.

Some couples are so close they their names become intertwined, like Fred and Ginger, Bonnie and Clyde or even Tom and Jerry.

People lose their individuality to become a couple. In the setting of being a couple some seemingly deep-set values and beliefs are altered to compensate the other.

Couples may laugh together or finish each others sentences with familiarity, but certain subjects or topics of conversation that were openly discussed before are foreboded.

Couples who have been together for a long time even mimic each others patterns.

Having not had a “couple” relationship early in life, like having a girlfriend or going steady, my first experience was getting married.

Marriage puts a contract announcing that the two people of legally a couple, but a couple of what’s?

Since there are no classes on marriage the only reference is your own family. What made mom and dad a couple?

Well it’s too late for that. No one said how things might change.

So to all the couples out there, please continue. I’m enjoying the discovery of watching and listening and learning.

Spend Your Life Avoiding Boredom

Have you ever sat alone with no distractions?

No meetings to go to.

No family requirements.

No appointments or deadlines

Just alone, by yourself.

Left to your own devices.

Some call this boredom, actually many call this time as being bored.

Nothing to do?

So we have to go somewhere or do something to keep ourselves entertained and amused until exhaustion forces us to rest.

Certain activities take up some of the time, like eating and working and producing waste, yet much of our time is spent avoiding boredom.