Where Are You Going To When You Go Home?

Again, a morbid thought, but I just saw a program about mountain people going back to be buried in their family plot. I guess that continues the history of the family, but like all families we split and go our own separate ways.

It just seems when we all lived down in the hollows with brothers and sisters and grandparents close by to gather for dinners and celebrations of holidays and enjoy in the music and dancing, we should all be buried close to each other. Then on family gatherings, the children could be introduced to their forefathers lying under the ground.

There might be names and dates etched in stone to identify the beloved family member. There may be symbols or a statement trying to describe the dead. “Best Cook In Four Counties” or “Good Knitter” or “Walked Miles in the Marathon” could be the statements that tell the tale of the departed.

If you have ever looked up your family tree, you can find names and locations and birth records (sometimes) but there is very little about the hobbies, favorite drinks, best friends, broken hearts, faith or political persuasion. With only an etched stone the names and the memories will fade with the generations.

In far away vacant lots, behind the trees and overgrown with vines there are lost relatives in ancient family plots. Where will you go when it’s time for you to go?

and the question goes, why do they put a fence around a graveyard?

Have You Ever Noticed?

Have You Ever Noticed?

When you watch a movie

No one pays attention

to you now.

When the movie starts up

And the lights go down dark

No one pays attention

to you now

Have you ever noticed?

When you watch a movie

There is no companion

by your side

You may share the popcorn

While you watch the movie

There is no connection

To the room of friends

There is a title

There is a trailer

There is a setup

By the movie screen

But now you’re captured

Inside this movie

It doesn’t matter

What the story means

And when the movie

Is gone and finished

Does anybody

Remember the name

Of the leading character

Who save the village

Or the leading lady

Who was put to shame

Sit in the dark room

And eat your popcorn

It doesn’t matter

Who wins or lose

Back in the daylight

You don’t remember

But life goes on

with the second reel

 These words are to be sung

Feeble

Around this time of year of gathering with family and friends, some people are invisible to the outside world. They lurk in the shadows but do not join in the festivities.

Those people we shun and put away and shut the door to reality. Sure we feed them some crumbs of society that makes us feel better like giving to the local orchestra or SPCA.

Idiot, simple minded, disable, imbecile, retard, feeble minded, dumb, mental deficiency… all names used through the ages to describe people who are sons and daughters of some parents who could not adjust beyond the normal.

These are the people we do not want to see at the country club. These are the people we do not want dating our daughter. These are the people who take longer to do the job or finish the schoolwork. Society declares that these are the different people. 

With all the other painful words we use to describe what we don’t understand; these words are also used as a social deterrent. Kids on the schoolyard are called these words to shame them. If he or her missed a foursquare bounce they are an “idiot”. If he or her misses a arithmetic answer they are “simple minded”. If he or her strikes out they are a “retard” or if he or she makes a bad move in Monopoly it is called a “dumb” move.

As we grow up; these words are replaced by (what is called) “curse words”. In proper conversation; none of these words are used but somehow we pick them up. Each gets a reaction so we keep using them.

Some grow out of the use of these words to express themselves and some make it part of our daily communication. Some are still expressions to emphasize a point and some are just used when a hammer hits our finger.

With all the veterans coming home wounded with sorts of ailment, do we describe them as “feeble”? Instead, we call them “heroes”.

And as we get older and our bodies do not respond the way they used to, we become what is called “feeble”. Weakness of body brings us new challenges. Old age also brings us whole new sets of harmful words.

Old, aged, decrepit, weak, weakly, weakened, frail, infirm, delicate, sickly, ailing, unwell, poorly, enfeebled, enervated, debilitated, incapacitated, decrepit, etiolated, challenged, disabled, incapacitated, invalid, paralyzed, broken-down, decrepit; impotent, powerless; breakable, flimsy, fragile, dizzy, groggy, rocky, rickety, unsteady, woozy, drained, exhausted, flagging, tired, weary, worn-out, damaged, harmed, hurt, impaired, injured, lame, unsound, resistless, susceptible, vulnerable, yielding… call your grandmother one of these.

Making Out

I loved ‘making out’. It was the exploratory innocence between two strangers. It was beyond the kiss under the mistletoe and less than going all the way.

Once you pass that point of just being giggling around each other and longing for the kiss to continue

Sometime just called kissing, petting, or necking it was the method for each other to express their passion and investigate their curiosity for hours.

Why stop at a kiss? Certainly one gets further when one adopts "pawing" as well, which, after all, doesn't make a baby. And then bolder ones will come along who will go further.

Studies indicate that at the beginning of the 20th century, premarital sex increased, and with it, petting behavior in the 1920s.

The sexual connotations of the phrase ‘make out’ appear to have developed in the 1930s and 1940s from the phrase's other meanings of ‘to succeed’. Originally, it meant ‘to seduce’ or ‘to have sexual intercourse with’.

By the postwar period, necking and petting became accepted behavior in mainstream American culture, as long as the partners were seriously dating.

‘Making out’ is usually considered an expression of affection or sexual attraction. An episode of making out is frequently refers to kissing, including prolonged, passionate, open-mouth kissing (also known as French kissing), and intimate skin-to-skin contact.

 The term can also refer to other forms of foreplay such as heavy petting, which typically involves some genital stimulation, but usually not the direct act of penetrative sexual intercourse.

The perceived significance of ‘making out’ may be affected by the age and relative sexual experience of the participants. Teenagers sometimes play party games in which making out is the main activity as an act of exploration. Games in this category include ‘seven minutes in heaven’ and ‘spin the bottle’.

Teenagers may have had social gatherings in which ‘making out’ was the predominant event. These make-out parties were generally not regarded as sex parties, though heavy petting may have been involved, depending on the group.

Maybe I just liked the adventure instead of the prize.

What Are You Returning?

Sure it was fun opening all those gifts, but did you really want them. Now it is the day after Christmas and you need to work off some of those pounds, so why not take them all back?

That wonderful bathrobe you got from your husband who doesn’t have a clue, drop it back in the box rather than in the back of the closet. That tie given to you by your kids, maybe as a prank, needs to hang around someone else’s neck. Those headphones that are all the rage except for grandma go back to the store.

Think of it as another present or cash. Get what you really asked Santa for. Maybe that wide screen television was wide enough. Maybe you can trade in that goofy sweater for two goofy sweaters with the double dip drastic after season discounts.

If the gift had a special meaning or a wonderful card showing the giver really thought it was perfect for you, you got to keep it. You can say it was the thought that counted but they might want to see that ancient urn on your dining room table the next time they visit.

A gift from someone special you got to keep it. It may be an ugly piece of jewelry or that sports team t-shirt or an apron because you cook on the grill. None of these gifts can be returned. They cannot even be hidden. They must be shown and appreciated. As bad as it may seem to appear now, think of how the stories will go with your children and their children.

Remember that goofy sweater dad us to wear every Christmas? It must have been given to him years before we were born. Then your grandmother will smile. Smile a goofy smile.

What a difference a day makes

December 26: Just another day in just another life.

Wake up to sunshine and classics. Coffee and more Christmas photos on social network but there is something different. No Christmas Songs! Phew.

Not hungry from eating all that Christmas dinner, I could just stay in my comfy clothes or I could go to the gym? Being so stuffed I should go to the gym. It is still cold outside so I should stay in my comfy.

Naturally I break somewhere in the middle and ride to the store. Rational is that I do get a little exercise and fresh air and I get out of my sweats until I get back.

The traffic is mild and the sunshine feels good. Not too cold and not to windy. Lock up and find a cart. The little ones are missing so I expect another crowd. Instead I find the store almost empty.

Without the cranky Christmas craziness, there are a few wandering around like myself. There is the pizza I was looking for the other day but couldn’t find. I’m tired of pizza. Maybe some meat to go with the one roll I have left? Maybe a salad?

I wheel over to the deli section and notice there is not a big staff in the kitchen area. Then I notice there are no salads. Not even leftovers. No one had prepared a salad for me today. Not even a sandwich. Stinky cold fried chicken, NO!

There is a salad bar I could load, but I had my mind set on a pre-pared salad.

I could even get a head of lettuce, some tomatoes, a pepper or two and make my own salad. Naw, that is too much work.

So the quick trip is over and I’m back in my comfy sweats. I feed the yard and enjoy their antics. Thankfully the carols are over and the cowboys are back on the air. The trash is put out. Filled up on microwave red beans and rice. Phew! What a day.

Tomorrow is supposed to be a little warmer and still sunny. Will I do anything more exciting? We’ll see what motivates me.

Christmas-For-One

Yes, I know it is a pattern, yet family and friends do not surround some on this over-popularized holiday. It is a wonderful celebration for all and I don’t mind the decorations and songs and even the attempts to gather money for funds that are there all year round but no one noticed.

The day starts with the children awake before dawn trying to get downstairs to the lighted tree with all the wonders soon to be realized under it. Sleepy parents who have spent the evening wrapping the surprises that wait hold them back.

The rush for greedy consummation attacks the paper with passionate tears as if panic for some unexplainable want. Piles of rumpled colored paper reveal watches and socks and sweaters and a toothbrush and perhaps a book that will never be read or some unforgettable toy. Breathless at the end of the attack, the booty is arranged for a camera shoot and then put under the tree for all visitors to view.

And they will come around. For Christmas is a time to invite all to view the wealth under the tree. Everyone will come by to enjoy the food and drink spread out but are not impressed by the packages under the tree because they did not get the same booty.

Maybe Christmas is for pirates? Maybe we are just so self-absorbed with greed that whatever the wrapped box holds is never enough?

Now Christmas-for-one makes a level playing field. There is no one else around to put up the lights and purchase a tree and decorate with old family memories and buy cards for people you don’t remember and buy tubes of badly designed paper that runs out too fast or makes eggnog because it is too much trouble so you just drink it straight out of the bottle and forget about the egg and don’t wake up early because it is just another day.

Christmas, the twenty-fifth of December, will come no matter what. The entire town is shut down and the morning is pretty quiet as families gather together to enjoy their rewards for being nice. By the afternoon, if the weather is right, they vacate their abodes to show off their abundance.

A Christmas-for-one is different. At least it is at my house.

I had thought about going back to Williamsburg for a solstice celebration. I checked online and ‘the’ hotel where we stayed was no longer open. I could go to another hotel because they all are alike, but decided I had done that trip and could close the book.

Instead, I settled into my December 25^th routine. The day is sunny and bright and cold. A cup of coffee, strange text message from who-knows-where and a journey through other’s Christmas mornings on social media prepares me for my next assignment. Gathering my bag of goodies and putting on another layer, I venture the empty streets to the local park. The geese and birds greet me with wonder of seeing someone else up. Then again they might recognize me from last year. I spread out their treats and step back. As I stand in silence watching them consume a buffet of nuts and berries and seed and bread. Within a few quiet minutes they are back to their usual routine and I’m on my way home.

Warming back up with another cup of coffee, I update the happenings on Facebook. Everyone post cute pictures and warm wishes but I know those guys working today or standing in line at the food kitchen are not in the same mood.

So I download some Christmas pass pictures and search unsuccessfully for a CD of Christmas guitar, and then wander out to my yard babies. Today, being Christmas, there are some more treats that only happen for the holiday. The expensive seed that is already cracked and blended with nuts and corn and whatever goes into that bag is spread out in various locations. Of course sunflower seeds are provided for the oils against the cold. What would Christmas be without peanuts and today’s treats are hazelnuts. They will figure it out. And they do.

Now that all my Santa chores are taken care of, I take a look at Christmas past and find some unique items I had not noticed before.

According to the date, this picture was developed two months after Christmas in 1964, so it must have been the 1963 Christmas. A president has just been assassinated; the equal rights for all humans’ movements were starting, and Santa was very abundant to our family. The tree was kind of scrawny but it was a small living room. I believe the bag on the archway held a fur coat. I also see we started getting the World Book series that were out of date as soon as they were printed. There are three stockings on the mantle so one of them must have been for dad or I had another brother that I don’t remember. It is strange looking into the dining room because I don’t remember that weird 50’s wallpaper. Something’s you don’t remember and some you do. I still have that picture on the wall. It was a print by some famous guy of doves. It is around here somewhere. And I got my first guitar. Well, actually it was a baritone ukulele with a string cord as a strap.

This second image of Christmas past has the wallpaper in the dinning room I remember. There are now two stockings on the mantle and the tree is a live tree. Well, not really live because we cut it down. One year I even tried to plant a live tree in front of the house. I’m weird that way. The bike, I believe was constructed downstairs while I was waiting for Santa. It was a replacement for a stolen or broken or something happened to my old bike. It was a single speed, big fat seat and had this funky light in the front. I think this is after my brother graduated from college because it looks like some kind of NASA jacket there. It looks like the tradition of hanging all the Christmas cards we had been mailed had started to impress everyone who entered. Looks like I was fairly young because there is a Fort Apache box and some sort of rifle. I don’t remember having a rifle, not like the real ones my brother had, but maybe I just broke it and it went into the trash.

This may have been 1962 but I’m not sure. There are pictures of my brother’s class ring and probably his diploma next to the tree. Has to be his because I never got a class ring. The empty fireplace has a gas heater that I don’t remember ever using. Mom must have been playing golf then because I see a pull cart and golf balls. She also got a coffee pop. That pretty wraps up my mom for that time period. There is a jigsaw puzzle, probably for dad, a white shirt and an atlas, and a big stuffed dog. I had asked Santa for a dog that year and this is what I got. It looks like a basketball in the pile. This must have been around the time my dad built a basketball hoop in the yard on the cement slab where the cars were parked. I never found any interest in basset ball so that was a waste of time and money. Little did my family know how the tinsel would be so important to another Christmas night.

I can’t tell you what we ate or what happened after the presents were open. We never went to church on Christmas so we probably just went up to our rooms and watched television. That was the usual ritual.

Christmas has some fond memories and some not, but that is Christmas-for-One. Now should I make a turkey dinner for Christmas with Spanish rice, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and fried apples? Or maybe I’ll just order in Chinese. I know they are open.