MAD, SAD, GLAD, BAD

A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love.

Stendhal

Huckleberries!

Once a woman has forgiven her man, she must not reheat his sins for breakfast.

Marlene Dietrich

 One thing you will probably remember well is any time you forgive and forget.  

~Franklin P. Jones

We should feel sorrow, but not sink under its oppression.

Confucius

A man is already halfway in love with any woman who listens to him.

Brendan Francis

She sews!

We could never learn to be brave and patient, if there were only joy in the world.

Helen Keller

 There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.

Aeschylus

Another summer project - Grandma taught her to knit and purl.

Life is the flower for which love is the honey.

Victor Hugo

Perhaps the day may come when we shall remember 

these sufferings with joy.

Virgil

We build too many walls and not enough bridges.  

Isaac Newton

Mixed Feelings

         You know how when you think about what to name your kids, and you have your favorite names in mind for that joyous future day, and then as you discuss them with your spouse, for one reason or another they get eliminated one by one.  There are those names you would never consider using because of some negative association.  Then you run across someone with that name and it seems like you approach problems differently from each other, but over time you work through some obstacles, and you finally end up gaining respect for one another after all.  Somehow in the process the name gains a broader spectrum of meaning, and its value changes.  

As it is for every second-grader, recess was a pretty big deal.   We looked forward to it, had plans and went for weeks doing the same thing;  Jump rope, Chinese jump rope, hop scotch, kick ball, making paper fortune tellers and learning cat's in the cradle string games.  Our  little school with three grades, Southside Elementary, was situated next to a rocky hillside, and several of us spent our recesses building a house from those rocks.  The rooms were laid out like a giant blue print which got bigger and bigger as we added on more rooms for our growing “family”.

        One day at the noon break, our Lunch Recess was joined with a usually alternating class.  My friends and I were placing rocks for the walls of our blueprint house when one of my friends approached saying that another group of girls claimed it was their house.  A disagreement ensued which escalated in intensity until a teacher was summoned. I was ashamed that an adult had to come referee the situation.  Feeling dread in my heart, I watched the teacher on lunch recess duty approach.  Of all the teachers, it was the one person I would have hoped it would not be.  I was deeply embarrassed that the teacher, Mrs. Chappell, who came to be the mediator was an older lady that I knew from our weekly fellowship meeting.  If there was anyone in the school who knew that I should not be getting in school yard arguments, it was she.

      It became clear who was most passionate about the project, because when the teacher came, all the other girls disappeared while we each presented our side of the story. Jeannie was completely convinced that she and her friends were the ones in charge of building the house, and therefore it belonged to them.  I quickly tried to convince the teacher that loud, obnoxious Jeannie who was not interested in conceding that anyone else might have an interest, was in the wrong, but it appeared my protests fell on deaf ears.  Those of us who had a different recess time had certainly been contributing to the work for a long time, I argued, but in my heart I knew we were building on someone else's work.

Within those few tense moments, a few facts crossed my mind.  I did not intend to have someone mean like Jeannie as my friend.   It was true that the “house” had been started by someone else, so perhaps that someone was Jeannie and her gang.  And when I looked into Mrs. Chappell's eyes, I knew that on this day my behavior was a surprise to her and I feared, raised some question about my character.  I was conscious of the expectations and standard of these three adults: the teacher and my parents - and I did not want them to be ashamed of me.  As gracefully as I could and as quickly as possible, I capitulated, giving over all possession: lock, stock and barrel, to Jeannie, and with my dignity more than a little tattered, I walked away.

Not long after this encounter, Jeannie approached me and tried to apologize.  She suggested we share the “house”.   However, hurt feelings prevailed against the hopeful prompting of my friends, so I declined with chilly courtesy. I had no plans to get into any more interactions with Jeannie and I had no further interest in the house if I had to share it with her.  I told my friends they were free to join Jeannie in her house but I would find something else to do, and off I went, head held high, with a couple of girls in tow.    Some of the girls chose to join her, but I was not one of them.   I would not risk another difficult situation involving a close call with Jeannie's selfish attitude.
 
It seemed to be Jeannie's attack that had worked the greatest harm to my sensibilities.  I felt like I had to fight back in self defense and from that I found it difficult to recover.  On one hand, my parents’ expectations of my behavior seemed to be greater than Jeannie’s parents’ requirements for her behavior, and on the other, my reaction could be labeled pride because of my refusal to submit to Jeannie's oversight of the project.  She may have been raised in a home where emotional volatility was accepted and understood, where people were expected to forgive and forget quickly, where feelings and actions were on a roller coaster of highs and lows and twists and turns, a kind of endless, confusing drama.  I couldn't forget the feeling of shame I felt during the encounter and therefore did not plan on repeating it, but I also understood that we both had vision and clarity of vision that was putting both of us into a leadership position.  Under those circumstances, working together would be difficult if not impossible.

My mom to this day impresses me with her dignity.  One day she left my younger sister and me at home while she ran some errands in town.  I have no idea what had prompted our disagreement, but we got into what I would term a knock-down, drag-out fight, chasing one another down the stairs yelling and even briefly added hair pulling to our repertoire.  Immediately I realized I had stepped outside the bounds of acceptable behavior, so at least it was one of the shortest fights on record.  

     Mom did not have to be present to influence me.  The very thought of my mother ever finding out that I had behaved in such a manner filled me with shame. I could only imagine her disappointment and astonishment.  Of course, my mom probably was not as unaware of my faults as I thought or hoped, but I nevertheless chose to think she would be caught completely off guard.    I became aware of my own nature, and began to see that if I allowed myself to release my own emotions, it was not a pretty sight.  I was more ashamed at my loss of dignity than anything, but what a lesson - what potential for destruction should my impassioned emotions be loosed.

Fighting for what belongs to you and being a driven businessman or woman has become somewhat expected among successful adults with high powered careers, a trait that is even desired and admired. Convinced that they will become doormats if they don't stand up for themselves, they allow no loss, and are unwilling to accept a temporary loss in exchange for their dignity.  There are plenty of people who have lowered the standard of behavior for themselves, but I learned quite young, that is not my style.  

We don't need to fundamentally transform America. We need to restore America.

Sarah Palin

Shoshone River

Unending was the stream, unending the misery, unending the sorrow.

Karl Amadeus Hartmann

Love to faults is always blind, 
always is to joy inclined. 
Lawless, winged, and unconfined, 
and breaks all chains from every mind.

William Shakespeare

Perfect Precious Moments Child

 The only nice thing about being imperfect is 

the joy it brings to others.

Doug Larson

Single shot, drive-by shooting - One handed  with 70/200 Telephoto Lens by me, driving pickup @ approx 40 MPH,
 Beacon Hill RD, but had to.  Recognized this plane!