Darkest Hour is just before the Dawn

Ode to a Platitude

Karen growled and muttered an assortment of foul words in her car, driving over speed limit.  Her visit to Mom and Grandma had not provided the affirmation and comfort she had hoped it would.

Bill had packed up his stuff in the night and was gone before she woke up.  Note:  I’m outta here, bitch…and the last word was written in bold letters. Now, Karen needed to share her pain.

She had been in Mom’s kitchen, sipping on peach herbal tea.  Mom was kneading bread, taking loaf after loaf from the oven.  These would go to the homeless shelter.  Grandma was sitting quietly while knitting baby blankets for preemies at the local hospital.

Karen had been trying tell of her woes and ask for advice when the litany began.

“You know, honey, the darkest hour is just before the dawn. You’ll do fine.” This one came from Mom.

“Such is life,” Grandma added. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!” She dropped a stitch, but caught it time.

Mouth open, Karen had looked from one face to the other, listening with disbelief.

“Yes, sweetie. God has a plan for you…you just don’t know it yet!...and then…It is what it is…Time heals all wounds…Life doesn’t give you things you can’t handle…It could be worse…It wasn’t meant to be…There are plenty more fish in the sea…Everything happens for a reason..

When Karen’s grandma said “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen”…

Karen had leaped to her feet and raced to her car.  She skidded out the driveway, narrowly missed the mailbox.  This found her flying along the freeway with profanity tailing after her.  Her thoughts were not kind.  If she ever heard one more mindless platitude, she would vomit.

Source

The italicized and underlined phrase is from Wednesday Words, where bloggers can play and experiment with the words or prompt.

These words or prompts are provided each week by Elephant's Child and fellow blogger River

Many thanks to Delores, who created this idea.  This is a re-post from 2014. I hear and read those cursed gems all the time.

1969 and Winning

No more UFOs were seen, fortunately or unfortunately.  They were a diversion, and God knew, I surely needed one that senior year.

Not-a-real-diploma

The year 1969 brought graduation from high school.  Thank you, God. 

The senior year had been one of hard work, very hard work.  My whole college life depended on the sacred "win" of a scholarship.  Long story there, but anxiety level was such that I developed an ulcer and lost twenty pounds.

My GPA before senior year had been a miserable 3.5; it could not, would not “win” me much.  The word “win” was confusing then and is now.  One could not “win” anything as precious as a scholarship.  One could claw up the mountain of hope and perhaps make it to the top, holding that gold medal scholarship high.

End of school and graduation--- a memory I will never forget.  I was one of four valedictorians.  Our high school had a policy that if the GPAs were so close by the middle of May, there would be three or four valedictorians.  This “win” required me to speak at graduation. 

A scholarship was soundly mine.  A selected college accepted my application. I had a speech written and then re-written in my head.  The other two and I practiced our speeches in an empty gym, where our words sounded hollow. The fourth declined speaking at the commencement, so shy.

I “won” the position of the final speaker, the one who would introduce the specially invited speaker.  Even though I knew each word, each nuance, something changed as I looked out at the other graduates, knowing each one, suspecting their dreams and hopes. 

Some boys, too many boys would be heading to Vietnam.  A few pregnant girls would be getting married in a few days, since the district’s policy forbid married students from attending school.  College, farming, marriage, vocational schools, and just moving somewhere were the rest of the tasseled hats.

What did I say?  Tell you in two days.

This post is dedicated to Joanne Noragon who asked an important question after my three UFO posts: I'll enjoy seeing how college changed your outlook and furthered your education. What was the big letdown?

I do! I do!

All photos via Bing.Com

It is the season of the brides coming up.  June traditionally became the month for weddings centuries ago when life revolved around agriculture.  Spring planting was done; it would be hay mowing time in a few weeks.  Also, any bride who soon found herself with child in July or August wouldn’t give birth until April or May, which gave the newborn infant the best weather for surviving the newborn stage.  Also, I think there may have been some druid connection, but that is pure speculation on my part.

Oh, to be young and in love!

In fact, my niece Sarah is getting married in a week.  The wedding will be on the beach just south of Santa Barbara, and it will be beautiful, because they are in love, and they are both beautiful people.  We are looking forward to the wedding, seeing our relatives, dancing on the beach, and watching the carousing of the young adults.  Our carousing days ended a while ago, and we will head back to the hotel for free HBO. 

Should I be asked (and I doubt I will), I have some excellent advice for the couple.  This is year #39 for us, and boy have we learned a lot in those 39 years.  So, for brides or young married couples everywhere, here is some worthy advice:

This was to good to pass up.

1.  The behaviors you found most entertaining, amusing, and attractive when you first met will soon become the most irritating.  In fact, as the years go by, and those ‘cute things’ don’t change as you think they should, you will start snapping at him/her about those ‘behaviors/habits’.

2.  Basically, both spouses are innately slobs.  Yes, yes, you are.  You were allowed to be that way by your mother who enabled you by picking up for you OR you became that way when you were living on your own.  Get over yourselves, and discuss your expectations.  What is acceptable?  What is not?  Hint:  Taking off your socks and flapping them around in the living room is really the height of disgusting.  Don’t do it.

Even Kate has to deal with it.

She is someone's mother.

3.  No one’s mother is allowed to come by without at least an hour’s notice.  A whole hour, not ten minutes.  Showing up is forbidden.  No, don’t let them guilt you into allowing them to break this rule.  Yes, they will have to deal with it.

We all need a shoulder to cry on.

  4.The best shoulder to cry on is that of your spouse, not your best friend or your parents.  What you and your beloved share is between you two, and you two only.  No one needs to know about the crappy stuff that happens, and no one should ever have that information to spread around.  It gets to be like manure:  the more that gets spread around, the more it stinks. There is a proviso here:  If any spouse discovers that the other spouse is abusive, controlling, or manipulative, get help!  Seek professional intervention, and inform your family of your needs.  No one has to put up with this in a marriage, ever. 

It is what is.

5.  What you really want to have at the end of your life is to hold the hands of the person who wears your wedding ring.  Those are the hands that held you, helped you, loved you, and walked through life with you.   Hopefully, both of your hands will be old, age-spotted, and gnarly.  And you, the bride, should be wearing one big hunkin’ diamond.

Whether you agree with me, well, that is up for debate.  If you want more advice, you know where to find me.  I’ll be here.