Then and then

 

Source

Life is a chain of events, I know that is true.  These happenings link up to form the past.  That is how it works, and wonderfully so.

What I desire for a while is a period of time in which the weeks are filled with simple day-to-day activities:  laundry, going to a movie, reading, and such. 

This past few years have been labeled “…And Then…” years.

When my mother started to decline, “…And Then…” started.  Each phone call and each visit always led to something more.  When Mom died in April 2011, I thought life would resume the laundry and movie routine.  But, it didn’t.

All those “…and then…” events occurred:  A broken ankle.  A fall/sprawl (broken ankle betrayed me).  Trips to far-off places.  Christmas and birthdays.  Serious illness and surgery (for my husband’s mother).  Subsequent care following. 

Then...my daughter fell, broke bones in her foot, had surgery, was ‘laid up’ for two months.  Then…my other daughter had a baby boy!

More trips to far-off places.  And then…

Maybe I am whining about life in general.  Maybe I am like my wee grandson who cries when he needs something, and it is up to his parents to figure out what that is. And then I would like to be picked up and cuddled by Mom. 

If I could push a “pause” button, I would. Should I?  Would you? 

 

Time waits for....

 

That is the big question of the day:  Where did the time go?

We all moan about not having enough of time.  I used to tell my children that they had too much time on their hands if they were getting into fights.  

 

My husband always has big plans for projects he will do over the weekend, but on Sunday night, we look at each other and ask, “Where did the time go?”

It is not as though it slipped behind the bookcase, or joined the lost remote in the sofa cushions.  It certainly isn’t hiding with dirty tissues.  Time seems to run away from us, like a small child who has just discovered he can outrun his parents.

Time is a fire in which we all burn.

In “Star Trek: Generations” with Patrick Stewart as Captain Jean Luc Picard (sighJ), he is confronted by Dr. Tolian Soran, played by Malcolm McDowell, who says, “Time is the fire in which we all burn.”  Picard has just learned that his brother and nephew have perished in a fire, and this statement hits him rather brutally. 

Is Dr. Soran correct?  Is this the view that most people accept? 

 

I don’t believe, or can’t believe that it is. 

Time is the ticking of some form of clock, to be sure, but it is also an accumulation of life experiences, memories, events, and closely held loved ones.  Time is a steady revolution of the earth around the sun, a myriad of glorious sunrises and sunsets, the rushing of the foamy tides.  

 

Time is holding the hand of my husband on our wedding day, and still holding his hand when we are old. 

Jean Luc Picard, at the end of the movie when all action is said and done, concludes that time is much like an old friend who moves along slowly with us through our life time.  I really like that conclusion.  “Do not go gentle into that good night!  Rage, rage, against the dying of the light!”  as proposed by the Welsh poet, Dylan Thomas is certainly an option.  

 

But, as for me, knowing that the closing of my eyes as a mortal being, and the opening of them to behold God for all eternity, I prefer that measurement of time.

 

  

It. Is. Time

 

Pinterest.com

Time comes in all lives when a person says “That’s enough…I’m done…”  It is turning off the tractor, closing the grade book, handing over the keys, and walking away.

Point of this post:

Recognize when it is time to stop, to walk away.

You know when it is time, you can feel it.  Do not deny the hip, knee, or shoulder.  Do not ignore pain or sense of exhaustion. Growing old is serious business.

A number of issues forced me to retire from teaching, a good ten years early.  Pain took me out. Changes in state requirement were strangling teachers and education.

Mainly, joy was leaving me. 

When that joy is gone, it is time to stop, to walk away, and head to something that returns joy to you.

Have you done that? Can you do that? 

N is for Nebo, Illinois

 

Hebo High School, 1917?

The irony of Nebo, Illinois, is that while I lived there, I could not wait to leave it.  Now I think about those days, get a wallop of nostalgia, and wish I knew more about the place left behind.

It began as a true log cabin town, growing with each new settler with names of Shaw, Ross, Franklin, and many more.  With each new family the settlement became a township.

  When I returned for visits over the years, the town had shrunk just a little bit more and the people I knew had died. Their children left (just as I had), and then there were empty vandalized houses, and people I don’t know.

                            Basically this ghost town could never compare to its former self.

Here are photos of back then :

Baptist Church, which still looks like this.

 

Peck house on Pearl-Nebo road

C.R. Rodgers' Trans Continental trip for
to promote Vin Fizz soda

 

 

 The community flooded to the events like this. Life was personal at this time of Nebo's existence.

Painted by in-mate at nearby prison

Nebo High School Gym--all that remains
of the High School

Country School Students

Another Nebo, in Wales, 1984

 

Mt. Nebo, where Moses is buried

Time. Time. Time..

Passing Time

During these past almost three months, time seems to stretch from breakfast to dinner. Not that those two meals are just fine in themselves, but something to stimulate the sleepy, food-numbed mind would be nice.

Time. Time. Time.  That has a good rhythm and rhyme. Rhyme.

Robert Frost, e.e. cummings, WB Yeats, Maya Angelou, Carl Sandburg....and many other poets can provide creative thought during anything.

A poet's words can capture time and hold onto it just a bit. 

“Time is the coin of your Life.

It is the only coin you have,
and only you can determine
how it will be spent.
Be careful
lest you let other people spend it for you. And when you spend it, spend it wisely so that you get the most for your expenditure.”

Carl Sandburg

Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated. 

Confucius

Life would be infinitely happier if we could only be born at the age of eighty and gradually approach eighteen. 

Mark Twain

Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment. 

Buddha

As a well-spent day brings happy sleep, so a life well spent brings happy death. 

Leonardo da Vinci

The quality, not the longevity, of one's life is what is important.
Martin Luther King, Jr.

I've got a magic charm
That I keep up my sleeve
I can walk the ocean floor
And never have to breathe.

Life doesn't frighten me at all
Not at all
Not at all.

Life doesn't frighten me at all.

Maya Angelou

Do not think that I am so brilliant and creative enough to hunt for all these and compile them. Heck, no. I just happened on to this site. Good thing to pass on.

Brainy Quote

Great Minds, great words

Time is the Fire is which we burn

from Pinterest

Time always propels us all, shoving us forward when we would be quite comfortable going backward. Because growing old(er) is so gradual at first, one day it is a bit of shock to find an old photo of ourselves and gasp.

Malcolm McDowell and Patrick Stewart confronted the issue in a Star Trek: Generations, one of Star Trek movies. Dr. Tolian Soran is seeking to connect with the Nexus, a spatial ribbon that would send him to the time to find his late wife (?). The rest of the plot can be expanded on plot summary

This movie unites Capt. James T. Kirk and Jean Luc to confront and prevent Soran from launching a rocket int this phenomena. 

The source of this exquisite quote is J.M. Willard, a pseudonym for a prolific brilliant writer, Jeanne Kalogridis. Her list of writings is varied, ranging from books, through a huge amount of tech, movies, and more.  You can find her on Wikipedia source.

She is the one who wrote the phrase Time is the fire in which we burn. If nothing else, this phrase resonates with its simplicity and honesty.

What do you see in this simple phrase? How would you respond if this was said to you?

YouTube, Key moment

Who Is in Charge?

I am.

Who's in charge here? I have heard that question in so many voices, situations. 

Sometimes I am in charge, good or bad. I gladly ceded that responsibility now that I am retired. For twenty years and six-hundred students, I was in charge. 

Parents, we were/are in charge. For feeding, clothing, and all sorts responsibilities for our children, we were/are in charge.

Paying bills, having the oil changed, finding lost items, etc.--we adults: we're in  charge.

Given all that, some of the most amazing I'm in charge here people are children. They have no power, no reason to believe that they are in charge. 


Even though you and I know that a child should not be in charge in critical areas,  they are in the sweetest and most amazing ways.

(The longest video is the last one. The others are less than a minute )

A three-year old taking charge here, maybe

Expressing himself to one he loves

Helping mommy 

Who in charge here?  Both.

There are many elements in all lives when exasperation leads to a  real question:  Who is in charge of me?

He is.

What Once Was Lost....

Looking for the silver coin

No one, no one at all, ever talked about what was involved when a girl or boy starts Irish dance lessons.  Those dancers look amazing as they skim along a wooden dance floor, as they kick high to the sky, and as they leap without effort. Some costumes/dresses are impossibly ugly, the colors are day glow colors.  

But no one tells about the money all that costs.  Dresses straight from Irish designers can cost up to $3000. Children have a habit of outgrowing these dresses.

On Facebook

$1000 worth of Swarovski crystals
on an already expensive dress

Oh, the hard shoes. How can any pair of shoes cost so very much? Apparently, those hard shoes can cost a lot.  

In 2017, new shoes cost about $350. Used ones are slightly less. But what happens when one shoe is lost?  Disaster.

After a huge Irish Feis (fesh) dance competition held in a hotel near Disneyland, my daughter discovered that Clara, my gr-daughter had only one shoe.  They searched all over the hotel with staff help, to no success.

This is how a competition looks

As irony would have it, a few days later John and I attended a math conference in the next hotel over. Time was on my hands, so I went to the hotel and asked about the lost shoe.

Obviously, Lost and Found was the place to go. No luck. But then the hotel maid recalled one shoe and turned it in the next day after the Feis. 

That correct lost and found box contained the shoe. Huzzahs all around!

The lone lost shoe

What was lost was found. Was the search worth it? One shoe, was it important enough to find?  

No one warns us about the cost. But everything costs money, what matters is where it is spent. A new sofa and love seat or a life time of dance memories and skills? Just where do you invest your time, money, self?


The dresses are crazy out-of-line, no matter what. 

From time to time

Time changes but stays the same.

Some days whiz by, with sunrise almost meeting sunset in passing.  But then there are those days that stagger past: a slow unraveling of time.  Clocks tick louder and taunts with enjoyment of lingering seconds.

What day is this?  Fast or slow?  How to measure?

Is time measured in chores needed to be done?  Is it counted out by songbirds in citrus trees?

Is time meted step by step from start to destination?  Cars passing on their way to and from?

Such weariness is passing of time when it is slow and reluctant. 

Such exhilaration when whirling creativity stirs up wells of thinking.

Fiddler on the Roof

What time is it?

Oh, Molebut!

Forget about watching re-runs of NCIS.  Forget about Netflix.  Forget about texting.

Grandpa and I gathered our daughter and husband, along with our two tween granddaughters for a night of Mexican food and game playing.

A "Game Night" is above and beyond all definitions of fun.  This was a blast as we played Balderdash.  Not just the average Balderdash, but we played the Beyond Balderdash version.

To truly understand this game, you will need to visit the above YouTube site.

The word chosen was molebut, which elicited a bunch of crazy answers. This is Sunshine's false answer:

Sunshine's version of this definition

Brilliant child.  Eleven years old, Sunshine thinks outside, way outside, the box.

Look up molebut just for the heck of it.

Forget about DVD or World of War Craft.  Game night is an awesome way to spend time together.

Wednesday Words: Charlotte

Nat'l Geo

He had been in Charlotte’s house for an indeterminate amount of time, and days blended into each other until there was no distinction. She moved from place to place, always watching him, as if she were a spectral being and not herself.

Being a female, her enhanced spider-like sense could detect his slightest movement and shift.  It was not as if he was dissident in any way; he was just different and destructive.  She stared down at him in wonder.

Wherever he moved, immediate mayhem followed.  Finally Charlotte scooped him up.  “That’s enough for you, Wilbur!  You need a diaper change, and badly.”  They both giggled and Charlotte covered his face with kisses.

An unexpected writer


The above bold underlined words are from Delores at Under the Porch Light, 
who faithfully provides 6 words and/or a phrase prompt.  Writers can grab those words and take off with a poem, prose, fiction, whatever.  Please click on those frozen cardinals in the sidebar to access her site.  There are some strange people out there.

Is it time yet?

“Is it time yet?  Sis, is it time yet?” My brother Robert whispered in the dark.

Opening heavy eyes and peering at the glow-in-the-dark Big Ben alarm clock, I muttered, “No!  It is not time!”  Then my eyes closed and I went back to sleep.

Source: pinterest

“Is it time yet?  Sis, is it time?”

“NO!  You asked me that an hour ago!”  As I wondered off to sleep, crunching of Doritos and Cheetos purchased to keep my brothers awake echoed into my room, along with the scents.

Time yet?...NO!  Leave me alone!...Time yet?...NO!...Time yet?...NO!  NO!  NO!...

At 5 a.m., Bill sneaked down old squeaky stairs.  “Mom?  Mom?  Can we get up yet?”  There were mumbles as Bill hollered up the stairs.  “It’s time!  Robert!  It’s time!”

Robert’s feet hit the floor with a resounding thud and he raced down steps. Reluctantly I dragged myself and pulled on a robe.  Our parents were groaning as Mom poured cups of strong coffee.

Christmas lights had been switched on and the two began ravaging their presents.  Rubbing my eyes, I blinked at Robert’s joy as his presents appeared.

Although Robert was  almost nineteen years old that Christmas, I was 18, and Bill was fourteen, thrills of Christmas never ever know age boundaries.

P.S.  Both Robert and Bill are gone now, but our family can never forget their joy at Christmas.
Christmas is a cause for celebration.  I am a Christian who accepted Christ and the forgiveness He gives.  Joy to the world!!

What day is this?

Some days whiz by, with sunrise almost meeting sunset in passing.  But then there are those days that stagger past: a slow unraveling of time.  Clocks tick louder and taunts with enjoyment of lingering seconds.

What day is this?  Fast or slow?  How to measure?

Is time measured in chores needed to be done?  Is it counted out by songbirds in citrus trees?

Is time meted step by step from start to destination?  Cars passing on their way to and from?

Such weariness is passing of time when it is slow and reluctant. 

Such exhilaration when whirling creativity stirs up wells of thinking.

What day is this?