Friday Tidings

Before I was born, my parents lived in Okinawa while my dad served in the Air Force. On a special trip to Tokyo, my mom eyed a beautiful doll and my dad seeing how much it meant to her, purchased it.  This ornate, incredibly fragile doll was displayed in their first home and then traveled thousands of miles back to the US where it graced the mantle of our fireplace. As the light reflected on her, she seemed to look down on me with different expressions. I very much wanted to play with her, but she was off limits to my clumsy five-year-old hands. I knew this and left her alone, but for some reason, I decided to take a closer look. My small hands reached over my head so I could personally inspect the glass face and the colors of her costume. Unfortunately I couldn't reach and hold at the same time and I dropped her on the hearth, breaking the doll in several pieces. After the initial shock and scolding that immediately followed, it was my mother's tears that truly hurt...

I’m reveling in the snow-covered landscape. The thick pristine blanket covers all the leaves I didn’t rake.  For the brief time the snow lasts, it beautifies the spindly alder trees and hides the muddy driveway. My cynical side considers how this snow coating is like our political landscape. Who’s anticipating the 2012 election? I’m already tired of the caustic attacks, worn-out excuses and the stump speeches. Who can we trust with the severity of all the complex issues we face? Hillary Clinton once said it takes a village to raise a child. I suggest something similar: it will take our nation’s people working together to save us from our demise—there’s no miracle political leader. Snow eventually melts exposing what's underneath, and likewise, who ever wins next November can’t cover up the severity of our nation’s problems....it's an ugly mess—just like my muddy driveway beneath this beautiful blanket of snow. Political "snow-covered" words sou...

Sex gets attention. It sells things. Racy, suggestive commercials lure us in with promises. But sex wasn’t supposed to be so cheap and given away so easily. Sex, once reserved for adulthood, now has some elementary girls seeking birth control.  Students are taught about sexuality along with math and grammar. Heck, in some classrooms they even learn how to have better sex.  But sex has a cost. And it can be expensive.  Someone I know just got a look at the price tag. And I hate to tell them it's only the beginning.   In the throwaway nature of young sexual relationships, something special is lost with every break-up.  With each relationship failure, the baggage gets a bit heavier. For many youth, the future is a far away place and sex is more immediate. It's just another activity to be enjoyed, like a good movie. And then came Tim Tebow. I never thought someone from the raunchy; rowdy NFL would be promoting sexual purity. Here i...

Around age eleven, I participated in track and field. I wasn’t fast, so sprints weren’t my thing, which also ruled out relays. I didn’t even attempt the hurdles. However, to my coach’s surprise, I managed to do well in the high jump. I perfected the approach, the twist and moving my body over the bar. Just as I mastered a level, the bar was raised. My track career came to an end when I couldn’t compete with others who were able to keep raising the bar higher. I think about my short-lived track career whenever I fail to clear the bar on my goals. But over the years, I’ve done something even worse— not setting the bar high enough to begin with. As I contemplate 2012, I’d like to make some premeditated good choices for better living. To set the bar higher for the New Year, I’m using Ben Franklin’s 13 virtues. 1. Self-Control   The things I need to control in my life may change as I get older, but the will power to do it is something I still ne...

Back in my early twenties, I loved reading novels. But I’d only choose books with predictably happy endings. This must have frustrated my mom, the librarian. To her, books shouldn’t be limited by perfect ending boundaries. The way I saw it, if I wanted to relax with a book, the ending needed to be happy. Of course, I wanted my own perfect storybook ending, but my chances weren’t increased because I had read dozens of perfect examples. My world of fiction couldn’t change my own reality. My life story was mine to write—and all of its chapters and its ending would largely depend on me. Life happens and I can’t control all the action, but what I can control is my reaction. Often my reaction is what can either take away or bring me joy. Why is it that I can look back and remember my past with fondness even though my life had actually been far from perfect? It’s the rearview mirror perspective. Things aren’t as big in the rearview mirror—those old problems have reso...

Emails, facebook, and Instant Message are my go-to communication tools.  But come mid-December, you can find me affixing stamps to our family’s annual Christmas letter. I can remember helping my mom lick stamps and envelopes, and then carefully stacking the cards in neat piles. Fifty years later, I do the same. Each December I pull out my tattered address book. It’s fairly small with tiny address tabs for each letter of the alphabet. My grandma gave it to me when I was a teen along with an ample supply of stamps and stationery so I would WRITE to her (this was before personal computers, cell phones or Internet). I still use this same address book. Wisely, I used pencil. It’s now like a diary of the nomadic life of my friends and family. Some addresses are erased multiple times as moves took them to new homes or towns. For others there are handwritten additions with names and dates, reflecting growing families. Still others have lines through them indicating a loss o...

I know I can’t go back to the magical days of childhood. Back then Christmas meant anticipating presents and being so excited it was hard to sleep. It was waiting weeks to discover if Santa really heard me. I admit there are days when I wish I could pull the covers over my adulthood and wake up with that childish exhilaration again. Over the years, my children helped rekindle some excitement—and now seeing Christmas in the eyes of my grandson brings fresh smiles. I can almost anticipate Christmas again…. But then I go to Costco. It’s like my one-stop shop for the holidays. By Halloween I have to push my cart around aisles of outdoor holiday decorations. By the next visit there’s even more.  Next come the holiday clusters--- those huge piles of slippers, gloves, and other gift ideas. By the time I’m deep within the bowels of the warehouse (where I get no cell phone signal) I’m sandwiched between holiday cookies, sample carts, imported chocolates, and pies the size ...