Friday Tidings

Harvest will always depend on what we plant and how well we care for our crop.    Looking over my seed packets, I notice they’re different than the ones I planted before. One package is called Word seeds. The directions say that each of my words is a seed, so it cautions me to think before I speak. Harsh words don’t produce sweet, nourishing fruit. These seeds will require thoughtful care in the garden. I see some Volunteer seeds. Those extra hours I tend to fritter away are going to be planted in a useful project.   It looks like time isn’t wasted in this garden plot. Next are some Love seeds—the directions are interesting: get up each day and love others. No specifics are given—just do something for someone every day. The seed package shows pictures of smiling faces. I smile back. As I’m ready to head to the garden with my seeds, a package falls to the ground. I open it. Inside are the tiniest seeds I’ve ever seen—but the directions s...

Being an opinionated blogger makes me thankful for my First Amendment rights. With the Internet it’s easier than ever to post all my random thoughts while also reading what people all over the world are thinking. My readers wouldn’t label me a “hate-monger” or an anti-government radical. And even though I  occasionally rant about the government, I’m no Glenn Beck. Yet, something interesting happens every time I post a blog containing certain key words—I’ll get a Google alert notifying me that “someone” has checked me out. Subject: Google Alert - Karen Farris  Date:  January 24, 2013 8:12:18 AM PST                                                                  I’m wondering who’s keeping track of my opinions.   At first I didn’t pay much attention to those alerts, but then I not...

Just for fun while walking in Seattle, I tried to spot the surveillance cameras watching me. As a foot passenger on the ferry heading to Seattle, there was a large one watching me step aboard. I smiled at the one watching me as I departed. Stopping by the ATM for some lunchtime cash, I looked into the mono lens watching me from behind its cold, metal frame. Walking past Macy’s I could see small cameras pointed downward at the double entryway. I decided against dashing across the street when I noticed a camera fixed to the pole designed to catch red-light runners—and probably jaywalkers like me. As I waited for the streetcar, I saw its little camera hovering above the pay-kiosk.   Once inside, dual cameras followed me to my seat. Wherever I went so did the surveillance. It was all in the name of security—and accountability. There’s another surveillance that happens without my seeing it. But these cameras record the scenes behind the doors of my home and i...

Parenting isn’t about being your child’s friend. It's giving them the tools they’ll need to survive in the world they will face. Our grandson has a 2-hour video game limit on weekends—and no games during the week. We listened as he explained the specific guidelines. Yes, we'd been told AND we knew better. But since we were taking care of him for the day we broke the rule anyway. Besides, Papa was having just as much fun playing video games as our grandson. Then came the dessert rule. Only one popsicle-per-week. Broke that rule too. Then the bedtime rule was broken. We were not obedient grandparents. Rule breakers make it harder for those who obey — and  for parents trying to set good boundaries. I should respect their rules. They're not easy to make nor easy to enforce and maintain. It comes with grief too. Especially after one of our visits. Which is why I'm probably feeling guilty. Parenting is tough in this world of gadgets, gore-...

As you sit down to watch the big game with your family—do you wonder what those commercials are doing to your kid’s brain? Super Bowl commercials often get more notoriety than the game itself.   Granted, some commercials are hilarious and worthy of their appeal. But many are sixty-seconds of sexist garbage leading to women’s self-image woes while giving young guys the impression that sex rules. Commercials with shock-value have gradually desensitized viewers. Yet, few women have the total self-confidence to not be affected by the brazen show of all that silicon-enhanced skin. Women wonder if their men are attracted to it and then look in a mirror to see how they compare. It isn’t possible to measure up ladies. This is a soft porn contest without a winner—unless you count the winners from the lucrative Madison Avenue advertisement agencies. Sex sells and women pay for it.   The only recourse half the population has is to refuse to support those offensive...

I was just a couple weeks past my sixteenth birthday and taking a final “drive” with my driving instructor when I came around a bend and met a log truck head-on. He was in a no-pass zone attempting to get around a slow-moving car. It was one of those split-second moves that ended well. My instructor had a new story to tell and I had my first close encounter behind the wheel. Living in the land of log trucks, my two teens repeatedly heard my drive safe mantra. And I supplemented it with continual prayers for their protection. Getting to school each day meant a two-lane road with variations of rain, fog, snow, black ice, deer, and deadly curves. Travelers on Highway 112 pass by former accident scenes memorialized with small white crosses and adorned with colorful plastic flowers. Glancing at those sad landmarks reminds me that some stories ended too soon while loved ones had to find a way to continue on—but with lives that were forever changed. Each year ano...

While life isn’t easy, sometimes our choices make it a whole lot harder.   As a pregnancy resource center volunteer I’d visit schools and talk to teens about their choices. I told them the choice to work hard in school would cost them some time now, but it’d pay off with better opportunities later. I also told them that their sexual choices would come with a cost too. A student I met many years ago recently sent me a long note. She gave me permission to share her thoughts: My friends and I talked about you after you came to our class. It wasn’t as if you were telling us anything we didn’t already know about sex. The scary things about STDs didn’t really make a difference either. I’d been having sex since the year before and I didn’t really care about the future. You made it seem like getting through school was easy compared to getting a job and living on our own. You said we should get married before we had sex because we’d be older and ready for it. No on...