The Begats

In the early books of the Bible, are all of the 'begat' passages, where the reader learns about so-and-so begetting (my word) so-and-so..... and so on and so on, etc. Or, as Yul Brenner said so eloquently in "The King and I", "et cetera, et cetera, et cetera". At best, it is dull reading, but it is purposeful in that it sets up a historical setting so that as one reads on, you have a sense of familial lines. As with many important, factual bits of information, although it is as interesting as watching paint dry, it sets up a vital, foundational framework from which to comprehend later history.

Yes, I will tie the first paragraph of this posting to subsequent paragraphs.

This has been a week of lists. As regular readers may recall, I am a lover of lists. They keep me functioning, somewhat organized and help me override any memory glitches I may experience. I simply would not operated very efficiently without creating lists from which to work.

However........what I have observed about lists is that one list begets another, which begets another and so on and so on and so forth. I can begin a list, for example, about daily tasks that I need to accomplish and while I am in the process of compiling that list, I will realize that a parallel list needs to be created for additional items needed to perform the tasks on List No. 1.....BUT as List No. 2 is being penned, I will realize another list may need to be created dealing with pre-tasks to be done before List No. 1 can be started. Making lists is akin to outlining one's family tree. All of the relatives must be identified before I can write down my own name.
Furthermore, list-life is not static, but, rather, a work in progress. I can arrange tasks in what I believe is an intelligent order of operation, then discover that I've left out one, which then requires a re-writing of the entire list. List-making is a curse, I'm certain.

Whew! I've just worn myself out just thinking about lists and I haven't even tackled my list for today. Does thinking about a list count? If I've thought about all I want to accomplish, but have not put pencil to paper, am I absolved from the actual 'action' of the list?

Please say 'yes'. In fact, I'll poll a number of people until I get the answer I am looking for. Isn't that what government statisticians do?

I'm on to my next list of people to poll.

Ancora imparo

Choices, Co-existance and Cartoons

The letter 'C' loomed largely in my day, just like the songs from Sesame Street that feature each alphabet letter. When I sat back and looked over this day, I was struck with three words that each begin with "C".

The word 'choice' came early this morning as I was at a business, having a maintenance task performed that should take thirty minutes or less. I had gone prepared thinking my time at this business might take up to two hours so I had plenty with me to do, including writing notes, making lists, reading the newspaper and I also had a book with me. Upon arriving at this business, a subsequent conversation ensued and I learned that my time there would only be about thirty minutes, as I previously stated. I was thoroughly immersed in my tasks when I realized that the thirty minutes had elapsed into well over an hour. Becoming curious as to why this was taking so long, I gathered my things and went to the service department. I could see that my vehicle was parked outside so I knew that the technician was finished and that meant that my bill should be ready at the cashier's window. When I inquired about my bill, the cashier looked blankly at me, shook her head and said she had seen nothing about my car. The service department representative came flying out of a door and said, "I've been on the phone for forty minutes with a pre-approval interview." No real apology, just a statement.

My first reaction was to have a 'Rumplestiltskin' moment but I made a split-second choice to be polite and civilized, even though I was furious with her. She introduced me to the cashier as "the very patient Patty Anne". I didn't feel patient but I chose to look as if I was.

On the subject of co-existence, the mama bird (that built the nest up under our deck) and I have developed a peaceful co-existence. She no longer flies away when I work in the free weight-area that is directly in her view. Her little neck cranes, stiff as can be, as she stares at me but she does not leave her duty as the 'egg-warmer'. She is a good mom and has finally figured out that I pose no threat to her or her little egg.

Finally, there were two cartoons in the comics section that really caught my eye and attention.

"For Better Or For Worse" had the mother taking her supposedly very sick child to the doctor. The mother-character has obvious concern on her face.....until the nurse comes to the door and calls the child's name. The child promptly smiles, leaps up and yells, "Yah".

How many times has that same scenario repeated itself over the centuries as we parents figure that a child must be ill. Well, we're pretty sure. Not wanting to be labeled a 'bad' parent, we make the obligatory car ride and take the child to the doctor, breathing an audible sigh of relief when the doctor proclaims that there is, indeed, something wrong with the child.

The other cartoon was "Sally Forth" and the character "Ted Forth" sees his new, corporate photo ID for the first time and is appalled to see that "they've taken my youth away!" How I can identify with that response! Those years do sneak up on us, don't they? One day we really are young, the next thing we know, we feel young, and then the inevitable photo is taken that proves we are no longer young, but rather 'long-in-the-tooth'.

So what are my take-aways from today?

I'm out of patience, I feel guilty about all of the times I was relieved to hear that my children were actually ill, and my teeth are getting longer as I type.

Ancora imparo

Standardization, Please!

I realize that living in America is an honor and a privilege accompanied by many perks. We Americans have come to expect much. It is said we are a land of peoples who are accustomed to and demand entitlements.

One of the seldom-talked about 'perks' of living in America is that we are surrounded by, and inundated with choices.....choices about everything. From the time we awaken, to the time our eyelids close, head on the pillow, we will have made a myriad of choices from what to wear, to what to eat, to how much milk to put on the cereal, turn on the television (or not), what route to drive, where to drive to, "Should I super-size that?", how much extra salt to sprinkle on lunch or dinner food, "Should I tell my co-worker?", "Do we want to accept this dinner invitation?", to polish the shoes (or not), how much soap to put into the dishwasher, etc.

Making choices doesn't bother me. It is an accepted part of my day. What I do find frustrating is having to think (another action verb for 'making a choice') about my motor movements - kinesthetically speaking - when using machines, gadgets, and gizmos I handle routinely. Here are a few examples: Gasoline pumps, ATM machines, debit/credit card scanning devices, doors (do I push in or pull out), shower/bath tub hardware in hotel rooms, bathroom sink faucets (do I push, pull or drag), and, lastly, wine-bottle cork pullers. How many different designs are really necessary to pull the cork from a wine bottle?

When I am shopping, running errands.....just 'doing' life, I would like to be on automatic. If machines, gadgets, and gizmos were standardized in design, there would be fewer headaches, less road rage, and, simply happier, more relaxed Americans. Come on, card-swiping industry. When I am paying for a purchase, I do not want a master's degree in gadgetry to be necessary before I swipe my card. I don't care if I swipe on the top or on the side.....if the 'yes' button is on the top, bottom or side.....does my stripe have to be on the top or bottom.....ALL I WANT TO DO IS BUY AN ITEM, PAY FOR IT, GET IN MY CAR AND GO HOME. JUST PUT EVERYTHING IN THE SAME PLACE, PLEASE. I won't start on automatic faucets in restrooms.

I think I feel better. Next I'll make some coffee. Let's see.....which bag of coffee beans should I select from and which of the three coffee makers, in the cupboard, should I use??????

Which puppy should I get?

Ancora imparo

Therapy To One.......

I was thinking about therapy this morning......more specifically, what would feel therapeutic to me. I'm in the process of retraining myself to not look to food as a first step in a therapeutic process.

As is often the case, I grew curious as to the 'official' definition of therapy from my friend, Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary - Eleventh Edition. After locating the word 'therapy', I was very disappointed and discouraged to read the too-short definition: Therapeutic treatment esp. of bodily, mental or behavioral disorder. Regressing to the childhood tendency to seek another answer when you don't like the first, I called upon my other good friend, my old, tattered 1962 edition of Roget's College Thesaurus, and was further miffed by the fact that it doesn't even contain the word therapy. Apparently, in 1962, the concept of therapy wasn't as widely accepted as it is today.

Don't we have many methods of personal 'therapy'? What is therapeutic to one may not be therapeutic to another. Other than food, some of my personal favorites are loud music, petting a dog (I won't go there today.), reading, being with certain friends, hearing a chord from my choir that 'rings', relaxing on the back deck of our Aqua RV while she goes full-charge, or simply sitting in my dad's old chair and watching the woods behind our condo. For others, your idea of therapy would probably be completely different from mine......as it should be. We are all individuals and if every one of us marched to the same drummer(s), life would be dull and boring.

To a certain segment of the population, though, there might be one universal type of therapy: Grandchildren. I call mine The Three Musketeers: TLV, TLV'sLB, and Princess Leia. (As a reminder, that is The Little Voice and The Little Voice's Little Brother.) My SO and I get to see TTM on a semi-regular basis - in person - but we video chat on a somewhat regular basis. Often enough that, hopefully, we remain in their young memories. I also have lots of their pictures surrounding me, in my office, so that I can look about, in any direction, and a smile spreads across my face. That's my therapy. When we video conference and chat, 'real-time', just hearing the boys' chirpy voices or Princess Leia's chuckle-laugh along with her excited screech........that's therapy......the best kind of therapy. Well, maybe that puppy.........

I hope that everyone who reads this blog today will engage in some healthy, restorative kind of therapy before turning out the lights tonight. If your therapy includes any coffee, chocolate, puppies, grandchildren or prayer, better yet.

Ancora imparo

Life Through Filters

This morning's sunlight streaming through the trees combined to create one of my favorite sights.....an odd, but beautifully filtered light that seems to float into the windows of our sunroom. I'm certain it has been present in all of the past years we've lived here but, for some reason this spring, it is as if I'm noticing it for the first time. The phenomenon lasts for about an hour and a half, as the sun slowly rises in the horizon. During that time my mind seems more at peace and I am inspired to read, contemplate, cogitate and feel more relaxed. Dusk seems to have the same affect on me but, of course, the visual effect is much different then.

Today's filtered light made me think of other 'filters' in my life. We all have these 'filters' - some seen and others invisible to the naked eye. I thought of the essential, mechanical filters that keep my life running smoothly......the furnace filter, water filter, vacuum-sweeper filter, the filter on my refrigerator's water supply, important and vital filters under the hood of our vehicles, and the all-important filter in my coffee maker. Much of what I do or experience during the day and night is controlled, or greatly affected, by filters. Some of the filters can be cleaned when dirt causes them to become ineffective but others have to be replaced. Knowing when a filter needs cleaning or replacing is very important, as is knowing how to either clean or replace the filter. If the filter requires a complete replacement, I must know what brand to buy and where to obtain it.

And yet, I have invisible filters in my life that I sense I either ignore totally or randomly choose to pay attention to. Like the filtered light that floats in through my windows, my inner filters are more subtle in their placement and seem to require little thought......but it is these same filters that carry more influence for and to me than any mechanical filter will ever. My brain in my most powerful inner filter. It can and does - if I allow it - filter what I say, think and do. My heart filters what I feel and who I feel for. My 'gut' filter serves me well, guiding how I spend my time and who I spend it with.

Thus far, in my life, my filters - both inner and mechanical - have served me well, but for some reason, this morning's filtered light made me ultra-aware of the need to attend to all of my life-filters, to listen to them, to clean them, to monitor the feedback they give me and to honor my filters and not override them due to carelessness, disregard, or inattention.

There are a few filters that I have manually turned off over the past few years and I need to turn them on.......again. Some will crank into service easily and quickly, others will need persuasion and massaging. A few will require a stern, self-talking-to.

I'm ready.

Ancora imparo

I Forgoteth

A shorteth timeth agoeth, my newspaper didst announceth that it was Speaketh-Liketh-the-Bard-Wouldst-Day. My life becameth busy in yon dwelling and I forgoteth the charge.

Alas and alack, many nights have passeth and only now hath my inner voice sayeth to moi: Writeth liketh the Bard. Thusly, my blog posteth will calleth upon the faeries to recreate the Bard's style "by vocal acclamation of his words".

Methinks I t'would be amiss if I did not harken all lads and lasses to call upon thine elected clappertons and sayeth, "A pox on you, you miscreants! What hath thee wrought? I marvel much at thine idiocy!"

Verily I beseech thee, oh blog readers, what sayeth thou? Methinks 'tis great work to speaketh like the Bard.

God ye good den, Wenches, Knaves and the like.

Ancora imparo

Tell A Teacher

Teachers are sort of like deodorant: They are taken for granted, they are a necessary tool for personal advancement, there are many different 'brands' of them and your future life would stink without them.

Does a former teacher ever 'pop' into your head....for one reason or another? Hopefully this memory retrieval is a positive one. I do understand that a teacher has the ability to powerfully influence students in either a positive or negative manner. I can remember every teacher I ever had - from kindergarten through high school - and, fortunately for me, not one of them left any scars. Quite the contrary, many of these dedicated educators left lasting, positive imprints and armed me with knowledge that has served me well for many years.

There are several former educators of mine whose careers impacted me in ways that influence me daily. One I've written about in this blog - an American Thought And Language professor at a Big Ten University. Another was my public school band director - a mentor to me and the man who inspired me to follow in his footsteps. Sadly, this man died soon after my high school graduation and I was never been able to tell him of his importance in my professional life. The third teacher is a woman who was my high school, college-prep English teacher during my sophomore and junior years. Miss 'Smith', not her real name, was a no-nonsense teacher who had a terrific dry sense of humor (right up my personality alley) and she inspired me to read, read more and then write about what I read. She grounded her students in the mechanics of the English language - i.e. grammar and she was a stickler for correct spelling and intelligent syntax. This woman singlehandedly gave me rock-solid skills that have been more influential in my life-successes than any other educator in my twenty-plus years of education. While I have miles to go before I master speaking the English language and writing with it, the skills this terrific teacher left me with have given me years of pleasure and professional advancement.

I urge all of us to locate former, influential educators and let them know of their impact on our lives. It is true - if you can read this blog posting, thank an English teacher. If you can balance your checkbook, thank a math teacher. If you know that the figurine perching on the fireplace mantle will fall off if the fulcrum point is not exactly known, thank a physics teacher. If you can read musical notes or play an instrument, thank a music teacher. If you can type with more than two fingers, thank God that someone taught you your keyboarding skills. And, if you are breathing in and out, just thank God. Period.

Ancora imparo