A Beautiful Saturday Morning

It's a beautiful Saturday morning.
Blue skies.
Sunshine streams in the bedroom window.
Jethro joins me on the bed as if to say, "Good morning, Mom!"

The sunshine bounces off his lush sable and white coat
as I admire some lovely red highlights in his fur.
What a lucky girl am I
to have this magnificent creature in my life.
As I pet him, I ponder what today will bring.
Perhaps being serenaded by songbirds on the patio
with a cup of java would be a good start.
Mmmm.

Then I hear it.
A distant "Yip!" outside my window.
The bubble bursts.
Jethro, liked greased lightening,
shrieks down the hallway
proclaiming his daily headline news:
"It's Carter!"
(Sigh)

And so I'm brought back to reality
greeted by the neighborhood Labrador retriever,
who kindly reminds me what time it is.

But it's Saturday.
And the skies are still blue.
And it's sunny outside, too.

© 2020 All rights reserved.

Social Media: A Power Race

To quote Merriam-Webster…

Social Media: forms of electronic communication, such as websites, for social networking, blogging, through which users create online communities to share information, ideas, personal messages and other content…

Community: a group of people who have the same interest, religion, race, etc.; a unified body of individuals; a group people with common interests; social activity; fellowship…

The juxtaposition of these two terms to me seems so ironic. Social media creates opportunities to form communities of common interests, to share ideas that bond us together. Yet, contrarily, when ideas don’t support our interests, we use the social media experience to blast messages and content to convey contrasting points of view. Perhaps this effort is done to form new communities. But is it an alternative point of view that we truly believe, or is it mere a popular point of view that we promote? Understandably, we don’t live in a vacuum, and messaging, after all, is a part of the privileged right to the freedom of speech.

Anxiously, we wait to see how many viewers align with our social media messages. How many people have we convinced? How many have we swayed? How many have we provoked? How many have we entertained? How many have we gently prodded? On the other hand, how many have we incited, insulted, demeaned or bullied? The sleuthed evolution seems to have become the devious destruction of reputations. Are truths being spread or is revenge being sought? Is our motive enlightenment or controversy? At times it appears the evolving expression of social media is merely a manipulated player in a blatant power race to reach the perceived finish line.

But that’s just it. What happens when we get to the finish line? What have we achieved? I hope we can live with the results. Good sportsmanship, I fear, is gone. One-upmanship has become its replacement. Challenges should create solutions, opportunities, equality and security. We should aspire to do our very best. And if the best we can do is mudslinging, scaremongering, email hacking, collusion, deception and self-gratification, ladies and gentlemen, we have missed the boat.

We must ask ourselves what are our goals. Are we any safer? Have we left the world a better place for the current and next generation? In the process, we need to have created decent role models and not erased respect. I don’t know about you, but I missed the chapter where the human race was created in complete perfection, where change was not possible and gratitude was not appreciated, where apologies weren’t valued and forgiveness not actionable.

Social media may be a player in a competitive power race, but there is no competition to kindness.

We Are Called…

I had a nice visit with mom on Saturday night. I used the tablet again to carry on conversation with her due to her diminished hearing. She was happy for the company as usual. I brought her up to date after my jury duty, telling her about the criminal trial, but leaving out some of the gory details. Then I remembered something that happened in church last weekend when singing the closing song, and I related that story to her as well.

The closing song was We Are Called by David Haas. I almost didn't make it through the lyrics and started tearing up as I sang. I thought about the twin six-year-old girls who were the victims in the jury trial. The lyrics replayed in my mind…

Come, live in the light!
Shine with the joy and the love of the Lord
We are called to be light for the Kingdom,
to live in the freedom of the city of God!

We are called to act with justice.

We are called to love tenderly. 

We are called to serve one another,

To walk humbly with God.

Come! Open your heart!

Show your mercy to all those in fear!

We are called to be hope for the hopeless,

so all hatred and blindness will be no more!

We are called to act with justice. 

We are called to love tenderly. 

We are called to serve one another,

To walk humbly with God.

To me, that song was confirmation that God indeed tapped each of us jury members on the shoulder to be on that trial and bring justice for those twin girls and their family. I pray we brought them hope and they live in fear no more. Now if the rest of the world could love tenderly, serve one another, and walk humbly with God, we could stop the hatred and it WOULD be no more. If only...

[Here is a rendition of We Are Called sung by the Notre Dame Folk Choir you might enjoy.]

Feeling Grateful…

Bosco was so cute this morning. I hated to leave him to go to work. He pranced and twirled as I put his collar on to go outside. He doesn't do a lot of that at his age, so to see him get “puppy feet” is a real treat. 

When I came home from work, I couldn’t wait to see the furkids again. Bosco trotted down the steps to greet me, exhibiting his eagerness with tail wagging and head-butting. 

And Buffy—eager to see Bosco—jumped on the chair above Bosco's back. She stuck her tiny calico paws between the chair slats. Then the canine tail chase began. Bosco has so much fur, he doesn't even notice when Buffy swats at his tail. 

“Bosco, buddy, did you miss me?”

Slurp. 

“Want to go outside?”

Slurp. 

“Kisses?”

Ever so gently, he gave me another slurp. 

He waited patiently to go out even as I discovered I was stuck in my coat from zipper failure. Once back inside, he remained patient as I realized I STILL was stuck in my coat. At last, I secured my freedom. 

“Okay, are you hungry?” 

He answered with more prancing. 

I prepared his first food bowl, which was inspected and quickly devoured. Then I got that in-your-face stare. 

“Are you still hungry?” I asked. 

Bosco moved in a little closer to me to affirm his answer with a giant “BURP” reply. That gesture was followed by another gentle face slurp. 

“Thanks, buddy. I’m SO glad you burped BEFORE you got in my face and kissed me.”

The second bowl of food disappeared as quickly as the first. Bosco’s belly was full. Content that mom was home, Bosco knew life was good.

Buffy, ever patient, was also fed. She conveyed her gratitude by snuggling and kneading. It was finally time for all of us to relax. And yes, this was a very good day.

 (Sigh.)

  

Let Us Take a Lesson

I find it amazing that while out walking my dog, Bosco, I realize he has gained celebrity status. Not as big as Lassie, mind you, but he still has that "aha" discovery factor when someone gets sight of him. I know or am acquainted with many of my neighbors, yet  I have more people excitedly waving at me who, in reality, I have no idea who they are. Part of this confusion might be the sun in my eyes or tinted car windows, but many times I am just clueless. Their excitement is not in seeing me, but seeing my dog with me. "Look, there's Bosco!" I glance up and just politely wave back. 

I try to practice my return wave to get it down pat. You know, that gentle cupped wave that royalty and pageant queens have mastered. I'm at a slight disadvantage as I am sure the Queen doesn't wave at her fans while gripping a poop bag. Alas, grace and coordination have never been some of my strong suits. 

I do my best to disguise my surprise to Bosco's fan club. Along with the gracious wave, I simultaneously deliver the skilled expression of, "Ah yes indeedy, I recognize you!" Hopefully as people pass by in their vehicles, they are not able to read my lips as I ask Bosco, "Do you know who that was?" 

Cheers may be the place where everybody knows your name, but life B.D. (before my first dog, Mollie the Collie), nobody knew my name. With life A.D. (after dog), I was donned with the neighborhood nickname "Mollie's Mom." People still didn't know my name, and that was okay. But having a dog and walking the neighborhood was like having my own personal ambassador. Introductions were forthcoming. Genuine interest was shown in my dog's life, then in my life, and these greetings led to many new friendships. If I wasn't out walking my dog, the questions came—why not, is Mollie (and now Bosco) alright, have you been sick, is the dog feeling okay, how about that awful weather we've been having, were you on vacation, and so forth.

It occurred to me that the world needs more dog-like ambassadors who are able to neutralize situations. Dogs are blind to race, color, creed, ethnicity, socioeconomic status and politics. They give confidence to children, strength to the infirm, comfort the elderly, pure joy to the anxious. They know kindness, gentleness, assurance and love. They, like many other good-hearted souls, are eager to please. For a pat on the head, a bowl of kibble, a warm blanket, and a loving home, they are your forever friend. Mess with their loved ones, and they spring into action to protect their flock, their family. They have your back, no questions asked.

In this world where people are so eager to condemn, jump to conclusions and unwilling to communicate, let us take a lesson from dogs. Let us be ambassadors of goodwill in our neighborhoods, our jobs, our travels and in our schools. Let us learn to live simply, serve compassionately and love equally. And then, perhaps, we will sleep peacefully and behave confidently to know we have each other's backs.

Toolbox Gracias

When I was a kid, I always marveled at my brother Jeff’s toolbox. He had all kinds of tools and gadgets to do just the right job. Being the model builder enthusiast that he was, he was always building or putting something together. From time to time, I remember borrowing his tools to work on some project or hobby, somewhat thrilled about the possibilities that expert tools brought. 

One Christmas, Jeff bought me my very own toolbox and stocked it with some basic supplies including pliers, a hammer, sandpaper, jeweler’s screwdrivers and files, braces, etc. I was THRILLED, and realized that Jeff probably was, too, since I would no longer need to borrow tools from him. Bless his heart.

Maybe that’s where my first love of gadgets came from. Today I have just about every kitchen utensil you could think of, lots of sewing gadgets, an assortment of presser feet and attachments for my sewing machine, and a decent amount of garden tools. And, of course, I still have that original toolbox and have over the years added various tools. While it might look like a meager toolbox compared to the handymen of the world, it works well for me and has come to my rescue many times.

My brother Jeff and his wife JoEllen were in town the other week and stayed with me. While here, Jeff and I attempted to work on a birdhouse rehab project that I started. We took a ride over to a hardware store and picked up some supplies for the birdhouse. Jeff asked me if I owned a router. I drew a blank — nope, didn’t think I had one. He picked one up for me, and we used it with my electric drill once we got home. 

I went to that old toolbox and pulled out a few tools I thought we could use. I was thinking to myself this tool box gift had now gone full circle, and here we were working on a project together…probably some 35 years or more after that memorable Christmas. While we didn’t complete the birdhouse, I definitely had more ideas about how to finish it.

After Jeff and Jo returned home, I received a “thank you” package in the mail. I thought it was going to be a box of jams and snacks. Well, it was a box of more tools! I am now the proud owner of a jigsaw, a slick set of drill bits, and a “high-tech” stud finder. Oh the ideas raced through my mind again. I wonder what kind of fun trouble I can get into with a jigsaw? The stud finder definitely will help me more easily hang my own wall art…but will it work on my next blind date? Hmm…I guess the possibilities continue to be endless if you have just the right tool…and a big brother who looks over your shoulder at just the right time. Gracias.

It's a Good Night for Snuggling

Mollie

No two pets are ever the same. They all have their distinct habits and idiosyncrasies. My Mollie the Collie has been gone almost two years, and still there are days I miss her so much I can hardly stand it. My neighbor and I often recount some of Mollie’s funniest habits when we are out walking my current dog, Bosco. A squirrel or several deer can go by during our walk, and Bosco reacts as if to say, “Oh, that’s nice,” and then he keeps moseying along. But Mollie, by contrast, would have been bouncing off the ground, springing right out of her boots had she worn any.

One of the things I loved to do with Mollie was pet her to sleep. I would call her upstairs, and she would curl up on her pillow next to my bed. If I stopped scratching her head, her paw would come out and tap my hand or arm as if to say, “More, please. Don’t stop!” Then I would continue to stroke her head more and more slowly and gently. Her paw would come up even more slowly. I would lightly and tenderly pet her just a little more. Soon her paw would stretch out in mid-air, pause, miss touching me, and return to her pillow. Her eyes would close, and she would be asleep. I would then quietly tiptoe away and crawl into my own bed.

I recently remarked that I missed petting Mollie to sleep. Contrarily, I think Bosco actually sleeps with his eyes partly open. Sometimes it’s hard to tell when he’s asleep. His fur is so dark and his eyes are so brown, I have to look closely to determine if he’s really asleep.

Bosco

Tonight was one of those cold spring nights where it felt like winter snuck back into the picture. It’s a good night for snuggling. Bosco decided to warm up my bed and hopped up for some quality nap time. I stopped to give his head and cheek a gentle scratch. He surprised me with an outstretched paw that tapped my leg. I returned to stroking his cheek. Sure enough, he fell asleep in front of me and even closed his eyes. “It’s okay, Bud. You just rest.” His rhythmic breathing gave me a quiet reassurance as I continued to clack away on the keyboard.

Mollie had a similar mesmerizing effect when she slept. Had I not known better, I would have thought her soft snoring sounded like someone else was in the room with me. “What’s that noise?” I would ask as I sat up in bed. Oh, that was Mollie snoring in her bed. I would smile, sigh, and return to sleep. All was well. Bosco, on the other hand, seems to be a quiet sleeper. The other night, though, I heard him snoring. Yes, it was true, he officially snored. And, as a matter of fact, given the way he belches and breaks wind, I would say he’d rival a rustling cowboy.

Pets wiggle their way into our lives and never quite let go. When they leave, they take a piece of our heart with them. Sometimes I think a piece of Mollie’s spirit wound up inside Bosco. Occasionally, I see a glimmer of a familiar trait in him. That’s when I’ll look at Bosco and ask, “Did Mollie teach you that trick?” Heck, there were times when I thought Mollie could read my mind. She was so smart she anticipated my every move.

Bosco woke up from his nap tonight, looked over, and gave me a little lick on the nose—as if to say, “Thanks, Mom. I needed that.” I looked at him and asked, “Did you see Mollie in your dreams tonight? Well if you did, tell her I said, ‘Hello’ and let her know I miss her. Always have, always will.”