The Wee Hours

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Sometime during the wee hours of the morning, I had a strange dream.

In it, the strip of grass along the sidewalk in front of my house had been removed. With the grass missing, an underground storage area of sorts was revealed, and in this area were things from my childhood — things which, in the dream, I recognized and reminisced about.

When I awoke, I thought back to the dream and recalled some of those items. They really were ones that I had when I was growing up.

I’d forgotten about them long ago, and I couldn’t begin to explain why they were in my dream. Some were dolls and their related accessories, while others were objects — like a tiny tube of lip balm that had a unique cap, and a hair clip that I remember wearing as often as possible.

Maybe the dream was nothing more than a random occurrence. Or maybe there was more to it.

Maybe it was telling me to work less and play more.

Perhaps it was saying that for as much as I look to the future, the past is what has shaped us and shouldn’t be forgotten.

Or maybe it was just telling me to clear out a couple closets and have a garage sale.

Whatever the reason for our dreams, I like to think that each one of them comes from something deep inside our heart, our soul or our head — or possibly all three.

Tonight I am thankful for the sense we can make from the seemingly nonsensical, and for the reminders our past can give us as we look forward to our future.

Sparkly and New

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The old and time-tested often gets a bad rap.

So much credit is given to the new and shiny, the sparkly and the pristine. It’s easy to get caught up in it, and it’s tempting to pass over all the good things that the established can offer.

The new says, “Where do you want to go?” The old says, “Remember where we’ve been.”

The new says, “Spread yourself too thin and start saving tomorrow.” The old says, “I may not be flashy, but I’m dependable.”

The new says, “Discard the tough; cast off your burdens.” The old says, “Cherish your learnings; heed your lessons.”

Both the new and the old have their benefits. The old may have a layer of dust, a ding here and there or be in need of some paint touch-ups — all things indicative of character, not flaws. Maturity, not young and flighty.

Tonight I am thankful for seeing the value in that which has been around a while, that which we’ve had as a trusty friend over the years, and in the things that add color to our lives and keep us grounded. I’m thankful also for the new, for without it I wouldn’t cherish the old as much.

Fireworks.

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They’re not allowed here, but it feels like every neighbor around me has purchased fireworks…they have infiltrated my bubble o’ calm.

Loud booms, thundering explosions and multi-colored streaks making their way across the night sky have been the norm the past few hours; the echoing shriek of a lit fuse rings in my ears.
The pets are freaked out, and I’m trying to keep them calm.

When things are outside of the ordinary, they can make us nervous, jumpy or concerned. Sticking your head in the sand to try to forget them is one way to deal (though not a good way), and it’s quite another to try to understand them and coexist. We can run and hide under the bed but, in time, we normally want to emerge from our hiding place and resume life as we once knew it.

There may still be noises and booms to deal with, but we found they didn’t hurt us in hiding, so maybe we can live somewhat alongside one another after all. Not necessarily in harmony, but nearby.

Tonight I am thankful for the reminder that those instances which are startling to us tend not to last forever, and for friends and family who are there to help us keep our cool and our focus.

Pomp and Parade

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I went to Walmart this afternoon because I needed a new passport photo. I do not recommend doing such a thing the day before the fourth of July.

The store is somewhat the equivalent of a theme park most of the time: long lines, people walking around eating food (not yet paid for, however), strollers ramming into people and things, kids running excitedly and merchandise coming out of your non-mouse ears. I have a soft spot for it, though, and have passed many an hour there.

Today that theme park was on crack, and it was dripping in red, white and blue. Econo-sized bags of chips never before adorned with stars, stripes and fireworks were lining the shelves, their graphics clearly working when it came time for customers to choose a brand. Festive cupcakes of all shapes and sizes flooded the bakery area; parents caved and filled their carts with the sugary goodness.

Bunches of dyed flowers, none of which looked natural, were being snatched up. I don’t know about you, but if a blue daisy never graces my table, I’d be more than OK with that.

All-things red were front and center, luring shoppers with their hue: regular hand towels, red party cups, party streamers, rugs, gift bags, shower curtains, pillows, even the silk flowers. It was like the holiday wasn’t about independence, but being chained to a single color in the event you happened to be furnishing a home…only in red. If I was blue or white, I’d have been a little jealous.

It’s interesting the marketing and displays that bombard our senses during early July. It makes me wonder whether the kids stocking the shelves know their country’s history, or whether the gal designing the advertising insert understands why she’s using the clip art that she’s using.

Tonight in my city where fireworks are illegal — but where people are starting their celebrations early and lighting everything from bottle rockets to simple sparklers anyway — I am thankful for our country, for those events during the summer of 1776 and for all the show, the pomp and parade that John Adams spoke of to his wife. Yes, we are still commemorating our day of deliverance from coast to coast more than two hundred years later. Even though we’ve broadened things beyond “guns, bells and bonfires” since then, our celebrations are still celebrations — and the spirit of “the great anniversary festival” remains.

God bless America.

Hey U

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I’m proud to say that if I miss my exit or street, I won’t cut you off or blindly make my move, hoping that you see me and make room. I will proceed in a sane manner to the next possible place where I can turn around. I did this twice tonight.

The first instance found me in the wrong lane at the end of an unfamiliar freeway off-ramp. The second instance found me in the wrong lane to get back onto the freeway again. Traffic was fairly heavy, so instead of fighting it I went east for a mile, exited, then got back on and headed west.

I remember a story from one of our cross-country vacations back in the 80s. My dad was driving our massive, forest green station wagon and towing our trailer; the four of us were making our way to North Carolina to see friends. One day we were getting back on the highway and, as my dad was getting up to speed on the on-ramp, the driver ahead of him suddenly decided to come to a stop.

Like, we’re talking a dead stop.

A dead stop with a trailer-towing, fully-loaded station wagon barreling down on said stopped car.

My dad did his best to stop in time and, fortunately, his best was enough — but not before my parents saw their lives flash before their eyes and were convinced we were all going to die. Squealing tires and red-hot brakes rained fury upon that driver. I think I remember them saying this happened somewhere in the middle of Texas or New Mexico — I can’t recall. I don’t remember this happening, as I was pretty young; I only remember the story of it.

The driver could’ve and should’ve been more aware, but wasn’t. They could have noticed us in the rearview mirror and easily kept going, making their way to the next exit and then stopping to do whatever it was they needed to do — but they didn’t. This story has been stuck in my head for close to three decades, and I think it’s made me a better driver.

Make a u-turn when you realize you’re on the wrong course. Don’t get crazy, don’t take anyone else out in the process (including yourself) — just be aware, rational and correct at your earliest convenience. Being unaware and oblivious is where we can get ourselves and others into trouble.

Tonight I am thankful for knowing that u-turns aren’t just for the road, but are also for the roads of life. They may take a while to reach, or they may be a side-street just ahead, but they’ll always be available to us. It’s up to us to take advantage of them while we can, and to keep an eye out for our fellow man in the process.

The Summer of Life

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How is it already July?

Wasn’t it just Christmas?

Oh, right…it was just Christmas — then Valentine’s Day. Then it was St. Patrick’s Day, then Easter, then Memorial Day.

Every year around this time, I wonder where the time goes. Being that I prefer the cold, the gray and the rain to the warmth, I of course marvel at the quickly-passing year in sweltering temperatures and with humidity wreaking havoc on my hair. Joy.

I don’t know how long this thought process has been going on, but my guess would be for at least ten years.

Ten.

Years.

I was 26 ten years ago. I hadn’t yet moved across country (again), I was dating someone who was a horrible fit for me (also again), and I had no idea who I was. I still kind of feel like I don’t. Some things never change.

But this decade, it doesn’t matter. Life has a way of moving along, but also slowing down your concerns about the future — at least it does for me. Maybe that indicates we know ourselves better than we think we do. Or maybe it simply indicates we’re resigning ourselves to the mere passage of time. I prefer to believe its the former.

It seems like just yesterday I was taking baton lessons. Gymnastics. Clarinet. Watercolor painting classes. Voice lessons. Guitar. Bass. And piano…piano…piano.

It feels like just the other day I was choosing my next My Little Pony, my next Barbie, learning how to ride a bike, how to braid, how to shoot a three-pointer, how to drive and I could swear I just recently picked out a couple of prom dresses. Then I went off to college. That was just the other day, wasn’t it?

Oh, college. I found my way — at times blindly — through scheduled classes and unscheduled bumps on the road of life. I lost my heart, lost my mind, lost my innocence, then met people who restored it all. Then more who took it all away again. Rinse, lather, repeat.

It’s already July, yes, but the summer of our lives shines a warm, accepting light on all that we’ve been through, endured, willingly set out to experience and that which we’ve had no control over. It illuminates the lessons we’ve learned, the deficits and cracks wherever need more knowledge and highlights the good part of the bad stuff we’ve seen. It’s a season of silver linings, if you will. And there are more to come.

Tonight I am thankful for the passing of time — His time — that I sometimes grumble about, but which has immeasurable benefits that I appreciate and respect. Its teachings are custom-made for our ways, and it knows us inside and out. It knows what we can handle, what we need still and how much we can take.

The Next Big Thing

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How many times have you rushed out and charged something because it’s touted as the next big thing, the best version or the must-have item of the season?

How many times have you tuned into a news segment or TV show because the next big star is going to be on it?

There’s no shortage of commercials, print or online ad and every other influence you can think of telling us that what we have isn’t good enough, isn’t new enough, doesn’t have enough bells and whistles or isn’t something that would make us desirable to other people.

News flash: the next big thing is being content with what we have. It’s being content with who we are, and not measuring our worth against things, other people or how much stuff we own.

That gadget you want will be outdated in six months.

The house you fell in love with that’s just out of reach isn’t asking you to live beyond your means — it’s urging you to learn a lesson in patience and telling you to keep looking.

If you’re waiting to do something until you think you’re ready, you’ll never be ready. You’ll need this or that first, or to be this way or that way…because that’s what life tells us.

Turning the next big thing on its head is somewhat of a trend these days, but I think it could stand to be bigger and more far-reaching. Some areas of my life have seen a change in this direction, while other areas can be improved upon.

It’s hard to balance the dreamer with the realist and the gotta-have-it with the not-necessary-to-live, but tonight I am thankful for the knowledge that not having that balance only gets us into a hole defined by someone else, instead of into a position of owning our lives for what they are, and being secure in everything — the important things — that makes us all “us.”

A Penny a Dress

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It was the Great Depression, and Tony Bennett’s mother was desperate to keep food on the table in the wake of her husband’s passing. She worked as a seamstress and earned a penny per dress to feed her three children.

Sometimes I think things could be better in my life, but rarely do I stop to remember that they could be far worse, too. Let’s break it down: I have a roof over my head, food to eat, clothing to wear and transportation that allows me to get to a job. Many around the world can’t say the same.

We have no idea what it’s like to live in the 1930s — we can only read about the Depression or, if we’re lucky, maybe a surviving grandparent can tell us what it was like. Times were beyond tough and, God willing, we never experience anything of that magnitude again.

But if we did, would we work for a penny a dress? Could we humble ourselves to do what it took to provide — in an honorable manner — for our families?

Would we be stuck in the past and reliving the good times? Would we remind people of who we were, what we had and what we accomplished, too proud to shift to a new way of living and too oblivious to realize that the playing field had been leveled? Would the idea of hard work be in line with what we thought it was during better times, or would we have a rude awakening when it came time to roll up our sleeves?

I think most of us have no idea what hard work really is. I know I’ve worked hard, but not a-penny-a-dress hard. Most of us don’t know what it’s like to go hungry or to go without. We don’t know what it’s like to truly be in need.

Tonight I am thankful for the lessons that history had taught us, for the stick-to-it-ness of Americans before us, and for the inspirational reminders that those still among us share.

A penny a dress is so much more than an agreed upon payment for work or a story of someone’s mother — it’s proof that we can all dig deep within ourselves and focus on the needs versus the wants. We may all be used to a life of relative excess, but hard work got us here and can get us out once again if and when things begin to crumble.

Growing Up

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The British version of Death at a Funeral has a great line in it.

“You have to grow up on your own.” Nobody can do it for you.

Some days I don’t feel like I’ve grown up, and I know that nobody can do it for me. Nobody can tell me what to take away from an experience, and nobody can tell me what to do that will serve me best in life.

Nobody can tell me the lessons to learn, the best practices to keep in mind the rest of my life or the moments I need to keep close to my heart as I drift off to sleep.

I may not be grown up or the smartest during all occasions, but I am thankful for friends who keep me honest, who spotlight the facts and who add perspective to my journey.

Life Support

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As I listened to a news report about a nation’s icon in critical condition and a country rallying around him on the streets below, it struck me how varied life support can be.

Yes, it’s something that can keep us alive. It’s something that sustains our breath for a few more hours, weeks or months. It stretches out our lives and hopes that we’ll once again take control of the reins.

Machines aside, rallying around a well-known leader or a family’s loved one is its own form of life support. We support their fight to go on. We support all that they’ve stood for. We support those in the medical profession who are there at all hours of the day, and we support every ounce of effort that is pouring in from all corners of that person’s world. People may not be there for us around the clock, but my guess is that when we need them, they’ll come running.

And they have.

Who needs your support? Do you know what kind of support they need? It may not be a machine that keeps them breathing, but it could be something as simple as a smile. A hello. A pat on the back. It could be an invitation, a phonecall, a letter, a card or a small gift for no reason. It could be an email, a text or a casual drop-in on their life to see how things are going.

Compliments or instances of admiration cross our mind often, and we don’t always tell the other person about them. If they did something well, let them know. If their cause is noble and inspires you, speak up. If there’s something their doing in their life that you’re in awe of — even if you’re a little jealous — get over it. Give them some life support, because you never know what you’ll get in return. Maybe you’ll find your own niche or personal project that others will admire.

Life support can be a positive circle and a chain reaction if we want it to be, and for it I am thankful. Let’s share our love, contribute to the support and not stop just because one chapter might be over. Let’s write a new one and continue on.