Most recent garden lesson---as I was pinching off dead blooms from my flowering basket I was thinking that since the reason for doing that is to basically redirect the strength of the plant to producing new blooms then it would be good if we could do that with our thoughts---then I thought--we can , we do, we should! I too often will put my energy into negative thoughts that bear no good fruit and bring my life no beauty. I need to quickly pinch off those dead (end) thoughts and redirect my energy into good thoughts that will grow into good actions..then I will have more blossoming going on and more beauty in my life.
Yesterday I finally went 'big' grocery shopping which means that I make a list, gather coupons, replace storage items, and stock up on a few things. This means that it takes a lot of time and a chunk of cash. This is why I tend to put it off. Anyway, shopping went pretty well but I seemed to frequently run into (not literally thank heavens) the same woman while I was shopping and she ended up being in line just ahead of me. I like to make eye contact with people while I am shopping and see if I can get people to return my smile. I frequently do and that is very pleasant but this particular woman didn't seem to want to make eye contact--at least not long enough to see me smile at her. She did however look at the contents of my shopping cart a couple of times and for some reason that bothered me. Who knows, perhaps that woman is right at this very moment writing her blog about an annoying woman who kept looking at her in the grocery store and I probably should ponder what quirk it is in myself that causes me to be bugged when someone looks at what I have in my shopping cart but I think I would rather explore the possible reasons people have for looking in other people's shopping carts.
As I mentioned, when I go 'big' grocery shopping I replace storage items and stock up and try to get enough basics to last a couple of weeks so my shopping cart gets pretty full. I also have a tendency to worry about not having enough so I do often buy more than what we need. There have been several occasions when people have stared at my packed grocery cart as I struggle to push it around a corner and I have felt a little gluttonous but how do they know I'm not buying for a care center or something---or maybe I have eight kids---Of course I shop at my neighborhood grocery store so I almost always run into friends and neighbors and they normally don't look at the items in my cart. (Although if it is a friend who knows I am trying to eat healthy I do feel a bit guilty if I have more cookies and candy than I do carrots and yogurt in my cart) So why would we check out what other people are buying?
Maybe someone has an item in their cart that we were looking for but couldn't find. Maybe they have something in their cart that looks good---like something we would like to have for dinner or dessert or a snack. Maybe they have a lot of something in their cart that would indicate a sale that we would like to take advantage of---Perhaps it would lead to more efficient shopping if we occasionally looked at the items in other people's shopping carts. For instance, if someone has really white teeth maybe we should look to see what kind of toothpaste is in their cart. If we know someone as being a person who demands good quality maybe we should see what kind of toilet paper they're buying. If we see someone with lustrous hair then we should see what shampoo they're buying or if someone we know is well off financially maybe we could take a peek and see if they buy name brand or store brand.
I shouldn't be bugged by the woman looking in my cart. Maybe seeing what people buy could become an interesting and even productive habit. They say you can tell a lot about someone by what is in their trash--so I'm sure you can tell a lot about someone by what is in their shopping cart. Maybe the lady was just looking to see if she could see what could contribute to or explain my habit of smiling so much at strangers...
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Fear---of Falling---of Failing
Wow it's been 2 weeks since I have written anything. I wonder if anyone has noticed???
Anyway...I have had a lot of thoughts darting around my mind looking for a spot to land to I will try and land them here and now.
First of all I forgot to mention in my last blog, which was itself a mishmash of thoughts, that I purchased some pinwheels to put on my garden fence. It adds a touch of whimsy that makes my heart smile. They are different colors and metallic so they catch the rays of the sun as well as the breeze. Something in me feels a kinship with things that are whimsical--perhaps because they have to do with the imagination--I looked up whimsy in the dictionary and wasn't really satisfied with the definition--but it is one of those words that the definition is more felt than read...
I have been thinking about fine lines lately, not the kind that women my age try to minimize or conceal (I do confess to thinking about those though---if only we women could think of them as fine as in really nice) but the kind that people speak of walking---balancing on a border between two things that are either opposite or very close in nature--one of which is desirable and the other is not. For example I have heard it said that there is a fine line between madness and genius or a fine line between conceit and confidence. I was thinking specifically of the fine line between helping our children overcome fears and traumatizing them. The other day in a public restroom I overheard a little boy who started fussing upon entering the restroom about his not wanting to dry his hands with the air blowers. It soon became apparent that he was very fearful of the loud noise the blowers make. He fretted the whole time he and his mother were in the restroom. His mother kept reassuring him that she had wipes that he could use to wash his hands so he would not have to use the air blower. She kept telling him he would be fine. I couldn't help but give a knowing smile because of the many memories I had of dealing with my own children's fears.
Sometimes as parents we downplay our children's fears--we sometimes even chide them or laugh. Why? We all have fears, some rational some not. When I was young we lived in a city where houses were built on hills and very often we would go for drives. I remember at least once when we were going down a steep hill and I couldn't see beyond the top of the hill that I was terrified that we were going to drive off the edge of the hillside and fall to our deaths. It sounds like an odd fear but it was very real and terrifying to me. I should have known that my dad wouldn't drive us off the edge of a cliff but fear tramples trust just as easily and completely as it crumples common sense. I think as parents our responsibility to instruct and discipline weighs so heavily on us that it can throw us off balance and we forget about our responsibility to nurture and love. Of course the scales can lean too far in the opposite direction sometimes too. The mother in the restroom could have forced her son to dry his hands under the noisy air blower in order to help him overcome his fear but in doing so she could have run the risk of making him forever afraid of air blowing hand dryers. That mother was wise and probably knew that giving her son some time to mature would take care of things so she just told him there was nothing to be afraid of but didn't push him. As parents we often walk fine lines. We don't want to push fears too deep while trying to help our children overcome them. It's kind of like getting a sliver out. Maybe sometimes what we perceive to be fine lines are really not that fine at all if we keep things in balance...
We went to a local amusement park last Saturday as part of my husband's company summer party. It had been over ten years since I had been there. I had intended to ride a few tame rides with my husband and maybe sip a cold drink while people-watching while our daughter and her friend went on the more exciting and popular rides. But something happened as I walked up to the ticket windows...I caught a glimpse of a new ride and I thought it looked like fun---the next thing I knew we were all waiting in line for that ride. I rationalized that rides don't last very long so I felt confidant that I could just hold on tight and close my eyes if necessary and survive a few terrifying minutes. The ride was crazy. It involved going up and down and sideways like a roller coaster but the individual cars would spin around at the same time so when you reached the top of a hill you would spin and it would look like you were flying off of the track (I've come a long way from being afraid of driving down steep hills). It made me feel a bit like a toy in a dog's mouth being shaken around but it was kind of fun and we moved on to the next adventure which happened to be a ride that involved going straight up a high hill (are they called hills on roller coasters---seems there should be a better word) and then straight down and on to sharp twists and turns that involved going upside down. You didn't climb the hill on this ride---you were shot up it out of a very brief tunnel. When we were waiting in line I kept looking for people who looked my age or older to reassure me somehow. I didn't really find any--well maybe just one or two. I did get a little worried about the signs on all of the rides we went on that said that pregnant women and elderly persons should not ride. Thankfully I didn't have to worry about the pregnant part (that would be much scarier at this point in my life than any extreme ride) but am I considered elderly? My kids sometimes say I'm old--I am really middle-aged--although I am precise when it comes to numbers and I can only really be middle aged if I live to be over 100--it could happen! You're only as old as you feel and when I felt the desire for fun kind of bubble up inside of me when I reached the ticket window I felt pretty darn young. Anyway we ended up being in the very front car for the ride which meant we got the best view of hurtling to the ground. After being properly restrained we waited while there seemed to be some sort of problem with the ride. That is always consoling in these kinds of situations. There I sat trapped in my seat while the ride operator looked at the computer console with a troubled look on his face and spoke to someone on a phone! The operators of the rides frequently look young enough that their parents still have a hard time trusting them with the family car but there I was--a potentially elderly person putting my life in their hands. I kept looking at the operator trying to tell him with my eyes (I think I might have told him with my mouth too) that if he had any doubts at all about the safety of ride then please do not send us on... Well we went and things were okay---crazy and wild--but okay. I kept my eyes open most of time and the ride even reached my laughing place. When I got off I felt almost giddy at having survived and I felt a little cooler and a little younger than when I got on. Much to my surprise I admitted that I wouldn't mind riding that ride again.
While waiting in line and almost melting in the sun I couldn't help but wonder about what human beings come up with for entertainment. We get on contraptions that spin and throw and bounce us around, that make our most recent meal soar up to our throats and our hearts thump wildly, and we call it fun and even pay money. My husband is a very good sport and rode all of the rides I did except one. As long as I could hear him laughing in the face of death I knew I was okay. We had a fun time and I was an interesting mixture of exhausted and enlivened. Our teenage daughter and her friend were tired but the difference between teenage tired and middle age tired is teenage tired goes away in a couple of hours but middle age tired settles in and stays for a couple of days.
The morning of our adventure ---several hours before my brief moments of rather tame daring---a young scout from Wisconsin died trying to jump the gap between two arches in Moab. That event has kind of haunted me. I experienced the sensation of falling when I rode the amusement park rides but I was strapped in and my chances of survival extremely good. I have had nightmares about falling off of high places and a part of me shudders as I imagine what it must be like to fall to your death. I looked at a picture of someone jumping the same gap and I could see how something like that could have tempted a young man of 18. It was only a 6 foot gap, other people had done it and survived. We all get dangerous impulses. We all make rash decisions. There have been times when I have done something stupid and immediately realized how dire the consequences of my actions could have been. Things like this are what scout leaders pray won't happen on their watch. Things like this are what parents don't want to think about when they send their children off on outings. My heart goes out to the young man's family and to those who were with him when he fell. It seems extra tragic that he made the jump but then lost his balance--at that moment did he realize he was taking his last breaths. Giving in to an impulse quickly ended a promising young life. It is so important most of the time to stop and think. I feel so sorry for all of the people--many of them young people--who end up being heart-wrenching examples of what can happen when you don't.
I think the expression that someone has fallen ill is interesting. It makes it sound like the person was walking along living life when they fell into a pot hole of bad health. Just yesterday someone I hardly knew passed away. It made me very sad. Doctors had found a brain tumor in January but they were observing it and last I heard it hadn't grown. She was Stake Young Women's leader in our stake. My daughter had just seen her at girl's camp last weekend and my daughter and I had recently agreed on what a neat lady she was. Then on Sunday we heard she was on life support and prayers were requested in her behalf. I don't know all of the details. It just seemed to happen so fast. People leave a space when they die--- a space that can be so hard to understand and accept.
I was talking this morning with a friend who cuts my hair and she said she is enjoying this summer because she is taking time to enjoy the warmth of the sun, taking time to watch the sun set. I have been complaining about the heat and looking forward to autumn. It seems we are always looking forward to something but then we complain about the way time goes by so quickly. I think we would do well to enjoy the moment--the season of the year--the season of our life.
Hopefully my thoughts have landed not too awkwardly. I think I will go out and watch the wind blow my pinwheels...
Anyway...I have had a lot of thoughts darting around my mind looking for a spot to land to I will try and land them here and now.
First of all I forgot to mention in my last blog, which was itself a mishmash of thoughts, that I purchased some pinwheels to put on my garden fence. It adds a touch of whimsy that makes my heart smile. They are different colors and metallic so they catch the rays of the sun as well as the breeze. Something in me feels a kinship with things that are whimsical--perhaps because they have to do with the imagination--I looked up whimsy in the dictionary and wasn't really satisfied with the definition--but it is one of those words that the definition is more felt than read...
I have been thinking about fine lines lately, not the kind that women my age try to minimize or conceal (I do confess to thinking about those though---if only we women could think of them as fine as in really nice) but the kind that people speak of walking---balancing on a border between two things that are either opposite or very close in nature--one of which is desirable and the other is not. For example I have heard it said that there is a fine line between madness and genius or a fine line between conceit and confidence. I was thinking specifically of the fine line between helping our children overcome fears and traumatizing them. The other day in a public restroom I overheard a little boy who started fussing upon entering the restroom about his not wanting to dry his hands with the air blowers. It soon became apparent that he was very fearful of the loud noise the blowers make. He fretted the whole time he and his mother were in the restroom. His mother kept reassuring him that she had wipes that he could use to wash his hands so he would not have to use the air blower. She kept telling him he would be fine. I couldn't help but give a knowing smile because of the many memories I had of dealing with my own children's fears.
Sometimes as parents we downplay our children's fears--we sometimes even chide them or laugh. Why? We all have fears, some rational some not. When I was young we lived in a city where houses were built on hills and very often we would go for drives. I remember at least once when we were going down a steep hill and I couldn't see beyond the top of the hill that I was terrified that we were going to drive off the edge of the hillside and fall to our deaths. It sounds like an odd fear but it was very real and terrifying to me. I should have known that my dad wouldn't drive us off the edge of a cliff but fear tramples trust just as easily and completely as it crumples common sense. I think as parents our responsibility to instruct and discipline weighs so heavily on us that it can throw us off balance and we forget about our responsibility to nurture and love. Of course the scales can lean too far in the opposite direction sometimes too. The mother in the restroom could have forced her son to dry his hands under the noisy air blower in order to help him overcome his fear but in doing so she could have run the risk of making him forever afraid of air blowing hand dryers. That mother was wise and probably knew that giving her son some time to mature would take care of things so she just told him there was nothing to be afraid of but didn't push him. As parents we often walk fine lines. We don't want to push fears too deep while trying to help our children overcome them. It's kind of like getting a sliver out. Maybe sometimes what we perceive to be fine lines are really not that fine at all if we keep things in balance...
We went to a local amusement park last Saturday as part of my husband's company summer party. It had been over ten years since I had been there. I had intended to ride a few tame rides with my husband and maybe sip a cold drink while people-watching while our daughter and her friend went on the more exciting and popular rides. But something happened as I walked up to the ticket windows...I caught a glimpse of a new ride and I thought it looked like fun---the next thing I knew we were all waiting in line for that ride. I rationalized that rides don't last very long so I felt confidant that I could just hold on tight and close my eyes if necessary and survive a few terrifying minutes. The ride was crazy. It involved going up and down and sideways like a roller coaster but the individual cars would spin around at the same time so when you reached the top of a hill you would spin and it would look like you were flying off of the track (I've come a long way from being afraid of driving down steep hills). It made me feel a bit like a toy in a dog's mouth being shaken around but it was kind of fun and we moved on to the next adventure which happened to be a ride that involved going straight up a high hill (are they called hills on roller coasters---seems there should be a better word) and then straight down and on to sharp twists and turns that involved going upside down. You didn't climb the hill on this ride---you were shot up it out of a very brief tunnel. When we were waiting in line I kept looking for people who looked my age or older to reassure me somehow. I didn't really find any--well maybe just one or two. I did get a little worried about the signs on all of the rides we went on that said that pregnant women and elderly persons should not ride. Thankfully I didn't have to worry about the pregnant part (that would be much scarier at this point in my life than any extreme ride) but am I considered elderly? My kids sometimes say I'm old--I am really middle-aged--although I am precise when it comes to numbers and I can only really be middle aged if I live to be over 100--it could happen! You're only as old as you feel and when I felt the desire for fun kind of bubble up inside of me when I reached the ticket window I felt pretty darn young. Anyway we ended up being in the very front car for the ride which meant we got the best view of hurtling to the ground. After being properly restrained we waited while there seemed to be some sort of problem with the ride. That is always consoling in these kinds of situations. There I sat trapped in my seat while the ride operator looked at the computer console with a troubled look on his face and spoke to someone on a phone! The operators of the rides frequently look young enough that their parents still have a hard time trusting them with the family car but there I was--a potentially elderly person putting my life in their hands. I kept looking at the operator trying to tell him with my eyes (I think I might have told him with my mouth too) that if he had any doubts at all about the safety of ride then please do not send us on... Well we went and things were okay---crazy and wild--but okay. I kept my eyes open most of time and the ride even reached my laughing place. When I got off I felt almost giddy at having survived and I felt a little cooler and a little younger than when I got on. Much to my surprise I admitted that I wouldn't mind riding that ride again.
While waiting in line and almost melting in the sun I couldn't help but wonder about what human beings come up with for entertainment. We get on contraptions that spin and throw and bounce us around, that make our most recent meal soar up to our throats and our hearts thump wildly, and we call it fun and even pay money. My husband is a very good sport and rode all of the rides I did except one. As long as I could hear him laughing in the face of death I knew I was okay. We had a fun time and I was an interesting mixture of exhausted and enlivened. Our teenage daughter and her friend were tired but the difference between teenage tired and middle age tired is teenage tired goes away in a couple of hours but middle age tired settles in and stays for a couple of days.
The morning of our adventure ---several hours before my brief moments of rather tame daring---a young scout from Wisconsin died trying to jump the gap between two arches in Moab. That event has kind of haunted me. I experienced the sensation of falling when I rode the amusement park rides but I was strapped in and my chances of survival extremely good. I have had nightmares about falling off of high places and a part of me shudders as I imagine what it must be like to fall to your death. I looked at a picture of someone jumping the same gap and I could see how something like that could have tempted a young man of 18. It was only a 6 foot gap, other people had done it and survived. We all get dangerous impulses. We all make rash decisions. There have been times when I have done something stupid and immediately realized how dire the consequences of my actions could have been. Things like this are what scout leaders pray won't happen on their watch. Things like this are what parents don't want to think about when they send their children off on outings. My heart goes out to the young man's family and to those who were with him when he fell. It seems extra tragic that he made the jump but then lost his balance--at that moment did he realize he was taking his last breaths. Giving in to an impulse quickly ended a promising young life. It is so important most of the time to stop and think. I feel so sorry for all of the people--many of them young people--who end up being heart-wrenching examples of what can happen when you don't.
I think the expression that someone has fallen ill is interesting. It makes it sound like the person was walking along living life when they fell into a pot hole of bad health. Just yesterday someone I hardly knew passed away. It made me very sad. Doctors had found a brain tumor in January but they were observing it and last I heard it hadn't grown. She was Stake Young Women's leader in our stake. My daughter had just seen her at girl's camp last weekend and my daughter and I had recently agreed on what a neat lady she was. Then on Sunday we heard she was on life support and prayers were requested in her behalf. I don't know all of the details. It just seemed to happen so fast. People leave a space when they die--- a space that can be so hard to understand and accept.
I was talking this morning with a friend who cuts my hair and she said she is enjoying this summer because she is taking time to enjoy the warmth of the sun, taking time to watch the sun set. I have been complaining about the heat and looking forward to autumn. It seems we are always looking forward to something but then we complain about the way time goes by so quickly. I think we would do well to enjoy the moment--the season of the year--the season of our life.
Hopefully my thoughts have landed not too awkwardly. I think I will go out and watch the wind blow my pinwheels...
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
S-more Food For Thought
This and That---
I got a piece of bead board to block off our living room from our dogs---to keep them from rushing the door when the doorbell rings and from furring the furniture when they lounge on it. So now we have scraped off paint from replacing the board and little digs in the paint and the wall from the board falling down. Now when someone comes to the door I just have to hurry and talk with them before the dogs knock down the board. Oh well, at least the board gives me a fighting chance to make it to the door before the dogs---the furniture is relatively free of dog hair and my window sheers are not getting snagged anymore--With dogs there are a lot of compromises made--- mostly on the part of the owner.
As part of our 4th of July barbecue I picked up some giant marshmallows. They are about 3 times the size of regular marshmallows and really fluffy. They called to me in the store. One marshmallow makes 2 very gooey smores (it could actually make 4). It has 90 calories and no fat---no nutritional value to speak of but a reasonable indulgence---until you put it with graham crackers and a chocolate bar of course. They already make giant chocolate bars so now all we need is giant graham crackers and we could have a major dietary splurge. Actually they need to come out with micro mini marshmallows and bite size graham cracker squares then I could put one teeny marshmallow and one chocolate chip in between two wee graham crackers and have a doll size smore that just maybe my middle age metabolism could burn off before it joined the fat convention around my middle.
Well my daughter and I are off to IKEA the store purposely designed like a maze so that you will find things to buy in order to take your mind off of your fear of never finding your way out. At least it is good exercise. Maybe I can walk off those giant marshmallows.
One more thought about gardens---I have been pulling up some pesky unidentified weedy looking plants that have been growing like crazy in one of my flower gardens. I finally realized yesterday that they might be starts of a plant that I planted in the garden. The early beginnings look different than the more mature plant. I am going to let them go for awhile and see what happens...The fact that plants can look a little 'weedy' or unruly for a time at first before turning into something nicer means there is hope for plants and people too!
I think my post holiday hot summer laziness has settled in. I just want to read and eat marshmallows. I need to do something more energetic and productive than racing my dogs to the front door and wandering IKEA...
I got a piece of bead board to block off our living room from our dogs---to keep them from rushing the door when the doorbell rings and from furring the furniture when they lounge on it. So now we have scraped off paint from replacing the board and little digs in the paint and the wall from the board falling down. Now when someone comes to the door I just have to hurry and talk with them before the dogs knock down the board. Oh well, at least the board gives me a fighting chance to make it to the door before the dogs---the furniture is relatively free of dog hair and my window sheers are not getting snagged anymore--With dogs there are a lot of compromises made--- mostly on the part of the owner.
As part of our 4th of July barbecue I picked up some giant marshmallows. They are about 3 times the size of regular marshmallows and really fluffy. They called to me in the store. One marshmallow makes 2 very gooey smores (it could actually make 4). It has 90 calories and no fat---no nutritional value to speak of but a reasonable indulgence---until you put it with graham crackers and a chocolate bar of course. They already make giant chocolate bars so now all we need is giant graham crackers and we could have a major dietary splurge. Actually they need to come out with micro mini marshmallows and bite size graham cracker squares then I could put one teeny marshmallow and one chocolate chip in between two wee graham crackers and have a doll size smore that just maybe my middle age metabolism could burn off before it joined the fat convention around my middle.
Well my daughter and I are off to IKEA the store purposely designed like a maze so that you will find things to buy in order to take your mind off of your fear of never finding your way out. At least it is good exercise. Maybe I can walk off those giant marshmallows.
One more thought about gardens---I have been pulling up some pesky unidentified weedy looking plants that have been growing like crazy in one of my flower gardens. I finally realized yesterday that they might be starts of a plant that I planted in the garden. The early beginnings look different than the more mature plant. I am going to let them go for awhile and see what happens...The fact that plants can look a little 'weedy' or unruly for a time at first before turning into something nicer means there is hope for plants and people too!
I think my post holiday hot summer laziness has settled in. I just want to read and eat marshmallows. I need to do something more energetic and productive than racing my dogs to the front door and wandering IKEA...
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
The Life of a Toy
I experience holiday weekend hangovers. I need to be gradually weaned off of a holiday frame of mind...
We capped off our enjoyable holiday weekend by going to see a movie on Monday. My husband, youngest daughter, and I went to see Toy Story 3. It was funny, exciting, creative, very sweet, magical, simple and amazing, And it was rated G! I am so grateful to the people at Pixar for their innovative, imaginative, and uplifting movies. They know how to make movies that strike a chord in the collective and individual human heart. I agree with my husband that they remember what it was like to play make-believe and they still do it---so delightfully!
I think most of us can relate to the Toy Story movies. Hopefully all of us at one time in our lives has owned and loved a toy. I usually do not like all of the toys that barrage the consuming public as a result of kids movies but in the case of Toy Story it was actually appropriate and I found myself wanting those toys. Soon after the first movie came out my oldest daughter bought Rex and Slink for me for a gift---it was funny because when she bought them the clerk made some comment about my daughter buying them for a younger sibling and my daughter told her no, they're for my mom-- my daughter said the clerk looked surprised and a little confused. I couldn't help it the movie put me in a nostalgic mood.
At one point during the movie the theater went almost completely quiet and everyone in the audience-young and old-seemed to share a special moment. It was one of those chord-striking moments.--- As adults we all remember how very much we wanted to grow up and yet how hard it was to leave our childhood behind. Like growing out of a favorite shirt or pair of pajamas--we can remember how good it felt to wear them but we can't wear them comfortably ever again. That realization both bothers and excites us when we are young. When we grow older that tug-of-war of feelings is softened through reminising. During each phase of life we look for a new 'favorite shirt'---something that fits... As young children our toys are so much more than things to play with. They are our trusted companions and our fellow adventurers. They are the vehicles for our imaginations. When we are in our early teens and almost nothing fits right and almost everything is awkward our toys are something we long to play with but feel we shouldn't. When we exchange make-believe for the reality of adulthood toys come to represent the innocent and carefree elements of being a child.--- I think it is safe to assume that the majority of adults teens and toddlers in the audience all shared an appreciation for the sentimental value of a toy and the love of playing. I admit that during that special movie moment when the movie really brought that appreciation home I shed a tear or two and looking around me I don't think I was the only one.
When I was a kid I enjoyed playing with dolls (including Barbies---my Barbies went on many adventures with neighbor Barbies---swimming, to grand parties etc etc) Slinkies, Troll dolls--especially one that had gold silky hair---, and a big white stuffed bear that my sister gave me.
For my husband it was Matchbox cars, GI Joes and Tinkertoys. One of the great things about being a parent or grandparent is that you get to keep playing...
Over the years our home has been made more lively by Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, been enchanted by My little Pony, had it's cute factor multiplied by Littlest Pet Shop, and has been softened and comforted by numerous stuffed cuddly friends.
I know toys are just things--defined in the dictionary as simply an object for a child play with--and over the years I have cursed them for being under my feet and they have frequently been the enemy in my various battles with clutter but yet I have inwardly cheered when finding just the right one at Christmas and winced when my children have decided to give one away that I had a particular fondness for. Toys come to life in a child's imagination and become an important part of worlds that exist because they are imagined. I remember being carried far away on the wings of my imagination. I think that pretending opens the mind and paves the way for believing...that dreams can come true---that miracles can happen.
I highly recommend going to see Toy Story 3 just for fun. I even more highly recommend having a tea party, playing dolls, or building something fantastical out of blocks, with your children (you can at least tempt your teenagers or make them do impressive eye rolling) or grandchildren.
Have fun!
We capped off our enjoyable holiday weekend by going to see a movie on Monday. My husband, youngest daughter, and I went to see Toy Story 3. It was funny, exciting, creative, very sweet, magical, simple and amazing, And it was rated G! I am so grateful to the people at Pixar for their innovative, imaginative, and uplifting movies. They know how to make movies that strike a chord in the collective and individual human heart. I agree with my husband that they remember what it was like to play make-believe and they still do it---so delightfully!
I think most of us can relate to the Toy Story movies. Hopefully all of us at one time in our lives has owned and loved a toy. I usually do not like all of the toys that barrage the consuming public as a result of kids movies but in the case of Toy Story it was actually appropriate and I found myself wanting those toys. Soon after the first movie came out my oldest daughter bought Rex and Slink for me for a gift---it was funny because when she bought them the clerk made some comment about my daughter buying them for a younger sibling and my daughter told her no, they're for my mom-- my daughter said the clerk looked surprised and a little confused. I couldn't help it the movie put me in a nostalgic mood.
At one point during the movie the theater went almost completely quiet and everyone in the audience-young and old-seemed to share a special moment. It was one of those chord-striking moments.--- As adults we all remember how very much we wanted to grow up and yet how hard it was to leave our childhood behind. Like growing out of a favorite shirt or pair of pajamas--we can remember how good it felt to wear them but we can't wear them comfortably ever again. That realization both bothers and excites us when we are young. When we grow older that tug-of-war of feelings is softened through reminising. During each phase of life we look for a new 'favorite shirt'---something that fits... As young children our toys are so much more than things to play with. They are our trusted companions and our fellow adventurers. They are the vehicles for our imaginations. When we are in our early teens and almost nothing fits right and almost everything is awkward our toys are something we long to play with but feel we shouldn't. When we exchange make-believe for the reality of adulthood toys come to represent the innocent and carefree elements of being a child.--- I think it is safe to assume that the majority of adults teens and toddlers in the audience all shared an appreciation for the sentimental value of a toy and the love of playing. I admit that during that special movie moment when the movie really brought that appreciation home I shed a tear or two and looking around me I don't think I was the only one.
When I was a kid I enjoyed playing with dolls (including Barbies---my Barbies went on many adventures with neighbor Barbies---swimming, to grand parties etc etc) Slinkies, Troll dolls--especially one that had gold silky hair---, and a big white stuffed bear that my sister gave me.
For my husband it was Matchbox cars, GI Joes and Tinkertoys. One of the great things about being a parent or grandparent is that you get to keep playing...
Over the years our home has been made more lively by Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, been enchanted by My little Pony, had it's cute factor multiplied by Littlest Pet Shop, and has been softened and comforted by numerous stuffed cuddly friends.
I know toys are just things--defined in the dictionary as simply an object for a child play with--and over the years I have cursed them for being under my feet and they have frequently been the enemy in my various battles with clutter but yet I have inwardly cheered when finding just the right one at Christmas and winced when my children have decided to give one away that I had a particular fondness for. Toys come to life in a child's imagination and become an important part of worlds that exist because they are imagined. I remember being carried far away on the wings of my imagination. I think that pretending opens the mind and paves the way for believing...that dreams can come true---that miracles can happen.
I highly recommend going to see Toy Story 3 just for fun. I even more highly recommend having a tea party, playing dolls, or building something fantastical out of blocks, with your children (you can at least tempt your teenagers or make them do impressive eye rolling) or grandchildren.
Have fun!
Monday, July 5, 2010
Moments
Do you remember the anticipation fluttering deep in your stomach as you felt the tugging on your roller coaster car as it neared the peak of the first and highest 'mountain'---and many people (not me) would raise their arms in anticipation...I think the 4th of July feels like that moment. It is the exciting peak of summer. The rest of the season is an enjoyable ride but the excitement lessens and the shrieks of delight turn to softer laughter and then to giggles as each curve takes us closer to feeling the pull of the brakes.
When I was a kid the 4th of July meant a barbecue, homemade ice-cream--that was hand cranked and I got to add salt to the bucket and was rewarded with getting to lick the paddle-stirrer-thing, lighting 'snakes' on the patio (they made lasting marks), doing cartwheels on the lawn, writing my name in the night air with sparklers, and watching Lagoon's fireworks from our kitchen window. (Which is kind of like watching the neighbor's television through their window from their front sidewalk---my mom couldn't get around well and my family never liked anything that involved crowds)
My first 4th of July away from home my room mate and I went to see the fireworks at Liberty Park. Unfortunately I remember the crowds more than the fireworks. My first memorable experience watching fireworks was when my husband took me to see his hometown's display at the middle school he had attended. We were right under the fireworks. They were huge and bright and noisy. They were like colored fountains spraying brilliant bursts of light---or like giant glowing dandelions gone to seed blown by the wind and twirling until they disappeared---they were amazing (with my hand in my husband's hand I didn't worry too much about our blanket catching on fire) and they felt so close that I imagined burning my fingers if I reached up too high---a much different view than perched on the edge of the kitchen sink finding just the right spot to look between two shadowy trees and wait for small bursts of light to appear.
After having children the 4th of July still included barbecues but store bought ice-cream and popcicles and Otter pops became more popular than homemade ice-cream. (these cold treats brought pleasure on hot days but they didn't carry with them the same ceremony of making homemade ice-cream) The 4th of July with children meant grabbing strollers and blankets and heading down to find a good spot to watch our city parade where we would wave small flags, wave to the pretty girls on the floats, and try to catch candy before it hit us---watching our children run around the yard with sparklers or throw snaps on the ground, and eating licorice or skittles while oohing and ahhing over fireworks.
I find that my memories of the 4th of July are more about the festivities-more about the celebration- than about the reason for the celebrating. But there have been and continue to be moments when I feel touched by patriotism---love for my country, moments when I feel gratitude for more freedoms than I realize most of the time, and moments when I feel reverence for the precious blood spilled defending those freedoms. These moments are far more rare than they should be but when they come they stir my heart with deep emotion and illuminate my mind with sharp awareness.
A very small amount of understanding of sacrifice for freedom came to me as a very young child when I saw my dad leave on a train on the first leg of his journey to Korea. Great clouds of steam were coming from the train and I screamed and sobbed because I thought my daddy was burning up. I gained greater appreciation for his sacrifice years later as I read his cards home from Korea. In them he spoke of what they would be doing on base to celebrate Thanksgiving or Christmas and how much he wished he could be home to celebrate with his family. In the final years of my father's life when he lived with us, he told me that because of his experiences in the Navy and the Army he could never see the American flag without getting a lump in his throat. My dad was not an emotional man.
I remember feeling an inkling of what I thought patriotism to be---not on the 4th of July but during the Christmas holidays when I would watch Bob Hope's specials when he entertained the troops. Although I was young I would look at the youthful smiling faces of the soldiers and I would experience a mixture of feelings. For a few moments brave young men would whistle at beautiful girl performers and laugh at Bob's jokes. They would have a break from pain and suffering and death, and for a few moments they would be just regular guys enjoying life. Watching them would give me a lump in my throat that I couldn't fully understand.
Last night we watched a couple of 4th of July specials on television. One was from our nation's capital and featured several entertainers including a boy from a relatively small city in our own state. There were patriotic musical numbers and fireworks and young soldiers who had been battered, broken, and maimed in our current war. Watching them smile in the face of adversity during a moment of peace reminded me of all those fresh young faces on the Bob Hope specials--only these faces were the 'after' shots... The other special featured Steve Young and a few LDS musical performers. We tuned in shortly before a young man spoke about his harrowing experience of being ambushed in Afghanistan. He had been blinded and had lost several good friends in the attack. Later in the program tribute was paid to two young local boys who had attended the same high school and who had both served and died in Afghanistan. Flags were presented to their mothers. Each mother held the flag to her heart with a look that spoke of yearning to hold her son instead. I felt like I was intruding...I guess it is needful to see more than parades and fireworks in order to truly celebrate the 4th of July. We need reminders of the cost of freedom--we also need to march and sing and wave flags and make homemade ice-cream...
Perhaps the time my heart was stretched to the fullest with patriotism was at my father's funeral. We had military rites done for him. To watch the exactness, the respect, the reverence, and dedication with which those young servicemen folded the flag left me in a state of humble awe. I can't begin to describe my feelings as the flag was handed to me and my sister. I felt my dad there with us and I like to think at that moment that he had gained a greater understanding of freedom. My dad had his mother lie about his age and sign for him so that he could join the navy at 16 or 17. He signed up for a dangerous mission as a gunner on a Merchant Marine ship. He said at the time he felt that no one cared about him and that it wouldn't matter if he came back or not. I think serving his country helped my dad have a greater appreciation for what he risked his life to defend---a relationship with God, freedom to make something of his life, and a family to love. My father spent all of the rest of his civilian life doing all he could to provide for his family and to give them happiness.
On Saturday night as we watched fireworks I looked at my granddaughter snug in her mother's lap excited about 'Christmas fireworks' and at my grandson safe in his daddy's arms captivated by the bright lights in the sky and I was immensely thankful that our family was watching a celebration and not hiding from enemy soldiers---that the loud sounds were coming from fireworks and not bombs or gunfire---that we would go home to safe and comfortable homes. How blessed we are to live in a promised land, a land prepared by God, a land of freedom---but we are the stewards of this land--we need to care for it and accept our responsibility for keeping it great. Most of us know a lot about celebrating and little about suffering. We need to work at remembering. I pray that my children and grandchildren will grow up in a free country and that they will be grateful---grateful enough to stand up for what they believe---to do their part in keeping our country free.
The holiday weekend is winding down to the last few sparks of the sparkler but we need to keep our flags flying and our hands over our hearts. Our God, our religion, our families, our rights are not separate causes--they are a firm foundation on which to build a happy life and a prosperous nation. God Bless America! Enjoy the rest of the roller coaster ride---the summer.
When I was a kid the 4th of July meant a barbecue, homemade ice-cream--that was hand cranked and I got to add salt to the bucket and was rewarded with getting to lick the paddle-stirrer-thing, lighting 'snakes' on the patio (they made lasting marks), doing cartwheels on the lawn, writing my name in the night air with sparklers, and watching Lagoon's fireworks from our kitchen window. (Which is kind of like watching the neighbor's television through their window from their front sidewalk---my mom couldn't get around well and my family never liked anything that involved crowds)
My first 4th of July away from home my room mate and I went to see the fireworks at Liberty Park. Unfortunately I remember the crowds more than the fireworks. My first memorable experience watching fireworks was when my husband took me to see his hometown's display at the middle school he had attended. We were right under the fireworks. They were huge and bright and noisy. They were like colored fountains spraying brilliant bursts of light---or like giant glowing dandelions gone to seed blown by the wind and twirling until they disappeared---they were amazing (with my hand in my husband's hand I didn't worry too much about our blanket catching on fire) and they felt so close that I imagined burning my fingers if I reached up too high---a much different view than perched on the edge of the kitchen sink finding just the right spot to look between two shadowy trees and wait for small bursts of light to appear.
After having children the 4th of July still included barbecues but store bought ice-cream and popcicles and Otter pops became more popular than homemade ice-cream. (these cold treats brought pleasure on hot days but they didn't carry with them the same ceremony of making homemade ice-cream) The 4th of July with children meant grabbing strollers and blankets and heading down to find a good spot to watch our city parade where we would wave small flags, wave to the pretty girls on the floats, and try to catch candy before it hit us---watching our children run around the yard with sparklers or throw snaps on the ground, and eating licorice or skittles while oohing and ahhing over fireworks.
I find that my memories of the 4th of July are more about the festivities-more about the celebration- than about the reason for the celebrating. But there have been and continue to be moments when I feel touched by patriotism---love for my country, moments when I feel gratitude for more freedoms than I realize most of the time, and moments when I feel reverence for the precious blood spilled defending those freedoms. These moments are far more rare than they should be but when they come they stir my heart with deep emotion and illuminate my mind with sharp awareness.
A very small amount of understanding of sacrifice for freedom came to me as a very young child when I saw my dad leave on a train on the first leg of his journey to Korea. Great clouds of steam were coming from the train and I screamed and sobbed because I thought my daddy was burning up. I gained greater appreciation for his sacrifice years later as I read his cards home from Korea. In them he spoke of what they would be doing on base to celebrate Thanksgiving or Christmas and how much he wished he could be home to celebrate with his family. In the final years of my father's life when he lived with us, he told me that because of his experiences in the Navy and the Army he could never see the American flag without getting a lump in his throat. My dad was not an emotional man.
I remember feeling an inkling of what I thought patriotism to be---not on the 4th of July but during the Christmas holidays when I would watch Bob Hope's specials when he entertained the troops. Although I was young I would look at the youthful smiling faces of the soldiers and I would experience a mixture of feelings. For a few moments brave young men would whistle at beautiful girl performers and laugh at Bob's jokes. They would have a break from pain and suffering and death, and for a few moments they would be just regular guys enjoying life. Watching them would give me a lump in my throat that I couldn't fully understand.
Last night we watched a couple of 4th of July specials on television. One was from our nation's capital and featured several entertainers including a boy from a relatively small city in our own state. There were patriotic musical numbers and fireworks and young soldiers who had been battered, broken, and maimed in our current war. Watching them smile in the face of adversity during a moment of peace reminded me of all those fresh young faces on the Bob Hope specials--only these faces were the 'after' shots... The other special featured Steve Young and a few LDS musical performers. We tuned in shortly before a young man spoke about his harrowing experience of being ambushed in Afghanistan. He had been blinded and had lost several good friends in the attack. Later in the program tribute was paid to two young local boys who had attended the same high school and who had both served and died in Afghanistan. Flags were presented to their mothers. Each mother held the flag to her heart with a look that spoke of yearning to hold her son instead. I felt like I was intruding...I guess it is needful to see more than parades and fireworks in order to truly celebrate the 4th of July. We need reminders of the cost of freedom--we also need to march and sing and wave flags and make homemade ice-cream...
Perhaps the time my heart was stretched to the fullest with patriotism was at my father's funeral. We had military rites done for him. To watch the exactness, the respect, the reverence, and dedication with which those young servicemen folded the flag left me in a state of humble awe. I can't begin to describe my feelings as the flag was handed to me and my sister. I felt my dad there with us and I like to think at that moment that he had gained a greater understanding of freedom. My dad had his mother lie about his age and sign for him so that he could join the navy at 16 or 17. He signed up for a dangerous mission as a gunner on a Merchant Marine ship. He said at the time he felt that no one cared about him and that it wouldn't matter if he came back or not. I think serving his country helped my dad have a greater appreciation for what he risked his life to defend---a relationship with God, freedom to make something of his life, and a family to love. My father spent all of the rest of his civilian life doing all he could to provide for his family and to give them happiness.
On Saturday night as we watched fireworks I looked at my granddaughter snug in her mother's lap excited about 'Christmas fireworks' and at my grandson safe in his daddy's arms captivated by the bright lights in the sky and I was immensely thankful that our family was watching a celebration and not hiding from enemy soldiers---that the loud sounds were coming from fireworks and not bombs or gunfire---that we would go home to safe and comfortable homes. How blessed we are to live in a promised land, a land prepared by God, a land of freedom---but we are the stewards of this land--we need to care for it and accept our responsibility for keeping it great. Most of us know a lot about celebrating and little about suffering. We need to work at remembering. I pray that my children and grandchildren will grow up in a free country and that they will be grateful---grateful enough to stand up for what they believe---to do their part in keeping our country free.
The holiday weekend is winding down to the last few sparks of the sparkler but we need to keep our flags flying and our hands over our hearts. Our God, our religion, our families, our rights are not separate causes--they are a firm foundation on which to build a happy life and a prosperous nation. God Bless America! Enjoy the rest of the roller coaster ride---the summer.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)