Think On This

If you are traveling today over the rivers and through the wood to perhaps Grandmother’s house as you go, you will appreciate this little tail, or tale I should say of sorts.

In my family, we come from different states to gather in Texas for the holidays. I come from Tennessee and my cousins come in from Kansas. The Kansan Clan has mom, dad, two girls under the age of 5 and then there is Daisy the Basset Hound. The pets in our family are just that, family members. And are treated as such.

The trek to grandma’s, for this particular crew, used to be accomplished in a 12 hour day. Yet due to circumstances and such, it has evolved into quite a process. It now requires preparing and packing for days, and a reservation at the Hilton Inn if you can find it cheap enough on Hotwire.com. (Thank the Lord for the internet!)

With only five hours left for the journey, the exhausted brood tumbled out of said family van, eyes heavy with visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads as they longed for the soft mattresses awaiting them.

With one child in the arms of each parent, various and sundry paraphernalia strapped from stem to stern, the remaining question of the overloaded pair was simply, “What to do with Daisy?” Ever the resourceful father, my cousin proceeded to stuff Daisy into a sports bag, zipped it up, and slung it over his shoulder. (Yes, I said a Basset Hound.)

To the amazement of our family when he relayed the tale to us at dinner, Daisy fussed but only for a few seconds. It was when the master slapped the bag lightly in assurance to let the pure bred know all was well, that the dog literally went into a coma of sorts. And never moved! They could have taken that dog to the opera, and probably wouldn’t have seen movement or heard a peep until the soprano’s aria.

It wasn’t until they reached their room, unloaded the bags, and the children, that Daisy was finally released from her dark cocoon. But only to emerge as calm and cool as a cucumber ready for her evening snack.

Now, this divulgence of sorts is not to encourage you to sneak the family dog into the next luxury hotel, however, holidays can be a time of survivial. And for this troupe, it was just a necessity. Daisy is a dream, and as my cousin said, “…a better guest than most adults at these places!” Sad, but true.

So, for all of you traveling with your beloved pet this holiday, remember that there are many kindred spirits out there joining you in empathy on the journey. And please don’t ask me how I managed to get my 110 pound Labrador Retriever into the Hampton Inn. During the holidays, there are just some things that are best left to the mind, and not the tongue.

:0

A friend reminded me recently, “Pilgrims and Puritans weren’t the same thing.” So, for sake of clarification, before we completely put Thanksgiving back in boxes this holiday season, I thought I’d get in this one last plug for the P’s. 

PILGRIMS aka SEPARATISTS You may not be familiar with this term, but Pilgrims were also known by another name: Separatists. Apparently, our trusty Pilgrims didn’t want any part of the Church of England, so they completely “separated” themselves. Thus term Separatists. Uncomfortable with the heavy rituals and symbolism found in the Anglican Church they preferred a more simplified form of worship.  They felt their studies of the New Testament confirmed Scripture as portraying the original church (right after Jesus had been on earth) as a simple church.  Not having a need to take on the Anglican Church at that time, they decided to just “separate” themselves from it completely.  And so they did.

Their pastor, Richard Clyfton also taught them a form of democratic self-government where the majority ruled all decision making and they believed in equal rights and equal duties for members of its congregation.  (Sounds like a Personal Responsibility program if you ask me). 

History books show that the Pilgrims were warm, generous, and thoughtful towards fellow citizens and with the Indians they met in America. They wore the ordinary fashions you’d have found in England at that time and Wills and Inventories of that period show that some of the leading men wore brightly colored clothing such as red, green or violet leggings or pants. This is a far cry from the dark, boring clothing of the Puritan image that we have been spoon-fed. The Pilgrims were good-natured, fun-loving people who loved life while insisting on the freedom of choice. 

Remember: It was the Pilgrims who established Plymouth Colony. It was the Pilgrims who celebrated that first Thanksgiving with the Indians and it was the Pilgrims who ushered in the American principles of democratic government - not the Puritans. So, who then were those notorious Puritans? 

GLAD YOU ASKED. The Pilgrims weren’t the only believers who weren’t too thrilled with the Church of England at the time. The Puritans wanted to “purify” the church in the area of worship.  Since they too didn’t feel a church war would be successful, they quietly formed a rather severe, militant group of believers. The church leaders ruled the parishioners lives and they weren’t the least bit tolerant to those with opposing views. Committed in their quest for “pure” religion, they were pretty relentless when it came to punishing anyone who went against their doctrines (think Salem Witch Trials). Their attire was dark and plain and accessories were unacceptable as they were deemed the work of the devil. (Man, would I have been in major trouble!) 

So, the moral of our lesson today kids is simply this: the Pilgrims and the Puritans were worlds apart in their religious views, their governing style, their everyday attitudes, and their choice of clothing.  Just a little food for thought on this post Turkey, stuffing, and pie holiday weekend. 

Selah.

As I looked out across the yard after stuffing myself like the Thanksgiving turkey back in the house, I began to count, 1,2,3, no wait 1,2,3,4,5…8 dogs?  It had been quite a houseful. But I had no idea that many canines were wandering the property as well.  We had managed to juggle 5 kids, 2 teens, 3 senior citizens and 22 adults into the kitchen while jockeying for position to load up our plates, but this latest revelation exposed just how full our Thanksgiving truly was. 

Seven car loads had made their way to the feasting destination. When we all had finally arrived we gathered around a plethora of selections. There was ham, and turkey with dressing. Mashed potatoes with two kinds of gravy. Cranberry sauce, salad and rolls. Broccoli, sweet potato, and corn casseroles. Two kinds of dips with chips and crackers.  Asparagus and Green Bean casseroles. 4 kinds of pies of pies and coffee along with a huge tray of cookies and fudge. And every morsel was homemade. (S’mores by the campfire topped off the evening). As we held hands to pray my uncle did not disappoint as he choked back the tears of gratitude while we all bowed our heads. 

Of course the centerpiece of the house was the omni-present TV screen which faithfully flashed the latest football game. The welcome airwaves took us late into the evening culminating with the big game for a certain set of alumns. Conversations ranged from memories of family times together, to catching up on the latest news, to the usual banterings about politics. 

All in all, I would guess the above was a pretty typical Thanksgiving in America.  At least in the heartland it seems.  And it really doesn’t get much better than that. As we made our way home in the beautiful fall air, the Starbucks stop at the half-way point seemed the perfect ending to a very perfect day. 

Yes, we felt very blessed.  And I hope you found yourself at the end of your day feeling much the same. I am most grateful for this country that I live in and for the people who left their native lands and trekked the stormy waters to make it their home. Here’s to many more Happy Thanksgivings to come. And May God Bless America, yet, again. 

Best, S. 

In January of 2009 the 44th President of the United States of America will be sworn into office. Interestingly, though he is a Democrat, his latest book of choice is titled Team of Rivals. It focuses on how Abe Lincoln (a Republican) put together his cabinet. And it is quite a read I hear. For those of us that don’t remember who, and how, and why Lincoln did what he did, it was apparently a bit revolutionary if not controversial at the time.

All that to say, I was reading about a guy that was heading into a restaurant in Philadelphia. Before he entered, he saw a homeless man holding a sign that read: Please vote for Obama. I need the money. As the customer was seated at his table, he was then greeted by a server that had on an Obama tie. When the check came, the man stated that he was going to practice Obama’s “spread the wealth” idea. Instead of leaving the server the tip, he was going to give it to the homeless Obama supporter outside. Needless to say, the waiter was furious. But the man left and did just that dropping a $10 bill into the hand of the man outside in need.

Shortly after hearing about this incident, I was digging through some old files and ironically came across this quote from dear old Abe. Our 16th President. It goes like this:

“You cannot help the poor by destroying the rich. You cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong. You cannot bring about prosperity by discouraging thrift. You cannot lift the wage earner by pulling the wage payer down. You cannot build character and courage by taking away men’s initiative and independnece. You cannot help men permanently by doing for them what they could and should do for themselves.” - Abraham Lincoln

And with that, just my, or better yet, a past President’s thoughts for your day.

S.

For those of you who like to reminisce during the holidays, there is one memory I would personally prefer to forget. But alas, such will not be the case. In light of the fact that a few of the girls and I paid homage to the new 007 James Bond film this past weekend, (which I loved!)  I felt a little walk down memory lane of sorts might just be in order. 

It was Thanksgiving and I was visiting my mother (as all good daughters who live hundreds of miles away do).  There was a question regarding an appliance in her house and it occurred to her that the neighbor might have the answer. So, with gift plate of goodies, or what I felt was actually a peace offering for our “Can you come over and help us?” plea, we set out for the 20-yard trek next door. 

While my mom chatted up her friend, I began conversing with the woman’s spouse. It was when he got to the part about a taxi cab, the country of Turkey, and the 1950’s that I laughed out loud and jokingly announced, “So, what? Were you a covert operative or something?”  At that point, the room froze.   I was begging the floor to open up and swallow me. But it was Mexican tile. And it didn’t move. 

The woman, a salt pillar at this point, merely opened her mouth, looked at her husband, and then stared back at me. With shock on her face she choked out the words, “He’s never talked about that.”  He then mumbled something about languages and Germany. As I nervously tried to cover, it only got worse. “Uh, yeah, a friend of mine was married to a guy. They were stationed in Germany. He posed as an auto mechanic. Spoke Bosnian. You know, Uh,…” but the verbal decline only plummeted.  The woman, yes, his second wife, now just stared at me even more dumbly. At this point, I was physically growing ill. Oh, for a tornado from Kansas to suddenly sweep me away. But no. I had to weather this one alone.  My mom just stood there with the usual, “Why do you have to talk so much?” look on her face that only a mother can give. 

As the man walked me to, and out, the front door, I figured he was quickly thinking and preparing how to kill and dispose of me within the next three seconds that he had before the other women exited the house and caught up with us.  But instead, he had this amazed smirk on his face.  “How could you have known?” was all he asked incredulously.  

Relieved, yet horrified, I began apologizing profusely. “I am so sorry! Please forgive me. Don’t kill me. I am a huge fan of this stuff. I traveled with Col. Oliver North on one of his book tours. I read all of his books.  I’m a huge CIA fan. My dad worked for NASA. I just, I just, you know… know this stuff. I mean, c’mon Bob! What normal American guy was in a taxi cab in Turkey in the 50’s for cryin’out loud?! Give me a break!!”  With that, he just laughed.  And I gratefully lived to die another day. 

When we returned to my mom’s house, I pondered if, when we left for Thanksgiving dinner a few moments later, neighbor Bob wouldn’t slip in, take the jewels and return to his domain. I warned my mother to lock the safe.  But then remembered, “Oh, wait. We don’t have any family jewels. Or even a safe for that matter.” I did manage to collect a set of the Oliver North fiction books soon thereafter and delivered it a few weeks later at Christmas.  My peace offering of sorts. It was the least I could do. 

All that to say, I highly recommend, whatever you do this Thanksgiving, don’t “out” your mother’s retired, covert operative.  It’s just not the polite or merry thing to do. With that, just my thoughts during this festive week prior to our national celebration. A precious time where we give thanks for the wonderful country that Providence has allowed us to create and in which we dwell. And here’s to all the under cover 007’s that really do exist out there and fight for this sweet, sweet place we lovingly refer to as “home”. 

Shaken, but not stirred.

S. 

If feels like just a bit ago that I pulled off the freeway in Arkansas to get that much needed Starbucks fix. I was traveling home from my holiday visit with the family when that very cool home store also caught my eye. As a female who likes to live up to that part of the species, I just had to go in.  I was not disappointed.  Crossing the threshhold of the retail center I was welcomed by those wonderful 75% off sale signs and well, you know, as a girl, there’s something genetic about a price tag that low.  You just have to repsond. So I dutifully did.  A few moments later I was hauling two 4-foot, silk Amaryllis plants to my car.  When I reached the already overstuffed vehicle I was greeted by my very pitiful dog who was peering at me through the back seat window.  At this point, there had been very little room if any left for him when we began the journey. And now, I was going to try to put eight more feet of whatever it was into the car with him.  The look on his face was, “So, are you planning on tying me to the roof, because as of now, my back right leg is already in my left ear.”  I stood there a moment wondering if that wasn’t such a bad idea, but then I knew a better solution was in order.  Just what, I wasn’t exactly sure.   Nine hours later we pulled into the driveway. My hairy hound unfolded his furry body and limped out of the car while I began to strategize the unloading procedures.After 45 minutes, the deed was done.  The boxes and bags now waiting my attention at the doorway loomed ever larger.  It took about a month, but I finally succeeded in finding room for each of the precious items I had hauled all the way from Texas. (Along with the very pliable pooch, of course.)Then, this morning, I found myself back in that same storage area thinking, “I just got these in here, and now I have to take them out?”  It was quite a stressful moment. But is quickly passed.  When I pictured the house in full regalia, and the counter tops full of wonderful ingredients awaiting those precious recipes, the pain disoved into peace and contentment.Yes, it truly is the most wonderful time of year.  And that is exactly what I plan to do.  I will create Thanksgiving and Christmas in my home and make it special.   It’s up to me.  No one will arrive on my doorstep, decorations in tow, and set up the house.  That’s my job.  And a welcomed one at that. With that, during this next week, all of the stash will make its way up the stairs and into the living areas of my home. A job I certainly will enjoy, to be sure.So here’s to thankfulness and merriness for at least the next 40 or so days.Chat soon.Stephanie

As the radio host chattered away, I noticed that my distraction began morphing into focus as I worked to discover just exactly what the ranting and raving was all about.  Apparently, this person of influence had received a bit of info and he was off and running. Interestingly, the very location toward which I was driving, and would arrive at shortly, would have the true inside scoop on the very situation at hand. 

As I walked through that particular door, I soon found myself in conversation with the key folks that knew what was actually going down from the inside out.  And, not surprisingly, the radio host was wrong.  But the deed was done. He had riled his troops into a frenzy and the listening audience was starting to panic.Sadly, this person signed off the air without seeking to confirm or correct his blather. If the show host had been solely interested in creating a buzz, he succeeded.  If his intent was to rile and upset.  He managed that, too, as well. What saddened me is that he left a lot of clean up and fall out for a lot of hard-working,  innocent by-standers. 

These supposed people-in-the-know types love to be seen and heard.  And if they find themselves with a bit of key information, whether vetted or not, they set out to find the first listening ear they can track down. Basically, they are in essence looking for anything to get into, or keep them in, the spotlight.  There is no concern for the innocent parties involved. They have an inside tid-bit, and they are going to use it for what they are sure will be to their advantage. 

With that, the next time someone runs to you with news, do your best to ask for the source.  You will usually find that people either are hesitant to name it, or at times, they honestly don’t even know the origination. Nor do they care. They heard what they wanted to hear.  But a simple, “Where did you get that?” stops of alot of these ner’e-do-wells in their tracks. 

Much unnecessary angst and consternation occurs due to this very type of relayed communication.  Let’s strive together to be the type of people that don’t perpetuate the mess but rather work to get the story straight. And with that, just my thoughts on this lovely fall day. S. 

Some of you are too young to remember that little jingle. It was a TV ad for a car called the “Arrow” and the tune set to the words above were actually quite catchy. Thus, the lingering melody in my head. But the arrows I was feeling this morning were of another nature. And the high road my conscience was nagging me to take was struggling to fade into memory as well.  I will explain.  I had been warned before I clicked the play arrow on the video clip I was about to watch.  Apparently a documentary film team from Finland had come to the U.S. to get a glimpse of America during this historic Presidential campaign.  The e-newsletter sent to me highlighted the part where an African American elementary teacher questions her class as to who they will vote for and why. (Now remember, you can’t vote in the states until you’re 18, but that’s another discussion.) When the teacher got around to Katherine, the young girl who’s father is serving in Iraq, the instructor decided to shake her head in dismay. This student was supporting John McCain. But the teacher was about to set her straight on the error of her ways.  In reality, she ended up humiliating the girl.   So the arrows in my heart started to fly.  How could any teacher do this a child? What message did she just send to her class? And the world! What life lesson did she just role model? Does she know what a Republic and a Democracy are?  And, what if this had been a white teacher berating a black student in her class? I found anger rising in my spirit.  I grabbed a pen and paper and began to write a note to the Superintendent of that particular teacher’s school system.  As the white hot steam poured from my ears I could hear a voice in my head repeating, “Take the high road. Take the high road.” “Take the high road?” I scoffed back at the persistent wisdom.  “Doing just that is what has gotten us here!  So much for being politically correct.  Look where it has brought us.”I fussed and fumed some more.  “Why is it OK for Black Panthers to stand with night sticks at a voting center in Pennsylvania?  Imagine if there had been KKK members standing at one!  And why is it Ok for black preachers to say hateful things from their pulpits, but white pastors must never cross that line?” The rant continued.  The more I listened to myself, the more I didn’t like it. No. The world as we now know it does not make sense.  And life is not fair. America was built on freedom and diversity of thought. But spewing hate back at hate is probably not the answer.   Jesus was hated, misunderstood, and killed. His own people wanted Him dead. And his death was the result of their anger. Ironically, it backfired on them and turned out to be the best thing that could have happened. Three days later He made some major history. And it was good!  As I looked at the proverbial arrows in my hands, I had to stop and do some heavy thinking. I could choose to role model correct behavior or I could shoot back and start a bloody mess.  Not that fighting is all bad.  Does the American Revolution ring a bell? But that’s for another day. So for today, me and my arrows will take the high road. This highway of life will have plenty more ruts and bumps to maneuver. If I am going to last, I will have to pace myself. S.