Paris and Lindsay -- Two Playground Bullies

Remember your mother's sage advice when you told her about another kid who was bothering you at school? Picked on you during recess or laughed at your mistakes or tried to intimidate you? She gave you a comforting hug and told you to "just ignore them and they will go away, Honey". Seemingly so simple yet so hard to put into practice when you're a child, your feelings and emotions stretching to cope with those stomach-in-knots situations. Eventually you and your adversary follow divergent paths and that contentious relationship dissolved into a distant memory......

Why don't the press, the paparazzi and the public apply that same logic and simply turn their backs on these two? Are we really so needy that we have to watch two women constantly embarrassing themselves?

I don't know about you but I get worn out by the feeding frenzy the rest of us are subjected to surrounding their sad life choices. Maybe realizing their behavior is not acceptable would be the best way to save them. Maybe being left out of popular publications and tell-all television shows would be the best life-changing rehab program of all.

A Summer of Monarchs

Have you noticed.......?

Have you found your eye wandering, following their fluttering wake?

Have you wondered where their path will take them -- over boxwood, under limb, through meadow, dodging car? Slipping through fence rails, pausing on welcoming blossom?

Have you hoped their journey be a safe one with a happy ending?

Have you been proud of their determination? Their will to succeed?

I have. I'm envious of their beauty, how the sunlight plays across the vibrant colors that brand their sails. I am overwhelmed by the miles they are destined to travel answering the luring call of their breed. I am thankful for the smile that lights each person's face as eyes focus on their fanciful, graceful dance. Filled with promise, shared for free.

Music to My Ears

Soft soulful notes swirl and dance in the surrounding invisible air. Hard driving beats of a drum set cut right through your chest. Guitar twangs, leg-slapping timing, head-bobbing motions, contagious smiles.

Music plays all around me. Everyday. Immersion is a relief. A pleasure. A douse of pure delight. Refreshing. Rebirth.

Smooth Jazz ~Soothing background sounds for driving; great for 'white noise' when hard-core concentrating is necessary for a project deadline. Feels like small, intimate club atmosphere in Chicago or NYC. Relaxing and sophisticated yet energizing and urban.

Country ~ Toe-tappin', sing-along tunes. Honest lyrics. Thoroughly and truly all our own. Fun, happy, sad, thoughtful, tearful, joyful, painful, God-fearing, poignant. Filled with values, laughter, shared experiences, emotions laid bare.

Top 40 ~ Monday through Friday work-day mornings. Tuned to a station that broadcasts what's happening in the mainstream by a team of hip DJ's. Trendy updates on who's hot and who's not.

Ecclesiastical ~ The old favorites. The contemporary offerings. Colorful melodies that act as modern reminders of the Lord's rainbow covenant.

Celtic ~ Generations from ages ago speak through the tales sending messages only my heart understands.

New Age/Deep Relaxation ~ Thorough, cleansing "exhaling". Re-centering balance. No concentration. Only feel.

Steel Drums/Caribbean ~ Dig the toes deep into heated white sand. Soak in the warmth of the golden sun on your face, your shoulders, your arms. Gaze out at the glorious sea shades of turquoise, aqua, green, teal. Sip a cold, fruity drink garnished with a vibrant hot pink paper umbrella. Now close your eyes......aahhh......

I hope music is a thread woven into the fabric of your everyday, matching mood and mind-set and need. Another beautiful dimension of life on this planet.

It Does Take a Village

When Hillary Clinton published her book, I had absolutely no interest in reading it. Seemed like a waste of time. Didn't like her politics, wasn't going to support this avenue of revenue for her.

One Sunday, months later, I was in our church's library and I saw a copy lying on the bookshelf. I walked over and picked it up. Flipped through it. Not a very thick book. An easy, quick read. So I sat down and skimmed through it. Aside from her pointed left-wing comments, the concept of the book was a logical one: We do depend on each other to guide, nurture, educate, prepare, protect our children. BUT...BUT... I, as the parent, am ultimately responsible for my own.

We cannot put the blame on a teacher or a scout leader or a coach or a neighbor when we are disappointed in the behavior or choices of our children. Morals, manners, personal integrity, faith, self-esteem, discipline must be given the means to grow and thrive in our own homes. As parents we most definitely have the right to choose who we want surrounding our children to keep them safe, act as good examples, and broaden their horizons in new and healthy and strengthening ways.

That's what LOVE means. That's how RESPECT develops. That's an EXPECTATION. That's our JOB.

Writing Letters

I don't care how addictive the lure of email and Facebook and texting is, nothing can replace seeing a real honest-to-goodness letter in your mailbox.

Admit it. Amid all this electronic community we now inhabit, there is nothing nicer than to be the recipient of a handwritten missive, knowing it took a commitment of time, a personal choice and a feel-good emotion on the part of the writer who understood you would share that same feeling as you read what was being shared on each page.

I'm issuing a friendly challenge:Sit down TODAY and write to someone who has touched your life. Or someone you miss. Or someone you have been thinking about but just haven't taken the time to contact. Or a family member you haven't heard from lately. Simply jot a friendly note ~ Or ~ write page after page after page. Whatever it takes, whatever feels good to reach out and put a smile on a face that will appreciate being remembered.

St Joseph's Indian School

My maternal grandmother was a proud DAR member. With documented proof of her ancestors who fought in the American Revolution, she moved up the ranks to become Regent of her chapter. (I became a card-carrying member just to act as a silent supporter for her!)

As a member there were opportunities made available to which ladies could make financial contributions and one of these was the St Joseph's Indian School in Chamberlain, South Dakota. At that time (in the 70's and 80's) it was an all-girl school. And my grandmother received a quarterly newsletter which she saved just for me when she had finished reading it.

I poured over that publication. The high school classes were very small and the girls mostly went to vocational or community colleges when they graduated, becoming nurses aides, teaching assistants, office staff, etc, through those programs. I would absorb all the info in every single article I read concerning their field trips, their academic classes, special visitors and the arts/crafts projects.

But you want to know the most wonderful part of this cultural interfacing -- all the way from the western plains to the Ohio Valley, from the tribe of the Lakota to a midwestern urban student? Their names. Their beautiful last names. Like Running Bear and Soaring Eagle and Shining Star and Whispering Winds. I was positively enthralled with those vibrantly descriptive, 'visual' names. I thought those girls were so so so lucky. And because of those very names I was able to follow some of them on their educational journey as I traveled along mine.

St Joseph's still exists, still educates, still contributes....and my heart is still touched by the ancient heritage and deeply rooted traditions illustrated by those young women with those incredible surnames which, in turn, had enlarged and enriched the dimensions of the world for a very lucky granddaughter.

"Christians Don't Gossip....They 'Share'!"

Oh, yeah. Put me at the top of the list. I will be the first to admit I enjoy some juicy gossip. I do! I think it has something to do with wanting to be "in the know", up on all the newest and most current info. I sure want to know what's going on in the office or the neighborhood or the church or the high school or the community. Who wants to be in the dark and feel stupid or awkward in certain situations?

People have always told me confidences because I'm an excellent sponge. I just keep my mouth shut when I'm asked to. Have I spread other whispered tales and innuendos to friends and co-workers? Without question. Call me bad. Call me human.

It's when you have a person in your corner of the planet who is mean, conniving, rude, jealous, manipulative using a secret or a rumor or a lie to advance themselves or get their kicks while hurting someone else that makes me mad. Or sad. Or defensive. Or want to strike back. So that makes two pathetic people, doesn't it?

Have I stepped up and verbally expressed my opinion to deflate a tidbit or two? Absolutely. Have I done it enough? Absolutely not. Gossip is a slick, tricky path. We all know it. We all spread it. We've been personally touched by it. We've used it. We've denied it. We've felt righteous because of it. We've been stung by it. We've been shocked. We've been doubtful. We've ignored it. We've fueled it.

I saw a comedian, Mike Warnke, on television many years ago, doing his schtick. This one-liner has stuck with me because it hit home. I still laugh when I share this: "Christians don't gossip. They share!" Don't you love it? We can rationalize anything!!

We can label it whatever we want, use it however we will. Justify the end by the means. I still listen to it. Hopefully my sharing days, though, have been narrowed to passing on the good news and not the ugly.