ROAD TRIP THINKING

Lilies--as a possibility

On a recent road trip to an appointment in the city, my daughter (also my driver) and I got into a discussion about the ways people navigate through life. 

**As an aside: We've learned, by experience, that it's best not to get into these deep talks on the way to the appointment, only afterward, when we're on the way home. That way, we don't miss an crucial exit on the freeway and possibly arrive late. Going home--not so much pressure.**

On that particular day, my daughter mentioned "deficit thinking." Not a term I was familiar with, but I grasped the idea. Pretty simple, really: thinking from a place of not having. Examples abound in all areas:

  I can't paint, I don't have the talent/supplies/money/connections . . . .

  My life is full already--I don't have time to paint/practice the viola/learn to quilt . . . .

  And my all-time favorite: I'm too old to _______. 

Okay, that's enough examples. We all know what "deficit thinking" means. If we haven't said it (or thought it to ourselves), we've heard it said. Boiled down, it's what we used to call "negative attitude."

Okay. Other side--"possibilities thinking." 

Got some samples to share? How about these:

  What do I have now?

  What can I do, even without a particular tool?

  What if I _____?

Basically, we're looking at what we can do based on what we already have/know/can try.

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Deficit thinking deals quite a lot in If-Onlys.

Possibilities thinking deals in What-Ifs.

So how can we shift from the minus type of thinking to the plus type?

Not as hard as you might think. Consider these:

    Do-Overs. If you're old enough, you were brought up on the old saying, "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again." Hardly anything in life is a one-and-done. Why would painters, musicians, sculptors, quilters, and other creative folks keep on trying new techniques? Why would they explore a new idea, a new way of looking at the same subject? 

  If you watch the Olympics, do you think those performers got it right the first time? If they did, why did they continue practicing? (Sometimes for years!)

  Hindsight. The only reason anyone tries the same thing more than once is to assess the result. Could it have been larger? Smaller? Taller? Miniature in scale? Different colors/textures? That doesn't mean the first one was "wrong"; it means there were other possibilities--and how do they look?

  Looking in the Rearview Mirror. Another way to assess results. Put it away for a time to "cool" and take it out later. This is a technique often used by writers, who report errors and typos that appeared after a time away from the manuscript. Distance can be measured in time as well as physical location.

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Again from my experience, I suspect a lot of us hesitate to risk the try-and-fail of possibilities because (1) we don't want to waste time, (2) we don't want people to know we're less than perfect (or at least good) at something, or (3) it feels scary, especially if we haven't tried it before.

Going forward--how about leaning toward the Possibilities side? Leave Deficit Thinking for other folks to try. Or maybe, more folks will look at our positive efforts and decide to try them also.

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

In Full Bloom

 

 

 

IT'S ALMOST AUGUST!

Okay, you're ready to turn your calendar page, right?

You scanned through the filled-in squares on your cell phone calendar, right? Mine has a couple of birthdays!

So you're ready to go! New month day after tomorrow. August, 8th month of our year, named in honor of the Roman emperor Augustus, in the year 8 BCE.

If you want to know more "awesome" things about August, check out The Fact Site.

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In my neighborhood, folks are keeping up with the lawn (heavy rains every so often keep us green, but also make mowing a necessity, whether we have the time or energy or not.

No doubt stores are crowded with parents filling shopping carts with school clothes and classroom supplies, plus the family groceries. I have to say, I don't miss that part of my life; getting four kids ready for a new school year was a job in itself.

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In these last few days before the big yellow buses trundle down the street to pick up students, there'll be last-minute swims, fishing trips, picnics, family visits with grandparents, maybe even a short car trip to a campground.

Once the school doors open, left-behind parents can take a deep breath, maybe drink another cup of coffee, and stop running so fast. Even leaving the house to go work will seem easier.

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August always signals for me the beginning of canning season. Even though I no longer have a garden to tend, nurture, and harvest, I think of my children who have big gardens and will soon be canning tomatoes, green beans, and squash among other delicious homegrown treats; then when the weather chills everything and fresh stuff is about gone, it'll be time to make jams and jellies.

Having done all those things in another life (long before I retired), I know how much work is involved. When I receive gifts of canned goods from my family, I honor the hard work and hours spent bending over plants they tend, along with the late night sessions with hot water baths and pressure cooking (for the canning processes).

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Wishing you a joyful August--wherever you are, whatever you're doing, whatever season you're experiencing.

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

 

 ONCE UPON A TIME . . .

[Summer is a time for reunions--family, school mates. This summer I'm looking back at my life, and at the lives of my children and friends. Following are a few thoughts published a several years back, memories of times I might have forgotten, but thankfully I have not.]

I am 9 1/2 years old. I’ve spent the summer with my dad while my mother went with her new boyfriend to Las Vegas to get married. When she and my new stepfather come home, my dad delivers me to a house in a town I’ve never lived in before; it is the home of my new step-grandmother, a woman I immediately adore. We three, the new little family, live upstairs in the big attic room of Grandma Randolph’s house while our house, one block east, is being wallpapered and painted. In a few weeks we move again, into what I come to know as our house.

Our house, which is rented, has big rooms, with high ceilings. My bedroom is in the front of the house, with French doors leading into it from the living room. It is bright and sunny and with the high ceilings has an open and airy feel to it. I love it from the moment I see it.

Thinking back on that house, it was only four big rooms: two bedrooms, living room, and kitchen, with a bathroom featured by a claw-foot tub; and a side small room I never discovered the reason for, but probably another little bedroom that we used as storage. There was a long back porch off the kitchen. Possibly a basement, but I don’t recall going down into a basement in that house. So, scratch the basement.

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I am 22 years old, the mother of three children. We—my husband and the three children—have just moved to a city I’ve never lived in before, though I did visit once for a couple of days. The house is rented, furnished, and it has two astounding, wonderful things about it: an automatic dishwasher and a spinet piano. We can afford beds and pots and pans and clothes; I have never believed I’d have a dishwasher and piano so soon.

That house has a basement and an upstairs, and an attached garage. My son learns to walk in that house and we put up gates to keep him from exploring stairways. The gates do little good.

In that house I watch TV while I iron, and on November 22, 1963, I see our president being assassinated. At that moment I become two people—one watching, and disbelieving, the horror of seeing someone as important as the president of our country being shot while on a campaign trip; the other person observing the children who play on the floor under my feet, keeping the cord of the iron away from interested fingers, answering the telephone when I get a call about the TV story.

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I am 36 years old. The organist at my little country church tells me a law office in the county seat has a vacancy for a legal secretary and I should apply. I go to the interview, sort of as a lark, to see what kinds of things people ask when they interview you. It is unlikely, I think, that I’ll get the job—my background is in English and French, I will soon sit the Master’s written exam for an M.A. in English Language and Literature, and I’ve been around the block enough times to recognize the value of a degree in English: You can either do anything or nothing. (Garrison Keillor is right on the money with his jokes about English majors. My mind is considering whether I’ll be better off working at McDonald’s.)

So I go to the interview, trot out my credentials, which look pretty anemic lying there on the polished desk of the new junior lawyer. Experience? (Rearing children, reading, cooking, doing laundry, driving like a madwoman to get to class on time 30 miles from my home . . . .) Can I type? (Wow, something I can do!)

What really got me the job was the fact that I could spell. They didn’t know that for certain, but they assumed I could if I was practically a Master of English. (It’s true, I could, and can, spell well.)

It was the first “real” job I’d ever held. And I managed it for another 30 years.

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I often hear people say, “In another life”—meaning, not reincarnation, but who the person was at, say, age 9 or 22 or 36. Do we really remember being that person? Or do we remember things we did? People we knew? Events that happened (perhaps)? (Or did they?)

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So much advice is written today about how to keep our memory sharp; how to increase memory (as if we were a computer and could add another 64 Mb in a little chip). How to keep from losing memory (put it in a little bag and tie it to our belt? Put it in our safe deposit box at the bank? Stick it in a box and put on a good tight label telling what it is, and add the date and our initials?).

I’m all for memories. But sometimes, it seems to me, too much emphasis is put on what we remember. Why should I remember every street address and telephone number where I lived during the years from, say, birth to age 20? (An impossible task—I moved 20 times in 17 years.) Or how to make white bread without a recipe? Or who wrote that book I used to read every single year? Or what cupboard holds the cereal bowls?

Maybe it’s about what is personal to me . . . to you.

I remember Grandma Randolph, who treated me like the little 9-year-old girl she never had, always had time to talk to me, even though she worked away from home, and who helped my mother alter the new dresses that didn’t fit my summer-plump body.

I remember people who were kind to me when my mother died—Aunt Dessie, Mom’s oldest sister, took me, her 15-year-old niece, to her favorite dress shop and bought me a tweed suit and silky blouse to wear to the funeral. I wore those lovely clothes for years and years. The suit was a color I now know as mauve, with little flecks of blue and grey. I think Aunt Dessie also bought me a pair of white gloves. (All my clothes had been destroyed in our house fire six months before.)

I remember going into surgery in Indianapolis, nearly three hours from my home, not knowing anyone in that vast hospital except the eight people—family and friends and clergy—who had come to be with me and pray for my wellbeing.

I remember losing a large measure of my innocence when someone shot and killed our young president.

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Today we celebrate our memories: personal ones, collective family memories; shared and unshared. Good memories, that we're happy to take out and stroke because they make us remember good times. Bad memories, yes, I celebrate those; they tell us something about who we are, how we coped (or didn't), what we might have learned about ourselves, about life, and living.

We need our memories: They are the stories we tell—to ourselves and to each other—and thereby connect us together.

Blessings,

Thursday's Child 

 

DISTRACTIONS

July is a hard month to write about. It's hot. It's humid. (Today we're promised Heat Index of 102 deg. or more!) Plus unhealthy air quality. I don't have a swimming pool. Even sitting outside in the shade doesn't appeal.

So, I've had to make my own distractions. Best I could come up with this year is--HUMOR!

Following are some quotations from The Best of Bits & Pieces, a 1994 book one of my daughters gave me. Ready?

1--Experience is a comb that nature gives us when we are bald. (Chinese proverb)

2--The person with a new idea is a crank until the idea succeeds. (Mark Twain)

3--Life is like a ten-speed bike--most of us have gears we never use. 

4--Learn from the mistakes of others--you can never live long enough to make them all yourself.

5--If everybody obeyed the Ten Commandments there might not be an 11 o'clock news.

6--All mothers are physically handicapped. They have only two hands.

7--The next best thing to solving a problem is finding some humor in it.

8--If you have lived well, laughed often, and loved much, consider yourself a success.

9--The Lord gave us two ends--one to sit on and the other to think with. Success depends on which one we use the most. (Ann Landers)

10--If you're going to give someone a piece of your mind, make sure you can spare it.

11--Don't watch the clock. Do what it does. Keep going. (Sam Levenson)

12--Thinking is the hardest work there is, which is probably the reason why so few engage in it. (Henry Ford)

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All right, there you go! A round dozen bits and pieces that may make you laugh, or smile, or maybe just think a little differently. 

Have a great week. 

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

Lots of words here!

 

 COMFORT ZONES . . .

Still can't believe I'm writing about "comfort zones." Partly, because I'm not sure I actually believe in them.

Consider this: Practically any article you read about improving a skill or learning a new something-or-other includes the advice, "Get outside your comfort zone!"

• The underlying message is: Change Equals Success.

Does it really??

 

Let's explore what, exactly, a comfort zone is. Here are some stray thoughts:

• staying in the same pattern of behavior that you've occupied for, possibly, forever
• not trying a new way of doing something when the old way suits you just fine, thank you very much
• rejecting help with a task you've done by yourself for so long you never even considered getting help
• ignoring recommendations by friends and relatives ("Just try this once! It's brilliant!") 
• Such enthusiasms mostly strike me as trying to palm off something the friend or relative doesn't want. Even if it's only an opinion or something quite innocuous. Just saying.
• even if it doesn't cost me any money, I'm not prodigal with my time

Okay, that's some of the downside, to my way of thinking. Now let's look at what we might--emphasis on might--reap as a reward.

• a pleasant surprise--a new way of doing the same-old-same-old may turn out to be easier, quicker, and more satisfying
• finding a new friend/colleague/partner who is interested in the same thing; exploring stuff together can take some of the sting of the unknown out of the project (and any possible failures along the way to Success)
• finding your friend or relative's enthusiasm (see above) is more valid than you first thought

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Even though I'm not willing to waste my time with something that I'm fairly sure won't work out for me--any group exercise program is right at the top of that list--I can at least explore what's involved. That may take only a gander at an online video. Or it could mean a trip to a store or shop or museum or library--where I might get other inspiration, just not the one I was meant to get.

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In thinking about this topic, I had an epiphany: Just what exactly IS my comfort zone?

And the answer is--I don't know!! Thinking about it even more, I don't recall a time I was ever IN a comfort zone. My life isn't constant turmoil, you understand, but there have been so many times of change and starting over, that getting settled into a way I can call "comfortable" doesn't appear to have happened. Or if it did happen, it didn't stay. Or just maybe, I didn't notice!

So I thought a little longer.

Comfort zones come in all kinds and sizes. Here are a few examples:

• artistic - I like trying out new things. If it's too expensive, too messy, or just too "not me," I'll know fairly soon.
• Otherwise, I've come up with some delightfully fun ways to paint or make greeting cards because I didn't stay with what I already knew. Yes, I'll admit, some things end up in the bin, but I always wait a day or two before discarding them. (You'd be surprised how good an experiment looks later on.)
• personal - since I'm not a very social being, you won't find me at a large gathering, exchanging email addys or making plans to have coffee/wine/dinner sometime soon. I'm also not a fan of social media. But I occasionally venture out of my cave (er, house) and mingle with other folks. That's called leaving my comfort zone, in my book. (See?)
• financial - I list this one because it seems as if so many of us are pinching pennies these days (I love that old-fashioned term, pinching pennies). Stepping out of our comfort zone with our hard-earned bucks can be the slippery slope to disaster. 
• It's not only retirees who have these concerns; young families, singles, all sorts of folks have to pay attention.
• As an aside--to step outside my comfort zone financially, I'd have to hit the casino with a fistful of cash. That would be so far out of my comfort zone, you'd never see me going that direction again.

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Rather than calling a new way of acting/thinking "outside my comfort zone," I prefer calling it exploration, or even experimentation. Both these types of behavior are temporary by their nature. 

Some of the artists I follow on YouTube or on their own websites make a point of continual growth by exploring new ways to express their ideas in paint or other media. They experiment, sometimes with good results, sometimes with something bin-worthy. But they continue to try new things, to grow in their art. Outside their comfort zone? Perhaps.

I think the bottom line might go something like this:

• If you don't try something new, you'll never know what might have happened.
• Or, change is what leads to growth.

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Step outside my comfort zone? Why--guess what? I just did! I wrote about a subject that isn't anywhere near to being dear to my heart, but I did explore some thoughts. Wasn't too painful, either.

Good luck with any explorations you make outside that circle you call your Comfort Zone.

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

This is definitely outside
my comfort zone!

 

  FROM SEA TO SHINING SEA

[I'm repeating a post from previous years because I want us to remember why we celebrate July 4th in our United States of America. We may have a good time, our hearts may swell with pride as our children and grandchildren march in parades, and the best dang barbecue will feed a multitude. And then there's the real reason for it all. Be blessed!]

In two days, the United States celebrates Independence Day. On that day in 1776, men from 12 of the colonies signed a Declaration of Independence from the mother country, England. The official vote in the Continental Congress occurred two days earlier, July 2nd. After that vote, a committee headed by Thomas Jefferson wrote the official Declaration.

John Adams, one of the delegates, had written a letter to his wife, Abigail:

The second day of July 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more. [from Adams Family Papers, Massachusetts Historical Society]

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The United States celebrates in solemn events and riotous ones, from the serious contemplation of what freedom means to the joy of being able to express our gratitude openly.

However you celebrate--if you do--remember the men who made that possible 250 years ago. And be safe.

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

 

WHAT DOES GRATITUDE LOOK LIKE?

Line up ten people, ask that question, and you'll get--you guessed it--ten different answers!

Today you'll get my version.

Now that it's summer, my fourth favorite season, I decided to challenge myself. I asked: "What can I be grateful for when I don't feel grateful?"

(Please don't gasp--it distracts others.)

Since I've never had a single original thought in my life--and having lived so long I recognize that as a fact, not a stain on my character--I know I'm not the only person who has asked that question. Some days, it's just like that.

Here's an example:

• We are now into the fourth full day of Summer.
• The temp is hovering in the low 80s, working its way up.
• Humidity likes to hover with the temp. but today it's enjoying the 90s.
• The sun is up! (Well, duh, this is summer.)
• It's daylight out there 'way earlier than working folks should be up--but they hope to beat the heat & humidity (see above) if they get lawns mowed, gutters cleaned out, roofs put on . . . .

Just so we're clear, this is my list. If you don't like mine, make your own.

My challenge to myself: Look out my window and name 5 things (yes, 5) I see out there that I'm grateful for. Taking a deep breath . . . ready?

1. Green. Lots of green out there. Or, I should say, lots of greens--dark green, pale green, yellow green, rusty green (I know, it sounds odd, but that's what it looks like). To give your eye a chance to rest, there are also reds (Japanese maples), purples and pinks (flowering bushes), and yellows (flower beds and dandelions in bloom). 
2. Shade. For the moment, no one is chopping down any trees in my vicinity. Every time I see a tree being reduced to logs and sawdust, I weep inside--we lose a little of our natural combatant to the increasing carbon footprint. Yes, a new tree will (perhaps) be planted--but it'll take years to grow and provide shade.
3. Breeze. Okay, I don't actually see the breeze, but I see the trees, bushes, and bird feeders swaying back and forth. By the way, did you know birds don't really care that their feeders sway around while they're at lunch? Can you imagine being in a swaying cafe while trying to chow down on a burger and fries? Or a bowl of chili? The mind boggles.
   
   
   
4. Neat lawns. My neighborhood is blessed with folks who either mow their own lawns or hire it done. At present all the houses on my long block are occupied or at least owned and maintained by folks who hope to live in them some day. That means there are no patches of knee-high weeds-and-grass that announce "This Property Is Unoccupied."
5. Animal Life. Birds, chipmunks, squirrels. Dogs. Cats. People (usually walking the dogs, or vice versa). A few kids on bikes but that's usually out front on the street; the alley is one-lane wide and not safe for bikes and cars together.

There are my five offerings for gratitude this day. And I didn't even get into people stuff: medical appointments, visits from out-of-town friends, letters and emails and texts from people I care about.

Shall we do a "takeaway"? It would be this:

• Open your eyes--really look at what's out there; and when you see something you like, smile and say, "Thank you."
• That's gratitude, in a nutshell.

Blessings abundant,

Thursday's Child

 PEACE

 
[This essay appeared nearly 10 years ago--and I find it has as much to tell us now as it did then.]

I've chosen a word to live by to finish out the year. That word is PEACE.

 

Over 40 years ago I taught freshman composition to college freshmen. Our course started with a descriptive essay; continued into compare-and-contrast; and toward the end we advanced to the extended definition. It was one of the hardest to teach and one of the hardest to learn.

The extended definition essay attempts to go beyond the dictionary's pared-down list of meanings and asks the reader to enter into the writer's concept. We used examples from our lives, from books, from whatever experiences we could muster.

One way to define a concept is to tell what it is not.

My trusty Merriam Webster lists these things about PEACE:
- absence of war or strife
- freedom from quarrels and disagreement
- to remain silent 

Another definition of PEACE refers to an inner state of calm; tranquility. My favorite tea mug bears this legend:

- peace does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.

Still another way to look at PEACE deals with our actions; here's a quotation from the late Henri Nouwen, Dutch Catholic priest, professor, writer and theologian:

- Did I offer peace today? Did I bring a smile to someone's face? Did I say words of healing? Did I let go of my anger and resentment? Did I forgive? Did I love? These are the real questions. I must trust that the little bit of love that I sow now will bear many fruits, here in this world and the life to come.

And Mother Theresa:

-If we have no peace. it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.

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Peace be with you.

 

Blessings,

Thursday's Child 

 

 BAD DAY? STAY TUNED....

If you've ever had a really bad day--what a friend of mine calls a crap-sandwich day--then you might find some relief with a visit from Thursday's Child today.

Let me say first--yes, I, too, have bad days--always have, probably always will. BUT! They're not the end of the story. They just happen. To you. To me. To everybody. (Don't let anybody try to put one over on you and say they never have a bad day. Just smile, pretend you didn't hear, and change the subject.)

So if we all recognize that bad days will happen, no matter how we hold our mouth or what little sayings we tell ourselves to chase away the bogies or where we go to hide in the dark under a big cover until it all goes away--never mind all that. There are actual things we can do to make a bad day less bad. Ready?

LIVE - go ahead with your usual life; on a bad day, you'll no doubt have bumps in the road, winds that pick you up and toss you around, rain that never stops, no matter how much you pray (remember Noah? 40 days and 40 nights? what we have is a drizzle to his troubles). And you'll discover--and billions of people before us have discovered--that the road will smooth out, the wind will die down, and the rain will stop. Maybe not all at once. Maybe not for several more crap-sandwich days, but it will all go away.

• You have to trust me on this one--I've lived long enough to have it happen many, many times. The technique is: Hang in there!

LOVE - yep, even on a bad day, you can find something to love. A movie on Netflix? A book you got for your birthday and wanted to start but stuff got in the way? The new dog who came to live with you because you know you have enough love for it and that's what it needs right now?

• Here's a thought--go through a drawer or box of your stuff that you haven't looked at in, oh, these many moons/years/decades--don't do anything with it, just look at it. If it's not a bunch of cool stuff you like "just because," then leave it and get out another one. Eventually you'll find something--a love letter from a friend, a dried up bunch of flowers from some little guy or gal in your family who thought you could use a pretty posy, one earring (left from a pair) that recalls a special event where you lost the other one, or maybe even an old diary or journal you'd forgotten about, and when you start reading it, you're transported back in time to who you were all those years ago.

LAUGH - it doesn't have to be a true bad-bad-bad day; it can just be a day when you'd rather not be checking in at the hospital for a 15-minute procedure that will take up most of your day (due to leftover anesthesia in your system). On such a day, here are some humorous (in my opinion) thoughts to get your brain on another track:

     (Sign on the window when I checked 

     in for the above 15 minutes of 

     oblivion)

• “My mother always used to say: The older you get, the better you get, unless you’re a banana.”
  

  —Rose (Betty White, on The Golden Girls)

• “I want my children to have all the things I couldn't afford. Then I want to move in with them.”
  —Phyllis Diller

• “You know you’ve reached middle age when you’re cautioned to slow down by your doctor, instead of by the police.” —Joan Rivers

And if you're so inclined, here's one you can share with your grandchildren:

    Knock, knock.....

    Who’s there?

    Water.

    Water who?

    Water you doing telling jokes right now? Don’t you have things to do?

But if all else fails, go back to bed and get up on a better day.

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

 TOUGH TIMES . . .

Everybody has tough times . . . I've never met anybody who lived in a land of eternal springtime, little birdies singing, flowers blooming their heads off--and honestly, I don't think I'd actually believe it if I did meet somebody like that.

But I have met lotsa folks who have tough times of varying intensity and length, and from them, I've learned a little about how to navigate those rocky places in life.

Often, I've had mentors from my churches. They prayed with me. They recommended books and authors whose writings gave me a different point of view. They showed me how to turn difficult times into possibilities for growth. And the best thing of all, over the years I've developed a habit of looking for those ways on my own.

If you've been reading Thursday's Child for a while, you know I spend a lot of time reading. One of my favorite writers has been, and is, C. S. Lewis. I first knew his work when I was an undergrad English major--we used one of his books, The Four Loves, in a Middle English course. A few years later, I made his acquaintance again when my oldest daughter brought home The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the first of the Narnia series. And since that time, I've read many of his books on religious subjects.

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Recently, I've collected thoughts from various sources. Around Mother's Day, The New York Times ran an article about advice people had received from their moms. What fun to read! Some of those sayings I'd heard in my young life--things like "walk in the other person's shoes before you judge." 

But the one that stood out for me, and that I'd never heard before, was this: "If you try, you either win or you learn." Got that? Win or learn--not win or lose. In similar words, I've been reading that sentiment, "win or learn," for the past several years--mostly from visual artists, writers, and  teachers, who are absolutely convinced that mistakes are good things, because they help you learn something you didn't know before.

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Last week I watched a video on YouTube by an American artist I follow, Ellen Crimi-Trent. This was a follow-up video about her father. A few months ago, Ellen and her brother were helping their artist father downsize his studio; he had hundreds (literally!) of paintings, some framed, some not; and he was no longer able to paint due to poor health. The family members were clearing out the studio, selling paintings locally and online. They'd done this once already this year; now they were having a second sale, and the end was, apparently not in sight. Their father, the artist, could no longer hold a paint brush. I'm guessing he's in his 80s. 

At the end of the video, Ellen closed with this thought, "Take the time and space to enjoy every moment that you have." That really hit me where I live.

I wish you the same--time and space.

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

 

 REMEMBER . . .

In a few days we will celebrate, as a nation, the traditional    Memorial Day. We will honor those who have fallen in the service of our country, as well as those in other countries who also gave their lives.

And although COVID is less of a threat than when I wrote this post three years ago, our thoughts turn also to all the medical people who have died in the battle to save lives, in many places in our world.

Our best and highest calling is to remember . . .

• our loved ones, whom we no longer see
• the contributions they made to our lives, and to Life
• and to share our memories with those who have come after us

And while we're remembering, let us honor our friends and family who have died, some of them many years ago, perhaps in battles with disease and aging, but having lived their lives and whom we knew. They live on in our memories and in ourselves. If we share them, they live on in the lives of people we may never meet, but whose lives can be enriched by our memories.

So let us remember . . . and give thanks.

Here is a quotation from Elisabeth Kubler-Ross:

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

 YOU KNOW IT'S A GOOD DAY WHEN . . .

I had a good day not long ago. Nothing stupendous. Nothing profound. Just an all-round good day.

When I searched for quotations to share with you, I found many were totally attached to what the person did for a living. Since I'm not a sports fan in any way, shape, or form, and I don't go to movies or even look forward to new ones on Netflix or other streaming media, that limited my search right away. 

So what I did--I fell back on quotes from people whose work I knew, or, in one case, a quotation by a movie director whose words made sense to me. Forgive me for going heavy on the side of writers, but remember--that's what I do most of all . . . write.

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Some people go to bed at night thinking, 'That was a good day.' I am one of those who worries and asks, 'How did I screw up today?' Tom Hanks

The stories that I want to tell, especially as a director, don't necessarily have a perfect ending because, the older you get, the more you appreciate a good day versus a happy ending. Drew Barrymore

Comedy comes out of everyone's worst day. No one writes a sitcom episode about everyone having a good day. It's always about someone being locked out of their house or someone being dumped or whatever. Jim Jefferies

Catch me on a good day, I think half of my books aren't too bad. Catch me on a bad day, I think I've never written a good line. Dennis Lehane

I used to be able to write five pages a day, every day, no problem. Now a good day is five or four pages, and that's from 9:30 A.M. until 6 P.M. Elmore Leonard

A good day to me is writing from 6 A.M. 'til noon with a break to take my daughter to school. After lunch, if I still feel the momentum, I'll hit it again. Michael Connelly

And another one from Michael Connelly: The fulfillment I get from a good day of writing is addictive and will always bring me back the next day. Michael Connelly

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Hope you're having a good day. If not, I wish you a better day tomorrow, or the next day, or . . . whenever. As some of the above quotations indicated, it might take a bad day to make us realize what a good day really is, when it comes along. Others have said we should make it a good day. Something to ponder.

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

IT'S ALL ABOUT PERSPECTIVE

We don't have to be an artist or a photographer to recognize the importance of Perspective in the world around us.

There’s a line in The Golden Spiders, by Rex Stout, that I really like:

Archie Goodwin is badgering Nero Wolfe to do some work:

“You’ve always said it’s not enough to earn your money—you have to feel like you’ve earned your money. So let’s earn our money.”

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[Note: This post is not about making money. Sorry. You really don't want to get advice from me on making money. Trust me on this.]

Some time ago I had a day when I did several things, and accomplished a lot, for me. By the end of that day I had the satisfaction of time well spent. I felt—emotionally—as if I’d accomplished a lot. Some of that satisfaction came from knowing I’d finished something: a task, one large part of a task, or even a small step.

(I won’t tell you what all I did—I do hate to see your eyes glaze over.)

I recall a blog post by the late Writer/Teacher Louise De Salvo entitled “Little by Little” that  explored what it means to make progress on a project when you have a debilitating disease or condition. Louise De Salvo never knows ahead of time how much energy she will have the next day—maybe none. Maybe only a short time to do a little writing. If it’s 10 minutes, then she uses those 10 minutes. If it’s an hour, then she writes for an hour. And the work gets done, “little by little.”

I found her blog post inspiring. Too often I sigh and ignore the little bits of time that could be used to move a project forward.

Do I really have to wait for two hours of free time? Isn’t there something I can do in whatever time slot I have available?

The late Nancy Zieman, host of a long-running quilting/sewing TV show, Sewing with Nancy,  published a book called 10-20-30 Minutes to Quilt. There’s another inspiration. For each quilt she lists the steps: what can be done in 10 minutes (choose fabrics, perhaps), 20 minutes (cut fabrics), and in 30 minutes (assemble a few quilt blocks).

Here's how I figure it--my job: Look at my Today List and estimate how many minutes each task will take.

Besides tasks, I like to build in time to rest between, say, starting laundry and tidying up the kitchen. This isn’t lying down for a nap kind of rest; this is doing something sitting down—writing checks, knitting a few rows of an afghan, looking through a music book for pieces I can re-learn. Then back on my feet for the next activity.

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The true issue at hand, I believe, is Perspective. Remember the old glass half-full vs. the glass half-empty? Time perceived as "too little to do much with" is still the same amount of time perceived as "just enough time to do one step of that task."

One of the most positive people I know is my primary care doctor. We discussed time one day--I think the subject was time to read--and she said two minutes might be all the time she had but she'd use those two minutes to skim an article.

Perspective--what you see from where you stand--has a lot to do with perception. (Thank you, C. S. Lewis!)

If you're standing in your own way, you won't see anything but your own reflection. If you get out of your own way, you might see something new--or something old in a new way--or something old that can be morphed into something new.

Perspective influences perception, which leads to possibilities.

There you go--three words that begin with P. Juggle them and see what you come up with.

And have a Perceptive week, developed by looking from where you stand, into a future of possibilities.

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

  A MOM BY ANY OTHER NAME...

As we near the annual Mother's Day celebration, I've been thinking about women who have been "mom" to me throughout my life.

There's first, naturally, my biological mom, whose name was Doris. I was her third child, but the only one who survived beyond a few months. From her I learned several important lessons:
   --put yourself in the other person's place
   --be friendly
   --don't hurt another person's feelings
   --share what you have
   --take care of your belongings

Life for my mom was not easy; she was divorced in a time when such action was frowned upon. She had to work to help support herself and me. We often had to make-do with whatever we had because we couldn't afford another whatever-it-was. I didn't know any of this when it was going on. Much of it became clear when I had children and experienced first hand what it meant to do without or make-do. My mom died when I was 15.

My next mom was my mother-in-law, Vira. She and I just clicked. Her house was where we often met on Friday or Saturday night for pizza--she and I made it while the guys talked in the other room. We were on the same wavelength, Vira and I. If she needed a utensil for use at the stove, I was handing it to her as she turned to ask. She was creative with fabric, liked to read, collected recipes, all of which I related to; and she played bridge with her lady friends, which never appealed to me. (Mainly because I couldn't get my head around the rules and nuances of bridge. Still can't.) She died when I was 27.

Years later I met Treva, one of the pillars of the small country church my family attended. She had one daughter, but apparently longed for a larger family. So she "adopted" all the 30-somethings in that church--boys and girls--as her own. No matter how downhearted we felt during the week, a Sunday morning of Treva's love and acceptance put things right again. Treva lived long enough to see me into my 50s.

By that time, I'd reconciled myself to being the mom, and not having one of my own in the flesh. Then I reconnected with Aunt Virginia, my mom's youngest sister, and the last of the 10 Jenkins children. 


Aunt Virginia had two little boys--who naturally became grown-up men--but she never had little girls of her own. All my female cousins and I were happy to help her out. For several years my oldest daughter and I made an annual trip to Illinois for a weekend with Virginia and "her girls." We visited cemeteries where our great-greats were buried; we shopped at Walmart; we ate one meal out so we could visit with some cousins who couldn't come to the house; we admired Virginia's garden, and ate whatever produce was ripe and ready. Virginia lived a long life, and I was in my 60s when she died.

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What is it that defines a "mom"?

Think of the people you know who've adopted children--are they any less a mom (or dad) because they aren't the biological parent?

Think of the women (since we're talking about moms today) who never married, but who spent their lives in service to children, young people, and adults: teachers, nurses and doctors, social workers, day-care people. . . .

Here's a partial list of characteristics I associate with moms:

--they care
--they want the best for you
--they laugh or cry with you
--they think of you often (you know this because they tell
   you they do)
--they have wisdom, in spades, from years of living longer
   than you have
--they share: ideas, advice, money, material goods, their physical help
--they let you make your own mistakes (they made theirs, and 
   learned from them)
--they let you go when they'd rather keep you safely with them, and 
   they keep you when you've no place to go

Make yourself a list. It will be based on how you've come to know the woman or women you call "mom."

Then take some time each day to give thanks for "mom." 

Blessings,

Thursday's Child