LAUGHTER!

[I'm repeating this post because . . . well, because I think a lot of people need to remember that laughter is important to us human folks. If you're in a low place in your life at the moment, see if there isn't something you can laugh about. If it's a really really low place, try for a smile, however weak, or even a light giggle. I'll join you.]

My laughter tank has been running low lately. When I began looking for quotations to illustrate this post, I discovered what I've always known (how's that for logic?)--laughter and pain are considered by many, many people to be two sides of the same coin.

Okay, I can work with that. I don't laugh when things are going badly. Say, for example, my car doesn't start, or the garage door spring won't lift the door when I push the button, or I slip on the front steps and skin my knee (if I'm lucky and don't go into sprain/broken bone country) . . . none of those qualified for the slightest chuckle. Not even in retrospect.

But I do know that when I'm feeling low, when my emotions have managed to delude me into thinking nothing good will ever happen again (rare, but it has happened), then I'm ready for relief. I've been known to watch a TV series that used to send me into gales of laughter, but if I'm in that low-down place, nothing sounds or looks funny.

I love Erma Bombeck for her home-grown humor. She saved my bacon on more than one occasion when I had a houseful of little kids all needing something different, and I just needed a little peace and quiet. She could laugh at herself and her situation--somewhat like mine--and I was eased.

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This past winter I had a long spell of nothing-funny-about-anything. In those periods I can't read, I don't want to write, knitting/sewing/cooking don't interest or distract me. 

To have some voices in the house, I put on a DVD--TV series, movie, whatever; I don't remember just what it was. And within 20 minutes I had laughed out loud twice. Twice!

Those moments of laughter brought me back into the human race.

(Thank you, Mark Twain--for reminding me that I do have "one really effective weapon" in my personal arsenal.)

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Why would we waste any of our days mired in sadness or anger or fear? Well, apparently we can't banish them entirely. Can you imagine day after day after day of laughter? Important to have a balance. Sadness is a natural thing to happen to us--we all lose something or someone. Anger rises when we least expect it. Fear? Oh, yeah, fear is always around waiting to pounce.

So a little laughter each day may save it from being wasted? Hmm. Need to think about that for a while. But I'm 99.44% sure I can live with it.

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Do you have someone you can laugh with? My closest friends are people who smile or giggle or chortle or double over with mirth at the same things that hit me that way. Doesn't have to be trading one-liners. Think about it. 

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As time passes, I'm learning to let go of more and more things that used to get under my skin and keep me in a constant state of irritation. More things strike me as funny. Or nutty. Or absurd.

Smiling comes easier. (Remember the old joke? "Smile! People will wonder what you're up to.") I smile a lot. People at the grocery store and Walmart smile back. Maybe they wonder what I'm up to. Or, maybe, they know.

Have a blessed week . . . filled with laughter, and joy.

Thursday's Child

4 MORE DAYS!

Counting today--4 more days till the First Day of Spring!!

 Now the question is: Have you made your Spring Resolutions?

[Please don't frown like that--what if your face froze that way?]

Okay, folks, SPRING RESOLUTIONS!

Perfect time to make resolutions--weather changing, outdoor stuff needs doing, right?

If you haven't spent much time in the yard or walking around the house or poking in the garage, now's the time to do that. You can:

• check the lawn mower
• inspect the outside of the house for winter damage
• look over the plants/seeds/bulbs at the nursery
• shake your piggy bank to be sure you have funds for the bulbs, etc.

No house? No problem.

Wherever you live, you have stuff--and please don't try to tell me you got rid of every bit of extra stuff last year. Stuff accumulates--all on its own--no help from us. (Don't ask me why, I've just observed it happening--to me, my family, my friends, my neighbors.)

So here's what you can do:

• look through closets for clothing to donate
• check those linen closets and storage boxes--blankets to donate?
• take a good gander at the rooms in your living space--anything need painting?
• furniture needing new covers?
• floors can/should be replaced?

That's a start.

Clearly, this is an addictive process. The caveat is this: don't rush out to buy everything at once. The assessment and planning phase will get you through the long rainy days Spring delights in. When it's sunny again--and possibly warmer--a nice long walk to see the neighborhood may perk you up. 

And by the time you get back home, the walls/furniture/flooring look just fine. Your energy can go into something else, like painting a picture, taking photos, writing a poem or a letter or an email, calling a friend for a meet at the local tea shop or cafe.

Nothing was wasted--it all helped you Reset.

And once you've Reset, you may find you can go with the flow better--enjoy a time of less stress--relax and do something you really want to do (read a book? get a dog? see a movie at a local theater? take dance lessons? re-learn how to roller skate?)

Spring is the true beginning of the year--new growth occurs, trees and shrubs and perennials waken and get on with their job of beautifying our lives. Try a Spring Resolution or two.

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

TELL ME A STORY

 Our family has had a history of sharing stories with each other. You know the kind of thing--what happened at school that day--what went on at the office--the news from downtown where I worked--news from Fort Wayne where the kids' dad worked . . . .

These were what journalists and editors love to call "human interest stories," about real people, doing real things--maybe silly things, or scary things, or just being good human beings helping other human beings. 

Recently my daughter mentioned hearing stories on National Public Radio while she was commuting. That triggered a memory for me: My Grandma Jenkins used to look at me (age six, at the time) and say, "Now don't story to me."

We kids all knew what that meant: don't make something up, don't lie, don't even fiddle around with the truth. 

Little wonder I grew up knowing "stories," the kind people wrote and got published in magazines, weren't true. In school I learned they were called "fiction," and what I wrote in my own time wasn't true--it was made up. But what I wrote for the school paper--that had to be true. It was journalism. Reporting what happened.

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But I got to thinking about family stories. We all have them: the escapades of our ancestors as handed down through the generations, told at family gatherings like reunions, weddings, funerals, family visits on vacations. Embellished, maybe. Interesting? Oh, yes.

Remember doing this?

Nowadays--I wonder: Do people still tell their stories? Share the funny and sad and heartwarming and heartrending stories of people we're all related to with the younger generations who'll never know those older folks?

I hope you do that--share all that wealth of family stories.

But in case you don't, here's a suggestion:

• get yourself a big spiral notebook, the 8 1/2 by 11 inches kind (dollar stores have them)
• find a pen you like to write with, or a pencil if that's your thing
• write a page about someone in your family, someone you can introduce to your children or grandchildren; title it with the someone's name

You've just started a memoir!

Here's something else to remember: Don't try to include absolutely everything you know about that person. This isn't a biography--it's one story about someone related to you and your descendants.

After you get going, you may find one page isn't enough to do justice to your ancestor. So--write another page!

As an aside: The celebrated novelist, E. L. Doctorow [who wrote Ragtime and World's Fair, among other works] said in an interview that he wrote 600 words a day--he typed 600 words single-spaced on a single sheet of paper. That was his output for the day. And since his novels are big ones, he kept on until he'd told the whole story.

You don't have to strive for thousands of words. Write a page, or maybe two. Depending on how large your handwriting is, that may be 300-500 words.

If you're finished with that ancestor, write about another one. I'll warn you--once you get into this writing habit, it's addictive. And best of all, it's fun!!

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As a bonus, I'll recommend a book to you. I confess I've not read it, just begun it. It's brand new, just out, called The Queen of Dirt Island, by Irish novelist Donal Ryan. You can find it on Amazon among other places.

Here's why I recommend it: Each chapter is 500 words long. Yup, that's 500 words. The title of each chapter is one word only. And you'll be amazed at how much you can learn about the characters in just 500 words. (That's about 2 pages of print.)

If you look for it on Amazon, you can use the "Look Inside" feature to read the first chapter. (And like the famous potato chips, I bet you won't stop at just one.)

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You don't have to plan to publish your writings, but do share them with family members, if you're able. Good luck! And happy writing!!

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

 MARCH

 [Just had to repost this one--there's something about bright yellow daffodils that shouts "Spring!" And about now, with weather on a yo-yo string, I'm ready for some everyday-daffodilly time. Helps me believe we're really, really going to have Spring.]

Love Call Daffodils

Daffodils like 'Love Call', sometimes called jonquils or narcissus, are the birth flowers for March. Because they often bloom in early spring, they symbolize new birth, beginnings, happiness and joy. --HGTV website

I also read somewhere that daffodils symbolize hope. So take your pick: new birth--beginnings--happiness--joy--hope.

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You probably noticed that the calendar page changed. And in just a little over two weeks, we'll say "It's spring!" 

Most people I've talked to are hoping the lamb-like opening of the month isn't going to slide down into a lionized ending. But it isn't purely lamb-like--sunny, yes, and some warm days. But there's an occasional biting wind lurking around. Our winter coats and scarves and gloves are still hanging around ready to slip on before we head outside.

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Recently I wrote a note to a friend, apologizing for my tardy thanks for her gift. I wasn't sure if I was slowing down or if Time was really and truly speeding up. 

It occurs to me now that this is exactly what my grandparents must have felt. They were married in 1898, had 10 children in the next 24 years, and thus an abundance of grandchildren. We all grew up in "modern" times--jazz, bobbed hair, bathtub gin for the older cousins. Women working in factories during WW II, more jazz, then rock 'n' roll, faster cars for the later group.

As I grew older, I felt my feet dragging when the times started speeding up on me--manners and morals seemed to change overnight; crime came closer to home (no longer just a feature of big city living). When new technology came, I was among those who had to grit their teeth and learn to use computers if they wanted to keep working.

Now that I'm well-advanced in my life, I begin to empathize with my grandparents in their struggle to cope with social change. "Modern times" is a phrase that actually means nothing--every time claims to be modern. New Age is now an outmoded concept. Today's latest-and-greatest is tomorrow's "old school."

What I take away from this line of thinking is this: Why bother trying to keep up? Why not, instead, find what suits us--a preferred way of doing something, a kind of tool or appliance we like to work with, our favorite recipes or quilting patterns or birdhouse designs--and just do those things? Why not, indeed! We can always be creative within the parameters of our faves.

We can still keep up to date with what the world is doing, if we want to, by watching movies and TV series on the hundreds of channels available nowadays. We can visit with our grandchildren and great-grandchildren and find out what they know and like and what's new in their lives. And read--there's always something out there we haven't read yet.

Change is good--it keeps us from growing stale. But change is not good if it's done just to keep up with what the world is doing. Why? Because by the time you change your way of living--especially if you move slowly, like I do--there's yet another brand new way out there waiting for you. 

My experience tells me that what I've done for years, and the ways I've enjoyed doing those things, have become my way of doing them.

It's called being your authentic self. So why not do that!

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Here are some closing thoughts for you:

Daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty.
–William Shakespeare, The Winter’s Tale

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
–William Wordsworth, I Wander’d Lonely as a Cloud

Of Spring Weather:
Chillier, but daffodillier.
–The 1991 Old Farmer’s Almanac

Keep an eye out for daffodils--they'll soon be everywhere!

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

Daffodil fields

 "WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?"

[It's nearly the end of February--we're having rain, LOTS of rain--we have one vehicle non-functioning and the other one on the road--the rain came with wind and cold, as in freezing rain, and you'll get the picture. I can't think of anything interesting to write about or even find a topic to get my juices flowing. So here's a rerun of a post that made me smile when I read it again. Get out your memories and look them over.]

Remember when all grown-ups asked you this question? Depending on your age and recent experiences, you answers probably ranged far and wide.

At seven, I knew absolutely I wanted to be a teacher. That lasted several years, because I loved school, liked my teachers (well, most of them), and had a lasting identity with books and paper and pencils.

Not sure when that one began to fade into the background, but when I was in high school, I knew, absolutely, that I wanted to be a writer. The newsstand downtown carried a magazine called The Writer (still publishing, by the way), and I went every month to read a little in each issue. Sometimes I had enough extra money to buy one. Joy unbounded!

That dream was partially realized when I wrote for my high school newspaper, at least three years, and maybe even during my freshman year. I was very keen.

By the time I was a sophomore, however, I'd fallen in love with the stage, acting in one-act plays, variety shows with the choir, and eventually the junior and senior class plays. Our Thespian troupe made a trip to Chicago to see plays (memory fades here, sorry). Acting, it was absolutely plain to see, was the way to go--the actor could be absolutely anyone at all, a different person each time.

Clearly, I had a weather vane existence--if the wind blew one way, I was a writer; if another, I was an actor.

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Those were the days when boys wanted to grow up to be cowboys and firemen and girls wanted to grow up to be nurses and airline stewardesses.

A few years later, it was sports heroes, and executive secretaries. Still later--astronauts (both boys and girls), scientists of all stripes, designers, artists . . . . We all began to believe we could be anything we wanted to be. Well, why not?

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Looking back over several decades, I don't recall ever being only one thing. Does anyone?

For instance--college was intended to prepare me for a career in chemistry. Instead, I got married, had a family, and continued my interrupted studies in English and French. I did get to teach a while, but circumstances changed and I worked, instead, as a paralegal in a law office.

For instance--writing has come and gone several times. After my high school newspaper experiences, there seemed no reason to continue in journalism; instead, I concentrated on fiction writing. Short stories, novels . . . . Later, non-fiction. Essays, now a blog, memoirs for my family members. . . .

For instance--the theater never materialized, though I've acted in local amateur drama societies a few times. Instead, music became my latter-day self-expression--singing in a choir, directing a choir, playing piano and organ for churches.

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What do I want to be when I grow up? 

Not sure. There are so many possibilities! Do I have to settle for just one?

Maybe the problem is in the question--it suggests we have to choose a role to play, an occupation that will support us and our families into perpetuity. It doesn't let us try out different possibilities--the weather vane is not allowed to shift with the wind.

How about changing the question this way: What kind of person do I want to be when I grow up?

I couldn't have answered that at age 7 or 15 or 21. But I do know, now, I want to be a person who listens more than talks; who encourages others to succeed;  who forgives whatever needs to be forgiven; who shows kindness, especially to those who seldom know kindness.

That's a humongous ambition right there. Those traits have been in the making all my life and will continue forever.

Did you get to be what you wanted to when you grew up? Does it matter now? 

More important--are you still growing? I hope so!

Have a blessed week!

Thursday's Child

 CONCLUSIONS

Last weekend I finished the writing of a short novel--possibly a novella, due to its shorter word count. Anyway, I finished it. It is now considered a Very Rough Rough Draft. Early parts of it were written on the computer; the last half was handwritten. Thus only part of it is in manuscript form, which means it is typewritten and easier to read.

The most important aspect for me is: It is completely finished.

It can now safely be put in a drawer--or box--or filing cabinet--or under the bed--and left to chill. I won't look at it again for a while--anywhere from a month to a year. All depending on how courageous I'm feeling. (Rough drafts give me the willies. They're always worse than I thought they were when I put them away.)

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Finishing that manuscript means I came to a conclusion. That activity is over and done with for the time being. If, sometime in the future when I feel my courage increasing, I can actually tolerate reading it again and encountering its imperfections, I can make a new start.

That's what conclusions lead to--new beginnings.

In the case of a piece of writing, the new start can be with the same material--just looking at it with distance and eyes that haven't focused on it recently can call up a "Holy Moley! That's better than I thought." It's equally possible the Holy Moley will be followed by "Oh, wow, how bad is that?"

Another new start can be with a totally different piece: another story--a memoir--a poem or two or three--letters owed to several people who got shoved aside by the Very Rough Rough Draft. 

And now that I'm painting watercolors fairly often, I can abandon the pen and computer for paints and brushes. That's a really new start.

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The main things I've learned about Conclusions are these:

• No conclusion is the final event, even for the project/activity it defines.
• Conclusions are always followed by something else--a new beginning, a different avenue of thought, a change in philosophy.
• Many conclusions are of the thought variety; and when new evidence comes along, our minds can change. So, too, the conclusions we come to based on that new evidence.

Basically, a Conclusion--whether an ending or a summing up of deliberations--is part of the ebb and flow of life--we make conclusions every single day, probably many times a day.

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Back in the Day, we were taught to use a three-part structure for written work and speeches:

• Tell them what you're going to tell them.
• Tell them.
• Tell them what you told them.

(I kid you not. Fortunately, I managed to escape that advice by having creative teachers who knew how deadly that whole scenario could be.) 

Those of us listening to a speaker using that formula learned to listen for the magic phrase, "And in conclusion . . . ." That was our signal to sit up, look as if we'd paid attention all the way through, and get ready to move on to the next event.

If you're still awake, here's some advice: Don't sweat the Conclusions business. Remember, it's all about ebb and flow. There'll be changes coming, but that's sometimes a really good thing.

Wishing you interesting times and joyful days!

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

 EVER HAVE AN OFF-DAY?

 Off-color? Off-side? Off-balance? Off-center? Off the wall?

Yeah, one of "those" days.

I wish I had some tried-and-true, absolutely surefire, and you-won't-believe-it advice for how to handle the Off Days. They're what the songwriter meant when he penned, "Into each life some rain must fall." Boy, was he right.

Off-Days can occur any time. Maybe you've noticed, though--they seem to spring upon us at a time when we positively don't need/want/desire such a thing to happen. They seem to have a mind and a menace of their own.

Here's a little of my own experience:

• Off-days seemed drawn to the times I needed all my wits about me--for taking care of young children, going to college classes, teaching a room full of freshman students who, given their druthers, would've been swilling coffee in the Commons.
• I eventually outgrew that phase of my life (all phases eventually go away, I've found).
• Instead, I had a dog. Medium size, full of personality, IQ 'way up in the stratosphere (I swear she understood my brand of English). I loved that girl; she made my life more varied, more interesting. But as always happens, she aged, and in her later years returned to early puppy ways--mixed up days and nights, wanted to go out at one o'clock (AM), had no sense of seasons so the 1:00 AM voyage was pertinent any day/month/season of the year.
• Her confused nights meant I also had confused nights. Sleep came in bits and pieces. And if her nights happened one after another, my next-day experiences were of the Off variety. Also one after another.
• I wouldn't give up those years with Joy the Dog; I still miss her. But I'm realistic enough to know getting another dog is probably not going to work out. I still remember the Off-Days.

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You can make your own list of Off-Day triggers. COVID and its attendant uncertainties and effects is a common one for our global village. Inflation and resultant downsizing of businesses--or even annihilation of businesses--is also well-known.

Then there are your everyday concerns, or worries, or fears--you know what they are. Anything that steps into your life and knocks you even a little bit off-balance can end up with the following day(s) being Off.

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I said I don't have any answers (see paragraph 3 above). But I do have some thoughts. Maybe one of these will resonate with you:

• For folks who find prayer helpful, that's a time to trot out all your everyday "stuff" and give it to your Supreme Being for safekeeping when you go to bed. 
• If you have a favorite prayer or psalm, recite it when you go to bed. Changes your mind's landscape.
• Some folks might explore therapy with a professional therapist.
• Others might find a meaningful activity--music, art, physical exercise, crafts, working with charities, helping at a food bank--something attractive to them that will take them away from the other "stuff" that seems to bring only concern or worry. (It might also nudge the Off stuff into a lower place of importance. Been known to happen.)
• Some folks swear by yoga--meditation--tai chi--running--biking--and so on. Find your place in the physical world if that appeals to you.
• And if all else fails--Embrace the Beast. Meet your nemesis head-on--your worry, your concern, your fear. Embracing the problem isn't easy, I'll not kid you about that. But you can't live a life forever running away from the problem, or ignoring it, pretending it doesn't exist. 
• Well, I guess you actually can do those things. But the results aren't worth the life you'll be living.
• And, something to consider--it uses less energy to embrace than to fight. Hmm.
• Sorry I can't give you some great resources to read or podcasts to listen to, to convince you how to deal with your Off-Days. But you can probably find something to help. Google thinks it knows everything. But people also know a lot. Talk to folks. Yes, you'll be vulnerable, putting yourself out there on a shaky, shivery, limb. However, is that any worse than living with worry/concern/fear that makes your days--and nights--a misery?

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We're not talking health issues here--if you have physical balance problems, that's a different kettle of fish, not to mention a horse of a different color. You know what to do about that kind of balance issue. For the emotional and mental off-ness, yes, take it seriously. In the meantime, we wish you fewer Off-Days, more joy in living, and a life of fulfillment.

Blessings,

Thursday's Child