Friends

Today I spent a little time with some beautiful friends. It was a long work week, and I might have just stayed hunkered down in the quiet seclusion of my easy chair, but invitations were extended, and I try to attend whatever I'm invited to. Somebody thought enough to include me on their list of guests, to invest time in our friendship, that is a privilege. I thought about the many life events I have shared with these friends, that we continue to share, and how much their friendship has meant to me over the years. Friends my age, and our daughters gathered for a time to celebrate a new business venture launched by the young women. As they spoke of hopes for their future, and the life experiences they were sharing, it was apparent that the friendship between them is a beautiful, precious, valuable gift. I remembered myself at their age, the life experiences I shared with my friends, some who were gathered right there in that room, some who were miles away in proximity, but always close at heart. I was genuinely happy for them! They would reach a point in life, like I and their mothers have, where they too would look back to see all that has been shared. Husbands, pregnancies, babies, bills, more babies and bills, dishes, laundry, lunch, dinner, recipes, hair, sales, jobs, what did we not talk about?! We walked at the parks, we played cards at the kitchen table, we took our kids to Kiddieland. We had birthday parties, over the hill parties when we turned 30!, and baby showers. We vacationed at Disney, Mt Dora, camped, and went on "retreats". We worried, and cried, and prayed, over the phone, and on each others shoulders. We celebrated accomplishments, new homes, and goals reached. When one had a new baby, was sick, injured or bereaved, there were cards, and meals, and childcare. We laughed, we shared, we grew to become so closely knit together that we are as one. We have been given by each other, pieces of each other. The known things, and the secret things. Trust and confidence has been proven, and cherished. And now we watch as our daughters begin to piece together, just as we did not so long ago, this beautiful intricate patchwork of events and milestones that will one day tell their story. We didn't know then, and they don't know now, how perfect the imperfections of this imperfect life truly are. They've made us who we are, and brought us to where we are. Together.

Girlfriend

There's a special thing that happens
between women who are friends,
it's a kind of "sisterhood" that
can't be shared with men.
Someone you can talk to
when no one else will hear,
intimate conversing,
hearts open without fear.
When the words don't seem to come,
a simple look will do,
women's intuition, like a knight,
comes shining through.
Undaunted by dilemma,
obstacle or foe,
she knows things about you
no one else will ever know,
and knowing, she loves even more,
this "sister" that she's found,
souls unite, lives are touched,
hearts forever bound.

PJ

Ducks

A few years ago my washing machine "went out". It was pretty old, so my son decided he'd buy mom a new one. Not too long after I got it, just long enough to be out of warranty, it started making some crazy noise on the spin cycle, which we learned to live with rather than pay for an expensive repair. Then it started leaking, first a little, and soon so much that I had to stand by the machine through the entire cycle mopping up wash water, for 45 minutes! I researched what the probable cause was, and determined that a repair was not the best solution. The machine needed to be replaced.
About a week ago, while out making his rounds as a pool maintenance man, another of my sons found a machine out by the road for trash pickup, and decided he'd bring it home, make repairs if possible and needed, and bring it to me if he could make it work. It made a noise too when he tested it, but when he hooked it up at my house it appeared to be working great! A day or two later I did some laundry, and the noise returned, thus the reason it was at the road, but it doesn't leak! So we exchanged one noise and a leak for different noise without a leak. My seasonal income prevents me from buying a new one right now, when I'm able I will. Mean while, I guess you could say laundry day at my house brings a new meaning to the term "squeaky clean"!
It reminds me of a time years ago when all the kids were little, how big a chore laundry was for our family of 9! I was hanging clothes on a clothes line to dry, it was a dryer I didn't have then. That was really not a problem, except for the quantity, since in Florida there are lots of warm sunny days that make line drying fast. Well, we were in a rainy spell, and I really needed to to do laundry, it had been delayed because of the weather as long as I could wait to get it done. Frustrated, I stepped out onto the covered front porch, hoping to get a broader look at the sky, and spot a clearing in the clouds. It was gray, it was drizzly, the only thing clear was that no clothes would be hung on the line that day, but to my surprise, right out in my front yard, were ducks. lazily swimming in what was once a grassy area, heads bobbing up and down in search of tasty treats offered up by the days of rain! My plans were thwarted, I could not complete the tasks I'd hoped to, but in the world of those ducks, it was a great day! All was good, very very good!

Laundry Day

I needed to do laundry
but my dryer is broke,
with baskets running over
I thought "this is a joke!"

I turned the washer knob
and put in a cup of soap,
then saw raindrops on the window,
and lost all hope,

of hanging out the clothes to dry
beneath the suns warm rays,
as I muttered quietly,
"I'm so tired of rainy days."

I went into the living room
to peer out through the glass
at the puddle in my front yard
where I normally see grass!

A pair of ducks were frolicking
right there on my front lawn'
gliding all around,
heads bobbing up and down,

apparently delighting in
some very special treat
that a long night of rain
had provided them to eat.

The skies were dull and gray
but the trees were shiny green,
the sidewalk had a scrubbing,
and everything looked clean.

I stepped outdoors onto the porch
and breathed a long deep breath,
there was no scent of anything
that wasn't clean and fresh.

A few raindrops still fell,
dancing lightly on my skin,
as my thoughts turned back to
baskets of laundry once again.

I knew it had to wait,
to be cleaned some other time,
today it was the earths turn
to wash away it's grime.

So maybe it'll mean
I'll have an extra load or two,
but scenes of ducks on my front lawn
are seldom, and too few.

Sometimes it takes a little rain
in life to make me see,
beyond the never ending
mounds of dirty laundry!

pj

Shoes

Ok, after a long day on my feet, on a hard floor, my feet are really tired, and hurt. The trip from my job to my driveway, allows just the right amount of time to "stiffen" the "old dogs" sufficiently, and make getting from the car to the front door look like I'm a circus act walking barefoot on a bed of broken glass! I always hope there's no one watching from the window, witnessing the evidence of my years! I mean, sure, there's the gray hair, crows feet, age spots, sagging, cellulite, arm wings..., but must we add hobbling to the list?! And how frequent will the additions to this ever growing list be? Because frankly, it's not as easy as it looks anymore to make all this look easy! It can now be said of me, as my Dad used to say in reference to our big old car, affectionately nick named the "Blue Moose", "the old Blue Moose, she ain't what she used to be!"

Shoes

Square toed, round toed, open toed shoes,
high heels, no heels, which should I choose?
I really like the pink flats,
I like the blue suede too,
and the strappy black sequined pair'
oh, what should I do?
How "bout the sassy red ones'
or the shiny gold with buckles'
or the black and white checked "tennies"'
that make my "tootsies" chuckle!
Black patent leather, off white pumps,
gathered in a shoe rack in big shoe clumps!
Oh, maybe I'll just stay at home
curled in my favorite seat,
put on my cozy "jammies",
and sport bare feet!

P.J.

19

It has taken 19 years to reach this day, this one short 24 hour day. 19 years of preparation for a 24 hour anniversary commemorating the day my daughter made her debut onto the stage of life. It was a long awaited production, in fact most thought it couldn't be done. No girl had been able to break onto the scene up until that day 19 years ago. Oh there were boys, and plenty of them! 1/2 dozen to be exact, but girls, now that had always been a different story.
We did ultimately add one to the cast, and the one we got, she's the elite model, specially designed for the tasks set before her, she's one tough cookie! She's had to acclimate to what some would perceive as a hostile environment, what with all the shenanigans from the brothers!
For boys everything is a challenge to be met and conquered. Then there's the motors and the grease, and sweat and the smells, and the sounds they make, sounds one can hardly believe capable from a human!
It's tough to be a girl in a testosterone dominated world. The world she entered without choice 19 years ago, is now the world she would choose over any other. The world filled with six big brothers, to teach her the ropes. It's they who've been hard enough on her to keep her from being wimpy. It's they who've urged her to give it a shot, and planted in her the "I can" attitude, I can be an athlete, I can be strong, I can be successful, if my brothers can, I can! It's they who were in the stands cheering her on. It's they who've put her on the back of a motorcycle, and in the drivers seat. It's they who've been patient when she wasn't as tough as them, like when a lizard gets in the house, or like when a chick flick does that thing with a girls eyes, they still left room for her femininity. It's they who give her a piece of their mind when they think she's out of line, and she listens to them, because they are her world. They would, and have done, anything and everything for her that they are able, to make her happy. She is happy to return the favor.
The way I see it, the writer for this story knew full well who each of the characters would be, and in what order they would enter the scene. When I as the producer flirted with the idea of bringing a girl onto the set, I envisioned a little pink, and lace, and kittens, and butterflies, to mingle amongst the denim, and chrome, and critters, and muscles. It's been at the top of the charts for a solid 19 years, and the story continues to intrigue.
We celebrated the day with our usual sloppy joe lunch, all the brothers, and their girls, and the two additions who make up the the start of new family stories. There was cake, and gifts and cards. One of the brothers made her a birthday card with a silhouette of her with a question mark on the silhouette, and it reads,"whats missing?", inside it says, "we are just not us without you". I think that pretty much sums it up!
Happy Birthday beautiful girl!

Occupation Mom

What is more precious in all the world
than the sparkling eyes of my little girl?
When she looks at me, in dawns first light,
to her, even then, I'm a wonderful sight.

My dark puffy eyes and snarled hair
are not her concern, she's just glad I'm there.
And there isn't a place that I'd rather be,
than right here at home with her next to me.

What's more precious, or can bring more joys
than to be here raising a 1/2 dozen boys?
Each one unique in God given ways,
and He gave them to me, to brighten my days.

They love me in spite of mistakes that I make,
giving far more than they ever take,
when they come in from school, they'll find me home
there's no good reason to leave them alone.

Not for a paycheck to buy us more stuff,
we have what we need, and it is enough.
Some say it's sacrifice "just" being mom,
no social life, so little fun.

Things get postponed, sometimes, for a while,
but I want to remember each moment, each smile.
In just a few years when they are all grown,
I will look back at the seeds that I've sown,

Are they strong? Are they tall? Will they stand the test?
Did I give them my all? Have I done my best?
Where will the sacrifice truly have been?
I don't want to wish I could do it again!

Take time to be there each morning and noon,
knowing that they will be grown so soon.
Each day that passes another one gone,
childhood is over, time presses on.
P.J.

3

In June my granddaughter turned 3. A couple weeks later it was as if a vocabulary flood gate opened! She went to bed one night, walked subconsciously through a dream door, and awoke with a dictionary flowing from her lips! That I might add, did not come with an "on/off" switch! She, like most her age, entered the communication world and found it a rewarding place to be. She tells me everything she knows. How Mommy is doing, and Daddy, and about the car, and the phone that fell off of the car. About her shoes that she couldn't put on because they were dirty, so we had to clean them with a little spray and paper towel. She is so simple and innocent. Her thoughts and conversation so pure. Each of our talks end with "I love you Gamma", I say "I love you", she says "I love you soooo much", I say "I love you soooo much", she says "I love you more", I say "I love you more", and a look of satisfaction shows on her face. With an angelic smile, and soft golden curls, just like her dad's used to be, she is surely straight from heaven! A smile covers my face too, and my heart flutters, she is so precious. A beautiful gift to her parents, her "Gamma", and the whole family, even the whole world! Thank you Lord!

A Girl

A little pink,
a little lace,
maybe a daisy or two,
lollipop lips,
and sticky kisses especially for you.
The wonderful things
a child brings
to set your heart awhirl,
all the fun,
all the love,
wrapped up in a little girl!
P.J.

The Calendar

I'm at a stand still. A fork in the road, only instead of two paths to choose from, there are many, like rays extending out from the sun. At the center is me, and everywhere I turn is another path stretched out before me. I've never had so many choices, not even when I stepped across the line into adulthood, because I went straight from "kid" to adult, just like that. High school ended one day, and the next I was a mom. No time to think about who I'd be, or where I hoped to go, just doing what had to be done, until it added up to done raising my 7 kids for a sum of 34 years! Which is really all I wanted to do anyway. I had no career aspirations, I wanted to get married and have kids, like my mom, and her mom. It was the most fulfilling thing I could have ever done with these years. There are positively no regrets, no thoughts of missed opportunities, only gratitude for the ones I've had! Now, I can choose where to go next, but where should that be? What has the potential to be as meaningful, and important as the job I've just completed? It's exciting and scary all at the same time, this new found freedom. I do not know what will come next, I'm a clean slate waiting for a new set of instructions. Eyes, ears, heart, mind, and arms wide open.

The Calendar

The squares are marked, schedules made
words hastily pencilled in,
excitement for what lies ahead,
the page is turned again.
Rushing through the planned events,
another dollar spent
on what seems unimportant use
of time that I've been lent.
I'd like to make a difference,
but don't know where to start,
idle days procrastinating
as the squares depart.
Even when in my neglect
the page is left unturned,
be it April, be it May
days pass like bridges burned.
I can't cross this path again,
whatever the calendar reads,
certainly all tomorrows are spent
reaping this days seeds.
What will count of what I've done?
What matters of my ways?
of what I've tried to build,
of how I've spent my days?
Oh that the door would open
to the room that holds my dreams,
it's locked with me outside,
sometimes that's how it seems.
Give me a clue, jiggle the keys
empower me anew
I'm at another impasse
and don't know what to do.
Before the days and months
on my calendar disappear,
before it's tucked away,
with the passing of the year
prune me while it's springtime
that summer may produce
my escape in autumn
from the winter's noose.
P.J.

Goodwill Roses

Years ago when I was a young Mom, my Mother in law got me hooked on thrift store shopping. On Mondays at the local Am-vets everything in the store was 1/2 price. Guess who was there every Monday! I clothed my family and furnished our home with an eclectic mix of thrift store finds, homemade delights, and trash to treasure works of art. Well, at least that's how I saw it, I was born to be a homemaking Mom! Over the years as pennies needed to be pinched, I gave up even the thrift stores. Shopping became self inflicted torture as I denied myself the little beauties I wished I could take home with me. Occasionally however, the need wells up inside of me to "hunt", I must search out until I find , a treasure! So when I spotted the sofa size picture of pale roses in a lustrous silver tureen, complete with a gilded vintage frame, I reasonably decided against the purchase. It was frivolous and unnecessary, and where would I put it anyway. I lost a good nights sleep over that decision, but, I gained a poem, and when the store opened their door the next morning I was there to buy that picture!

Goodwill Roses

My beautiful crystal clock ticks
undetectably by day,
as I almost absent mindedly
rush on about my way.
Passing time without much
thought to what may lie ahead,
fulfilling daily tasks, the day
is spent, I go to bed.
In the dark my mind is on
a silver dish of roses,
that I will have to purchase
in the morning I supposes!
The once silent little timepiece,
now clearly states it's mission,
keeping me at 3:00 am
for lovely roses wishin'.
Frivolous the thought that
occupies this early hour,
when I should be asleep
I am enchanted with a flower!
P.J.

Sadie

Just yesterday I was paid a compliment by a young woman half my age. She said she "loved my hair". I too am fond of my hair as far as hair goes. We women find it very easy to pick ourselves apart, making lists of all the things we'd change if we could. I consider myself fortunate where my hair is concerned, I have hair! It hasn't fallen out due to a disorder or illness, that alone makes it good. I have kept it long, it has always been completely straight, against my wishes sometimes, and I have let it "go gray gracefully", or silver as I prefer to call it. It used to be brown, I'm really not a brown kind of girl, I like black and white, so true to my nature, gray hair! I keep it long so I can put it up off of, and away from, my face and neck on the hot summer days of Florida. I've been complimented many times actually, sometimes by total strangers who just wish to pay the compliment. I've been told I'm too old for long hair, I should cut it, and still others have said "if you'd dye your hair you'd look 10 years younger"! My response is always the same, "I'll always have long hair, as long as it's my choice to do so, and I don't care to look 10 years younger, I'm not"!

It's funny what impresses us, especially when we're young. Those who know us are often surprised to hear us relay memories, that they had no idea had been impressed in our hearts and minds. Sadie made quite an impression. So did her husband Ben, and their daughter Inez.

We attended the same church, a beautiful white clapboard church, with a bell steeple, tall arched windows, two narrow staircases, one on each side of the vestibule, that lead to the balcony, and a "crows nest" right in front. The pews were wood with carved ends, the floors were wood, they creaked under the weight of footsteps, especially in the balcony. The building was donated to the congregation with the stipulation that it be moved to another location, and so it was. When I was a child the church was more than 100 years old. It still stands, though it was moved again right next door, when the congregation donated it to the historical preservation society, in order to clear their land for a more modern sanctuary. I never loved the new one like the old one. There are a couple of "must sees" when I go back to that town. The little white church is one of them.

Some Sunday's they would be in church, Sadie and Ben, and Inez in her wheel chair, stricken with polio. I felt a kind of kindred spirit to their family, because I knew what it was like to be part of a family with a "broken" member. My brother was my family's Inez, irreversibly, permanently damaged at age 2 from a reaction to being stung by a swarm of bees. We understood a more difficult life. What must it take for a mother, a father, to daily find joy and peace, with a situation no one would choose? They know strength and patience, and delight in small things, that no one not in that "private club" could ever know.

I always loved the Sunday morning services that ended in the whole congregation circling the sanctuary, holding hands, singing "Blessed Be The Tie", even as a child it moved me. Simple experiences that can't be duplicated. Sometimes Ben would be asked to close in prayer. His prayer always began with "our dear heavenly Father"..., I can still hear the way it sounded in his low, drawn way. I believed he had a more direct line to God's ears.

I'm not entirely sure what it was about them, maybe age, they were quite old, Maybe demeanor, maybe I could even as a child, sense their love for God, their commitment to each other, and to their bed ridden daughter. If they were able to attend church, and they did regularly, Inez was slumped in her wheelchair, I don't think there was any advantage in church, or any other outing for her. What an effort for Ben and Sadie to be there, surely a wonderful reprieve from Monday through Saturday for them. When they were unable to attend, some from the church would make a house call, let them know they were missed, take them a meal, or relay messages from well wishers to help them stay connected. One Sunday it was my Dad and I who visited. I'm not sure why I was along, I was very young, 8 or 10 at the most, but there for whatever reason, I was. We were invited in, I saw Inez in her bed, how sad I felt for them all. I'd only ever seen her in the wheelchair, somehow in the bed she was even more sick, more helpless. Ben was in regular week day clothes, I'd only seen him looking very distinguished in formal Sunday suits. Sadie always wore her hair in braids wrapped neatly in circles on her head. Her clothes were always simple, modest, muted colors. I don't recall jewelry, maybe a pearl necklace, and watch, but certainly never anything "frivolous". She wore heavy hose and oxford type shoes, her look was always functional, business like, school marm-ish. But that day, that day she was, in my child's eye view, absolutely beautiful! She was soft, she wore a white robe, not day clothes, it was "I won't be going out today" clothes, and her hair was not circling her head in braids. It was down, down, down, to her knees it looked to be! Softly waved, gray, happy to be set free from it's usual tightly braided bondage. I was mesmerized. From that day forward, I knew I would always have long hair, and when the time came, it would be gray.

That brief encounter with a woman I hardly knew anything about, determined for me all those years ago, the look of my hair today. More than 40 years have passed, I'm not even sure if my memory is accurate. Maybe I have embellished it in my mind. There is no one with whom I can compare the memory, only my Dad was there. He can't recall a memory he didn't even know impressed me! But I faithfully relay the story, such as I recall, to everyone who says "your hair is pretty, don't cut it, leave it gray". I tell them of beautiful Sadie.

She's in heaven now, has been many years. I'll tell her myself one day how she has been so much a part of my life. I'm sure she never had any idea the mark she'd leave on that little girl, or why the girl would be so enamoured. It was just her. I can't help but also think of Ben, my lifelong impression of him is precious too. And Inez, she can speak now, and dance, and walk hand in hand with Sadie, and Ben. How lovely to imagine them together now. How exciting to think that one day they'll be rewarded for their example to a little girl they didn't even know was paying attention. A little girl, whose whole life did not forget. I wonder, how many more like me are there? I marvel at how much bigger than we know, our lives are. Who have I impressed? Anyone? In a positive way? I wish to impress like Sadie, with more than my hair. If, like Sadie, my hair helps the memory remain, so be it, but may the memory be coupled with an antique church, and hand holding songs, and direct line to God prayers. May the memory be of compassion toward those who need bracing from life's troubles. May the memory be quiet, even secret, but solid and sure enough to become. She never knew. One day, I'd like to tell her how I've loved her a long time, and Sadie...Thank you.
P.J.