Cars & Other Issues

May 17, 2013 //

Cars are one of those things I need and I need them to work. The last car I bought was selected to not have too many gadgets to break or things to go wrong. Right now I’m sitting in the Customer Lounge at the dealership, waiting to get the thing you plug your phone charger, a gadget I do need, fixed. Really.

What more can I say? Everything is built for planned obsolescence these days. I have replaced a fancy coffee pot after a year or so of medium use. We replace our phones, our computers. Of course we do. The new ones work better, faster, do more cool things.

My grandmother must be laughing right now. Once my mother bought a nice new arm chair on sale for $200. My grandmother, who never had much & raised three kids alone in the depression, heard my mother and said, “I thought you said you got it on sale.” The three of us looked at each other and burst out laughing. We recognized the difference in generations, life experiences.

Anyway, the dealership is nice. Everything is fine. I just want everything to work so I don’t have these little annoyances in life. Just dream in’…Life is made up of little annoyances to test us for the big ones!

Tags cars, depression

Categories Reflections

Hallmark Holidays

May 15, 2013 //

Mother’s Day is over and it reminded me of the days when I owned a gift shop. Mother’s Day weekend was always a more than usual number of men, usually late in the day on Saturday, rushing in to get a card for their mother or wife. It was the same on Valentine’s Day. They grabbed a card and were out of there, not taking a lot of time other than to make sure it said something. At least they were making an effort to do something on a holiday that was obviously forced on them by the gift industry, the flower industry, society.

Some people are just better at acknowledging how they feel than others. Some don’t like being told to do something just because it’s a declared holiday. Some don’t like to be told to do anything. Some just don’t know how to do it. It’s nice to have specified days to remember our mothers, fathers, veterans, whoever. It seems like it got out of hand when we started having days for secretaries, grandparents, teachers, bosses, and anybody else the card companies could think to honor.

Starting when I was a little girl, I always – well, always may be a bit strong – but almost always as I remember, gave or sent my grandparents and parents cards and presents on the holidays, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, their birthdays, Christmas. It made me feel good to do it, to let them know I loved them.

Today, there are even more, even more convenient, ways to keep in touch…text, Facebook, Twitter, old-fashioned email, and there are still phones. In fact, now we have phones with us all the time, some with FaceTime. And there’s Skype. It would be nice to think that people were using them to communicate more often, with more love, from the heart. That’s what the ads show, after all. And there are always handmade cards and gifts that fill the bill. Here’s one my son made for me…I wish I’d dated it, but it looks like he was about 10 or so.

Anyway, my point is that people need to tell the people they love how they feel while they can. If it takes a manufactured day to remind them, then that’s ok. If they could do it all the time, it’s even better. Don’t assume that your actions, although also important, speak louder than words. Everybody needs the words. Everybody. Nobody likes to feel taken for granted. Those manufactured holidays are a double-edged sword. They are a good reminder to acknowledge how you feel. For those who don’t receive anything on those days, it’s another kind of reminder and a different kind of loneliness and isolation. Some people are surrounded by loved ones who take it lightly. Some have nobody to remember them. It can be the happiest of days or the saddest or somewhere in-between (I know they love me, but it hurts that they forgot this day, even though I know it’s just a Hallmark Holiday). You know what I mean.

I’ve been lucky all my life. I have people who remember me on the days they are assigned to do so and I have people who tell me all the time. My husband and son were the best at bringing me surprises for no particular reason on top of the other holidays. They both started as little boys, doing sweet things for their mothers. Girls seem to be a little better at it…maybe it’s that shopping thing or that showing your emotions thing. Are the exceptions to those gender expectations born or taught by their parents? Hmmmm…

In the best of worlds, we tell each other how we feel in so many ways. We tell them out loud, we whisper it to them, we tell them with printed words, we acknowledge them to others. However you do it, just don’t forget how important it is to everyone…everyone. Thank them, tell them you love them, hug them. While you still have the time. Because none of us ever knows how much time we have.

Tags cards, family, holidays, love, Mother's Day, words

Categories Family, Friends, Holidays, Reflections

Mommy Me

May 11, 2013 //

The only things that prepared me for being a Mommy were my own terrific mother and grandmothers and my ability to read anything I could on the subject. And my friends as we shared parenthood and its adventures together. I was one of the first of my friends to have a baby and I was still in college, graduate school, so I hadn’t been around any babies. I was the oldest child in my family, but we were close enough together that I didn’t remember anything about taking care of them.

I was a novice with a Better Homes & Gardens Baby Book propped open on the changing table to show me what to do. I was a good student, so I guess I approached it that same way. It was funny at the time and funnier now that I’ve had four children and eight grandchildren. That’s the first thing you’d better learn – to laugh at yourself. My husband and I often would look at each other and burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all.

A fantasy book I wanted to write while in the thick of motherhood was going to start “I had no idea how much shit I was going to handle in my lifetime…” I meant that literally and figuratively. To be more polite, let’s change that to messes of one sort or another. There’s the messy bottoms, faces, and vomit at the bottom of that mess pile. We can throw in the pet messes along with that – dogs, cats, hamsters, rabbits, chameleons. What else did we have? Then there are just messes that kids make. How many Legos have I picked up in my lifetime? Star Wars characters with their itsy bitsy guns? Blocks, books, balls of all kinds, shoes, socks…it goes on and on. Some of my kids were neat and some were messy. A couple lived their teen years in rooms so bad that we just closed the door – I’d learned not to pick up for them by then. There were cooking messes…

and dirt and mud, especially when I had a soccer goalie daughter who didn’t mind wallowing in the muddy goal. I never seemed to have towels in the car to get her home.

And then there were life messes to clean up. Hurt feelings, anger, bad tempers, broken hearts, disappointments. You grit your teeth and pick up the physical messes. You gird your heart to take care of life’s breaks and falls.

Being a Mommy was the best thing that ever happened to me…still. I’ve been through the worst of it and the best of it and would do it all again. That would be in another lifetime…I’ve earned my stripes in this one. My son called me Mom and my girls call me Mommy. My daughter-in-law calls me Karen. They’ve grown up to be wonderful adults and parents and I’m so proud of them and for them.

Being a Mommy is a great class that never stops teaching you about yourself. You learn how far you can be pushed before you break into anger, laughter, or tears. You laugh a lot at the adorable things your children and grandchildren do and say and at yourself along the way. You are angry at yourself, at them, at others when they do the wrong thing or someone wrongs them. You learn that life isn’t fair, your children aren’t perfect, you can take on way more than you think. You learn that you cry for them, with them, and when they accomplish something big or small. I’ve cried through some pretty silly school programs. It could be that the most uncontrollable tears of all are the ones of pride.

Most of all you learn that your heart is way bigger than before they came into it. You learn that it swells with pride and a love you never understood before. You learn that it can be broken and that they help it heal.

This Mother’s Day weekend, I rejoice in the lessons this Mommy has learned. I remember with gratitude the love that I was surrounded with from my own Mommy and grandmothers and aunts. I send much love to the precious Mommies in my family who make me so proud of them and their children.

And love to all Mommies out there. Have fun, be proud of what you do and laugh at yourself with joy! Happy Mother’s Day!

Tags children, love, messes, Mommy, mother, Mother's Day, parent

Categories Family, Friends, Holidays, Memories, Reflections

The Me Doll

May 7, 2013 //

As a mother, I kept a lot of the kids’ things…pictures, notes, cards. Things that are precious to me. My mother kept a paper carnation I made in preschool or kindergarten, made out of kleenex or something that couldn’t possibly hold up, but she had that poor little limp treasure until she died. Most mothers I know understand the simple sentence in the Bible, speaking of Mary remembering events with her son, “But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.”

My son was one of those kids that kept you hopping. You had to keep up with him both physically and mentally from day one. Maybe he was born knowing his time would be short, so he had to live fast. Or he was just a funny kid, testing your patience, making you laugh, making you worry, making you smile and love him.

I found his Me Doll the other day. It was a project at pre-school, making a doll that looked like you. Something only a mother would ooh and ahh over. This one had a lot of personality, says the mother. I had to run an errand after I picked him up from school the day he brought it home. We were walking up some stairs and he spotted a mailbox and dropped the doll in the slot. Come on, mothers, you know how you feel. I gritted my teeth and checked the pickup times, finished my errand and sat to wait for the mailman. Fortunately, it wasn’t too long. He retrieved it for us and that was that.

I always think of that story when I look at the funny Me Doll with his stick out hair, his crooked face, the three dots for the private parts. Oh my. These are the things that make you love being a mother – once you get the doll out of the mailbox. These are the things that a mother ponders in her heart. And smiles…

Tags doll, motherhood, parent, preschool

Categories Family, Memories, Reflections, Uncategorized

Giant

May 6, 2013 //

One of my favorite all-time movies is “Giant” – maybe my number one. It’s right up there. I saw it for the first time in 1956 when I was 11 years old. My memory is taking my friends to see it for my birthday. Whatever, I loved it then and I love it now. There are movies that begin to seem dated or aren’t as good when you see them years later. This one holds up for me. When it comes on, I can’t stop watching, even though I know it so well.

Edna Ferber wrote the book, creating the characters that told a 25 year story of Texas…cattle…oil…immigration…prejudice…love…family. Bick Benedict, Leslie Benedict, Jett Rink. Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor, James Dean. No wonder they’ve never had to do it again – they were all magnificent. Great love story, great saga, one of the greatest fight scenes on film. Big vistas, big characters, big story.

The movie was on TV recently and I watched it, even though I have a copy to watch anytime, remembering things I’d forgotten, discovering new moments that mean more to me now than when I was 11. I’ve got the book here to read. Written in 1952, the story covers subjects that I wish weren’t as current as they are. The book has its variations from the movie, but I’m ok with that, even though I hate when movies mess too much with a story.

When it comes on or you get a chance, spend an evening with “Giant.” It sticks with you.

Tags 1952, 1956, Edna Ferber, Elizabeth Taylor, Giant, James Dean, movie, Rock Hudson, Texas

Categories Entertainment, Memories, Reflections

Wanderlust

May 3, 2013 //

It’s that time of year when I’m stricken with Wanderlust. “Wanderlust is a strong desire for or impulse to wander or travel and explore the world” – Wikipedia. The word says it all. I’m ready to go…anywhere, anytime. Wanderlust has many symptoms – desire to see new things or revisit favorite places – desire to see people you miss – desire to explore and, literally, wander – desire to learn – desire to cleanse your soul of the everyday routine and worries of life.

I’ve got a bad case of it, but I’m not sure which way I want to go this year…I’ve been all over the place but there are so many places I haven’t seen, so many places I want to see again. Each time I travel there is something new. The places I saw as a child or earlier in my life have new meanings, look different now. I both know more and learn more. Lately, I’ve been heading west…there’s so much there…but I’ve been east, north, south too…and to other continents…such a rich planet is our earth.

It’s all good. As long as I have my camera to catch memories, help me remember, I’m ready. Here are a few of the places I’ve been in the United States – I’d go back to any of them…or elsewhere around the world…

Florida sunrise

Grand Canyon of Yellowstone

Sunrise over the Tetons

Elephant seals on California coast

Seattle

Grand Canyon

Zion National Park

Monument Valley

Santa Fe

San Francisco

Denali Highway, Alaska

Glacier National Park

I love cities, I love mountains, I love the ocean. Oceans and mountains, running water, green forests…all necessary to restore my soul.

Maps are out, research has begun…where to go? Wanderlust…I’ve got a bad case of it!

Tags Alaska, California coast, Florida, Monument Valley, San Francisco, Santa Fe, Seattle, Tetons, travel, Yellowstone, Zion National Park

Categories Entertainment, History, Memories, Places, Reflections, Travel

Crystal Bridges in the Spring

April 26, 2013 //

This was my second trip to Crystal Bridges Museum in Bentonville, Arkansas. The first was in the fall and I promised myself to come back in the spring. If you are in the area ever, go there for a spectacular collection of American art and for the beautiful 3.5 miles of trails. I don’t need to say much about it…I’ll share some pictures.

First, there’s the art. I fell in love with this glass sculpture as I walked by…

There are so many treasures there. I love this little painting, “Haystacks,” by Martin Johnson Heade…

And this Mary Cassett…

And “Sun at the Wall” by Hans Hoffman…

So much American history through art…

I wanted to be at Crystal Bridges when the dogwoods and redbuds were still blooming. I was afraid I was too late, but it was a perfect day. It was sunny and then cloudy, but a beautiful day.

There were flowers blooming…

My time on the trails was shorter than I wanted, but you can see how refreshing it is to be even a few steps into this calming, ethereal, blessing of nature…

They even let you frame nature for your own work of art…

A beautiful place, a treasure for all America to see. Always free to the public, thanks to Alice Walton and the WalMart Foundation…

Next time, I promise to go back when I have the time to wander through all 3.5 miles of trails. And, visit the art along the way…

Tags art, Crystal Bridges, dogwoods, nature, redbuds

Categories Art, Entertainment, History, Places, Reflections, Seasons, Travel

Rural Roads

April 24, 2013 //

Monday, on the drive to Bentonville, Arkansas, my friend and I drove the scenic part of Highway 412 and then veered off onto country roads to take the back way into Bentonville, missing the interstate, traffic, consumer mess of a drive. It was a beautiful spring day to journey through pasturelands and little towns in Delaware County, named after the Delaware Indians who settled there, heading over to Arkansas. There were still some dogwoods and redbuds in bloom in the wooded areas along the way.

I’m fascinated by the rural areas, being a city girl. Every state has them, so don’t go getting snobby on me. It’s just a different lifestyle, some things better than the city, some not so much. I always try to imagine life out here or what the area has been through in its history. You can see the stories in the buildings that are standing in various stages of decay. Sometimes you see a barn falling down right next to a new one. Or a house that has been deserted by its owners. You see them quite a lot, actually.

Traveling with my iPad, I look up the history of towns as we go. You learn a lot reading about why people settled here and what happened to make it rise or fall. Most of the towns aren’t growing. It’s a tough way of life out here in the country. The little community, hard to call it a town, of Colcord, with a population of 819 used to call itself “Little Tulsa.” I’m not sure, even in its thriving days, where they got that unless none of them had ever been to Tulsa. I guess the town leaders hoped…

I think it was in Decatur where we saw the Iva Jane Peek Library. I take photos zipping by areas so pardon the mistakes sometimes. I’m constantly trying to capture something that catches my eye as we whiz by. I love the name of the place and wonder about Iva Jane and her influence. I haven’t found out who she was…yet!

Chickens were and are a big industry in the area on into Arkansas, where we began to see Confederate flags every once in a while. If you look at a google map from above you see rows of thin silver roofs, chicken houses, all along the way. We saw a lot of deserted ones, but lots still active.

Bentonville was known as Osage after the Osage Indians who came from Missouri to hunt the area for months at a time. Eventually, the white settlers took over and named the town after Thomas Hart Benton, a Missouri senator who fought for Arkansas to become a state. At the turn of the century, being the 1900s, apples were the main resource, followed by chickens until WalMart was added to the mix to make that area a pretty bustling area for a town of 35,000. I’ve been to Bentonville from the interstate and from the backroads, which gives you a picture of the growth surrounding it. I like entering the back way best.

There’s something about traveling the backroads, seeing the honesty of it where you live your home is what you make it. You don’t have to worry about what the neighbors think about your well manicured lawn if you don’t want to. You can have it any way you want to. If you want to leave the remnants of the house or barn and build right next to it, you can. I kept thinking that some design person would drive through and make a nice offer for the reclaimed wood that they could sell to an upscale business or homeowner for an authentic look. I’m all for that and there’s a treasure trove out there for the clever and creative.

The rural roads fuel my imagination, writing stories in my mind of the families who came before, the individuals who lived in tiny houses in the side of a hill. There are so many questions you have driving by.

And then you just enjoy the wide open views of the sky,

the rolling roads,

and watching the variations of spring greens in the hills which will turn darker as the season goes on.

When I see the skyline of the city in front of me, I know I’m heading home to bustling streets and landscaping and order of a sort. I’m comfortable with that life, but I love the spirit of the countryside I’ve traveled. Everyone should get off the main highways now and then. We’re in such a hurry and look at what we miss…

Tags buildings, history, nature, roads, Rural, travel

Categories History, Places, Reflections, Seasons, Travel

Norman Rockwell

April 23, 2013 //

When I was growing up, my parents subscribed to lots of magazines, and I read all of them through and through. Many are gone today, but there was Look, Life, Readers Digest, Ladies Home Journal, Newsweek, McCall’s, men’s magazines, women’s magazines, kids’s magazines like Highlights for Children. One of our favorites was the Saturday Evening Post. The Norman Rockwell covers were something to look forward to, knowing they would be something we studied carefully for all the clever details. We were used to his work as an illustrator for ads for Colgate, Kellogg’s, and other companies, instantly recognizable.

In 1999, my son and I took a day trip to Mark Twain’s hometown, Hannibal, Missouri. We were fortunate to arrive during an exhibition of the original paintings for Norman Rockwell’s illustrations for Tom Sawyer. I remember they were large paintings and so much richer than the flat pictures we were so familiar with in our day to day life. They were amazing works and their beauty stayed with me.

Yesterday, I went to see the Norman Rockwell exhibition of over 50 of his paintings and 300+ of his Saturday Evening Post covers at Crystal Bridges Museum in Bentonville, AR. I’ve not a professional art critic, even though I studied art history in college and worked in an art museum for over 7 years, but I do know that Norman Rockwell is a great artist. As is typical for artists in their own era, his work was scoffed at in art circles as too sentimental, too idealistic, although I don’t see what’s wrong with that myself. There are many great artists who included humor and sentiment in their works throughout the ages. An artist in his own time, alas…

The gallery was packed yesterday, mostly with older people (and I have to include myself in that group, shockingly), but it was a Monday. I watched their faces as they listened to the audio guides, studied the paintings. There were tender smiles, chuckles, pensive thinking. The main thing is that everyone was relating to the paintings. What more can art do?

Here are some of my favorites and the reasons why…

This one just made me laugh. It was Rockwell’s take on the recent idea that small towns should use speed traps to raise revenue…

This one also made me laugh and smile and study the details…the grandmother in the back who never changed expressions, the tired parents, the kids in various stages. Who can’t make up a story with these images?

Saying Grace is so sweet that you are silent with them, you want to bow your head. Then you see the details in the curtains, the clothing, the grandmother’s rear sticking through the chair, the grandfather’s cane on the floor. Another story for us to all fill in the extra lines…

My love of Santa is well known and there were some lovely Santa portraits along with all the Christmas covers of the Post. This is still one of my favorites for all of us who keep believing even knowing the evidence…

A Day in the Life of a Girl is so fun, so sweet, with elements that all females will remember. The boy version wasn’t on display, but it’s just as great…

Rosie the Riveter is part of the museum’s collection and a whimsical look at the women who worked at home during World War II. This was a bonus after the travelling exhibition.

Besides the fun, sweet portraits of America as we were at times and would always like to be, there were powerful portraits of Presidents Eisenhower and Kennedy, and two of Rockwell’s most important works during the Civil Rights Movement. The exhibition had preliminary drawings and different drafts of his painting of 3 Civil Rights workers for a powerful, haunting, not-so-pretty picture of a moment in America’s history…

The iconic The Problem We All Live With was so beautiful in person. It was so familiar, such a powerful statement. But, the thing that struck me so strongly was the beauty of the painting, of the work itself. Norman Rockwell was a fabulous painter. His work is so real, so detailed, so skilled. The concrete wall behind the girl felt like real concrete, making me want to reach out and touch it. I didn’t of course – I know my museum manners. But, I’ve been up close to many of the world’s great paintings and these were as good as any I’ve seen. That’s to my untrained eye, but I do know what I’m looking at and it’s honest, thought-provoking, greatness.

Rockwell’s self portrait is so famous that you almost go by it, having seen it reproduced so many times. Looking at the details, I was taken with not only the cleverness, the originality, the self-deprecating humor, but also the skill. On his easel, he has small paintings, homages to some of the greatest painters, all painted beautifully. That’s not easy to do either.

I recommend that you find the closest place to see this exhibition or go to the Norman Rockwell Museum in Massachusetts to see more. It’s such a treat for those of us who grew up loving him and for those just discovering his incredible legacy. I think that future critics will be kinder and hopefully, recognize his important place in art, American history, and the American heart. I understand his personal life was not always as rosy as his portraits of life, but that’s what being a human is all about. We thank him for the vision of our country that he shared to make us think, feel, smile and laugh, remember, care. There should be more geniuses with a sense of humor, shouldn’t there?…

Tags 50s, 60s, art, children, civil rights, family, Norman Rockwell, nostalgia, reflections, trips

Categories Art, Entertainment, Events, History, Memories, Places, Reflections, Travel

Sunday Stroll

April 21, 2013 //

Today was sunny, cloudless blue sky, the wind that blew you hair felt good and was cool enough to keep you comfortable, not an Oklahoma gale. I took an afternoon walk by the river along with the human parade of Tulsans. There were walkers, runners, strollers, toddlers, children, bikers, dogs running or walking on leashes, skateboarders, wheelchairs, fishermen/women with poles and even a bowfisher, sunbathers, families, expectant families, grandparents, parents, couples, singles, and friends of every ethnicity, all out on a lovely spring Sunday. The parking lot was crowded and the people came in shifts all day long.

What struck me today was how quiet it was. There were quiet conversations overheard, Canadian geese honking overhead, birds singing loudly, but nothing was really loud. Usually, I hear the thud of runners, the hum of bicycle wheels, more talking, more laughing. Nothing was wrong, but it was noticeably quieter. People smiled or nodded if you looked their way, but everyone seemed a little more inward today.

It’s been a rough week if you stay glued to the television news. And all of us are a little broken just from everyday life. Our bodies and/or our souls have little, or big, nicks taken out of them from personal experiences, illness, grief, heartache, worry, stress. It’s part of being human. Even if you’re happy and content, you might need an extra boost to keep that going.

Today was a healing day. You can’t breathe that clean, fresh after rains air without feeling a little cleaner inside. Even in an urban area, walking by water helps you feel part of a stream of life. I didn’t feel alone walking, I felt part of that lovely parade of people. We were all connected to the beautiful day we were experiencing and we were all soaking up the beauty.

Sunday is a day of rest and regrouping before people start another work or school week. Our lives in the city are all geared that way, even if you’re retired. All these people returned home refreshed, feeling better and stronger, ready for whatever. A beautiful day is always a gift. You never know what tomorrow will bring.

Tags healing, nature, quiet, spring, Sunday

Categories Reflections

Search

Categories