My World With Words

October 3, 2023

Sizzling, Fizzling Love

One lazy Fourth of July my roommate Wendy and I spent the evening at her friend Carole’s home, camped out on Carole’s deck where we had the perfect view of the city’s fireworks display. Carole’s husband graciously agreed to handle the food while we oohed and aahed.

It started out, like so many such presentations, to be not so much the fanfare promised but more of a sparkler-like fizzle.

“For this kind of excitement I could have gone out with Bill,” I grumbled, referring to a less-than-dynamic man Wendy and I knew from church. Bill, while nice, was notorious for his, shall we say, surprising ideas for dates. For example, he’d been invited to join us that night for a barbeque, but suggested instead that we go shopping.

No sooner had my mild complaining begun than the show picked up a little speed. Wendy, taking her cue from my comment, began comparing each burst of color with one of her past romances.

“That was Todd,” she said. “A never-ending explosion of excitement.”

Or, “Just like Jerry. Completely green with jealousy.”

Carole piped in when one firecracker, sounding like it would outdo all the previous, turned out to be a dud.

“My first marriage was like that,” she said, laughing. “A lot of promise, then…nothing.”

“That’s Danny!” I cried out, with the rocket that held a couple dozen small bursts of yellow and orange. “Lots of bright ideas, no follow through.”

I don’t remember if we ran out of men, quips or fireworks first, but we didn’t stop laughing for over an hour. Carole’s husband, who was graciously grilling and bearing with our comments about his gender, brought over our burgers.

“Aw, honey,” Carole said. “All the fireworks together aren’t as wonderful as you are.”

“You’re drunk,” he said wryly.

“On love!” Carole replied. In fact, we were only punch drunk; we hadn’t had a sip of alcohol.

September 26, 2023September 28, 2023

That Cloudy Day Feeling

When I was in my twenties, I mentioned to the psychologist I was seeing at the time how I loved cloudy days, thunderstorms and overcast skies. I’m sure my memory has exaggerated his response, but I seem to recall his face leapt out of a bored stupor into over-animated eagerness.

“Let’s look at that,” he said. “Why do you think you would like bad weather better?”

Bad weather? I just said this was my preference, that I loved it. I think it’s good weather.

“I like it because it feels cozy to me,” I said. “It reminds me of a pot of chili on the stove, a good book by your chair, and…” I hesitated.

He waited a moment. “And…?”

“I like long-sleeved clothing better.” For some reason, I was embarrassed to say that last sentence, perhaps because it clearly confused him.

“Do you feel safer in long sleeves?” I recall him asking.

“I look better in long sleeves,” I said. “It’s classier, more polished.” Never was I more aware of fashion than in my twenties.

He paused. “Will you consider this,” he said (didn’t ask), “you’re frightened of the world, and you prefer any excuse to be inside.”

I like cloudy days, and he was calling me anti-social. In all my insecurities, with all my questioning of myself and my value, I never doubted he was wrong about that correlation. I simply find clouds comforting.

Comforting, majestic, remarkable. So simple, yet few things in nature can be as beautiful or awe-inspiring. The way the light filters through them, their ethereal nature.

Throw in a tornado, and I’m terrified. I have my limits.

I have no idea why I prefer what is generally considered less desirable weather. It’s not that I don’t value a sunny, breezy spring day, in fact, bring it on, I’d love to get some fresh air flowing through my place. In practical terms, yes, I prefer “good weather” in many ways. Certainly a much better driving experience.

But don’t tell me I have issues because of it. I have my problems, sure, but I’m basically a social person. Are there days when I prefer the company of my cats? Yes, but they don’t string together.

image of open antique book on wooden table with glitter overlay.

Just sometimes nothing I want more than to sit on the sofa, wearing my turtleneck sweater, reading a good book and waiting for the chili to stew a little longer…until it’s just right.

And seeing the clouds pile up high.

September 12, 2023

Happiness Is…Acts of Kindness

Over Labor Day weekend, a co-worker, Jennifer, received a late night call from her son. She was immediately worried when she saw his name on the phone, and hastily answered, only to hear a multitude of sirens in the background.

“What’s wrong? Tell me what’s happening!” She was standing straight up.

Her son hastened to assure her the family was all safe, but with regret he told her the shed in the backyard had burned down, and the fire had taken out part of his home.

The shed contained multiple things of value to the family, and among them were two things my colleague treasured: the family photo albums and her Snoopy collection, which she’d had since she was four. As you might guess, these photo albums contained pictures of her children when they were small, and now they were gone.

There was some good news a few days later. Two of the photo albums were salvageable, and one of them had some now much-treasured photos of her children. What’s more, a handful of Snoopys were saved. The latter happened when the crew hired to clear out the charred mess noticed this large collection, largely gone but still identifiable. The head of the crew said something to Jennifer’s son, and when he learned how valued this collection was, he told the other workers to halt and look for any Snoopys that could be saved.

A simple, yet meaningful, gesture.

I like to think Charles Schulz would have been touched by this story. Several years ago, while shopping at the local grocery store, the assistant manager commented on my t-shirt, which showed Lucy and Snoopy dancing. He told me of a time when he was little and he sent Charlie Brown–aka Charles Schulz–a valentine because he felt sorry that this cartoon character received no cards from his friends.

In return, Charles Schulz sent the boy a hand-drawn picture of Snoopy and Charlie Brown, with “thank you” written on the bottom.

“I still have it,” the assistant manager mused.

“Keep it!” I told him. Goodness knows how valuable something like that might be.

We hear how precious small acts of kindness can be, and these two stories reminded me that what may cost us very little can be prized by the recipient of our goodwill. So don’t hesitate to reach out. There are people in my world who have made a lifetime of difference, and I send silent thank-you’s to all of them.

The Snoopy doll pictured above is from my modest Peanuts collection.

September 2, 2023January 7, 2024

Mimi Watches TV, Too

Several Caturdays ago, I displayed a picture of Walter watching “The Mary Tyler Moore Show.” Well, Mimi watches TV, too, although her tastes run more to this century. Granted, “Gilmore Girls” is early 21st century, but good television is good television. She was watching the show up close and personal until Walter caught her attention while he was chasing a flying bug. That’s when I was able to capture this picture of her. Like I’ve said before, she’s elusive when it comes to the camera.

August 19, 2023August 19, 2023

I Don’t Know What to Say

Today at my writer’s group I finally had a chance to share something with one of the women there. She lost her husband about a year ago to a bad fall. A few months after he died, I was idly listening to NPR during their fundraising week when one story caught my attention. They told about a donation from a group of men who had raised money in memory of a buddy. It wasn’t a large group, I found out later, maybe eight or nine men, but together they gathered more than a thousand dollars in memory of Bob, my writer friend’s husband.

I was moved to tears. I’d never met Bob, but I knew his wife from our shared love of writing. I wanted to tell her how I felt when I learned of this donation, but the time was never right. Today we critiqued a piece she’d written about him, sharing what a fun-loving man he was as well as the horror of his fall. The time, I decided, was now.

It’s hard to know what to say and when to say it when someone you don’t see often or don’t know well suffers a serious loss. A woman I had worked with for only a few weeks lost her mom to Covid in the middle of the pandemic. My co-worker returned to the job two days after her mom died, taking one day off a week later for the funeral. When I expressed my sympathy, she snapped and said, “don’t worry about it.”

I wasn’t sure about the layered meaning of her retort and her quick return to work, and I didn’t know who to ask. Later she opened up more and said she felt guilty about her mom’s death, thinking she should have done more to protect her. I understood that.

As humans, we experience the death of those we are close to. Even having gone through the death of a loved one, we’re often at a loss with what to say to others experiencing the same thing. A card is good, we know, but what happens when we see them again? Will they break down crying if we say something, and what do we do then?

I have no answers for this. I remember when my stepdad died, a friend warned me that some people were going to say really tacky things and to be prepared. He was right. It made me wonder if I’d been guilty of the same thing in the past, and even now I wonder if I have been thoughtless in some way I’m not aware of.

We can only pray and hope for increased sensitivity and maturity. Life is a journey we take together.

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