Handicap Biases

Don’t look at me because I am different,
Don’t stare at me because I act strange,
I know that I am not like most people,
I try my hardest to fit in and change.

Years of therapy,
Of trying to fit in,
Attempts to learn simple things,
With only the love of kin.

It is not easy,
My struggles are with day to day life,
Doing what you think are easy chores,
Things like opening doors,
But my life is worth living,
And you can help,
By being willing to be more giving.

Friends are few quite,
Most folks see me as a bother.
It is easier to ignore me
Then let me ask for help with a holler.
So never does a day go by,
That I don’t pray to our Father.

See, I need His Strength,
May it shower down on me from above!
I feel alone so many times in this world,
I feel comforted just knowing of His unconditional.


I value my life,
Even at this most basic level,
I refuse to let my cross weigh me down wear,
The negative attitude is for the Devil.

You know we all have a cross to bear,
We each have challenges on our back,
Perhaps that is why we are here to serve one another,
And help keep others on track.

Are you doing that for others?
Are you watching others in need?
Are you self absorbed and
Focused only on selfish greed?

No, even you can’t get to me,
So you can stare if you must,
I will survive the burden of a handicap,
Until I return to dust.

I am here for a purpose,
If you are wise you will surely see,
That God loves all his people,
So why not reach out a hand to me?

Take my message
And share it with others.
Remember, we are all brothers.

Rebekah's Love

My son married my daughter in law the day after Thanksgiving and our family changed forever, in a good way. With the onset of one of their children being diagnosed with autism, their lives changed dramatically. Not once have I heard either one of them so much as utter one word of dismay over this, nothing but love, support and encouragement for our grandson’s future. They continue to seek out nothing but the best treatment and therapy for him putting aside every barrier along the way, at a personal sacrifice. I wrote this below as a feeble attempt to pay tribute to my daughter in law for her sacrifice she makes every day for my grand children who would not be nearly as beautiful and as thriving if it were not for a mom that loved them so much and put her life on the line for them.

Words can’t express

How a mother defines success
It shows in her face,
Instilled in her grace.

It is one of those things

That poets try to capture in prose,

It is felt in the hearts of children,
And only a child truly knows.

The effect a mom has on her child,
It is an indelible mark,
They bring light to the lifeless,
They bring a child literally out of the dark.

They sing lullabies,
To the child that cannot sleep,
They hold their child lovingly,
Every single time their child weeps.

When their child’s heart is breaking,
Their heart breaks too,
It is almost as if the color of the day
Changes from gray to blue,
Until their child is happy,
Their day will not begin anew.

The mothers that are courageous,
They have the child with a special need,
God knew that they could be trusted
And thus, were given a special seed.

These children must be fostered,
And handled with special loving care,
They must serve as an example.
And not falter by others ignorant stares.

A mom should be willing,
To put her needs on hold,
To help her children be all that they can be,
And allow them to see what their future might hold.

Some women are stronger,
And give up more than others do,
These are the special chosen ones,
These are, in number, very few.

May you stop, reflect and pray,

For mothers that walk a harder road,
That society, community and loved ones,
Will help them carry their heavy load.

Every child is brought into the world for a reason,
Just like every time the weather changes it brings a new season.
We are here to learn through each other,
That is why none of us are carbon copies of each other.
Embrace those that are different, reach out a hand,
When you see their mothers struggling to raise them, please make a stand!

And They Called It Puppy Love

How much is that doggie in the window? The cute little puppy with the smile on his face.

Falling in love can be a great deal like bringing a puppy home, so full of fun and falling over you with joy in the beginning. It is only when you get to the hard stuff that reality sinks in, when you have to train the puppy to do things, like not beg for food, not whine at night and not pee in the house. Only then can a new doggie owner see that owning a puppy is hard work.

Have you fallen prey to this? Don’t be fooled by the manipulation of “the look!” Men, and women alike, can pull this on you. As my husband says, “All puppies are cute but none stay puppies for long.” Once reality hits, you will have an animal that does not listen when you say “no”, begs for food when you eat and pees on your newly cleaned floor. Thus begins the classical conditioning of your loved one and you will never quite view it in the same way you did initially. Yes, you will continue to love your pup but the relationship will forever change. You will keep the little fellow around. Nobody divorces their doggie. But, the same cannot be said of your spouse, or should I say soon to be ex spouse.

Young folks that get married find their marriages seldom last. Graduating from high school grants them the privilege to vote for a President that can serve a 4 year term in office (maybe 8 years if they are lucky?) with their one vote being counted among millions. Many feel this qualifies them to know what true loves is, the kind that will last a lifetime, till death. Millions of young people in this country walk down the aisle and say “I do” to God, family and friends for a lifetime to someone they feel is their soul mate.

Adrenaline rush is confused with love. Lust is not enough to make relationships last. It alone does not help the dishwasher get emptied, the trash gets taken out or the bills get paid. This is part of the reality of everyday life being married, or not. Make up sex may be enjoyable and passionate but not if that is the only kind of love- making going on in the marriage. Fights and disagreements without compromises and resolutions will eventually tear a relationship apart. When two young adults are joined and not fully mature but think they are, even with a commitment, the relationship can be a huge uphill battle to stay together. They often do grow apart, not necessarily because anyone or anything is to blame.

Another lifelong decision is a career choice for young people graduating from high school. Consistently, across all sources, the percentage of students changing majors in college these days is 80%! This is a decision that does not involve living, breathing and sharing personal space with a mate and yet the same young person spends more time deliberating about this decision and changing their mind about this choice, often times, than marriage. Is it any wonder that the divorce rates are so high among young people? Coincidentally, students are changing majors at alarmingly high rates. As many as 50% will change 2 to 3 times during their college years adding on an average of two years of school to their four year program for their degree. This may be a good sign as it shows the forethought of thoroughness of thought, not rushing into a decision headstrong. Why then is marriage not approached the same way? It is almost as if a divorce is a Get out Of Jail card that allows them to erase the marriage. It seems it would be simpler to not get married in the first place.

As long as there are young people, there will indeed be young marriages. That is human nature, that cannot be changed. Understanding what happens when this occurs though is important from a sociological standpoint for all of us in society. We all pay, indirectly, or directly for failed marriages. This does affect children and communities. When looking at divorce rates in this country it is important to know the distribution of divorce rates in our country and note that the highest rates are with this demographic, young adults. Those adults married under the age of 28 are double the national average!

In knowing this, perhaps it will make it easier on you, should you find yourself faced in a similar situation, personally or as a parent. Not every one of these marriages ends in divorce, needless to say, but the odds are not in their favor. There is so much growing and changing occurring, it may take both partners in different directions.

The lesson that can be learned here is that growing up is a process. It is not something that can be forced on youth, it must come by naturally. You can only forewarn your children of the pitfalls but they must make their own decisions and decide when they are ready, ready to say “I do” and ready to say “I need to leave” if that day comes. Loving someone means recognizing unions don’t always go as planned. Puppy love can’t last forever; puppies can’t stay puppies for long.

Ode to Shingles

T’was a man they say from Germany,
Who went through the holidays with fanfare,
Never getting caught up in the bah humbugs,
No, his heart was golden full of tender loving care.

Alas the holiday was over,
And to his wife’s dismay,
Her jovial husband awoke,
And the bed was in disarray.

It was not from passionate love making,
He had been uncomfortable all through the night,
And as he woke up with a snarly look on his face,
She knew her German was not quite right.

Oh, what ailed him,
Whatever must be wrong,
Maybe she could deter him from thinking about it,
And put on a sparkly thong!

But just as surely these thoughts, flittered through her head,
He let out a roar with her name on the end of it, and sat up in bed.

She did as he asked,
And looked at his back,
And saw what was clearly shingles,
A perfectly made out track.

She knew not how to break the news,
How to tell her loved one was not going to be fun,
She could always grab her cell phone and then tell him and run!

For shingles is not something with a time stamp,
It does not quickly go away,
It does not lighten up,
When you want to have an active day.

No, just like many things in life,
It slows you down and makes you wait,
And those with no patience,
Are tested, wondering when is the end date.

She need not fear how he would deal with this ailment,
Because her special fellow with his heart of gold,
Will face the nasty shingles just like he fights dragons on horseback,
He will be brave, strong, put on his armor and be oh so bold!


There is a lesson to be learned from my friend’s demise,
If you are paying attention, walk away wise!

May your illnesses be opportunities of chivalry,
And remind you that we are not what we have, but what we overcome!

Teach Me to Drive

I can still remember the day I pulled into my parent’s house in Dayton with my little run down black Chevette. It had worn down orange and red racing stripes like it had been a part of the Bad News Bears Race Crew for Losers. Yeah, it looked like it had finished in last place getting a poor detail job as a booby prize. It had bloody red interior that was the worst color of upholstery in a car I have ever seen in my life! Oh, the only saving grace was the pattern in the center of the bucket seats in the front that looked exactly like a pattern out of the 60’s or 70’s on Larry the Lizard Lounge’s leisure suit. Checkered pattern with gray, black and red, and wow, what a fashion statement that made. Gee, I wonder why that trend never took off.

I had a few lessons in how to drive a stick shift car from my parents in Dayton. These were given with their car in a parking lot of a local high school, prior to the weekend I received the Chevette, compliments of my soon to be ex-husband. He decided, in exchange for me asking for a divorce, it was appropriate he take the nice car with an automatic and I be left with the crummy one with a stick. Forget the fact that I had never driven one, that was just a little technicality, that and the fact the two young children would be riding with me as I had sole custody.

Imagine my surprise when exactly one week to the day after my first lesson on how to drive a stick that lasted 2 hours I awoke to look outside and find, sitting in my driveway, the black mobile. I could hear it laughing at me, and as it did so, I slowly turned around as I also heard an audible gasp behind me and there stood my two innocent children with eyes as big as saucers, faces aghast saying “What are you going to do it?” I promptly replied, “No problem, drive it!” I thought to myself though this car is just waiting for me to roll back out of my hilly driveway and crash into something trying to release its parking gear while I put the darn thing in gear. My poor kids were going to be passengers, guinea pigs as it was, aboard for the ride of their lives as I learned, that is, if they and I survived. Maybe our first attempted drive should be to church to pray!

Well, we got to my parents that day quite easily. Most of the ride was expressway, amen. When we got in the house, I think both of my children’s hair was plastered to the side of their cute little faces. See this was in the heat of summer and this vehicle had no air conditioning either. The windows in the back hardly opened so the kids and I practically smothered to death in the heat riding in it. It was grounds for speeding due to lack of oxygen while in the auto. My parents smiled and asked my kids right off the bat how I was getting along with the stick shift car. The response from my loyalists was to jerk forward and back, simply. Nonverbal as if to imply I was anything but adjusted. Everyone laughed everyone that is but me. I glared at my munchkins as if to say ‘Traders, you shall be hung, or at least be remiss of Twinkies in your lunch this entire week.”

I think the laughter stopped the day my son turned 15 and it became evident that I would indeed be the one teaching him to drive when his drivers training class was ended. Now who was laughing? By that time, we had two cars, and he opted for the automatic saying he would learn the stick later. I think it finally dawned on him that popping a clutch is an easy thing to do for a new driver and it would be hard to razz me if he did it too. Imagine his face when he realized his mom, basically the only one raising him would be the one working with him while he had his temps prior to him taking his driving test. And I was insistent he get that license as soon as possible as we lived pretty far out in the country.

So off we went to learn to drive, or should I say for him to practice and me to practice teaching as I had never done anything like this before. One might easily say I am not the world’s best driver. Though I have an excellent driving record, I am not great at distance perception, and many, shall we say, other areas of driving that are associated with female drivers are equally issues with me. And so, picture this, an inexperienced driver driving sitting next to a woman who is not a very good driver. You have a mathematical equation with a high probability for a crash ratio of 90%. And let’s throw in a dose of emotional response of 80% on the female side in this scenario and a male that is really looking for some strong guidance from someone who is not quite sure they can give it, not in the area of driving detail.

In the end, my son and I shared quite a few laughs. We shared a few yelling matches. And not one single vehicle, fire hydrant or pedestrian was ever hit! (And if they were, I would never ever share this type of information, for it I did, what kind of mother would I be?) My son became an excellent driver but one who preferred to not teach his sister to drive but drove her everywhere until she obtained her license.

When my daughter turned 15, she knew the vehicle she would drive would be a stick shift. She had, as most teens do, no choice in the matter. It was that or nothing, so she opted for wheels. Drivers training got her in touch with the mode of changing gears, thank goodness as I have no idea how to start from scratch teaching someone how to drive a stick; I just know how to do it. I do think her instructor was nicknamed Mario Andretti. She can, to this day, turn corners on a dime, travel at speeds unknown to man and weave in and out of traffic like she is running in the Indy 500! Apparently, when she took her test, she did not demonstrate any of the skills previously mentioned.

I could not help but remember those tender years when I looked out and saw my grandson and grand-daughter driving a child’s electric car together. Note: This toy car was an automatic. Note: Each child took turns driving. Note: The grand kids did ultimately crash into a telephone pole. Funny though that both of their parents never did crash into a pole but did have their own share of mishaps with vehicles. The only one that has hit a telephone pole is their dear sweet Grandma, moi. So perhaps one of those two may be cursed with my lack of driving skills in the future, seeming as how, at the tender age of 4 they have already started their driving legacy with the first crash, the one Grandma will never forget and remember oh so fondly!

A Simple Man-Wade Ketterman

Don’t seem like long ago t’all that I met my mom’s old man. Gee, he had more wrinkles on his face than bees on a honeycomb! Damn near would scare a baby! But he had one heck of a kind smile. You know, one of that there kind that just makes you feel right there at home in a minute.

Wade was his name. I found out real quick he was a simple man with a big ole heart. And boy, did he love my ma. He would have to a heck of a lot to put up with her ways. That woman is on a constant PMS like nobody! And yet, steady ready Wade is always there with a calm presence to even out her high strung ways.

Yep, I met him just a few short years ago but feel like I known that dude forever. We hit it off right there quick as an eye. Me being a city girl, we sure didn’t no nothing in common. It took me no time at all to learn his ways, talking like he does, well it was a whole lot easier than trying to come up with them big words and complicated sentences. And Wade, heck, he was never impressed by silly things like that, heck, he didn’t even understand them. They would be met with “Huh, whatcha say?”

Ya gotta love his simple approach to life. He loved God, country, family and friends. There ain’t no particular order I don’t think cuz he loved them all just as much. I think last on his list was himself. He put all before him. See, he had lived a life, when he was a young fellow and I gather done some things he wasn’t too damn proud of. So, he I suppose made a pact with God, if he promised to be good and be a changed man, he could bide some more time on this green earth. There he was…pure, simple at heart, good man.

I remember my sis talking bout how one time he came down for a visit. Hell, his idea of vacation was cleaning her yard up. She went to work boasting how she had a pool boy at the house, oh, minus the watering hole. That is, until the call came from the cops. Yep, seems ole Wade decided to burn the trash in the backyard . Hey, in the country, his times, why wait on a trash truck to pick up your junk? He found some old tires in the garage and I think maybe an old battery and in the fire it went. Oh, apparently the neighbors got a whiff and boy, they hit the phone lickety split. Hell, I still don’t think the old man knew what the heck he did wrong. Terri got called to hit the road home and take care of matters. When she saw his face, looking like somebody hit him in the beer gut with a baseball, she didn’t have the heart to yeller at him. So she simply told him that no more fires Wade around here. He didn’t like it but he understood. Besides, the garbage was done burned. So, he thought to himself, hell, why would I need to burn anymore fires silly girl!

He had a best friend, somebody else sides his Angel, the dog. This bud was named Floyd, my momma’s brother. I don’t even know when these two became friends but man, could you feel the bond between the two of them. Strong as the wind blows over the plains on a stormy day. Next to my mom, I reckon Wade loved Clyde more than anybody. He was like the brother Wade never had. Clyde stood by Wade’s side when the going got tough and everyone else had something better to do than see a man on his last leg. Not Floyd, he was there. And Wade, with his last breath, never ever took it for granted either. I remember sitting with Wade or talking on the phone with him and him bringing up Clyde’s name many a time. I asked him one day, “You love my Uncle Floyd like a brother don’t ya?’ and he replied, “You know I do.” Yep, I did. I could feel it.


My sis Terri and I went up to see Wade shortly after his doc gave him the crummy news. He had the C word, and boy was that the pits. Our momma acted like she was not sure what the heck was going on. Wow, we wondered what the future would look like for sweet Wade and our momma that dreaded being alone. Yeah, she never been alone before. We tried to tell Wade he had to be concerned about himself now, his body needed him to tend to it, just like he tended to his garden but we think he would let the weeds go as long as his honey was happy and he was with her. We saw that wonderful twinkle in his eyes when he talked about our momma. He’d do just about anything for her.

Almost a year of ups and downs have gone by. There been stays at rehabs where he was just dying to come home even when he was feeling half dead, half baked after radiation. Man, he looked pitiful after chemo, like somebody needed to feed him something, hell anything. When his tongue was taken out, and then replaced with a titanium tongue, I think, if had his way, he would have rathered take it to a pawn shop and have the money to give his old lady to live on after he was gone. Yeah, Wade was just that kind of man. His speech was just about as hard to understand as a kid singing with marbles in their teeny mouth. My chats were mostly limited to asking him yeah and nope questions. He would call me on my cell and if he couldn’t reach me, there’d be that voice mail waiting for me. Simply said, Call me.” I couldn’t even understand it, most times, but didn’t matter anyways, I knew who it was. There, towards the end, last 6 or so months, he just wanted me to talk. I grew to love hearing that old familiar “Yup.” Every time I asked him if he was doing okay I got that same answer. Hell, he could be burning in a fire and I swear he would have said the same thing. See, Wade didn’t want nobody worrying about him, no siree. He was proud even when he was hurting.


Funny, half my life I been a gibber box and friends wondered how to shut me up. Then there is Wade, brought into my life at the end of his, never seemed to get enough of my chatter. Kinda makes you wonder was he half nuts? Oh, and never will I forget how he ended conversation, “I love you, I mean that, I really do.” I think he said it twice incase I couldn’t understand. See, unless you were sitting right there, eyeball to eyeball, man was he hard to understand. If he got a on roll talking to ya, forget it, you were done for. And if you couldn’t get it, he’d get really pissed. We couldn’t ever tell if it was at us or at himself for not being able to talk clear. His eyes would fill with tears though and it would break your heart every time it happened. He had his pride so we’d have to pretend we didn’t see it so he wouldn’t get embarrassed.


One day, his number at one of the rehab centers changed. He called and gave me the new number. He screamed in the phone,”Write down ,” and then screamed slowly numbers at me. Now I could hardly get several of them so I repeated back the entire number. I heard him say yeah so we hung up and I called back. See his cell has very few minutes as he was a poor man, so he’d want me to call on mine. No problem. I called back and damn, if I didn’t wake up some other patient there. I am giving her that because she was grouchy. You’d think she would be glad somebody called her but no, she was yelling at me and she don’t know who I even am. I apologized explaining I had the wrong number. “Who the hell you trying to reach?” she yelled at me. After that nasty tone with spit in her voice, be damned I would give out Wade’s name. So I did what any sensible lady would do, I hung up that phone like real quick.

A few minutes passed and Wade called again. This time he sounded annoyed with me. He was probably thinking I wasn’t going to call. I told him I wrote the number down wrong. We went through the same routine again with him shouting out the numbers and this time, me yelling back each number, one at a time. Some of them I apparently got wrong as he would yell them back multiple times preceded by something that sounded something like a no. But heck, on some of them that there numbers, be honest with ya, I was flat out only guessing. It would have been a whole lot easier if he just let me count 1 to 9 for each darn number and when I got to the right number, he said “Yup!” Same thing happened on this second try of calling him back, I reached another patient. Well betcha know what happened two more times huh? By now, I imagine I done ticked off several patients at that center and the nurses station is getting hollered at about this freakin lady calling rooms and then hanging up. So I decided to call that nurses station myself and fess up. They were kind to me, or tired of patients bitching about my calls and put me straight through to him and made sure, by literally running to his room, that we got connected by phone that instant. Know the first thing that ole man said to me when he got on the phone? “What took you so long?” Ya gotta love it!

He wasn’t afraid to die. He was afraid to leave his old lady. He spent years and years taking care of her like nobody done. He loved her like a lion loves its cub, doing whatever needed to be done with her bad heart or whatever else came her way. It did it without question. He cried when he told me how much she meant to him. He fought as hard as any man I have ever seen. He suffered in silence through unbearable pain and in the end, it wasn’t pretty, nope not at all. He became a broken man physically all for the love of a woman, putting his body through a living hell. Ain't it sure funny how life is? Someone so darn sweet and simple, not hurtin nobody can go from planting seeds, reaping a garden full of vegetables and flowers and helping others to suddenly being all helpless, praying and dying all in the space of just a few fragile years.

In the end, God done a good thing. He took a dear man and gave him good ground to put his feet on. Ground he can cultivate, a voice so that he can sing and spirit free of pain. Wade deserved to die, because he deserved to live. And I am as certain of that as I am of anything dearest Step-Dad, Wade.

My turn Wade, can you hear me up there? I love you, I mean that, I really do.

Parenting - Begins & Never Ends

A friend and I recently had a long in-depth conversation about being a parent and what it has come to mean to us. We discussed over tea what we have come to learn over time. If I were to elaborate, in writing, on some of our thoughts, it would be something like this:

Being a parent is not a title. It’s not being simply a sperm donor or producing an ovary. It is more than just applying band-aids to boo boos. Paying lip service to needs and wants of children does not qualify as taking care of a child, addressing reality. Being a parent is hard work with limitless rewards that cannot be quantified or qualified if you are fortunate enough to have a child that makes good choices with their life. Let’s face it, all children, all of us are born into this world and given the gift of free will. Even in the best of homes and with wonderful parents, some children go wayward and make bad choices. Some never get back on the right track. Being a parent is, when they do, trying many measures to turn things around. It also means, when a parent makes errors in judgments, seeking help needed to right a wrong, no matter what age a parent is to rectify the issue(s). Parents are not perfect either; God didn’t make them that way. Parents grow and learn much as their children do.

Having children entails an endless list of tasks, especially during those early growing years that seem to pile up with a life of their own. About the time a parent thinks they can’t possibly add one more thing to their weekly schedule, here comes another school project during a crowded week, an extra sports tournament over a holiday weekend they must attend, or a new club they decide to join. They even sometimes pick a brand new sport you are not familiar with and decide to give it a try. And then, lo and behold, they are short coaches, and without you volunteering, the team won’t have a coach! Being a parent is sometimes holding your hand up when it is the last thing you want to do! You then find yourself forced to keep your sense of humor in check and deal with unreasonable parents of children that are convinced you have future Olympians on your team.

Kids get sick requiring time off of work. Parenting is taking those days off of work instead of using those sick days for themselves. Leaving work early not to soak up the sun but to run kids to either soccer practice or for allergy shots. Children forget homework, forget gym clothes and forget lunch money all requiring a trip home from work and to the local school, but this is part of being a parent. And then there is the inopportune time they take suddenly ill and you have your annual review and/or meeting with your boss. Of all days, it would have to fall on this day!

Yes, being a parent is holding a child in your arms when their heart is breaking from school mates picking on them or a broken romance. Being a responsible parent is insisting homework is done, taking an active interest in what they are doing at school and how they are performing verses just assuming they are performing up to par. Supporting the need for a good education is as important as letting a child know they are loved. Maintaining discipline and teaching consequences is an important responsibility of a parent. It is a unique way to show love, though often does not come across to a child as sending that message! It prepares children for a world full of rules and regulations that they are expected to obey and if not taken seriously, they will be punished in one form or another. This lesson is essential for responsible parenting. Will your child or teenager thank you for this lesson? Probably not, but none the less, it is an invaluable one that needs to be taught.

Arguments will ensure over restrictions and punishments probably more than anything else in the home with children and parents. It is a part of being a parent and goes with the responsibility. As children grow older and learn about our founding fathers strive to develop a government built on democracy, children will demand that form of leadership in the home. Being a parent means saying no; explaining rules are made by those in charge. It means days will go by when your child will hate you. They are permitted to but they must do so with respect, and the parent will know this too shall pass. Even when they are adults, this cycle of love and hate could continue, in some relationships. There may be weeks, months or years in the extreme cases, where the communication is nonexistent. Yet some adult children and parents get along splendidly. Favor ability and popularity is not part of the equation for parents. So even when their adult children hate them, being a parent means accepting the silent treatment, the anger and the wall that is up until the adult child remembers the steadfast parent and lets it back down one day.

Parents are there to answer the tough questions; why is the sky blue? Why does God not answer every prayer? Why isn’t my daddy more involved in my life? Why did my mommy give me up? Why do bad things happen to good people? When they can’t come up with a satisfactory answer, moms and dads search for one.

Being a mom or dad is trying to meet the needs of your children if you can, sometimes with overwhelming obstacles. Sometimes it means giving up your pride and asking for help when you can’t and need assistance or searching for that aide. Having a child that may never walk, never talk, has lifelong health issues, may not live till adulthood, and entails a parent be a cheerleader for a cause. It requires a parent be informed, educated constantly to ensure good care and the voice of knowledge for their child and others in the community. These parents are the chosen ones that have a child that is destined to make a difference, truly, in the world by their very nature, their special need. They must raise their child to be stronger than others so that they can rise above and not be a prisoner of their misfortune.

Understanding why kids want name brand clothes and shoes, to fit in with their peers is important as a parent, even if you can’t provide it. Children need parents that will try to understand their world, in spite of the age differences, their voices need to be heard. Communication begins in the home. Kids prefer contacts at a certain age, over glasses, even if you longer do. Teenagers want to be dropped off on the far side of the parking lot, even on a cold day and to pretend they don’t know you in public even though you are proud to be their parent. This is part of the nature of being a parent.

Being a parent is being there, allowing children to grow, and being a stable support system. It means allowing them to make mistakes. It also means allowing yourself to make them as well. It is explaining to children no one is perfect and perfection is not the goal for anyone. This support, as they grow older, should turn more mutual in nature and less one sided. The bond should stay intact if not grow stronger, as the years go by. The memories live on forever and build, one on top of another, overflowing.

Being a parent also means you are the only one that can get a child to stop crying in those first early months on this earth. It means you had the joy of that look of unconditional love when they were an infant. Being a parent is being cooed at in the middle of the night, it means you were the one that double checked they had ten fingers and ten toes. It can mean you were lucky enough to read stories at bedtime, tucked them in and were able to look in on them each night before they went to sleep, and saw them looking like angels snug in their bed. You were the one they ran to each morning to begin a day anew and they were so excited to see you each and every day.

Seeing a child light up on their birthdays is a joy to a parent like no other. Being a parent means experiencing moments like this over and over again. Holding a camera and seeing through the lenses a child’s look of fear as they sit on Santa’s lap or the Easter bunny. A parent gets to smile to themselves with delight knowing these moments are special and will pass all too quickly but are precious times. Being a parent is feeling a loud thumb in your chest when your child walks across the stage to accept an award, a diploma or simply their name is announced for anything at all. It takes little for a parent to feel a sense of pride and yet, a parent gets to experience it like no other. When the marching band takes the field, a parent is the only one that can spot their child in the group or their child on the football team huddle because they alone have a sense of where they are when they are in the midst in the area.

Being a parent is sitting with other parents on sunny warm days and watching your child contribute to the success of team sports or dance recitals or individual talents and knowing you are a strong proponent of who they are. Hearing the thousand times a parent hears I love you from childhood to adulthood is a gift unto itself. Having a collection of handmade keepsakes that show thought that went into artwork is mementos for parenting. And knowing that prayers were answered is the joy of parenting also.

The hope for parents is that their child will become a happy well adjusted adult. Knowing that parents have to make unfavorable decisions that are in the best interests of their children, though hard at times, is a small price to pay for the end result. Even if the child does not understand it, parents have an obligation to try to put their children in the safest surest path in life to lead them to happiness and well being.

When they reach adulthood and begin to make their own decisions, the light switch does not come off; you do not stop becoming a parent. Yes, your children want more independence and truly deserve that. If you have done your job well, they will be fine. But the bond is still there.

When kids reach adulthood, they make their own decisions pretty much exclusively. Parents’ feelings do not dissipate though. These emotions and love are not like light switches, just flipping from the on position to the off position at a certain age. When a parent has put all the work, and love in to developing this adult, the relationship should continue. There very well may be new disagreements during adulthood and differences of opinions but the relationship should remain intact. Throughout childhood, adversity was par for the course so even though adult children and parents of adult kids may have their differences, the beauty of the connection is that it should truly be full circle. It should remain unbroken.


Yes, being a parent is hard to define. Perhaps many parents would have their own individual spin on what it means to them but, overall the commonalities would outnumber the differences. My friend and I shared similar experiences as parents with our children during the growing up years. Our relationships, now as adults with adult children, appear to be, on some fronts, similar and then, in other ways, quite different. Perhaps it is how it is meant to be. But, at the end of the day, we are in agreement, there is no greater blessing.


Ah, perhaps one comes close in comparison though. Sharing a wonderfully warm splice of time with a special friend. What could be better than a warm cup of fennel tea to reminiscence about the past, celebrate the present and anticipate a future full of a friendship continuing to evolve with more precious memories?

Who Can't Sing a Christmas Carol?

My neighbor has a beautiful singing voice. Eileen is from Ireland and sings like a songbird. When I have heard her sing in the church choir, which consists of no more than 4 to 5 women so her voice, is clearly audible, she is always beautiful to listen to. She tells me when she was younger; she was an even better singer.

On a phone call recently, she asked me if I ever sang when I was younger. I told her I had but not all that often. She asked me if I was any good. I said that I was alright but I had a lot of sinus trouble so it caused me to have a lot of difficulties with my voice being consistent so I never really sang that much. She then wanted to know if I was ever in a choir, perhaps to see if she could recruit me into hers at church. I told her I was in middle school. I left out the part about how we were forced to as part of our music class. It was far more impressive to say simply yes. I made sure to utter something about not enjoying it all that much so that she wouldn’t ask me to join hers. Not needed as she never asked me! I also did not mention to her that I tried to lip sync in choir long before that term was coined. Or that I dreaded any instance when I had to sing and be clearly heard. I think it is safe to say I was not born with a singing gene.

But at this time of year, Christmas, being in tune is not where it is at. Having the spirit matters most! Oh yes, the angels they heard on high sang sweetly and were blessed by God with the sweetest sounding voices. But, let’s get real; it would not have been a true blessing if everyone sounded like them. Many of us are not so lucky. We have those voices that sound more like a fog horn and that are only legendary in our minds. They are star quality when the karaoke machine is loud enough to drown us out. We are the last to raise our hand to go up and sing on those nights at karaoke and it requires huge intakes of alcohol to get the nerve and lose all sense of sensibilities.

I love Christmas carols. But tunes like O Holy Night, with lines that go up as high as the pitch that nearly breaks glass, oh really. Who can hit that note and hold it? You almost have to wonder if the person that wrote it had an odd sense of humor and thought they would write this with an ungodly high note, sit back and laugh while everyone tried to hit it. Oh how funny it is to see folks strain their vocal chords with little success all to reach that one note. I do not attempt to reach that high chord; I simply stop singing, prior to that point and just pick up the song afterwards. I refuse to be laughed at trying to hit something I know I can’t achieve. Besides, I have too much fun listening to others try!

Every year the same wonderful tunes are played and sung repeatedly. They are the standards everyone loves and associates with Christmas. And yet, every musical artist feels compelled to capitalize on their popularity and release an album with these songs on their custom CD. They then tout it as their NEW Christmas release. Funny how the songs are still the same and often times, even the arrangements seldom vary. I think it is in good taste for all royalties from Christmas CD’s to go to charity. Why not, tis the season of giving, right?


The other day I was singing along with one of my current favorites, Michael Buble. He has a new CD out but with a voice like Frank Sinatra he is a tad different than many. His good looks are not hurting him either. Anyways, as I approached a light, I thought I was sounding pretty darn good so I turned down the volume to just get a good close earful of my sound. See, I was blessed with an ear for music. I can detect quality of sound extremely well. Maybe, I thought to myself, in my later years my pitch has improved some. I even went so far as to funnel my hand around my mouth so the sound came right to my ear and was not as distorted. Perhaps the sound would have been better distorted. All I can say is the way I sounded, wow, pretty raw. I took a real bite out of White Christmas!

But, when carolers come a knocking, who cares how they sound! Just the joy of seeing a group of folks outside your door, singing in unison for the season is wonderful. Most of the time when we have several folks outside of our door, it is either to sell magazine subscriptions, hand out religious pamphlets or ask for donations for the police/fireman ball. To have someone out there not asking for hand outs is wonderful. I just wish our dog would recognize that they are not holding doggie treats! He reacts like it is the mailman and does not respect them enough to stop barking while they are singing. We are forced to close the front door, go around through the garage door, literally walk outside and stand in the front yard with the carolers. At least we live in the south where in the month of December it is not blistery cold, usually. I think maybe this year, we should just let Charley go with them and ask them to bring him back when they are done. Unless of course someone wants to keep our 125 lb ball of energy under their Christmas tree!

When you hear Christmas tunes, I challenge you, sing, sing loud and hard. Put your passion into them, even if you do not sing well. I think God hears us, even those of us with a bad voice and His sense of humor is lit beyond compare by hearing us sing badly. Plus it truly is in lifting your voices in song that your spirit is lifted also. You do not have to have a heavenly voice to be touched by music or impact others. I love listening to others sing of Christmas tidings, Santa, the birth of Jesus, snowfalls over the holidays, etc… All these tunes remind me of Christmas’s long ago, the joy we are experiencing and what Christmas is all about. Who cares if we are just abit out of tune? The spirit of Christmas is found in the sounds of the season not in the quality of the sounds of the season!

He Has Fun!

Some people truly make the world a better place, just by their very presence.
I can think of no better way than to start and pay tribute to a wonderful man I met several years ago. I walked into a Rotary meeting as a newcomer, feeling slightly out of place. I was greeted, at the close of the meeting, by a man with a smile larger than life and hand shake that felt like he came straight from Bedrock. I thought he must have worked in the quarry with Fred Flintstone with that darn rock hard handshake. And this big man that was slightly intimidating just emulated happiness and joy.

Over a period of time, I began to learn more about him personally. He seemed to take a interest in me which I found flattering. It was as if he took me, somewhat, under his wing. I secretly wished I had met years ago and that he had been a bigger part of my life. He was a good man through and through and I could have learned a lot of life’s lessons from him easier than through the hard knocks way. His life was full of some of the usual, and unusual, twists and turns but through it all, he maintained his love of life and his positive attitude. He could be mischievous and certainly his mantra was fun with life on earth; don’t take yourself, or anyone else, too seriously.

This fellow sees having fun also as serving others, putting smiles on other peoples’ faces, those in need especially. Every year, without fail, he arranges for the Rotarians to cover the weekends being the bell ringers during the holiday season. I think this is one of his greatest joys, taking his turn at it! It is as if he sees this as being Santa, collecting for the needy at a time when others see it as asking for hand outs. He is unique in that way, never letting others define who he is and letting others misjudge what is the right thing to do. This year, even in a weakened state, he will take his turn, ringing the bell, but from a wheel chair. If you see him, give. Not for him, but for those he represents, those hurting, those in need. That is what will give him joy. As long as he has breath in him, he will care for others. How many men are like this, will spend a few hours of their last days on earth collecting donations for others? Will you?

He is a proud American. His face lights up when he sees the American flag, noticeably. He knows what it stands for and if you forget, ask him! He will proudly remind you. Oh, that flag stands for freedom, for the land of opportunity, for men and women fighting for all of us and we should all be proud, unified and serve each other with joy. As he states with conviction, “We are blessed. “ Is there anything sweeter than the taste of freedom? If not, pray for our service men and women please, we owe them at least that!

As the seasons have come and gone, so has his cancer battle. There have been many successes and some major setbacks along the way. It is almost hard to gauge, by the look on his face, which end he is on because his face reveals so much life and love. He has never met a stranger, even when life has been the cruelest to him. And yet, he continues life, one step, one day at a time, all the while knowing and fully believing God will take him to heaven when his time is due. While here, he assures everyone he is blessed, we are blessed and let’s have fun!

I believe our destiny in life is to try to make the world a better place when we leave it than when we were born into it. We should aspire to touch others lives in a good way, even if it is simply by how we live our life. This friend to so many, he has created quite the legacy. He has healed many a discouraged heart or lost souls with his words of wisdom and his liveliness. If that hasn’t work, his quirkiness and unmistakable sense of humor have definitely done the trick!

When I spoke with him today, it was with joy in my voice and a song in my heart. At no point was there sadness in my words. I spoke with total clarity as I knew he is much nearer death than ever before. Time is short for him; I wanted him to hear directly that he has touched me. I was not surprised in the least to learn from him that many folks have said those same words to him. He told me that each time he hears it, it means even more. So many people do not realize to those approaching death, knowing you have left an indelible mark on this earth is spiritually healing. It adds to the serenity they feel towards facing their entrance into heaven. Take the time to let people know they have touched you. They do want to hear this. There is no right time to say this, so just find a moment period. This man, he earned the right to hear this, time and time again. He can enter heaven with pride and joy.

As he prepares his final preparations and waits for the final call, not knowing when it will be, he will enjoy every last moment he is blessed with. Are you enjoying your blessings like this special man? What if this is your last Christmas, are you trying to make this world a better place? At Christmas, what a perfect time to start.

In closing our conversation today, he and I discussed our faith in heaven. We both believe we will see each other again, there, therefore good-byes are really not needed. He asked me to look him up when I get there, to heaven, as soon as I arrive. I asked him, silly as it sounds, to please hold up the flag and wave it, which he said he will. I do think it might look rather preposterous in heaven for him to be waving an American flag. I am not sure how saintly that will look? But then again, he has always had a knack for doing the quirky things to make folks laugh so why not? Those that know him will not find the sight of him doing this with his angel wings on odd at all! He told me to not get there too quickly. I had to remind him I am on God’s plan also, just as he is. None of us pick our check out time. Make good use of your time while you are here…….

I thank God for the lesson of having fun he has taught so many of us that grew to know him! And most of all, I pray God continues to bless him with a smile larger than life and happiness that makes his cup overflow from here to his life everlasting!

Greatest Gifts

When I hear the stories about Black Friday and hear how folks are crowding through the entry ways knocking each other over to get through the doors, I am shocked. The goal of hitting these special sales is to obtain gifts for Christmas, gifts that are to celebrate the birth of Jesus by showing love for others. In the process of obtaining these gifts, people are literally stomping on each other to obtain items to simply save money. I venture to say, if you have to lose your self- respect in the process, maybe the savings is not worth it.

I know that times are tough right now in this downtrodden economy but this is not the only time in the course of American history that this has been the case. In the Depression, money for Christmas gifts was almost non-existent. Folks had to be resourceful or bypass giving during the holiday season all together. But they managed to retain the true joy of Christmas without the splendor of all the gifts, the Christmas cards, the lights and the trimmings. In spite of this, families found the holidays joyous. This must be surprising to all those Black Friday shoppers knocking each other down for the best deals!

Commercialization of Christmas does not make it complete nor better, just different. The spirit of Christmas originates from the heart. Christmas is not from a dollar bill but found when one reflects on a manger in a stable of an inn keeper in Bethlehem. Do not forget that a poor couple with no place to stay was where the first Christmas originated from. Hardly the picture of wealth as we see in today’s world of holiday splendor!

I enjoy the holiday lights, shows and fanfare as much as anyone. I do not intend on giving that up. However, losing sight of the true meaning can make the 25th of December nothing more than a one day holiday and not something to reflect on the entire year. Jesus’s birth was meant to be a starting point for giving, that spirit is meant to continue. That salvation we were given doesn’t end after Christmas.

My immediate family has chosen this Christmas to make ours about our family. We want to focus on what Christmas is really all about, being together. That, to us, is the one of the best gifts of all, the love we have for each other and the love for what the original Christmas is about, the birth of Jesus. Times are tough right now in this financial crunch. It does not make sense to indulge on each other unnecessarily to express our feelings for each other. The size of the gift or the value of the gift cannot equate to how we feel.

I love both of my children, my daughter-in-law and my son-in-law and no gift will do that love justice. They know it is there regardless of a gift. We are all blessed to share this sentiment and would prefer to celebrate that, being a true loving caring family more so than opening gifts with each other.

We are trying it out this year, this concept of no gift giving other than buying for the children, though our family is not large. Who knows, it may become a tradition. It seems odd to many, including us, but I am so proud of our family for doing this. It shows that our hearts are in the right place. It allows us to not worry needlessly over what to get each other, how much to spend and all that unnecessary stress that goes along with gift buying.

My family is dedicated to the spirit of Christmas and it makes us eager for Christmas day to just spend it together. Our morning will be spent sitting back watching the children light up as they open up their gifts and scream with glee seeing what wonderful toys Santa brought them and the gifts we have showered them with.

I am sure we will each, individually reflect on our own moments we had, as children. Somehow, in seeing Christmas though children’s eyes puts us all in touch with the child inside of ourselves as adults. No one can truly forget the wonder of being a child and experiencing Santa’s generosity!

Sitting by the tree, huddled as a family, I know we will no longer feel we need those moments to be lavished with gifts to feel special, to feel loved. We know that the love is all around us when we are all together as a family. around us also, for that is truly what the holiday is about. Christmas signifies God’s love; For God so loved the world that he gave his only son……

May you always remember that the best gifts in life can’t be found in a retail store!