Winter Magic

Snow fell.   Doorman elegant in long coat, warm gold with red braid trim, opened the brass-framed door for the smiling pair and they exited the hotel.   

He was strong yet caring as he took her arm coupling them against the weather. “Do we want a cab?”  His tone drew her eyes up to his.

No, she didn’t want a cab invading their privacy.  Nothing should keep them from being alone together.  Not yet.  All she said was, “No, let’s walk.”  

Snowflakes flurried from the night sky, a beautiful sight in the headlights of traffic trying to rush along Park Avenue. The flakes, cold on her face and lingering on her hair and coat, melted as soon as they hit the warm New York City pavement. She was quite comfortable.

Too soon they were in the garage claiming their cars.

“Good night”, he said.  “I always hate these dinner business meetings.  Glad you were at my table.  It was nice meeting you. You be careful driving home.”

“Good night”, she said.  “Good meeting you also.  What luck it’s not a genuine snow storm, just flurries.  You be careful too.”

              *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

In recognition of this “Season of Love”, I’ve enjoyed sharing the above, a love story that never was.  

His Birthday - A Holy Celebration

    It is Christmas.  Halleluiah!

Yes, one more time I am celebrating the birth of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ

However, family and friends were forewarned Christmas wouldn’t be the same for me this year.  I’m not sending greeting cards.  Neither would I buy nor gather Christmas gifts for those I dearly love.  Immediate family dismissed my pronouncement with an absent-minded retort,  “you always say that, but you will”. 

They’ve been correct.  For several years, I’ve felt strongly that pulling back from the ridiculous commercialization of Christmas was the right thing to do.  I would announce, “no gifts from me this year.”

But then I’d overcome myself and get busy, as I’d always loved to do.  Yes, I enjoyed selecting and writing the cards.  I liked the thoughtful challenge of determining and securing the unique gift or gifts for each person and pet on my list. 

This year is different.  Thinking of Christmas for the families of Sandy Hook Elementary School (Newtown, CT.) sapped my energy for joyfully bustling about.  So, yes, I’ve held fast to my word.  Beginning to write this, I felt secure about my decision.  (There are no small children in my family.)  Admittedly though, as I project my thoughts to a few hours from now, I’m feeling a teeny bit squeamish.  I’ll be a Christmas Morning Grinch . . . nothing from me under the tree.   Oh me.  I pray the Lord helps me evidence love through my giving attitude and joyful spirit.  (I’ll give of myself; make sure the Christmas breakfast is special, without any help from others!)

The household is sleeping now.  Christmas Eve has evolved into very early Christmas morning.  The ambiance is warm and wonderful in our home.  I’ve not long taken our traditional Christmas Eve ham out of the oven and the house smells yummy.  Others have put beautiful gifts under the beautifully decorated tree.  I’m sitting in a festive room quiet except for the magnificent sounds of the mass choir on TV singing of the wonder that night more than 2000 years ago “when love came down to the earth”.

Oh blessed night. 

I wish you and yours a Merry Christmas, also.

Speak To Power for The Innocent

This time last Thursday those who would become innocent victims of murder, before noon the next day, were in the midst of their final days.

They were killed; it is widely reported, by ammunition spewed from the gun held by one young man.  The dead were twenty children and six educators plus the perpetrators mother. 

              

This morning my TV news feed seemed pleased to report Governor Christie (NJ) has proclaimed there must be a national discussion on the issue of gun control.

No, no, no!  Not discussion!  That invites the sludge of political dialogue, thus continuing unbridled attacks against innocent people.   It is time for ACTION.

Our elected leaders know enough (from a multitude of perspectives) to develop and present for vote legislation to seriously roadblock these ever-occurring incidences of mass murder.

 You or I should never need a gun strapped to our waist, arm, leg, and hip, whatever to feel secure!  And, not one person should require a gun in his or her desk to protect themselves and their surroundings from gun toting mayhem.

Being an active member of the United Methodist Women, one dire fact is painfully lodged in my heart and soul.  In Newtown, Connecticut, only women and children were murdered in that after-breakfast shooting rampage in the elementary school.

And one might reasonably consider the person who wielded the gun, eventually even killing himself, to be of an age closer to ‘youth’ than adult. 

You see, embedded in the succinct PURPOSE of United Methodist Women is our ministry to “speak to power” to obtain justice for women, children and youth who suffer, who lack the necessities for a secure life of well-being, food, shelter, clothing, education, employment, health, and life, itself.  

You Too Can Speak To Power.  Every people-servicing organization, every individual man and woman in this nation must ‘speak to power’ to effect immediate change in gun control laws.  Petition on behalf of those in our nation who need you to use your voice to be heard by the powerful and influential to make a life saving difference for everyone.  Can you get to work on this?

Contact your local, state and national officials.  (Letter writing is therapeutic and a high volume may make a significant impact, but since the tragedy of 911, I understand unrequested letters are held for security inspection – thus, seriously delayed in getting to the intended person.)  Consider making telephone calls or sending emails to each of your elected officials, over and over.  Be incessant!  Ask your representatives to work and vote for new, changed or amended laws that disable the proven detrimental freedom we now have to hold weapons of mass destructions for personal use.   Yes, flood your officials, their staff and offices with your desires regarding gun control and what must take effect in the memory of the dear 6 and 7 year olds taken from us; in the memory of the dedicated educators who died protecting so many other 6, 7, 8, 9 and 10 year old children. 

Get involved with your own personal ACTION to help circumvent the strong possibility of stagnating, politically focused discussions on the subject of gun control.

In this annual season of renewing and valuing all that love and faith means to us, my joy seems to be irreparably challenged.

My sympathy and prayers are constant for the families, friends, neighbors, and all who mourn for those we lost on Friday, December 14, 2012 at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut.

Barbara Made A Difference

Facebook is a revealing medium.

Today I learned my one and only daughter cherishes the memory of having cooked her first full meal under the guidance of her Aunt Barbara.  Never having thought about it, but considering the many hours my little girl and I spent together in the kitchen, surely she must have accomplished that momentous feat under my guidance.   Her Facebook post tells me she did not. 

Am I jealous?  Nah . . .

Aunt Barbara was a very special person.  Dr. Barbara Neal McAlpin Woods was constantly doing something wonderful for others.  (She didn’t have her PhD at the time, but it was well fixed in her plans to get her Doctorate.)  From the moment we met, I knew her to be a super exemplary role model.  My twin brother, Jim, married well.

I also have a special memory of my sister-in-law’s generous spirit.

When my two children were in grade school, probably 2^nd and 4^th graders, Barbara gave us a set of encyclopedias.  That was so neat.

I always wanted a set of encyclopedias.   From elementary school days on into high school years, I wished we were one of the many families who had the luxury of having their own set of encyclopedias.  In those days, sales people went from door to door-selling Encyclopedia Britannica and other encyclopedias also.  We couldn’t purchase any brand.  They were all too expensive for our large, economically challenged family.  My parents spent their money on necessities, like the food, clothing, heat and shelter required for their eight children.  (Read Black Star Girl, my award-winning memoir.)  Still, our family did a lot of reading. My dad regularly brought in various newspapers and magazines, which I read cover to cover.  It was only a dream that I would have a set of encyclopedias to explore anytime, night or day, in my home.  It was my plan to have a set when I had a family.

Then, years later, after I graduated from college, married and was in my own home, Barbara gave us a set of encyclopedias.  They are here grandly accessible on my library shelf. I refer to them every once in a while. I will never part with those reference books, even though the Internet is certainly at my fingertips.  

They like to say everybody is on the Internet but it’s not true.   Everybody doesn’t have access to the Internet – millions of people do not.  In fact, I was disappointed this summer when it was announced a new edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica would not be published in book form.  I certainly understand, but I am sorry to know it was determined there is no market for such a rich, tactile resource for learning.  I am grateful to Barbara each time I pick up one of my books.

 ______________________________________________

This post is in loving remembrance of Dr. Barbara Neal McAlpin Woods, an inspiration to many, who passed in December 2004.  Yesterday was Barbara's birthday anniversary, remembered on Facebook by her children and many, many others she touched, including my daughter.   

Josie Ell Stith

You were a cool cat.  I mean it. I’ll never forget the day I came to the County Animal Shelter seeking a cat to call my own.  I strolled around the cages looking for a Calico to grab my attention. I saw only a rather frail Calico kitten.  Not an attention grabber.

Then there you were, a large cat, coal black with a white chest and dainty white feet, posed, lying on your side, in a cage with two other big cats.  I saw your eyes follow me.  But, you didn’t make a move.  It was obvious you and your cage mates, a grey Tabby and a golden one, were old – kitten-days long gone.  While your cage mates repositioned themselves to keep my attention, it was only your bright eyes staring at me that made it clear you knew I was there.  Yet, your long, ample, unmoving body said, “I could care less about you liking me.”

I walked away. You stayed as you were.  One of your mates climbed off his/her perch, the other came as far as he/she could to angle for my interest.   I continued walking, searching for a pet connection that said, “we should be family”.

The assortment of dogs, cats, kittens, and puppies at that animal shelter was wonderful. Unfortunately, an emotional attachment just couldn’t be dredged up between any of them and me – no matter how long and thoughtfully I lingered. To the exit door I headed, resigned to leaving without a cat which I had taken so long to realize I wanted to share my home with me.

Sauntering toward the door, passing the big cats’ cage my eyes read the sign above you, the independent one who had eyes for me but apparently no interest in belonging to me.

“Joey”,  Arrival Date:  5/15

Domestic Short Hair – Black & White

Age: 8 yrs    Size:  XL

I said to myself, “Well, Joey.  You’ve been here in this animal shelter for more than  2 months and no one has picked you.  No wonder you’re not showing any interest in appealing to me.  You’ve had enough rejection, right? Let me go see what your story is.”

And that’s what I did. 

They told me she was a super-sweet, older cat, obese, really needed to lose weight to fend off the strong possibility of becoming diabetic.  Joey had been given up, brought to the shelter by the previous owner.

Hold it!  “She?”  It was then I learned Joey was a female. Her previous owners had thought otherwise when they named her.

I connected with “Joey” who was old, overweight, and beautiful and enjoyed staring at me.  She had to come home with me.  We belonged together. Joey didn’t balk when I suggested we would rename her “Josie”.   She did cry all the way home in the SUV.  I just kept softly talking to her.

So Josie became my lovable pet on July 17, 2009.  She was terrific, a truly super-sweet cat. 

As soon as we entered the house and I let her out of the travel cage, she scurried away.  Josie went throughout the house, from top to bottom, into every room.   I did see her peering at me as I set up her litter boxes – one in the basement, the other in the upstairs bathroom.  But, she was mostly ‘lost’ to me for her first hour in the house.  Then while I was talking to my daughter on the telephone and getting something out of the refrigerator, there she was, sitting on my toes, looking into the fridge. She was so close I thought she was aiming to go in  it.  I said, “no, no” and Josie, showing she was an obedient pet, backed away.  She didn’t run away.  She stayed in the kitchen with me.  She was always more close-by than distant.  From the beginning and always, Josie evidenced her gratitude for being out of that cage and in our home.

Josie was put on the veterinarian’s recommended diet.  I went online and found just the right baby scale to regularly track her weight loss.  She did well.  I discovered her previous owners must have fed her salty snacks because anytime I had a corn curl or Dorito or even popcorn, Josie begged, big time.  She didn’t get any. 

Unfortunately the next spring Josie was sick, a kind of feline cancer, the Vet said.  She died May 24^th, 2010 in this house she loved.

I don't believe I'll ever forget Josie.