MUSING

Shootings, Shootings, Shootings

Sex, Sex, Sex

Politics, Politics, Politics

That’s the news these days.

Be careful

Be discerning

Vote.

Just Thinking.  What about You?

A Bird Story

He (she) was sitting in the absolute middle of my wide, tree-lined street.  Beginning to drive down the block, I saw it almost at the end – perhaps it was a squirrel.  They are everywhere in our town.  And, they are daring.  A squirrel might stay in place until the approaching vehicle has to have brakes jammed on to keep from killing it.    Then it scampers away.

This wasn’t a squirrel. It was a rather chubby, sizeable black bird, sitting there, on both feet (big feet, too), casually blinking its dark eyes but otherwise not moving.

I pulled over and parked.  Maybe it was sick?  Wary of catching an exotic (or not) bird disease, my further inspection was from inside my car through the open window. 

I wasn’t alone on the essentially deserted street.  A man, a painter or plasterer – I guessed, was organizing materials in the back of his van parked at the house on the opposite side of the street.  From the top of the street I noticed him approaching the 'something' that wasn't moving.  In fact, as I approached he made several  almost hands-on attempts to encourage the street-bound bird to fly.

“Is it your bird?” I asked.  No, it wasn’t. He wanted him to move before a car hit him.  “I think he might be sick,” he said.  Standing so close to the bird his shoe likely touched his feathers, I was scared for the man.

From my safe vantage point I cautioned against touching the troubled bird, adding I would call the police and ask them to send animal control.

The police said Animal Control would be along within an hour.  I wanted them there sooner but kept my unhappiness to myself. 

Nervous about the bird’s safety I returned to park on the curbside near him.  This is relevant to my story because . . . in only a few minutes an agitated, bird-chirping ruckus interrupted the quiet morning. The man at his van called it to my attention.  They were two small, shades-of dark and light grey-birds in the trees flitting from limb to limb talking violently.  Then, noisily and aggressively they started flying back and forth over the stranded black bird; one darting toward him as if he would be pecked if he didn’t move. Our bird wouldn’t move. I rolled up my window afraid getting pecked was quickly becoming my destiny as the attackers flew in a wider circle.  

Animal Control was there within ten minutes.  What a relief.  “You pesky birds,” she directed to the obnoxious attackers.  She told us they were mockingbirds.  She said they are territorial and don’t like their environment upset.  Then looking at the fat stranded black bird she said, “Oh it’s a baby crow.”  Whoa!  It didn’t look like a baby.  Gloves on, she picked it up, examined it and put it in a crate in her van.  She said it looked like it would be fine.

At home I researched both birds . . . saw pictures of mockingbirds identical to the ones we faced.  I also read it’s not unusual to find baby crows stranded on the ground and in the street. They have been pushed out of the nest to learn how to fly (and live) on their own.  Type “baby crows” in your internet search box.  You'll find quite interesting reading.

Without a doubt, I’ve got much to learn about many things.

Feed the Hungry Day

Yes, that’s what I call it.  And today, our church will take one of its regularly scheduled turns to participate in the interreligious outreach.  Every single day, at the site (not our church), dinner is provided for folks, usually numbering a hundred or more, who walk-in for the meal served from 5–6 pm.

I used to think of it as ‘feeding the homeless’.  Soon it became quite apparent many are not homeless. They are in need of a dinner.

Those we serve get a full meal, salad through dessert  - including fresh fruit and a hot and cold drink.

Once when my son was going through a siege of hospitalizations, I thought about dropping in for a healthy dinner.

The feeding site at the time was a huge church on the way to the hospital where Darin had been for a couple weeks.  I was driving there, anxious about finding a good spot in the garage.  I was tired. I was distraught.  I was being a faithful visitor for my son – going to the hospital as much as he let me know he needed my presence. (I wanted to be there everyday but worried about smothering him with my motherly attentions.)

On the day I considered dropping in to eat, I had pulled to the side of the street to overcome a siege of shortness of breath- a dizzy, heart palpitating anxiety attack.  My mind had  wandered to worrying about me.  Stopped, sitting behind the wheel, praying for inner calm, I was surprised to see the feeding site just across the parking lot.  Folks were getting in line.  I realized I had been rushing around all day  eating nothing since coffee and banana that morning.  Maybe my anxiety was due in great part to my own hunger.  I should go get a meal.

Quite naturally I said, “not me”.  I don’t need to be fed by others.  I can take care of myself.  Then I answered myself with, “But you’re not taking care of you!  You probably don’t even have anything at home to cook.  You haven’t taken time to go to the market.  And, how much money do you have?  Keeping gas in the car; doling out cash every day for the hospital garage parking fee seems easy as you go by the ATM for another $40 to $60.  But, no money has gone into the account since last month.   You’ve written checks for church.  Maybe you don’t have money - can’t buy anything?  Go eat!”  I didn’t. 

But the thinking was somehow therapeutic for this person who wanted to think she was helping to feed the “homeless”.

Our church, through the program, helps provide walk-in meals for those who need it – people who must balance a budget after having lost a job; people with young children in school who need clothing, books, supplies and other amenities children in school should have to ‘be like the others’; folks whose minimum wage (if that) income may now be spread thin due to unforeseen sickness in their homes; paying the ever-escalating gas and transportation costs just to get to work; folks who must help the elderly in their family.  Our church is helping the poor and the working poor manage with what they have. 

And, yes, we are helping the homeless.  I see many homeless amongst those who leave the dining hall with a satisfied stomach.

I pray each one we serve will know better times.  I thankfully pray for the resources I’ve been blessed to manage.

Whom will you help today (albeit family, neighbor, friend, stranger) – in at least some small way?  Will your actions involve some effort that looks outside of 'self'?

Many blessings . . .

For a Happy Life

Faith, Hope, Joy, and Love - have seen me through moments, days, weeks, months, years, and yes - a lifetime of ups and downs.

A discerning, never failing, self-confidence built upon those four emotional precepts steadfastly emboldens me.

It is all about my faith in the promise of a brighter day when despair casts shadows; continuing hope for success when challenge abounds; joy acknowledged in what is and what has been; and the comforting love I’ve been blessed to experience and share with family, friends, neighbors and strangers.

Service To Others - On my first vacation home from college, concluding one of his parenting discussions that had been introduced with him questioning how much money I thought I should earn to be happy, my father cautioned me with this observation.

“Personal happiness is best guaranteed by living a life that includes giving service to others – not through earning a lot of money.”                    

                                                             . . . . John W. Woods, Jr.

In the next decade, reading the following eloquent words enhanced the value of my father’s advice and the choices I make each day.

“Life’s most persistent and urgent question is, “What are you doing for others.”                                    . . . . Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Several years ago I came across the following quote.

 “One thing I know; the only ones among you who will be really happy are those who will have sought and found how to serve.”            

                                                                 . . . . Dr. Albert Schweitzer  
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As a kid I went to church.  My parents made me.  I enjoyed the singing, the promise of prayer and my friends.  I tolerated the long message. 

On my college campus I appreciated the Sunday school program and Sunday Vespers.  

As a parent, I introduced and encouraged the ritual of church to my children even when I was ‘too busy’ to participate.

Now as a mature adult I am more attentive to my spiritual growth.  I have an abiding faith in ‘my God’ and in prayer.  I am glad I was brought up in the church. 

A report says there are over 100,000,000 unchurched adults in America

Is the power of faith, hope, joy, love and the importance of service to others taught in the home as well as in church? 

I hope so; these days I wonder. 

The Cable Guy Came

It was a guy, not a gal who came to see about my problem.  I know there must be Cable Gals somewhere, but I haven’t seen any.  I’ll be on the lookout.

Anyway, the problem was not the cable television service or the Internet service. It was the telephone.   All three are covered by my Optimum account. Two out of their three services were doing just fine, I thought.  

The phone seemed to drop the connection during the third ring, didn’t go to message either.  For a month or so, I had suffered the inconvenience – dashing and grabbing to keep the caller from holding a silent phone.  Then folks telephoning while I was away, getting ‘dropped’, began officiously advising me my phone was acting funny.  It was time for me to be a grown up and take care of the problem.

The phone was at least ten years old.  The 'charge battery' warnings which used to never happen were becoming more frequent.  That frustration together with the dropped calls issue were reason enough to make a significant change.  So, on a sweltering Monday afternoon off I went to Radio Shack to replace the worn out 4-set Vtech cordless system with a brand new 4-set Vtech cordless system. I programmed the new phone to ring six times before inviting the caller to leave a message.  No more rushing to the phone for me.  Proudly I texted family and friends and told them, “Don’t call my home phone tonight. My new phone will be charging until morning.”

Several calls came through the next morning.  The modern, sleek telephone felt good and sounded great too.  All was okay.

That is, until the phone rang when I wasn’t nearby.  I didn’t rush; and, on the third ring, there was abrupt silence.  I was devastated. 

It was my daughter.  She suggested it must be the telephone line.  

The Cable Guy came this morning.  He was on time, patient and pleasant.  Standing in the dinette, dialing my number, listening to the malfunction, he asked if I had a fax machine.  I do.

That was the problem.  The last time I used the fax machine I had inadvertently programmed it to override the phone on the third ring.   We disabled that! In less than ten minutes my telephone problem was fixed.  But the Cable Guy wasn’t finished. 

I learned when my Cable Service Company is called for a specific purpose the technician is required to respond to data in their system and handle any issue needing attention. Today I learned a cable line to my non- cable boxed TVs had a problem.  The Cable Guy fixed it.  

After his visit I knew how to re-set the television picture for High Definition resolution.  Pictures on each television are bright and beautiful, and my telephone is wonderful.  Plus there was no service charge.  Such maintenance is covered with my monthly payment for cable service.

The Cable Guy came and I’m better for it.  It was a good day.

Darin (1961 - 2011)

Celebrating Mother's Day - 2008

Memories flood my mind,
Take my strength.
Reliving the past,
Blocks productive energy.

Today matters.
Forward march.

I've got much to do,

And the ability to do it.

There’s reason to get it done.

Do it! 


I’m exhausted,

I feel empty,

I’m not relaxed.
I'm not at peace.           


There's a hole in my heart,
And I was only his Mother.

Mom and her teen-age son

_______________________________________

Darin had a loving wife and two young daughters.

On September 14, 2011, Sickle Cell Disease was the nemesis.

Be on the alert to do all you can to help find a cure for

Sickle Cell Disease.

What a morning;What a day!

LeBron James won his elusive championship ring.  I didn’t hear about it until this morning and I’m overwhelmed with joy.   Last night, in game 5 of the possible 7 game NBA championship series, his team, the Miami Heat won their 4^th time. It's all over.  The Miami Heat are 2011-2012 NBA Champions.  LeBron gets to put a ring on it!!!

Perhaps the only folk continuing to read this are those who do not know of LeBron James.   

You see, I've sensed most folks with any interest in basketball, those removed from the Miami Heat fan base, do not love nor even like LeBron James.  They abhor him for going to the Heat; leaving the Cleveland Cavaliers (to me, after a lifetime there – considering the physical and emotional energy involved in trying to win a championship, which he was surely fixated on). So if they have tuned me out,  I understand.

Having grown up with a sports loving father and brothers also sports enthusiasts, I have more than a modicum of admiration for almost any athletic competition, more so baseball, I'll admit.  (Read my award-winning memoir, Black Star Girl.)  Then raising my own children in more complex communities that found fewer and fewer available empty lots where baseball games could be casually played, basketball took over as the more popular ‘pick-up’ sport in our neighborhoods.  A regulation basketball goal was a popular addition to many a family's yard or driveway.  Ours was in the back yard where once in a while this mom was a serious contender with the youngsters in a foul line shooting contest or a game of H-O-R-S- E.  

Through the years, basketball lingered as a entertaining spectator sport.  I remember being glued to the TV watching, wincing, and groaning - engrossed in the heart stopping battles that involved Michael Jordan’s Chicago Bulls challenging the Indiana Pacers and Reggie Miller, or the Boston Celtics and Larry Bird.  After Michael Jordan's astounding reign ended, my interest waned.

Then on the scene came LeBron James, a high school phenomenon on the basketball court.  In my heart I’ve been on alert regarding LeBron James since all the media attention when he elected to leapfrog college and follow his dream to play basketball professionally.  He was wanted by the NBA and would immediately proceed to play at the highest tier in pro basketball.   I worried about ‘the kids’ decision.  I didn’t need to.  It seems he has maintained quality life-choice standards; work ethic; personal qualities and healthy devotion to the career he was gifted to follow.

Many high school graduates go off to college, and fail to exhibit the maturity necessary to grow responsibly and focus on goals. Too many times those young adults, freshly independent, are side tracked and get on a path that keeps them from being what they wanted to be and could be.  High school graduate LeBron James went off to the NBA festooned with all the bells and whistles of iconic stardom.  It could all have been a major hindrance.  It wasn't.  He has done what it takes - not been distracted from reaching his goal, these nine years since. 

Not only has LeBron James’ life choices given him the equivalent of a 4-year College degree and a Master’s Degree, but now, I think, he has received his PhD. 

This grandmother celebrates ‘the kid’ who knew what he wanted and worked toward achieving - with diligence.  This morning I celebrated ‘the man’ by watching emotional and enjoyable discussions on ESPN’s television shows.  Later I prepared a celebratory dinner of mixed green salad and barbecued baby-back ribs.  

Yes, it has been a deliciously good day for mind and body.