Sometimes I have a little bit of a hearing problem. It’s not the volume that is altered, but the
word pronunciation. I really hear some
weird things, and when I do and repeat what I heard, my children get a kick out
of my mis-hearing. I was over visiting
my daughter and fixing myself a cup of coffee from the pot she’d brewed. As I stood stirring a spoonful of sugar in to
the delightful darkness, I thought I heard her ask me, “Do you want some plain
or chocolate fentynl to put in your coffee?”, and I repeated it. “Mommy, what??!!! Are you serious; gods?” she exclaimed. I told her, “Honey, that’s what I heard you
say.” She said slowly, “I said,
‘Do-you-want-some-plain-or-chocolate-MILK-in-your-coffee?’” We both had a laugh.
I was riding with my daughter in her van. A fast tempo banjo piece of music was playing
as I happened to look at her speedometer.
I mentioned to her, “You know you don’t have to drive at what the speed
the tempo of the music is, don’t you?”
We laughed, and I gripped the door handle a little bit more.
During some uncomfortable times, I had to deal with a man
who was less than gallant. He thought he
was a knight in shining armor, but his was rusted and pitted in my opinion. He continued to irritate me. Mother always told me to try to remain a lady
in tense situations especially around others.
So, when the opportunity presented itself, I told him what I thought of
him. I’ve always liked studying
astronomy and used some of my knowledge to let him know how I felt about
him. I told him, “You remind me of the
seventh planet from the sun.” He smiled
and said, “Oh, you think I’m out of this world?” I said, “Yes, and in a dark hole of the
universe is the seventh planet from the sun.”
I walked away; then, I heard a snarl.
Mission accomplished and I remained a lady with some knowledge.
There have been a few students go through my life whose mentality is
somewhere between the intelligence of dead skin cells and pond scum. This one particular boy became angry with me
at the assignment I’d given. He tried to
get me to argue with him, which I didn’t. (You don’t bait the trap with soap
and expect the mouse to bite.) He became
so angry he yelled, “You dumb bitch!”---Yes, some have been known to spew forth
their entire vocabulary. I gave him a
pass to the dean’s office and told him it would be in his best interest to stay
there. Then, I went immediately to the
principal’s office to tell him what had transpired. When I told him the happenings, I included,
“Dustin, also, called me a dumb bitch.” He came out of his chair. He was incensed and started to go to the
dean’s office. As he passed me, he
asked, “Is there anything else I need to know, Trudy?” I said, “Yes, there is---for the record, I’m
not dumb!”
I’m sure most of you know what a sugar daddy is---a rich man who spends
money on a favored female. I’ve wondered
what a poor man is called who does the same.
I think it would be a lolli pop.
Do you know the difference between the people of Dubai and Abu
Dhabi? Well, the people of Dubai don’t
like the Flintstones, but the people of Abu Dhabi do. I saw a little sign on a Glock gun. It said, “So many are redefining things. So, consider this a cordless hole
puncher.”
Here are some things I’ve thought about, and others have too: Which letter is silent in the word “scent”,
the S or the C? Every time you clean
something, you make something else dirty.
The word “swims” upside-down is still “swims”. (You turned the page or
your head, didn’t you?) If you replace
“W” with “T” in “what, where, and when”, you get the answer to each of
them. Do twins or any others in multiple
births ever realize that one was planned and the others weren’t?
Did you know that every day the heart creates enough energy to drive a
truck 20 miles? In a lifetime, that is
equivalent to driving to the moon and back.
So when you tell someone you love them to the moon an d back, you’re
essentially saying you will love them with all the blood your heart pumps your
whole life. Pretty meaningful, huh?
PSITHURISM: is a noun meaning the sound of wind in the trees and rustling of leaves.
Courage takes on different meanings to others. I’ve known that: courage is when only you know you’re scared
(Daddy told me that when he was telling me of some of his experiences in WWII
commanding a ship at Iwo Jima in the throes of battle with a crew of “kids”
younger than his 26 years.). Or, courage
is doing what is right no matter what.
Or, “courage is the ability to control fear and to be willing to deal with something that
is dangerous, difficult, or unpleasant.”
And then there is: having a soft heart in a cruel world; that, too, is
courage, not weakness.
Forgiving is not forgetting. It’s
remembering without anger. The Bible
tells us to forgive, so I do; but, it doesn’t say a thing about not remembering
what you’re forgiving. I think
remembering the wrong done to you helps you to not get in the situation,
again. The old saying of, “Sticks and
stones will break my bones, but words will never harm me,” is a fallacy, to
me. You physically recover from the
sticks and stones which hit you, but words…oh words come back to haunt you when
you least expect them. Perhaps it’s a
sound, or smell, or sight, or feel that returns them. They come back all right.
Patience….oh how it haunts and evades me from time to time. I’m sure it’s evaded you, too. It’s a difficult feeling to get----almost
like you have to chase it. And,
sometimes when you “catch” it, you aren’t as rewarded as you thought you’d
be. It’s not just the ability to wait;
it’s the courage to endure the waiting without losing hope. Some people seem to have endless patience, or
is it perseverance? Could it be patience
in perseverance or perseverance in patience?
Have you ever looked closely at a hand-made quilt?
Some are beautiful with the colors, swirled designs of thread, and intricately
sewn pieces. Then there are the ones
that the colors are muted or faded, not real intricate and rather plain in
design. Those are the ones which have many stories in the pieces of cloth
used to make the designs. Scraps of worn out clothing, except for areas
which were tucked-in and not exposed to wear, make up a lot of these quilts.
Oh, and the old feed sacks used are treasures because feed sacks aren't made
anymore like they used to be. The feed
sacks have a charm of their own. I have thought a lot about quilts I've seen
which were made with love from clothing scraps and feed sacks. They tell
stories and coax memories for those who use them. I read an essay written
by Sean Deitrich about quilts. He was talking with an 88 year old lady
about why she still enjoys quilting. She told him, "“Oh,” she says.
“I think it’s just a woman’s way of taking ugly old things and refitting them
together to be pretty again. Sort of like God does with people.”
I was in an intense fellowship with an opponent one
day. They spewed forth all four, well maybe it was six, words in their
vocabulary. I remained calm and let them sputter. They signed-off
saying, "Oh, go to hell, and I hope you stay there!!" I gave a
side smile and retorted with, "Thank you, but I've been to Hell----Hell,
Michigan. I wish for you to stay in Georgia----Okefenokee Swamp, Georgia,
or the Everglades, Florida."
I'd gotten some sad news and was wrestling with it. I
knew one person who would listen to my feelings and comfort me with words. I knocked on the door. She opened it
wearing her usual smile and her favorite blue, flowered apron with many
pockets. "Well looky here who's come t’ visit me!" Aint
Daisy said with a smile. "Come on in, Chile. I jess got some
pies out o' the oven and they're sitting on the table. How 'bout a piece
of yer favorite?" I followed her into the kitchen, pulled out one of
the chairs, and sat down. I didn't say much, which I'm sure was a clue to
my sadness to her. "Hmmm, sounds like yer a might quiet today.
Ye wanna tell me yer trouble?" she encouraged me as I cut a slice of
cherry pie and put it on the old plate. "I'm so sorry to bring my
trouble to you, but you're the only one who will give me words which will help
me deal with this. I have a friend who is, also, my colleague at
work. I received word this morning she had suddenly passed away last
night. Her desk is across from mine. I'm having a lot of difficulty
dealing with the fact she's gone and looking at the empty chair at her
desk," I said with choked words. I told of the fun times, lengthy
talks, sharing of experiences, and laughter we had had. Aint Daisy sat
next to me listening as I cried and spoke. I stopped talking and reached
for another tissue to blot my tears. It was then she reached to touch my
hand and held it. "Chile, we all experience a loss o' someone who
has been special to us. We all wonder how to deal with the loss. I can
say a lot o' words, but ye need jess a few. Here is a word o'
comfort----FRIEND. Ye first called her yer friend. What a blessin'
that is. All yer moments together and the laughter will keep her close to
ye and give ye comfort." She became quiet, patted my hand, and
smiled. ‘More wisdom from the "Lady of the Holler".
