Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
(credit: Rex Masters, Twitter)
Good morning! Happy Monday! (Let’s try not to make that statement an oxymoron in real life.) I hope that you have a lot of good things on your experience menu, for this upcoming week. You are the chief chef. Make it delicious! If all else fails, just add garlic. It’s the cure-all for everything.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
This past weekend, my husband and I took a short flight (versus a 5.5 hour drive) to celebrate with our son as he got his “white jacket” from his medical school. In my experience, the airports are indeed crowded, the flights are full, and quite honestly, no one was being a jerk. Everyone wore their masks. Everyone was polite and patient and aware of keeping as much social distance as possible. Even when we were all boarded on to a plane headed home, and then after a stuffy, 45-minute wait on the airplane, when we were told that we would need to exit the plane because there were engine issues due to a bird strike from the previous flight, everyone, on this totally full flight, quietly took it on the chin. No one complained, not even the woman whom I overheard telling her children that their connecting flight got changed to the next day, and that they might have to spend the night in the airport. “It is what it is,” I heard her say to them.
Now luckily, they found us a new airplane almost immediately. My husband and I were just flying home, so instead of getting home mid-afternoon, we were going to arrive home in the late afternoon. No big deal. My husband and I weren’t too worked up, but there were plenty of people who were going to be missing events and connections, from conversations that I overheard. Yet, people seemed genuinely patient and understanding and “rolling with the punches.” This struck me as a new and unusual experience. When I have experienced these types of scenarios in the past, I can remember hot-headed, angry, red, vein-bursting faces screaming at the gate agents, impervious yelling, tears, and overall, just a much higher level of entitlement and “woe is me” from the crowds (maybe even sometimes from myself?!). It was noticeably different this time. Could this be a good thing that has come from this pandemic? I suppose that I could have just been flying with a particularly peaceful group of people, but part of me thinks that there is something more to my experience. Perhaps like many terrible events, this pandemic has brought to us much horror, but yet also, it has given to many of us, the gift of perspective and camaraderie. We are all in this together. We are doing our best. Despite all of the pain and hardship and negativity, we are making it through, and the things that we used to take for granted (such as flying), we are just so grateful to still be able to experience them again, even when there are blips involved. I felt quite hopeful about humanity after this experience.
And now this:
Moms, I also had a touching and heartwarming experience on this very same flight that will show you that perhaps what this child really means, in the above tweet, is that Mommy is her favorite “everything parent.” As my regular readers know, I am an ashamed, yet admitted eavesdropper. ( I think that most of us writers are – it’s part of observing life.) On the flight mentioned above, seated ahead of me, across the aisle from each other, were two attractive twenty-somethings, one male and one female, casually chatting with each other, for the first time, from what I could gather. They young man had a large scar on his arm and he told the story that he had been in a horrible car accident, that had put him into the ICU for eleven days. He had gotten the scar from the accident. People had told him to put a tattoo over it, but he said that he liked the scar. It reminded him about how fragile life really is, and how important it is to treasure life. The young woman had a similar story related to an inoperable problem with her foot that made it impossible for her to play the sport that she dearly loved. (I didn’t hear what the sport was, but it wasn’t volleyball, because he asked her if it was “volleyball” and she laughed and she said that people always ask her that because she is so tall. I was about to ask her, “Well, what sport was “taken” from you?” but then I bit my tongue, because of course, I couldn’t ask that, due to the fact that I was eavesdropping. That’s rude to interject like that, especially when you are eavesdropping.) Overall, these two young people had amazing attitudes and I was more than impressed with both of them and their lovely conversation. (and I was kind of hoping for a romantic charge between them, like in the movies, but that was not to be.) Instead, the young woman thanked the young man for a wonderful conversation and she told him how inspired she was by his story. He said, “Thank you. I really owe it all to my mom. She has given me so much encouragement and insight, all of my life.” The young woman decidedly replied, “Yes, my mom is the same way! I don’t know what I’d do without her.” And then she smiled at him, and then turned to her book, and their beautiful conversation ended.
And I sat there in my own seat, with a big smile on my face, and a glow in my heart (and a couple of tears in my eyes) because I thought to myself, there are two lovely, wise women out there who have raised two incredible, and kind, and positive people, and these moms are getting all of the credit and unabashed glory, and they don’t even know it. Sometimes, throughout the years, motherhood can feel like a “thankless job”. This I know. But moms, I heard your children’s genuine gratefulness for you, on just a random casual weekend. And I, a perfect stranger to you and to your children, felt genuinely grateful for the promising young people that you have raised to share a world with my own dear children. I deeply echo your wonderful children’s words. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” You are my favorite “everything” parent.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
I think that the blog could use another light-hearted “no horse pucky” story, so here it is:
Earlier this week, I had my annual OB/GYN appointment. (this is the point where I lose most of my guy readers – I understand) When the nurse took my blood pressure, it turns out that it was slightly elevated. Now typically, I have really good blood pressure. Once, when I was giving blood, my blood pressure was so low that the nurse taking my blood quipped, “Are you dead?” Knowing this about myself, I implored my gynecologist’s nurse to take my blood pressure on my other arm. It still came up a tad high. Now, truthfully, the nurse wasn’t all that concerned, and neither was the doctor. I wish that I could say that this indifference was the same for me. I had just drunk a bucket’s worth of coffee right before the appointment, and I admittedly, was a little nervous about my appointment, in the first place (despite being 50 years old and having given birth to four children, they still have to beg to me “scooch down a little further, come on now, just a little further” to the edge of the table, every single time). Coffee intake and “white coat syndrome” are known to cause elevated blood pressure. I know this. I have experienced this before. But still . . . .
After the appointment, I headed to the grocery store. I had tried to put my “higher than usual blood pressure” out of my mind, but the truth is, I was sitting in the meat department, staring at my phone, and “telemedicine-ing” with Dr. Google. I once had an employer who was a neurotic, blood pressure fanatic. “I can’t let myself stroke out!” she would emphatically shriek on a weekly basis, putting her hands up to her neck and sticking her tongue out of the side of her mouth (this is completely true – no horse pucky). Truth be told, standing in the grocery store, I was starting to freak out, that I was in fact, “stroking out”, with the visual of my previous boss growing exponentially in my mind. This is when I decided to calm down and to sing along with the grocery store music, and to focus my mind on the seven or eight items that I needed for dinner. I didn’t even grab a shopping cart. I just winded around the grocery store, juggling bread, and fish, and a bag of salad and few other items. Then, I passed the pharmacy department. This is when I got an “aha” moment or perhaps divine intervention, when I laid eyes on their glorious blood pressure monitoring machine.
There was a woman sitting by the machine, and there were two empty seats on the opposite side of the blood pressure monitoring machine. “Oh wow, are we still allowed to use this?” I asked the woman who was sitting by the machine and who must have been waiting for a prescription. I was concerned that Covid may have rendered the machine untouchable, but I didn’t see any yellow tape or Mr. Yuk stickers on the machine.
“I think that you can use it,” the lady by the machine said. (not that she really had any kind of authority on this, but I was happy to take her word for it.)
I was thrilled. I dumped my pile of groceries on the empty chairs on the opposite side of the machine, and I sat myself decidedly and comfortably, in the plastic throne of the blood pressure monitor. It is then that I decided to close my eyes, and I took five long, deep breaths to center myself. I put my arm in the cuff, and I put my mind in Nirvana. When I opened my eyes, I was delighted to see that my blood pressure was 117/73. It was such a gratifying, comforting relief to see those numbers on the screen. I turned to the woman waiting for her prescription and I smiled and I bragged. She nodded kindly (we both had masks on, but I am pretty sure that she was smiling and happy for me). Then I turned to the chairs, in order to grab my groceries, but alas, they were gone. The chairs were empty. No groceries. Nada.
“My groceries are gone! Where are my groceries?!” I asked the lady waiting by the machine.
“Oh yeah, a worker did come by and pick those up,” the lady said, non-chalantly.
“What?!” I looked at her astonished and perplexed. I could feel my blood pressure rising exponentially, at that very moment. But then, I decided it just wasn’t worth my health and my sanity to pursue any further conversation with this woman. I went around the store and I grabbed some more groceries. I did end up tweaking what I decided to purchase, though. I substituted a bag of chocolate chips for the fish. If I am going to stroke-out anytime soon, I want to make sure that I really enjoy every last bit of my life. My prescription for myself: More chocolate, less panic. (but wait, chocolate has caffeine in it, too, right?!)
I read this tweet yesterday:
“I like my women, like I like my cliffhangers” (Daveastated)
The comments were swirling underneath it:
“How? How do you like them?”
“And, and???”
“Deeply dissatisfying but leaves you wanting more?”
I, myself, didn’t quite get it, until I read this comment:
“I see what you did there. Clever!”
I love wordplay. I love clever people. I love that feeling of finally “getting” anything.
Happy Monday! I hope that you “get” something today.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
+ We saw a real “little horse” at a travel stop a couple of weeks ago. It really was really, really little. My Labrador retriever is bigger than the horse we saw at the truck stop. I once read that there was an emotional support horse on an airplane, and I thought to myself, at the time, that the story was total “horse pucky”, but when I was petting the horse at the travel stop, I thought, “Hmmm, that story about the horse on the airplane was probably actually true.”
+ Trip, our boisterous, one-year-old Boykin spaniel is due for his annual booster shots on Friday. Our vet is still doing the curbside service, due to Covid, where your animals go in for their health visits, without you. “Are you sure, Doctor, that I shouldn’t go in? You know Trip. He doesn’t really like anybody but us. And he does a lot of barking and snarling and posturing, to let you know it.”
My vet : “Honestly, he thinks that he needs to guard you. He thinks that this is his main job to do – to protect you. We see it with Dobermans and Rotties all of the time. He’ll do much, much better without you there.”
I thought a lot about this statement. I thought about my little 30-pound dog (with ears so big and long that he has been compared to “Dumbo”) thinking that he is a mighty ferocious guard dog. Trip, the spaniel, thinks that he is a Malinois. What good self esteem he has!! And honestly, I can see where he might not have a lot of faith in the protective powers of Ralphie (the retriever), who hides in my shower from storms, and likes to offer any Amazon delivery guy his chew toys, and Josie (the elegant collie), who barks a lot, but otherwise prefers not to get her paws dirty. Ever. (I envision me getting bludgeoned by a thief, and at the same time Ralphie offering up his best chew toy and Josie, side-stepping the blood in disgust. Thank heavens for Dumbo!) This also made me think about how many times over the years that I was told that my kids were better behaved when I wasn’t around. I suppose that it always comes back to the moms being the bad guys – even us “dog moms.” It’s always the mom’s fault. Sigh.
+We spoke to our middle son last night. Today is his first official day of medical school. He mentioned that he was feeling a little homesick. I immediately went into “the song and dance routine” that I did before any of my kids went to preschool, kindergarten, various camps, college or were subject to a babysitter . . . .
Me: “Mom and Dad are ALWAYS here for you. Day or night. We are just a phone call away. Mommy is always, always with you. And when she goes to the store, she always comes back. It’s going to be okay. . . . . . blah, blah, blah,” I blabbered on and on, without taking a breath.
Son: “Mom, mom, I do miss you guys, too. But I mostly was talking about my college town (where he has lived this past summer, and also for the last four years of his adult life) and M (his lovely girlfriend, who has been his girlfriend since he was a senior in high school, and who currently lives in their college town.)”
Me: “Hahahaha! Of course! I knew that! How are you doing with the separation?” (Sob.)
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
I love this tweet. Never has this fact been more evident than throughout this damn pandemic. Right??? Here are some of the Comments to go along with this tweet:
“Peak adulthood is realizing that your parents were just winging it, too.” -@mjonesonline
“Oddly comforting, isn’t it?” @allisonching1
“Middle age is looking around for an “adultier adult” and realize everyone else is doing the same but they’re all looking at you. Because you ARE the adultiest adult present.” @getoffmylawn585
I recently did some self-reflection on this annoying thing that I do to my kids lately. It’s not charming, or “loving mommy” of me at all. (but honestly, I don’t see myself quitting it, anytime soon) Whenever my kids (ages 17 and up) have to do something exasperating that I used to do for them, such as calling customer service lines, and then waiting in the queue for 3.8 hours, and then having to speak to someone who doesn’t seem to understand English, and then being afraid to complain about this fact because it might get them “cancelled”, I just say this, with a quirky little smirk on my face:
“Welcome to adulthood!!” (and then I do this irritating laugh)
When my kids have to pay for something ridiculous, like paying an extra fee and some taxes for a permit for something that is required for a class that they’d rather not have to take in the first place, or when they complain about having to pay for things such as “batteries that aren’t included”:
I reliably chirp, “Welcome to adulthood!!”
Talk about being forced into a club that you never really wanted to join in the first place. And then looking around and going, “Wait, these are “the adults”?!? Seriously?!?”
On our walk last night, my husband and I were having a conversation, trying to make sense of the new round of COVID variants/mask rules/vaccine requirements/infection rates/school and work plans, etc., that seem to be all new, just for this week. Detaching and listening to our conversation, I had to giggle. We were repeating “news”, “conspiracy ideas”, things that we had “heard” in grocery store lines, work mandate memo updates, rumors from friends and neighbors, things that we had read on social media, etc. All of what we were saying to each other was completely convoluted. All of it contradicted each other. All of it was overwhelming and scary and frustrating and maddening. And of course, we both said all of it, with an air of solemn, all-knowing authority.
Welcome to adulthood.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
There’s a stand-up comedian, Dusty Slay, whose catch phrase is “We’re having a good time.” He says that most comedians leave the overall atmosphere up to chance, or up to the critical opinions of others, by asking their audiences, “Are you having a good time?” Dusty decides just to manifest it. Throughout his set, he makes a point of throwing in the decisive statement, “We’re having a good time.” The way that Dusty says it sounds so reassuring and light, and it comes across like, “Chill out, man, we’re just having fun.” You can’t help but agree with him.
I’ve decided to keep Dusty’s friendly voice, with its catchy, southern twang, in the back of my mind, for times when things seem just too serious (or for when I make times too serious in my own mind, which is an unfortunate tendency of mine). I repeat to myself, “We’re having a good time.” I figure that even if it isn’t a particularly good time, I’ll at least get a giggle out of it. Like yesterday, when I was driving home from helping my youngest son move some of his stuff to a new apartment at his university, and then having to drive back home through the pouring rain, with a huge load of some of my son’s other stuff rolling around in the car, while the usual crazies on the slick highway, were weaving through 18 wheelers and oversized loads, as if it were an Olympic sport. I just repeated to myself, “We’re having a good time.” “Good times, we’re going for gold!” The statement makes me smile to myself, every time I think about it. I am sure that Dusty would be happy to let you use the phrase liberally, in your own life, too. “We’re having a good time.”
It’s Thursday. It’s summer. It’s late July. It’s hot. It’s humid. It’s bright. We’re alive. “We’re having a good time.”
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
I love baloney. There are times in life that just call for a fried baloney sandwich. Facts. I grew up in Pittsburgh, PA. There is a famous restaurant there, that puts french fries and cole slaw on top of all of their sandwiches. I would always get the fried baloney version, topped with cheese and french fries and cole slaw. Heaven on bread. (Pittsburgh also perfected/invented? the steak salad, which is a giant pile of steak, french fries and loads of cheese, on top of some lettuce. By the time you finish the toppings, you never even get to the salad part, but at least you can say that you had “a salad” for dinner.)
During our recent vacation, our wonderful pet sitter/dog trainer was kind enough to send us pictures of our fabulous fur babies, while we were away. This is her picture of Josie, our collie:
This is the picture that she sent to us of Ralphie, our yellow Dudley Labrador:
And this is the picture that she texted to us, of Trip, our Boykin spaniel who doesn’t really care for anyone but us:
“Progress, not perfection.” This is our mantra, for the rest of our week, friends. Let’s make it a good one!
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
My regular readers know that Sundays are dedicated to poetry here at the blog. On Sundays, I typically write a poem or I share a poem, written by someone else, which has moved me or delighted me. Today, I’m feeling a little silly and cheeky and I think that my poem reflects my mood. I think that poetry is perhaps the most mood reflective out all of our writing styles. You can’t keep emotion and mood out of poetry.
“Today you are you! That is truer than true! There is no one alive who is you-er than you!” – Dr. Seuss
“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose.“- Dr. Seuss
Here’s my poem for today:
Saturday Afternoon
I spent all yesterday afternoon reading magazines,
And this is the wisdom that this experience gleans:
Davy Crockett said, “Be sure you’re right and then go ahead.”
Instead of scooping ice cream, take a knife and slice it up like bread.
What are the favorite things of Dolly Parton, who calls her own personal style “glamorous trash”?
She likes to buy Pond’s cold cream, Sharpies, legal pads, and Folgers with some of her hard-earned cash.
When answering “What’s the first thing you do when you get home from a trip?”
My favorite answer was from a reader, Suzanne Nord, with this excellent quip:
“It depends. If I traveled without my family, I hug them all. If I traveled with my family, I hide from them.”
I got inspired by the writings of Rami Shapiro, my favorite rabbi,
And I put a few new, fun products on my list, to buy and to try.
I clipped out some pictures, affirmations, exercises and beautiful art.
Reading magazines will never necessarily make one brilliant and smart.
Still, reading periodicals makes for a light and pleasant afternoon.
It’s good to relax. It’s not every day, that you have to shoot for the moon.
