I Wasn't Expecting That-Jamie Lawson

     In the song, that is my above title, the lyrics talk about all the beautiful things that we never give credit to.
Yes it ends on a sad note, this love story of a song, but causes you to smile and think.
     I find that this time of year, the fall/winter holidays, I have to pause and think, much more.
I think when you first here the song, your mind goes to bad things that you did not expect. Now turn that around and say the same words, about all the good things we were not expecting, and they happen.

I wasn't expecting my life long friend to die, even knowing he suffered from ALS, I dwell in La-La land, when bad things are surrounding me. What I truly wasn't expecting was he was buried by his parents, and that gave me so much comfort. I did not expect to enjoy the drive and the little town, traveling to the funeral.
I wasn't expecting a darling shop, all decorated for Christmas, and I could find some ornaments for my tree, that will forever remind me of my friend. Plus, plus, plus.

I was expecting my father to die, everyday for the past two months. What I wasn't expecting was he has survived, is in a nursing place of rehab, and there is a small light of hope.

I wasn't expecting to find joy in shopping, because I hate to shop, but the people that helped me recently were darling, helpful, young, cute, so alive and happy. It was very contagious.

I wasn't expecting November to be so warm, and I thank her.

I wasn't expecting to love my Christmas decorations, each year, after the burden to put them up, gets harder.
They are beautiful, and all in the right place, giving me a reason to be still and in awe.

While out at a movie with the hubs yesterday, I wasn't expecting the male actor, from the back, looked like My Ward. I looked over at Bill and asked him, if he thought the same way, and he did. Funny that you know your child's body, forever. I grabbed that frame in the movie and held on. No I was not expecting that. It was not so terribly sad, it was a lost feeling, but I knew what to do with it. Grief and I know each other, on first name basis. She just doesn't control me, wasn't expecting that.

Oh these months of holiday hoopla come upon us, so quickly and are over just as soon. I want to find something everyday, to be thankful for, not just at Thanksgiving. I wish to pay attention all around me, and wonder if Mary was expecting that? A baby in a manger, can not be a fun thing, the smell, hay everywhere, A husband you don't know, did she know what was going to be? God Bless her, I would have pitched a fit.
   I like the idea of the three kings bringing gifts, but no room in the Inn? Joseph would still be looking, if he were my new hubs, and we were both seeing angels!!! God Bless you Mary, I know you are supporting Planned Parent Organizations. I will set out my several nativity pieces, minus the hay! and sing loud all the Christmas songs about your boy. You are an amazing women, I salute you.

As usual I may tend to stray in my stories, but you get my main idea, even if you have to hang on for dear life!

   Expect the wonderful, all the Hark you can gather, this season of Joy, THAT, I was expecting.

          

Joy In The Morning

 Wallace Morning Bowen, Jr. died early this week. He was my friend, who had the best middle name ever.
  We all called him 'Wally'. He was a father, a brother, an uncle, a hero, a brilliant man, and to me he was just 'Wally'.
   I would say from a very early age he was competitive. Having known him since kindergarten age, we went to church together. Anderson Methodist church, on the corner, near the library. Close to The Polar Bear!!!
Maybe it was Pearl Street, not that it is important, just sometimes my mind wanders....
  In early Sunday school classes, we mainly played games, he tried to beat me at musical chairs every week!!
Later in his life, sports would consume him, and watch out people, he was going to win, or die trying. Tennis, Baseball, Football ( he was our quarterback) ( we won every game), and basketball, probably more. I think as an adult he kept up all his sports, and added running. He was competitive, even to himself.
  Our names both beginning with the letter 'B', he sat behind me in far toooo many classes, my whole life.
  We would argue over grades and anything else we could think of. In Mr. Cipolats class, on many occasions, we would fight for his attention ( we both loved history and attention!) I passed him his test paper and he had 'A' and I may have had a 'C', he would smile, and when it got quiet, I would whisper, "I had a date last night, Bowen, don't mess with me!" Then he would hit me with the pencil, we were like brother and sister all of our lives.
   The last time he spent the night at our house, in Atlanta, he could still walk, but his arms and hands were limp, and not working, so well. We had a great visit, no subject was left upturned.He would look at me, some before he spoke, like " Can I say this in front of your husband?"  I would laugh hard, " Bill married me, and all of you and our stories, Go for it!!!"
  Upon leaving, we stood outside alone, hugging for way too long. He pulled back a little, looking at me in the eye and said, " I know what you are doing, trying to remember me, my smell, my looks, take in all of me! well stop it, Let me Go!" I saw him again, at his 60th birthday party, Susan and I, got lost, but we were there loving on that boy.
         OK, you win Wally, I have to let you go. ALS took you from us, but only your body, we are left with the best.
      You will always be a worker bee, for all the right reasons.
       Thank you for the pleasure of knowing you and loving you.
       I say this for myself and all of the Class of 70, you will always be our hero.

       I end with this Mary Oliver poem. ( We sometimes forget how much you loved the arts)
                                               I go down to the shore in the morning
                                               and depending on the hour the waves
                                               are rolling in or moving out,
                                               and I say, oh, I am miserable,
                                               what shall-
                                               what should I do? And the sea says
                                                in its lovely voice:
                                               Excuse me, I have work to do.
    

Grab A Scarf

    This morning in the year 2015, France has been under attack.
    Some over or under religious fanatics, who decide to kill people.
    I can not wrap my head around it, this violence and hatred, wherever it occurs. Lifting Gods name and an automatic assault rifle, I don't get it. It matters not to me, what religion this violence is associated with, it is full blown crazy, and in Paris, damn you people.
    This city is beloved by me, and millions. I learned to wear a scarf in Paris, walk with a different gait. The city welcomed my love of black attire, and plentiful pastries. Paris is old, and broken and delicious. Cigarette smells around each corner, and people of all nationalities sit at outdoor cafes. Wine flows like water, followed by coffee, and fatigue. Baguettes in one hand, and flowers in the other. Art drips off of every surface, and history beckons you. Paris is alive, day and night, a place many wish to visit and do.
   I count myself lucky, to have spent a week or more in and around Paris.

   So on this day of grief, I remember the beauty. I walk to Jardin des Tuileries, a million times in my mind, my favorite spot. Sit around the fountain, for hours. Walk towards the Merry Go Round, just to look at it turn circles. Wrapped in a blanket some days, and an umbrella on others, I always ended up back at the Tuileries. We were there in spring, flowers were blooming, even in the melancholy gray weather, Paris was alive. People move, and move some more. So much walking, and exploring, this feeling of the past and present at each step. Many morning I sat at the church of the Tuileries, face to the sky, thanking God for such a place. I hold tight to this feeling, this morning.

    These people who have lost people, and a city surrounded by fear. I am thinking of you today. I also think about the hearts of the people who did this crime on humanity, and ache for your hatred. I don't know what causes this pain that you must have, I want it to go away. All people have to talk and figure this out, you can not take peoples lives. AND you can not take my Paris, I sit at the gardens, look up at the sky and hope against all odds for a miracle. I believe in human beings, I shall grab my scarf and be still and know. 

Remain Calm and Share Your Bananas-Anne Lamott

          I have just recently returned from the hospital circus. My sweet-ish daddy has been in sick, so sick, for going on five or six weeks. Yesterday he was moved into a place of rehab and recovery. He has a long road ahead of him, but like his doctor said, " Mr. Blackman, you have made it to 84 years, why stop now?"
   Friends and family have stepped up to the caregiver plate, with love and hard work. I have tried to remain calm and share my banana!
   I think my primary job was to be with mom, and we enjoyed ourselves. I took over daddy's chair and drove the golf cart without permission! We laughed so hard, without stopping. After last Saturday, and dad calling for Hospice, we were not sure the laughs would come. BUT in our family, we turn everything into something funny. My brothers and I have a wicked sense of humor, with no boundaries. Our goal, is to laugh much more then cry. If you ever see us crying, beware because we are about to make you laugh for hours. When we left the hospital after many difficult hours, I asked my mom, " Are we funny people?" She said, " You and your brothers, are insane!" in my world, that means extremely amusing. We really just try to out do each other, and if you happen to be in the room, sick or not, you will be a part of the circus.
   We turned, bathed him, combed his hair like Elvis, used up all the hospitals germ dispenser soap, found the crushed ice machine, feed him jello, stuck hands in yucky things, invented a new diaper, and listened to his stories that Lewis Carroll may have written! We drove, got nauseated, visited with people, made friends with housekeeping lady, goo-goo eyed a couple of doctors, and texted Emma that she needed to be up here! They were Indian and cute! T said he was member of The SlapAHo Tribe, and I think we were talking about dad's respect for Native Americans! I dropped some jello on dad's gown and he lost it! He hates sticky! I asked him if he wanted me to lick it, and he closed his eyes, and mouth! My feeding duty was over, he hollered, " Where is Mom!"
    Mom you have done everything for this man, I think it was your generation and now he wants us to be like you! We are so not like you mom, and that is OK. We love him to pieces, and expect him to feed himself! When I asked him, if he could feed himself, he said, " Yes, I can, I just don't want to!" Have mercy!
  He still has a private nurse at night to get him a cup of water! Yes, that's my dad, getting better each day.
 I promise to remain calm and share my banana, and Homer stories!
 My brothers and I, are so thankful for our parents, and for all the material they provide!!

What Do You Bring To The Table?

   Jim Parsons, Sheldon on The Big Bang, was on Inside The Actors Studio in the wee hours of the morning, so I sat with pen in hand. He is quirky and enjoyable, and left me with my thought for today.
 He was asked about his choices in his life, and this is what he said, " I am always aware of what I bring to the table." The banquet we call life, requires us to show up, and decide WHAT we are bringing to the table.
   Its November,  tables will soon be filled with the smells and tastes of Thanksgiving. Plus the chatter of friends and families, gathered together by force or good will. Some of us, will have a simple table, and others will fill several rooms. What exactly do we bring, everyday to the table?
    So here are my thoughts on the subject, during this rain soaked day.
 I bring 63 years of living on this earth.
I carry with me, the love of music, good books and art.
I have packed, school memories and friends from long ago.
My mom and dad are still at my table, although dad, being so ill, says he wants to leave us.( we support you daddy, but.....you know I will hold on tight)
The careers that I have been so lucky to have had, still bring me such knowledge, love of education and medicine will always be huge part of my life.
My husband, five kids, two g-kids, 3 daughter-in-laws, now that is a story! Having love for my humans. Mom, Momma, Uma, Bonnie, Bon-Bon, Bon Von Baroness, Bonnie Kay ( if I am in trouble), Nurse ( from worm) I love all my names, and they come with me. ( yes I have been called a few bad names, they hang onto my shoes as I walk, a part of me but under my feet!) ( Being a Bitch is not always a bad thing!!) (smarty pants, bossy, these are not bad names!!) ( I am moving them up to at least my waist, they certainly may be the napkin ring on my table!)
Love of makeup, and hair dye hitch a ride, since I was about 12!
Love of religions around the globe, History, English, you never stop learning, I love it!
I love Jesus, he is a friend of mine. I also am a Buddhist, a seeker of answers, and a receiver of many.
My table is large and long, overflowing with love, and sadness.
France sits with me often, what a grand adventure travel is.
The smell of the Ocean, and sunshine on my skin, may be hid under this sweater I have on, but its there!
I need light, and laughter.
Laughter and more laughter, fills my cup, along with Christmas Carols!!
I stroll with bad dance moves and a terrible singing voice, yet I will be the first one to climb a stage and sing with the band!!
What Do You Bring To The Table?
A thought for you today.
Be prepared for anything.
Thankful for you.
B