Flashback
I was wandering the streets of Rome trying to find a souvenir to take back for my daughter still living at home. I suddenly had a flashback to 1972 when I was not much younger than she is now. My parents had just returned from a business trip to Mexico.
They were so excited about the souvenir they had purchased for me. I anxiously watched as they carefully removed the newspaper wrapping from each delicate piece. First, the largest item, a circular unframed mirror. Then three clear s-shaped plastic clips which were fastened to the edge of the mirror and evenly spaced creating a raised platform.
As each piece appeared from the wrapping I could sense my parents’ anticipation and expectation that I was going to absolutely love this mysterious gift.
Next was a clear delicate glass swan with it’s neck straight up, mouth open. My dad placed it in the center of the glass. I was now getting the idea that this was a swan in the middle of a reflective pond. The final piece was multiple clear spaghetti like plastic strands attached at one end. That end was placed in the swan’s mouth and the loose ends spilled in every direction creating the appearance of a water fountain spraying from a glass swan.
I thought it was absolutely the ugliest thing I had ever seen. I wanted to bust out laughing it was so hideous. But I put on my best smile and exclaimed, “It’s so beautiful, thank you!”
Sometime later my nieces came for a visit and enjoyed unsupervised play throughout the house. I can’t say I was sorry when one pulled herself up on the dresser and broke my swan.
I chuckled to myself recalling this incident of nearly forty years ago. That I would think of it now when in the position of finding my own daughter a remarkable souvenir.
My daughter is artsy and likes unique things. I bought her a Murano glass pencil and eraser. The pencil looks like it is shortened from use, each end sharpened, one red and one blue. The eraser is duo-colored just like the real ones. I imagine it displayed on her bookshelf. I wonder what she will really think when she opens it.
A Dear John Letter
Dear John,
It was the sixth grade when we decided to go steady. Steady as two eleven year-old kids can go while attending different elementary schools and seeing each other what seemed an eternity’s wait – once a week at church. The relationship just didn’t work out and I never faulted you for that. I’m recalling you may have gone for Suzy or someone else and I fell for Steve.
You were into the Beatles and owned every album released in the USA. There was a British release you wanted and I was so excited to find it and get it for you on a 1972 trip to London. By then they had broken up too and Paul had developed “Wings.”
Our senior year was unforgettable. Your best friend and I dated while you dated my best friend. And then we all broke up. What you didn’t know for nearly forty years was what my best friend and I did while you and your best friend were out on a date with two California girls.
The date was a set-up by one of the girls’ cousins in town.Though we were all going “unsteady” my best friend and I were jealous and planned a late-night caper. While you and your best friend were taking those California girls to the drive-in theatre, my best friend and I decided we’d spy on you and see just how close you were sitting to those California girls. We’d certainly heard enough about California girls from The Beach Boys and how beautiful and tan they all are.
I’m sure we paid to drive in to the movie because after-all we are honest girls. We parked on another row out of sight and then sneaked up on your car. It’s a wonder we didn’t get busted for all of the giggling.
Fast forward thirty-seven years when we were back in town for an all-school reunion. We laughed until we cried over that story and a few other tales you didn’t know about. It was so good to see you and relive some great memories and create some new ones. Like, for the first time EVER we were given a senior-citizen discount
on our meal at a restaurant. We were so surprised we all roared with laughter, played it up stuffing our napkins at our neck, and took pictures capturing the entire event
including a photo of our checks for the meal.
Well, I’m thinking it’s time to say goodbye. You’ve gone away. This time it really is eternity. I’m imagining for you on your end it must be like one of those crazy class reunions. Everyone is arriving and greeting each other and you barely finish a sentence that someone else isn’t saying, “Hey…” It won’t seem like any time has passed and I’ll be there as well as your other classmates, family, and friends.
So, for now, goodbye John I’ll see you soon.
Senior Discount!
Up in Smoke: What’s Your Exit Plan?
For a week now wildfires are raging all around where I live and many parts of Texas due to one of the worst droughts in Texas history. Many homeowners were ordered to evacuate and later allowed to return, some to find a home unscathed while others lose everything.
The question is what would you or I choose to take if disaster waited? I’ve flippantly thought of it many times knowing my photos are among the top of my list. That’s as much thought as I have given it – until now. Wildfires gutted over 1300 homes in Bastrop less than an hour’s drive from my home. Still other wildfires are closer. I look at my neighbors’ yards and they look like kindling. And now, I allot this “passing thought” another pass at my conscience.
I realize I need a real plan. You need a real plan. Have you noticed when packing for a trip last-minute you forget more items than when you make a list or start packing days beforehand? What items would I gather if I have advance notice of impending disaster? What would you take?
In addition to the obvious:people and pets, there are practical, necessary items such as medications,legal documents, laptop, and back-up drive. Then costly items: jewelry and cash. What I would miss the most if destroyed are the sentimental items I
treasure.
Even if I tried I couldn’t name my favorite treasure: a photograph, Daddy’s Bible, my children’s artwork, love letters, Mother’s baby dress? The more I think about it, the longer my list. It’s a house-full, not just a few boxes.
If I only have a moment’s notice my priorities quickly change to people and pets. Forget the sentimental stuff.That’s all it is. Stuff.
This list making causes me to ponder my “exit plan.” I mean THE Exit Plan. When I die. My “stuff” gets left behind. Aside from legal documents such as a Will, my Exit Plan is guaranteed with an eternal warranty. I can take people with me by telling them about The Plan, but they must make a personal choice to accept the Exit Plan. That Plan is Jesus Christ. What’s your plan?
Anonymous Note “To Resident”
The sofa was in good condition and I wanted to give away. I could have sold it, but a new school year is beginning and I envisioned a college student needing it for a first apartment. My goal was to get it from our second-story and out of the house without petitioning my busy husband.
I knew the minute my daughter had listed the sofa and a desk on Craig’s List because our telephone began to ring non-stop. I felt like a radio station DJ who had just announced, “Free furniture to the first two callers!” The first call was for the desk. Immediately following was the winner and runners-up one and two for the sofa. Thankfully, the calls stopped as quickly as they began when the listing was removed.
In the flurry of calls I was disappointed they weren’t from needy students and reasoned there were people watch-dogging Craig’s list for free stuff they could resell. It reminded me of the people in trucks scavenging our neighborhood the night before a scheduled bulk pick-up looking for items to sell. I consoled myself that my goal was to get rid of the furniture and it was now out of my house.
Two days later I was checking the mail. Among the advertisements and bills there appeared to be a personal letter addressed “To Resident.” My initial thought, a personal twist for a solicitation to make extra money but the stationery was a little too pretty for that.” “Aha, it is a neighbor who doesn’t know me sending a letter complaining about all of the cars frequently parked down the street. I do host a lot of events.
I carefully opened it and read, “Thank you to the woman who gave me her desk. Thank you for your generosity.”
The note reminded me of the biblical story in Luke 17:11 about Jesus meeting ten men with leprosy. He instructed them to, “Go show yourselves to the priests.” Along the way they were cleansed. When one of them saw that he was healed he praised God and went back to thank Jesus.
I hope the writer of the note “To Resident” was equally blessed for showing gratitude. I know I was blessed receiving it.
