"Funny how falling feels like flying for a little while"
This line is from one of the songs in the movie "Crazy Heart", the movie that gave Jeff Bridges his first Oscar. However, I don't want to talk about the Oscars, Mr. Bridges, or the movie.
I want to talk about that line.
How true it is! Picture if you will jumping out of an airplane. You're falling through the air and you KNOW it's going to hurt when you land if you don't open your parashute...but in that time, you're soaring through the air. You MAY even be able to guide your general direction by using your arms...it feels like flying...
...until you realize that you're still just falling.
The same can be said for any bad decision you make. For a while you may feel good, maybe even in control of the situation. However, the truth of the matter is, no matter HOW good that flying may feel, you're still going to hit the ground with a resounding thud at the end of it.
The thing is, we all fall. Everyone jumps out of that airplane once in a while. Sometimes it's willingly, sometimes you may get pushed. (Funny thing is, when one is pushed, one still has the option of grabbing the doorway, but I digress). It's your reaction to the fall that makes the difference.
I am thankful that I haven't jumped out of too many airplanes. I'm also thankful that Jesus has always been my parashute for when I have.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Musical Musings
I can not remember a time in my life when music wasn't a major part of it. Since my oldest siblings were teens (or just about) when I was born, they always had records playing, or the radio. My parents also enjoyed music. I remember that on Sundays my father had control of the radio, and it would be country music. My mother was a movie and theatre nut, so whenever a musical was on TV, odds were she would have it on.
I know that the first two songs that I absolutely fell in love with were "To Sir, With Love" by Lulu, and "People/Second Hand Rose" by Barbra Streisand. I was probably around 2 or 3 when I first heard those songs; I don't remember ever not even knowing those songs.
I remember listening to a lot of Peter, Paul and Mary, and the Mamas & Papas. I remember one particular day - I believe it was my oldest sister - called me into the living room to listen to a song..."listen carefully to the very end of the song, when it starts to fade away"...and I was captivated by the carousel music at the very end of Blood, Sweat & Tears' "Spinning Wheel".
I remember constantly asking this same sister to PLEASE play "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" (by Iron Butterfly) AGAIN...the WHOLE song...the LONG version...and the pictures that would form in my head when listening to it.
I remember singing with my sisters. We learned most of the songs from "Godspell", with "By My Side" being a particular favorite of mine.
My other older sister and I would sit on the swings and sing song after song...singing and swinging..."The Boy From Ipanema" comes to mind as one.
Music has a strong effect on me. The scream at the beginning of the Beatles' "Revolution" bothered me as a small child. "Incense & Peppermints" by Strawberry Alarm Clock bothered me a little bit, but I got over that. However, to this very day, I can NOT listen to "Her Majesty" (at the end of the Beatles' "Abbey Road") and "Green Tambourine" by the Lemon Pipers...not at all. Can't explain it; it just does something to my head.
I've always loved to sing. Whether I'm any good or not is immaterial. If I know a song, I'll sing it. I sing in the shower. I sing while doing dishes. I sing while driving. I sing at church. I've been known to at least hum along with "hold" music at work.
To this very day, I get antsy if there isn't music playing, if only just in the background. I can't abide flat-out silence. Music is as much a part of my being as the air that I breathe...
...which is also a very good song.
I know that the first two songs that I absolutely fell in love with were "To Sir, With Love" by Lulu, and "People/Second Hand Rose" by Barbra Streisand. I was probably around 2 or 3 when I first heard those songs; I don't remember ever not even knowing those songs.
I remember listening to a lot of Peter, Paul and Mary, and the Mamas & Papas. I remember one particular day - I believe it was my oldest sister - called me into the living room to listen to a song..."listen carefully to the very end of the song, when it starts to fade away"...and I was captivated by the carousel music at the very end of Blood, Sweat & Tears' "Spinning Wheel".
I remember constantly asking this same sister to PLEASE play "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" (by Iron Butterfly) AGAIN...the WHOLE song...the LONG version...and the pictures that would form in my head when listening to it.
I remember singing with my sisters. We learned most of the songs from "Godspell", with "By My Side" being a particular favorite of mine.
My other older sister and I would sit on the swings and sing song after song...singing and swinging..."The Boy From Ipanema" comes to mind as one.
Music has a strong effect on me. The scream at the beginning of the Beatles' "Revolution" bothered me as a small child. "Incense & Peppermints" by Strawberry Alarm Clock bothered me a little bit, but I got over that. However, to this very day, I can NOT listen to "Her Majesty" (at the end of the Beatles' "Abbey Road") and "Green Tambourine" by the Lemon Pipers...not at all. Can't explain it; it just does something to my head.
I've always loved to sing. Whether I'm any good or not is immaterial. If I know a song, I'll sing it. I sing in the shower. I sing while doing dishes. I sing while driving. I sing at church. I've been known to at least hum along with "hold" music at work.
To this very day, I get antsy if there isn't music playing, if only just in the background. I can't abide flat-out silence. Music is as much a part of my being as the air that I breathe...
...which is also a very good song.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
How times have changed...
I remember my childhood so vividly. In the May of 1972 we moved out to the suburbs. It was just a few months before I turned 8, before my younger brother was born. Moving out to the suburbs from "the city" was pretty big for me. In our old house, we had a chain-link-fenced in, tiny yard. We were just a little off Main Street, so there was quite a bit of traffic. Also, I was very young, so my freedom was a bit lacking.
When we moved, I thought we were living in the country; I started looking for cows and chickens! Our yard - fence-less - was easily twice the size of our old yard. There were few cars driving up and down our street. I immediately befriended the couple next door, watching as they put up their log-style fence, which was easy to cut through, and played with their poodle. Behind us was a family with three boys, the youngest just born. Soon after, a family moved in on the other side with lots of kids, but the best of all were the two youngest: two girls almost my age! Taffy was 7, Karen was 6. The 3 of us became inseparable. Just down the street (I could see their home from my bedroom window) was another family with two girls, Christine (6-1/2) and Michelle (5). I had my crew!
The five of us could go anywhere and do anything. We could take our bikes to the playground, or to the little convenience store with our change and buy snacks. We could bounce back and forth and play in each others' yards. Since Taffy & Karen's yard was adjacent to mine...and no fence...we had a HUGE playing field. We had sleepovers and birthday parties and picnics. We would take long walks and just talk. I'll never forget the one time the 5 of us went - with no parents - to see the movie "Once Upon a Time". We even put on a neighborhood show once. Occasionally we were joined by others, but us 5 were the core group.
I would also fly solo. I had 2 other friends, both named Kim, whose houses were one behind the other (and they both had swimming pools). There was the beautiful and mysterious Maria, who lived just a tick down the road. Donna and Cindy (and Cindy's little sister, Michelle) lived behind me, next to and across the street from the house with 3 boys (and eventually there was a 4th; the two younger brothers became good friends with my younger brother). Karl lived across the street when I was a little older: he was a playmate during the day, but on some evenings his parents would hire me to babysit him and his younger brother, Paul.
The oddest "friend" I had was a man who lived up the hill from me. I can't remember his name, but I remember he had a dog, an old, short, fat, ugly, sweet dog named Hobo. I would go to his house frequently, sit in his living room and talk with him, and pat ol' Hobo. Sometimes we would have lemonade (I don't remember ever eating anything there). We had wonderful conversations, and he never, ever, did anything improper or untowards me.
I shudder now to think of that.
Deborah is now the age I was when I had all that freedom, and the thought makes me ill. As much as I would love to give her and Elizabeth that kind of freedom and adventure, I can't. We live in a scary age now. While I can't say that "we could leave our houses unlocked and our keys in our cars" (although we could leave are CARS unlocked), things were a LOT more innocent then. This is also a very different neighborhood, closer to the one my parents moved AWAY from. Everyone watched out for everyone else then. Nowadays, it's too much "everyone look out for yourself". There are also a lot more people out there now who ARE dangerous.
I lament the change in society, and I mourn that innocent age.
When we moved, I thought we were living in the country; I started looking for cows and chickens! Our yard - fence-less - was easily twice the size of our old yard. There were few cars driving up and down our street. I immediately befriended the couple next door, watching as they put up their log-style fence, which was easy to cut through, and played with their poodle. Behind us was a family with three boys, the youngest just born. Soon after, a family moved in on the other side with lots of kids, but the best of all were the two youngest: two girls almost my age! Taffy was 7, Karen was 6. The 3 of us became inseparable. Just down the street (I could see their home from my bedroom window) was another family with two girls, Christine (6-1/2) and Michelle (5). I had my crew!
The five of us could go anywhere and do anything. We could take our bikes to the playground, or to the little convenience store with our change and buy snacks. We could bounce back and forth and play in each others' yards. Since Taffy & Karen's yard was adjacent to mine...and no fence...we had a HUGE playing field. We had sleepovers and birthday parties and picnics. We would take long walks and just talk. I'll never forget the one time the 5 of us went - with no parents - to see the movie "Once Upon a Time". We even put on a neighborhood show once. Occasionally we were joined by others, but us 5 were the core group.
I would also fly solo. I had 2 other friends, both named Kim, whose houses were one behind the other (and they both had swimming pools). There was the beautiful and mysterious Maria, who lived just a tick down the road. Donna and Cindy (and Cindy's little sister, Michelle) lived behind me, next to and across the street from the house with 3 boys (and eventually there was a 4th; the two younger brothers became good friends with my younger brother). Karl lived across the street when I was a little older: he was a playmate during the day, but on some evenings his parents would hire me to babysit him and his younger brother, Paul.
The oddest "friend" I had was a man who lived up the hill from me. I can't remember his name, but I remember he had a dog, an old, short, fat, ugly, sweet dog named Hobo. I would go to his house frequently, sit in his living room and talk with him, and pat ol' Hobo. Sometimes we would have lemonade (I don't remember ever eating anything there). We had wonderful conversations, and he never, ever, did anything improper or untowards me.
I shudder now to think of that.
Deborah is now the age I was when I had all that freedom, and the thought makes me ill. As much as I would love to give her and Elizabeth that kind of freedom and adventure, I can't. We live in a scary age now. While I can't say that "we could leave our houses unlocked and our keys in our cars" (although we could leave are CARS unlocked), things were a LOT more innocent then. This is also a very different neighborhood, closer to the one my parents moved AWAY from. Everyone watched out for everyone else then. Nowadays, it's too much "everyone look out for yourself". There are also a lot more people out there now who ARE dangerous.
I lament the change in society, and I mourn that innocent age.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
"Mommy": it's not just a job...it's an adventure!
I have to say that I LOVE being a mother. Our two little girls mean the world to me. Sometimes I look at them and marvel that God had allowed me to be a part of their lives.
I love just about every part of being a mother. The one part I really feel that I could barely handle was potty training...and, thankfully, THAT part is LONG over. I didn't mind late-night feedings (although I blame THAT for my addiction to "Degrassi"), diapers, "NO", and (sorry for the TMI) spit-up. All those things are nothing in the light of a first smile, a tiny hand slipping into mine, little arms wrapped firmly around my neck in a nice, squeezy-hug, and - of course - "I love you, Mommy".
I am so blessed and fortunate. We haven't had to deal with any major illnesses (and precious few minor ones). Both girls have fantastic personalities, neither of them sullen or disobedient. One is quieter and extremely studious - very cerebreal - and the other is sunny and funny and outgoing. They balance each other out, and share their strengths with each other to even out the weaknesses. I also love how, since they are so close in age (2 years, 4 months), they are such good friends with each other.
I'm still at the beginning of this journey. The girls are 8 and 6 years old. Such wonderful ages; still dependent upon me for so much, but finding their wings and able to do so much on their own.
Incidentally, there are two phrases that both warm my heart and, simultaneously, strike terror into it:
"I can do it myself!"
and
"I have an idea!"
I love just about every part of being a mother. The one part I really feel that I could barely handle was potty training...and, thankfully, THAT part is LONG over. I didn't mind late-night feedings (although I blame THAT for my addiction to "Degrassi"), diapers, "NO", and (sorry for the TMI) spit-up. All those things are nothing in the light of a first smile, a tiny hand slipping into mine, little arms wrapped firmly around my neck in a nice, squeezy-hug, and - of course - "I love you, Mommy".
I am so blessed and fortunate. We haven't had to deal with any major illnesses (and precious few minor ones). Both girls have fantastic personalities, neither of them sullen or disobedient. One is quieter and extremely studious - very cerebreal - and the other is sunny and funny and outgoing. They balance each other out, and share their strengths with each other to even out the weaknesses. I also love how, since they are so close in age (2 years, 4 months), they are such good friends with each other.
I'm still at the beginning of this journey. The girls are 8 and 6 years old. Such wonderful ages; still dependent upon me for so much, but finding their wings and able to do so much on their own.
Incidentally, there are two phrases that both warm my heart and, simultaneously, strike terror into it:
"I can do it myself!"
and
"I have an idea!"
Friday, March 4, 2011
I can't believe I'm doing this...
OK, here I go...
I've never done anything like this before. OK, I lied; I used to write in a diary as a young girl - from age 10 all the way to around the time I turned 18. I "jotted" and "twittled" bits and pieces here and there after that.
I'd always loved the concept of keeping a journal, diary, whatever, but time has never been on my side for a formal one.
I had written a lot to friends back in my Digital days; a lot of it was rather diary-like. Lately I'd taken to posting important things in a topic (similarly titled) in a forum that I help to moderate. I'm hoping this will give me the convenience, inspiration and motivation to write some more.
I love to write. Actually, I love to type. I'm not sure what I will say, but I'll try to keep my thoughts inspiring and entertaining. What will I write about? I don't know that yet. Memories, events, thoughts, whatever strikes my fancy. A lot of it might not make much sense (like this particular one is gearing towards), but this is really for me. If anyone else gets anything out of it, bonus!
So here I go...into the fray...
I've never done anything like this before. OK, I lied; I used to write in a diary as a young girl - from age 10 all the way to around the time I turned 18. I "jotted" and "twittled" bits and pieces here and there after that.
I'd always loved the concept of keeping a journal, diary, whatever, but time has never been on my side for a formal one.
I had written a lot to friends back in my Digital days; a lot of it was rather diary-like. Lately I'd taken to posting important things in a topic (similarly titled) in a forum that I help to moderate. I'm hoping this will give me the convenience, inspiration and motivation to write some more.
I love to write. Actually, I love to type. I'm not sure what I will say, but I'll try to keep my thoughts inspiring and entertaining. What will I write about? I don't know that yet. Memories, events, thoughts, whatever strikes my fancy. A lot of it might not make much sense (like this particular one is gearing towards), but this is really for me. If anyone else gets anything out of it, bonus!
So here I go...into the fray...
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