| Monday, October 26, 2009 |
| "Shmily" |
 My grandparents were married for over half a century, and played their own special game from the time they had met each other. The goal of their game was to write the word "shmily" in a surprise place for the other to find. They took turns leaving "shmily" around the house, and as soon as one of them discovered it, it was their turn to hide it once more.
They dragged "shmily" with their fingers through the sugar and flour containers to await whoever was preparing the next meal. They smeared it in the dew on the windows overlooking the patio where my grandma always fed us warm, homemade pudding with blue food coloring. "Shmily" was written in the steam left on the mirror after a hot shower, where it would reappear bath after bath. At one point, my grandmother even unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper to leave "shmily" on the very last sheet.
There was no end to the places "shmily" would pop up. Little notes with "shmily" scribbled hurriedly were found on dashboards and car seats, or taped to steering wheels. The notes were stuffed inside shoes and left under pillows. "Shmily" was written in the dust upon the mantel and traced in the ashes of the fireplace.
This mysterious word was as much a part of my grandparents' house as the furniture. It took me a long time before I was able to fully appreciate my grand-parents' game. Skepticism has kept me from believing in true love-one that is pure and enduring. However, I never doubted my grandparents' relationship. They had love down pat.It was more than their flirtatious little games; it was a way of life. Their relationship was based on a devotion and passionate affection which not everyone is lucky to experience. Grandma and Grandpa hold hands every chance they could. They stole kisses as they bumped into each other in their tiny kitchen.
They finished each other's sentences and shared the daily crossword puzzle and word jumble..
My grandma whispered to me about how cute my grandpa was, how handsome and old he had grown to be. She claimed that she really knew "how to pick 'em."
Before every meal they bowed their heads and gave thanks, marveling at their blessings: a wonderful family, good fortune, and each other. But there was a dark cloud in my grandparents' life: my grandmother had breast cancer. The disease had first appeared ten years earlier. As always, Grandpa was with her every step of the way. He comforted her in their yellow room, painted that way so that she could always be surrounded by sunshine, even when she was too sick to go outside. Now the cancer was again attacking her body.
With the help of a cane and my grandfather's steady hand, they went to church every morning. But my grandmother grew steadily weaker until, finally, she could not leave the house anymore. For a while, Grandpa would go to church alone, praying to God to watch over his wife.
Then one day, what we all dreaded finally happened. Grandma was gone. "Shmily." It was scrawled in yellow on the pink ribbons of my grandmother's funeral bouquet. As the crowd thinned and the last mourners turned to leave, my aunts, uncles, cousins and other family members came forward and gathered around Grandma one last time. Grandpa stepped up to my grandmother's casket and, taking a shaky breath, he began to sing to her. Through his tears and grief, the song came, a deep and throaty lullaby. Shaking with my own sorrow, I will never forget that moment. For I knew that, although I couldn't begin to fathom the depth of their love, I had been privileged to witness its unmatched beauty.
S-h-m-i-l-y: See How Much I Love You. |
Stumble It!
.......posted by Margaret @ 9:44 PM   |
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| Saturday, October 24, 2009 |
| The Obama Chicken |
 John the farmer was in the fertilized egg business. He had several hundred young layers (hens), called "pullets" and eight or ten roosters, whose job was to fertilize the eggs.
Farmer John kept records and any rooster that didn't perform went into the soup pot and was replaced. That took an awful lot of his time so he bought a set of tiny bells and attached them to his roosters. Each bell had a different tone so John could tell from a distance, which rooster was performing. Now he could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report simply by listening to the bells. The farmer's favorite rooster was B. Obama, and a very fine specimen he was, too. But on this particular morning John noticed B. Obama's bell hadn't rung at all!
John went to investigate. The other roosters were chasing pullets, bells-a-ringing. The pullets, hearing the roosters coming, would run for cover. But to Farmer John's amazement, Obama had his bell in his beak, so it couldn't ring. He'd sneak up on a pullet, do his job and walk on to the next one. John was so proud of Obama, he entered him in the Boone County Fair and Obama became an overnight sensation among the judges.
The result... The judges not only awarded Obama the No Bell Piece Prize but they also awarded him the Pulletsurprise as well. Clearly Obama was a politician in the making: who else but a politician could figure out how to win two of the most highly coveted awards on our planet by being the best at sneaking up on the populace and screwing them when they weren't paying attention? |
| Stumble It!
.......posted by Margaret @ 10:21 PM |
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| Tuesday, September 15, 2009 |
| Help Coastal Pet Rescue win $20,000!! |
 I don't usually do this, but I'm writing today to let you know about The Animal Rescue Site $100,000 Shelter & Challenge. Together with Petfinder, the Animal Rescue Site is awarding $100,000 in grants to eligible Petfinder.com member rescue organizations to help animals.
Lisa here is a wonderful friend, but also a caring, passionate and driven individual who does so much for the homeless and abused pets here in the Coastal Savannah area. Times have been rough in this economy and donations aren't up to par, and this organization can really use this extra money to put towards vet bills, spays/neuters and finding homeless pets long term loving homes and families that will love them.
You can learn more about Lisa and Coastal Pet Rescue, and all of their wonderful, selfless efforts here at www.coastalpetrescue.org If you have a few dollars to spare that would be welcomed, appreciated and wonderful...
...but we know times have been hard on so many. Especially on many of our furry friends who seem to be suffering the worst of effects of neglect and abandonment during these tough times. If you don't have a dollar to spare, could you give just 30 seconds of your time and vote for Coastal Pet Rescue in Savannah, GA for a chance to help the organization to make ends meet?
The grand prize is a $20,000 grant, and there are many other prizes. Please visit www.theanimalrescuesite.com to vote today and every day if you can. You don't have to register, and voting is free.
Thank you so much!!
A Dog's Purpose. (From the view of a 6 year old)
 Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife Lisa, and their little boy Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle.
I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn't do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.
As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience.
The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker 's family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on... Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.
The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or confusion... We sat together for a while after Belker's Death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives.
Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, ''I know why.''
Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation. It has changed the way I try and live.
He said,''People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life -- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?'' The Six-year-old continued,
''Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long.''
Live simply.
Love generously.
Care deeply.
Labels: cats, coastal pet rescue, dogs, neuter, Pet rescue, spay |
| Stumble It!
.......posted by Margaret @ 11:56 AM |
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| Monday, September 14, 2009 |
| What Have you Missed? |
 Washington, DC Metro Station on a cold January morning. A man with a violin plays six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time approx. 2 thousand people passed through the station, most of them on their way to work. After 3 minutes a middle-aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried to meet his schedule.
4 minutes later:
The violinist received his first dollar: a woman threw the money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.
6 minutes:
A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.
10 minutes:
A 3-year old boy stopped but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. Every parent, without exception, forced their children to move on quickly.
45 minutes:
The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.
1 hour:
He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.
No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin valued at $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold out a theater in Boston where the price of seats averaged $100.
Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities. The questions raised: in a commonplace environment at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?
One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:
"If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made... what else are we missing?" |
| Stumble It!
.......posted by Margaret @ 11:51 AM |
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| Saturday, September 12, 2009 |
| The Mayonnaise Jar and 2 Cups of Coffee |
 When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the 2 cups of coffee...
A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full They agreed that it was.
The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.
The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous "yes."
The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand The students laughed.
"Now," said the professor, as the laughter subsided, "
I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life.
The golf balls are the important things-your God, family, your children, your health, your friends, and your favorite passions -- things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.
The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, and your car.
The sand is everything else -- the small stuff.
If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued, "there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you.
Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal."
Take care of the golf balls first -- the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand."
One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented. The professor smiled. "I'm glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend." |
| Stumble It!
.......posted by Margaret @ 10:09 PM |
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| Friday, September 11, 2009 |
| September 11th |
 Ten years ago today, I was alone. A choice, perhaps even a selfish one, for earlier that year I had ran away with what was left of my life to Savannah, GA. Toting only a very few possessions that represented not what I had became, but only what I wished so badly to be.
As I reminisced on the year that had passed I dialed up onto AOL and asked Jeeves what had happened on September 11th during the birthday years that had passed me by. There nestled among the search engine results somewhere between the introduction of the Ford Pinto and Camp David Accords, was a misplaced resume’.
Seems Jon was hip to search engine optimization before the acronym SEO was even thought of. There in all of its glory was a condensed synopsis of a computer geek’s life. Yes, I had read it entirely but only because of my nagging curiosity on what the contents had to say or do with September 11th.
It turned out that this Jon Dude had not only the same birthday but was born on the same year. For those of you that know me, the selfish me – this was indeed a travesty. There was no way on God’s green earth that I was going to let some nerdy geekazoid get away with such a matter. I sat there in disgust imagining the stereotypical guy in plaid slacks and pocket protector perv’ing over Visual Basic and Tesla Coils and was prompted to fire him off my very first flaming email.
“Dude! You stole my birthday and I’d like to have it back!”
This began an avalanche of back and forth correspondences over the next few months that eventually landed me on a non-stop flight to Boston to attempt to forcibly wrestle my birthday back from him. Only that didn’t happen. No, for at the bottom of the terminal escalator stood not the nerd of expectation, but a tall handsome figure that made my knees give out from under me and I haven’t walked on anything but air ever since.
I’ll fast forward quickly before this mushy, Cinderella meets Prince Story ejects the sandwich that you just ate for lunch. We did spend our next and first birthday together magically as intended, but the following year we awoke to have the magic ripped from underneath us.
19 crazy men wrestled our birthday away from us and left in its place tragedy, destruction and sorrow. Every anniversary that has passed of this day reminds us to never forget and that it is improper to smile, party-on or celebrate anything. Our birthday had become bigger than us and we both must share it with the entire world.
Today, we're finally finding that it’s okay to celebrate, not the event but for the beautiful day that it is and for the people who walk within it. Somewhere there is a fireman risking his life to save a stranger, a police officer responding to a call for help and a teacher guiding a child in the right direction. Out there today is a volunteer who helps the elderly, the homeless, the poor and the abused. There is a soldier defending us, a Mommy mending a scraped knee and a person simply praying.
It is indeed a Happy Birthday for we wouldn’t have wanted to be born at any other place or time, or to have lived without such a wonderful collection of beautiful, caring people. All who represent what we have become a part of and will never forget or ever leave behind.
To you, to ALL of you who are the candle on our cake that we will never wish to blow out - God Bless. |
| Stumble It!
.......posted by Margaret @ 12:33 PM |
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| Thursday, July 23, 2009 |
| Fast Food From the God Box: Shock 'n Awe |
I was shocked, confused, bewildered
As I entered Heaven's door,
Not by the beauty of it all,
Nor the lights or its decor..
But it was the folks in Heaven
Who made me sputter and gasp--
The thieves, the liars, the sinners,
The alcoholics and the trash.
There stood the kid from seventh grade
Who swiped my lunch money twice.
Next to him was my old neighbor
Who never said anything nice.
Herb, who I always thought
Was rotting away in hell,
Was sitting pretty on cloud nine,
Looking incredibly well.
I nudged Jesus , 'What's the deal?
I would love to hear Your take.
How'd all these sinners get up here?
God must've made a mistake.
'And why's everyone so quiet,
So somber - give me a clue.'
'Hush, child,' He said, 'they're all in shock.
No one thought they'd be seeing you.'
Every saint has a PAST, every sinner a FUTURE.
 Labels: Fast Food From the God Box |
| Stumble It!
.......posted by Margaret @ 8:35 PM |
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