Letter to Dad

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Dear Dad,

You never knew a father who sat you down to give you instructions in life. You bellowed because you didn’t know how to express your love. Yet, I knew that you loved me. I would get so angry when I had to do things that the boys weren’t expected to do. My heart would boil with the unfairness of it. How naive and spoiled I was. I didn’t see the hard work you did for us. Without a college education you still rose in the ranks of your company and did your job well. We were well provided for, without a care for our daily needs. We never knew want of any necessity.

The night you held my hand in the car during a thunderstorm was so out of character, and I let you because I sensed it was a real attempt at closing the gap between us. It seemed to be your way of holding on to me so I wouldn’t grow up and away from you.

Your question on my wedding day – “are you sure you want to do this?” was your way of showing your love and concern. The practical way you enunciated “Her mother and I” filled me with tender amusement. I didn’t understand then the feelings you had for your little girl who thought she was all grown up. As a teenager I thought you were callous to mom and that I would not want a man like you for my husband. Yet, a few short years later I chose a boy/man who was like you in many ways. He is a good provider and sometimes awkward with his daughters. He likes sports and doing yard work. And, like you did, he has mellowed over the years. You and mom had over forty years together and I saw how your union was strong until the end. I saw that you were a part of each other, a whole together, one flesh. I thank God for His mercy to me.

Love,

Puncie

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Pre-PAD Poetry

memomkat

I look forward to April every year. It’s like a magical month that kickstarts my poetic creativity, thanks most especially to Robert Brower over at Writers Digest.  This week I was subbing in a middle school class that had to complete a metaphor poem. I tried my hand at a writing a few. Here’s the first one…

Tightrope

Motherhood is a tightrope walk

Between birth and death a mother balances,

shifting her weight just slightly

to accommodate the ever changing tension

Swaying on her soft shoes, she grips with all she’s got

Trying to maintain her center, she walks

high above in terror and love,

without a safety net

 

And Adam called his wife’s name Eve, because she was the mother of all living. Genesis 3:20

 

 

 

February Wisdom

“I don’t think we can ever love too much…only too little.”  – from Blue Eyes Better by Ruth Wallace-Brodeur

I’v tried to think of a time when this statement wouldn’t apply, but I just can’t. Yes, we can overindulge is many ways, but that isn’t love. We can say “love you’ at the end of every conversation, but that’s not always love; it’s often habit. Sometimes it feels as if we have loved too much when it isn’t returned, but no, if it’s real love it’s never too much.

We have a new dog in our household and it’s been a real learning experience for us all – me, the dog, the husband. We don’t know anything about her background as she was just dumped off at the shelter, but we suspect a little abuse. However, she is one, in whatever way a dog “loves”, that knows no bounds. She can never be accused of loving too little. Our last dog, Loretta, was wonderful. We had her for ten years. She was sweet and faithful as a dog can be and loved being with us and near us. But this new girl, Ruby, she needs to be right next to if not on top of us. She craves and gives the most snuggles of any dog I’ve ever had. But, for me, it’s never too much.

Keep loving – it’s never too much.

 

 

 

Monday Music #17

 

“Roll with it or get rolled over.” – Raven’s tattoo

 

I love the story behind this video and I really love the song. I am new to John Moreland, but this caused me to look up some more of his music.  Take a listen to  Slow Down Easy.  And then watch the video below. Don’t cry…

 

 

 

That’s Love

clipart panda

by clipart-panda

That’s Love

Laughing at her son’s jokes
when they aren’t really funny
and listening to his long, detailed telling
of an episode of Justice League
That’s love

Driving thirty minutes out of his way
to deliver
his wife’s forgotten cell phone
so she wouldn’t worry
That’s love

Running to the kitchen for ice
when your big brother gets hit by a ball
even though he just pinched you
an hour ago
That’s love

Buying a portable wheelchair for his wife
as a surprise
so they could visit the zoo and stroll the mall
even though he’s not a mall person
That’s love

4-25-17

 

Monday Music #12

In last week’s Monday Music #11, I introduced you (if you hadn’t heard of them before) to The Dustbowl Revival. I promised to continue down the trail I started, so here goes.  This week’s video not only features their song, Never Had to Go, but also one of my all-time favorite actors, Dick Van Dyke, along with his wife. Take a watch/listen!

This next video is of Arlene – watch until the end…

And lastly the cute wedding video…

Comfort Clothes

A few years ago, my cousin Debbie wrote a lovely piece about her trusty brown sweater. She says,

“This is my someone’s at the door, throw over your gown, warm, feel good, soft, sleep in, coffee stained (you can’t see them, thankful brown) enduring, lasting, missing one button, never fail me sweater. I keep it because it is the one thing I can trust to give me that peace of mind and comfort I need.”

This brought to mind Old Red. Old Red was an old red wool coat that belonged to my mom. Long past its prime, it hung in the closet for years. On Saturday afternoons when Dad would kick back in his recliner in the den, with a golf game on TV, he would say, “Go bring me Old Red.” I, or whichever of my brothers was closest, would go it from the closet. Dad would proceed to cover up and fall asleep. But we wouldn’t dare try to change the channel. He would stir up and bellow, “I’m watching that.” I wonder whatever became of that coat; it would have come in handy here in Alabama.

Then there were my overalls.
overalls

When I was in college at Georgia Southern, there was this great old fashioned hardware store in town where you could buy painters pants and overalls. In the mid-70s these were the fashion around campus. I wore my overalls a lot. A whole lot.  I have a picture of me in them a few years later at Clearwater Beach holding my firstborn son. I also remember that I had them on the day I rushed out of the house to take my neighbor and her son to the ER. I didn’t have time to change, just scooped up the baby and the diaper bag and flew out the door. Barefoot. I’m sure people were shaking their heads at me at the hospital, especially when I had to go into the restroom to unhook them in order to nurse my baby. Then, when I was pregnant with our second, I wore them through about my fifth month. I think I finally gave them up when they got too many holes in them.

My husband had a pair of comfort shorts. When he finally replaced them, we had a burial ceremony in the side yard. He put them in a  shoebox and dug a hole, and then we and the four kids all trooped out, very somber of course, while he said a few parting words over them. They had lived a good life and died with dignity.

I appreciate Debbie and her trusty brown sweater. Comforts clothes are akin to comfort foods. And to friends.  We need to keep them around.

I love how she ends her thoughts. Thank you, Debbie.

“People are constantly telling us we need to let go of the past and move forward. No, we don’t have to forget the past; it is a part of who we are, where we have been and where we are now. Holding on is what we call “memories” and what’s wrong with having those to fall back to?… It is the thread of life that connects us to each other and if I find it woven in a piece of clothing, I’ll hang on to it and I’ll continue to hang this sweater over me until it or I am no more.”

 

(originally published 11/15)