I Pride Myself on Being Tolerant, but…

All of a sudden I’m finding myself battling with a lack of it. I’m beginning to think we have been too tolerant. We have been tolerant of the rights of the minority while trampling on those of the majority.

Most people in our country have some kind of spiritual belief and practice. A recent ABC poll indicated their findings that 83% of Americans are Christian. 

That is a dramatic majority.

So I don’t get it. Why is there even any consideration to the idea that we remove “In God we Trust” from our currency?

Almost all of our ancestors, at one time or another,  came to America from non-English speaking  countries.

My grandparents did not speak a word of English when they came to the land of opportunity where they could work hard and make a better life for themselves and their children. School was not taught in Dutch.

They did not expect it to be.

They came to America to become Americans. 

I’m thinking, “Of course the citizenship test should be in English.”  Part of becoming a citizen of a country should be the ability to speak the language well enough to pass the test.

Why, after over 200 years as an English speaking country would anyone even question whether or not English is the national language?

If the United States wasn’t an amazing country in the first place, then people from all over the globe would not be clamoring to get in here. They wanted to come because of who we were, and now we are bending to be something else just for them. That is backwards. 

Some will say of the Christians that they are intolerant, and I must admit that I have held that same view from time to time.

But now I believe that the Christians, people of faith and conviction, those willing to stand up to defend our freedom, the hardworking Americans, are actually the most tolerant groups in the country today. 

When I see what is going on in our government right now, I believe a little more intolerance would be serving the citizens of our country better.

Dina Dove

Basement Safety in Tornado Alley

Being as I live in Kansas, a state well publicized for its tornados, I was thrilled when I moved into my latest house. It had a basement.

We’ve had lots of tornado activity in our area over the 3 years I’ve lived here, and I’ve retreated to the basement on several occasions. However, up until this week, none had ever come so close that I heard the banging of flying building materials smacking at the house.

A couple of days ago my town was in the path of what they call a ‘straight line wind’ of almost 100 miles per hour (Hurricane force winds).  I was roused from sleep by the ferocious storm at about 6am. Soon after, the electricity went out, so I grabbed my flashlight and retreated to the safety of my basement.

NOT!

As shingles and siding were thrown against the outside of the house, for the first time, there was a real danger. And, in the event of a tornado, a REAL basement might have saved me. However, as I sat in the dark, it suddenly dawned on me that my basement is only 2 feet underground. The entrance to my home is high above the ground. When you open the door from the first floor and step down, it certainly seems like you’re descending deep into the earth. But the first floor is about 6 feet above the ground.  So, 8 feet down is actually only 2 ft. below ground.

It turns out that my basement is the perfect depth to protect the inhabitants of Lilliput. A mouse or a squirrel might be safe, but this is no kind of shelter for a person.

A creepy feeling came over me at that moment as the town outside was ravaged. I took up a spot under the stairwell and prayed for the best. Then I marveled at how a person can be totally oblivious to the real truth about a situation even though it’s been right there in front of them for years.

Well Developed, Well Nourished Lady in No Distress

Recently I went to an Allergist.

I think I must be allergic to something, being as I sometimes bloat up after eating.

(Isn’t this a lovely subject?  But keep reading, I think you’ll see the humor in it.)

Something  that  I am eating must be adversely affecting me and I can’t figure out what it is.

It can hang on for several days and then, as quickly as I gained a belly indicative of an 8 month pregnancy, it disappears overnight.

So there, the worst of this story is behind you.

The doctor did not find any allergies, so I’m still in a quandary.

Today I received his formal assessment in the mail.

Reading down the page I got to the heading,

PHYSICAL FINDINGS.

My height was in cm. I skimmed past the weight at first not realizing that it too was worth a chuckle. It was in kilograms.

(Note to all mature, healthy, renaissance women, your weight in kilograms will make you feel lighter than in your high school yearbook.)

But, I digress.

It was the next sentence that gave me my first great laugh of the day.

It stated: 

“This is a well developed, well nourished lady in no distress.” 

Isn’t that just the nicest way you have ever heard to say big boobs and an ample layer of fat distributed over the entire body?

Sheila Johnston Hensley Johnson

If you look back at the short history of my blog, you’ll see 2 other stories about Sheila. (May 7, 2008 and June 14, 2008) No one has been written about in here any more than Sheila. And now, here is the latest update on this woman who lives her life so much in the tradition of Rose, the lead character in my book. For those of you who were not following my blog then, go back and get the history. It’s a delightful story of love between a man, a woman and their friends.

Anyway, back to Sheila…

Sheila’s life has come full circle, almost. Born Sheila Johnston, she married Charlie in her twenties, making her a Hensley. After 30+ years of marriage, Charlie passed away and that was where I picked up her story in the previous posts.  Yesterday, I attended the wedding reception of the new Mr. and Mrs. Bud Johnson. And what a celebration it was.

Sheila is one of those special people who have always maintained their child-like joy and delight for life. She is never going to “act her age.” Acting our age is SO over-rated and boring anyway.

I wasn’t able to attend the wedding, because Sheila and Bud ELOPED! And I don’t mean that they just got in their car and went to Miami to get married.  They eloped in the old style you hardly ever see anymore.

1. I mean that Bud got a ladder and climbed up to her second floor window to pick up his betrothed. They both climbed down the ladder and set off on their new adventure, to be married at Laverne’s Wedding Chapel in Miami, Oklahoma.
2. Three cheers for the man of the hour, Bud Johnson, and his blushing bride, Sheila, who was born a Johnston and is now a Johnson.   Three cheers for all those who grieve their losses and find love again.

The Military, Friend or Foe?

Recently a friend of mine came home from serving in Iraq. All I did was ask him about his experience and he immediately started apologizing… just in case I was in opposition to the war. I immediately stopped him in mid-sentence. No man or woman in the military, regardless of my opinion on any conflict America may ever have, needs to apologize to me!

 

I sit in the United States of America, a free country. I have the rights of free speech, the freedom to become somebody. I walk down the streets of our nation generally feeling safe and protected by the constructs of our civilization. I’m free to practice the religion of my choice. I’m also free to hate everything about this country and shout it out loud. I’m free to sit on my butt, have kids one after another, and collect welfare my whole life, feeling sorry for myself. I’m free to succeed and free to fail.

 

And why is all this possible? This is possible because of the brave men and women from the beginning of our nation, through two world wars and even today who are willing to protect those rights and our freedoms.

 

Regardless of how we feel about any of the conflicts decided on by our leaders, thank God that there are men and women still willing to lay down their lives in service to our country. Thank God there is still patriotism in some who are willing to say “Whatever it takes.” Because of these men and women of yesterday and of today, we are free.

 

We are free because some are willing to stand, to risk their lives in service to America, even while many sit and complain. Mine is only a small stand. I’m not one taken to the bravery of the fight, but I will stand for those brave enough to do that job. And… I will bow to them as well.

 

Dina Dove

Ode to My Oldest Computer

I’m sitting here today next to my beloved old computer…thinking of retiring it. I have 3 computers right now and all of them automatically will pick up email, but they are not networked together. And…. might I add, I’m 56. If that’s not explanation enough, let me just say it simply, I Live in the Moment!

 

We’ve all heard we should live ‘in the moment’ but that’s not exactly what I’m talking about. With email coming in on all 3, it is easy to forget which one a particular note came in on. Couple that with the fact that I only travel with my laptop and… I travel a lot, I’m often hundreds of miles from that new email that was received on one of the towers. And then, which tower was it anyway or did I delete it and not remember?

 

So, you see, it would be a good idea to let the oldest one retire, reducing my frustration by 33%.  However, just the thought of it puts me in mourning. See, there is nothing special about that one. In fact it has lots of flaws. Half the time it freezes up and has to be restarted, so most of the time I use this one. But I really love the old one (I write with yearning in my heart). I know the old one. I can find my files on it. It was right there with me as I wrote and it recorded The Baglady’s Guide. We’re like partners. It’s hard to come in my office without turning it on. (That doesn’t sound right, does it?)

 

It sits at an angle from this one, so I can swivel my chair and use both at the same time, but that freeze up problem keeps me from writing anything important on it, because half way thru I could lose it all. And for me, writing is that ‘in the moment’ kind of experience that the gurus are really talking about.

 

Men with Dogs

Dog men, the ones who take their dogs everywhere and whose lives center around ‘man’s best friend’, are a special breed all their own. Before you protest, I did not enter into this philosophy without some experience in such matters.

 

Years ago, I had a boyfriend who got a husky puppy. When we broke up, I told him that if he’d given me half as much attention as that puppy, we would have had a great relationship. Every week he bought Sunny a new toy and he took the time to go on a walk and play with him every day. He never asked Sunny to pay for his own food. And, on a trip, when Sunny wanted to stop and get a cold drink or use the restroom, he didn’t tell him to hold it.

 

True, I didn’t break the door down and run out to the car and slather his face with kisses every night when he came home from work. I didn’t lay at his feet and look longingly into his eyes either. However, there were times when I tried to hold his hand and he pushed me away saying he needed space, which resulted in my hesitancy in trying again. Sunny took a different tact when he was pushed away. The dog merely calmed down for a moment and came right back at him. Most of the time he’d scratch Sunny’s head and the two of them would be buddies once again.

 

Me being the goddess I am, I expected to have position #1 and was unwilling to take the role of the third wheel while a dog monopolized my man. Sometimes it seems like women were the ones that lost out with women’s lib because men found replacements. Their Dogs!

 

Just think, in the fifties a woman did meet their man at the door with a kiss when he came home from work. There was a home cooked meal on the table. She catered to his manly need for appreciation and admiration. Maybe a dog was a better replacement. But sometimes… I still miss the fantasy of a manly man who wants to take care of me.

 

The Angels of Closed Doors

We’ve all experienced it.

 

Trying our best to make something happen and there are barriers at every turn.

First we try Plan A.

Then go at it from a different angle; Plan B.

We back up and try it again, but someone, or some thing is messing up the plan.

 

Two things can happen next.

1.      We rage against the person or thing standing in the way.

2.      We sink into the ‘why me’ syndrome

 

“Why me? Why can’t I make this work? Why is this person being mean? Why won’t my car start? Why, why, why?”

 

If you are encountering a lot of resistance in moving toward something you are wanting, you may be in the company of angels you just don’t recognize as such. The Angels of Closed Doors.

 

I’ve come to realize that there are no enemies on the way to fulfillment; only signs, angels if you will. They’re helping steer us away from the wrong path as well as toward the right one. To get on board with this idea, we must accept that we don’t always know the whole story behind a dead end. The very thing that is an aggravation could be steering you safely away from a problem yet unseen.

 

Life is not meant to be a struggle, but an adventure! Thank heaven I’m getting wiser to this truth as life goes on. When I find myself hitting road blocks at every turn in a project, it’s important to step back, take some time for reflection and offer up a thought or prayer of willingness to see the situation differently. After all, when I’m not supposed to go in a particular direction, I do want to know!

 

If the universe is all loving and God knows the deepest yearnings of our hearts, how can he help us, even protect us, if the noise in our heads is so loud that it drowns out his quiet voice?

 

The answer: The Angels of Closed Doors.

Grandma Looking at Me

My Aunt Rose Audrey is in her late 80s. She is at the time in her life when she wants to see to it that each of us gets whatever keepsakes we may want from her home.

The one thing I have always wanted, is the single photo of my grandma, just the way I remember her. It is the one that hangs in my parent’s house. Each of my aunts and uncles have a copy.

It was taken in the 60s by my mom, in front of the fiberglass curtains at our house.  Never wanting to deprive anyone of the photo, I’ve not even asked about getting one.

Aunt Rose Audrey has that picture of grandma in her living room. On a recent trip, as I was walking down the long hallway from the back porch to the kitchen, I noticed the same photo sitting on the dresser in the back bedroom and asked if I could have it.

To my delight, I was able to take it home that same day.

Now grandma’s photo sits in my living room next to the television.

She smiles the same loving smile that welcomed me all my life. 

And she smiles my Baglady’s gentle and loving smile. Because, you see, she was the inspiration for the character.

If I could have one wish for each person in the world, it would be for you to have someone like my grandma in your own life; a person who always loves you unconditionally, just as much thru all your trials as thru your accomplishments.

Fortunes without a Cookie

Isn’t that a neat title? Kind of cryptic. It makes you wonder what the blog will be about.

Surprise, surprise! The title is it. Unfortunately I have no subject to match it. I’ve got a bunch of titles for new books, too. No content, just the titles.

Writer’s block, you might ask? Maybe.

Or… maybe I’m just finally ready to let you in on my ‘quirky side’, as my sister calls it. Sonja would be so much better at telling these stories than me. So, I’ll tell a quirky story about my family instead. Because, (secret revealed) our entire family is… shall we say… unique.

We’ve always been atypical.

Imagine this.

In the 1950s our mom and dad had what seemed like, on the outside, a normal relationship; 1 car, 5 kids born in 6 years, dad worked and mom stayed home washing diapers, cooking and cleaning. 

But guess what else.  

While dad was at work, mom remodeled the house. I don’t mean that she hired it done. Mom tore down walls and rebuilt others.

She studied Uri Geller and the Roswell incident. We did experiments with small pyramids and their preserving powers. 

Mom studied the Bible and metaphysics.

Think of it, a family of 7 on a butcher’s salary. There wasn’t extra money for anything. But I don’t ever remember hearing the words, we can’t afford it.

No, we heard that “Your father is on an economy drive.”

 Same message, different energy.

Cool, huh?  

We learned to be resourceful and find ways to make money if we wanted something.

With 5 kids eating everything in sight dad did figure out how to preserve a treat just for him. He bought coconut cookies. He was the only one in the family who would eat them.

Smart dad.

So, let’s see. I actually may be able to tie this back to the title in spite of myself.  I got the cookie. And, you know… 

Without a doubt, my family has been my truest fortune.