Friday, October 29, 2010

Every 20 Years or So - Part 1

I follow Beta Dad's blog.  He and his wife are raising twin girls. In commenting on one of his posts I had mentioned I had two sons 20 years apart.  He gave me new inspiration to ponder.  The idea was about the differences in the generations of teenagers.

When I was a teen it was the late 60's and early 70's.  The generation known as the baby boomers, but then we were called the generation of sex, drugs & rock n roll.  It's so strange to think of my life back then.  I was really into rock music; Stones, Doors, Joplin, Hendrix, Jefferson Airplane.  Wow, this is really weird.

No, I didn't go to Woodstock.  I can remember being at my sister's house in Florida and watching clips of it on the news.  I think that was the summer of 69 and I was 16.  I lived through so much of what is now considered history, probably ancient to some.

THIS WASN'T SUPPOSE TO POST NOW!!!  Computer blinked & went crazy when it came back on, so this post is still in progress.

I really hated high school.  There was this one boy who tormented me all the time.  He made my life miserable.  He just doesn't know how fortunate he is that I was a different person then.  I was so timid I wouldn't take up for myself.  Now I realize he helped make me who I am today. I may be a Christian, but I wouldn't have put up with his crap now for one second.

I think the older I get, the meaner I get and I'm really not a mean person.  It's just that I've been through so much in my life that I've decided not to put up with anything I don't want to.  For example, back this spring I was at the gas station.  I was pumping gas minding my own business and this bunch of young boys started a shouting match across the parking lot.  Seemed like two groups that were mad at each other and they were being vividly vocal and more so.

I kept thinking this is a public place, I have the right to be here & not listen to this & they're gonna stop any minute now.  Well, I had had enough!  Let me say here, when I scream, people shut up!  I told them exactly what I thought about their display and I don't think I used any nasty words except for CRAP (which seems to be my motto lately).  And I demanded an answer.  I remember screaming "Do you think this is any way to act in public?"  And I kept screaming questions like that until I started hearing some "no mams & yes mams & sorry mams".

And to top it off, there was a man sitting in a car at the next pump and he said to me, "I'm glad you told them that, they don't need to be talking that way in public."  I thought to myself, "why in the CRAP didn't YOU call them down then?"  By then I was too mad and too hoarse to say anything so I shut up.

I don't suppose this would have had the same end results, say if I had been in New York City, Miami, LA or other large city.  But this is the south, in a sparsely populated county, in a rural area where most people here have lived all there lives.  Most everybody knows everybody except us.  We're the newcomers, the outsiders, the city (LOL) folks that moved here 17 years ago!  Yeah, no you can't know what I mean.  Back when I was going regular to church, there was a family there that had moved here 20 years ago and the husband made a statement about that they were just beginning to be accepted. 

OK!THIS MAY TAKE AWHILE!!!  I had more to say than I thought I did, but I really got to go wash dishes.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Forever Young

I can remember when I was very young, I would wonder how other people felt.  How it was to be them. Looking back, that was a pretty deep thought for a child.  Problem is I still wonder.  Not to the deep extent that I did back then though.  Now my wonderment is clouded with real life, real experiences, real dreams, real disappointments.

What is interesting to me is that I've never cared what someone thought of me.  And I think most people do care what others think.  Most people put so much into making a good impression, being cool, fitting in with the crowd, etc. that they don't even know who they are.  I can't remember a time when I cared one way or another what someone thought of me.  It's always been a take it or leave it package.

I love music and right now I'm listening mostly to Contemporary Christian.  Mercy Me has a song 'Beautiful' on their new CD Mr. Lovewell.  I saw a You Tube video with Bart Millard (lead singer, husband, father) talking about what inspired him to write this song.  He talked about his children and the influences of this day and age that caused little girls especially to feel that they could never measure up to what the world expected of them, but that in God's eyes we all are beautiful; splinters & all (this is my take on his statement, but it's a 'need to see it for yourself' thing).

Though I've never given much consideration for other people's opinion about me personally, I can understand that this is an important message for all of us.  It's a reminder that even though we generally put labels on each other, God sees us all the same.  And He loves us all the same and He is ready to forgive us all the same.

I am thankful for groups like Mercy Me that are not ashamed to stand before the world and our youth to sing the message that God has given them.

It Would Be So Easy

When I mentioned to my family that I was going to start a blog, they asked what did I have to write about.  Then, almost in the same breath, my husband announced he didn't want me writing about him.  Oh but it would be so easy to write about him.  He's the reason my life borders between insanity & halarity.

Take the other week for instance.  I needed to run to town and pay a bill.  I've got to set this up though.  I'm southern so 'run' doesn't necessarily mean in the literal sense.  In this case it means 'to drive'.  The bill I needed to pay is only two blocks away so I always pay in person. 

Our driveway is on a slight incline and on a corner intersection, so when backing out you need to proceed with caution but quickly.  I don't like to change into drive until I've come to a complete stop so of course there's the brake action put into play here.  Then I have to almost immediately stop again for a stop sign.  Then there's a wide left turn, slow down for another intersection, pot hole, stop sign, turn right on major highway, then pull over & park.  Sounds a bit complicated for two blocks, but really quite simple.

OK done and I'm there getting out to pay my bill.  Only by accident do I walk around to the back of my truck and I find a surprise sitting on the bumper.  Our mail from yesterday!  And sure I know who put it there and it wasn't the postman.

Ok maybe the postman is a little to blame since he's started running later.  Caleb usually gets the mail when he comes in from school.  But since now the postman hasn't run, he comes on in the house and we get busy with stuff and forget about it.  Hence yesterday's mail, but important none the less.

I could probably write a book, but instead I turn the truck around and retrace my path and hope that if something fell off no one else got it and I see it.  Yeah it would be so easy to write about him, but I'll try real hard maybe to refrain.  Hey, I don't think he's gonna read this anyway.

I just love family.  Don't you?