Tag Archives: Cat Selman

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The Flight Leaves WHEN??

Most of you know that traveling is basically a “way of life” for me. When people hear that you get to travel a lot, their eyes light up, a smile comes on their face, and they say some of the following….”Gosh, you are so lucky!” “Oh, that sounds wonderful!” “Oh, I wish I could travel!” I know they mean well, and I am sure in their minds, they are thinking of “vacation” travel to exotic, luxurious places. However, “that” vacation spot is usually not where I am headed….

I started traveling as part of my work in 1975. For the first part of my career, I think I probably drove every main and back road in the states of Mississippi, Louisiana and Tennessee…MORE than one time….in fact, so many times that I could have almost done it blindfolded! And then my territory got larger and I had to begin flying almost every week. I usually flew out on a Monday, and returned home either late Thursday evening, or Friday. By most Tuesdays, I had already been to at least 3 different states. And yes, travel used to be fun! However, nowadays, I look at flying as simply the quickest way to get from point “A” to point “B.”

Currently, I usually have to get up at the crack of dawn, drive to the airport, strip for security, get redressed, and run to the gate, only to learn that my flight has either been delayed or cancelled…all of which is going to significantly impact the rest of my day’s flights. In the past, those type of issues would stress me beyond belief, and truly affected my health and attitude.

Whether I have finally aged gracefully, with infinite wisdom, or have just finally realized what’s important or not, I don’t know. I DO know, however, that it takes more than a delayed or cancelled flight to ruin my day! I have learned to simply “enjoy the life you are given,” and make the most of it. For example, I am fortunate to do a good amount of work for an association in North Dakota. One problem though…..the flight from Bismarck LEAVES at 5:00a.m. in the morning. Have you figured out yet, what time that means I have to be at the airport??? That’s right….at the very latest….4a.m. So, now….what time do you think I get up?!?! But here is what I have been so fortunate to see by being up that early….I’ve gotten to see snow actually coming out of the clouds as I was passing through them…I’ve seen the most amazing sunrises…so beautiful and wondrous that they simply leave you breathless! I’ve seen natures’s firework show in a distant thunderhead that would have rivaled any Disney production. I would have missed all of this, and much, much more, if I stressed about the time and the flying.

I think we each have a choice as to how we allow “uncontrollable” variables to affect our daily lives. See, if I had grumped and complained about that early flight, I am certain that I would have missed those beautiful opportunities to see God’s wonder and creation. I think I will continue to relax, stop complaining, and make certain I don’t miss any of those simple, day to day pleasures. Won’t you join me? Just for this week…

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My Mother, the mad scientist….

Wow! It has been quite a busy few weeks for me. It’s “fall conference” time, and luckily for me, that means a lot of speaking engagements…and a lot of travel. I have been from Kentucky to North Dakota to West Virginia, and will be leaving this week for Minnesota. I usually just “hang on” and ride the schedule through…It’s hard, but immeasurably satisfying! When traveling, one usually spends a great deal of time either running through the airports at a breakneck speed, OR sitting hour after hour waiting for: 1) the next plane to arrive; 2) plane repairs from mechanical issues; 3) the flight crew to “show up,” 4) lightning strikes, and 5) re-routing and rebooking the original flights due to items 1-4. There is quite a bit of time for one to “ponder.” This week I remembered a humorous incident that involved my Mother…

My Mother and I got to share a number of experiences as mother/daughter. A very unexpected, and pleasurable, experience came about when my Mother started to work as an Activity Director in a nursing home. I ended up being her Activity Consultant for a period of time.  This meant that I actually trained and taught her how to do the job correctly. It was so much fun, and she was a WONDERFUL Activity Director. One never has to go far to figure out where I got the creativity, enthusiasm, and commitment for my work. The apple definitely did not fall far from the tree…She was one of the most innovative, creative, and unique persons that I have ever known.

One evening I got a phone call from her, and she was just beside herself with excitement. Easter was just around the corner, and she shared that she had done something that was going to surprise all of her residents. Earlier I had shared a neat activity idea with her – getting a small incubator from the local co-op to hatch some eggs. The residents would be so excited to nurture, turn the eggs, and be responsible for the successful “hatching” of little Easter biddies. Of course, Mama being Mama, she just could not bring herself to “do it straight.” She started the conversation by saying that her residents were going to be especially surprised when the eggs hatched, because the biddies were going to be all different colors…not just yellow! She proceeded to tell me “the rest of the story…” She had coerced a local dentist into letting her borrow a drill. She had drilled a tiny hole into each egg, and had added a drop of food coloring into each one. As she was describing the details, all I could think of was that she was going to end up with little “mutant” biddies…and the residents would just be horrified! I could just picture a  “circus act”….two-headed chicken…one-winged marvel…little biddies running into the walls continuously…or running in circles…or psychedelic freaks…You get the picture! None of the images in my head were success stories. I tried to dissuade her…to get her to replace the ones she had drilled with “normal” eggs. She laughed and said that I worried too much, that it would all be good!! The residents took their jobs very seriously, turned the eggs at the specified times, and looked forward to the “births” with great anticipation!

I happened to be visiting my folks at home when she got the call from the residents. “The babies are hatching! The babies are hatching! And they are ALL different colors!” We all jumped into the car and rushed down to the facility. Sure enough, the biddies had all hatched right on schedule…AND, they were all different, and vibrant colors! There were a couple who were “marginal,” with psychedelic colors, but for the most part, they had turned out exactly how Mother intended. And, oh my, the residents were thrilled beyond words! They would not have been prouder, had the biddies been real, live children.

I think of this story often, and it always brings a chuckle, along with the satisfaction of a mutually shared experience with my Mama. She is the one who taught me to ask, “Why not?” – one of my most favorite questions in life! Too often we miss chances (and opportunities for success) by going with the average or norm. Why not try something different? Why not be different yourself? Why not be brave and courageous and carve your own path in life?  Simply…WHY NOT??? That’s what I am going to do! Won’t you join me? Just for this week….

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Arghh!!!! I Have Monkey Lips!!!

Today is the first day of Autumn! This particular season used to affect my mood in a negative way…I got all melancholy, nostalgic, and a little depressed when I saw the summer’s end. Now, however, Autumn is one of my favorite times of the year. I love feeling the brisk “nip” to the air and seeing all of the beautiful leaves turn into such vivid colors that no photo can ever do them justice. This time of year also holds such fun and sweet memories of the State Fair…

Years ago, my uncle and I worked with the youth in our church. We were always getting the kids together for fun events and wonderful, Christian fellowship. I think the kids loved us a little extra because we did not act like “adults.” I would like to think that we made a positive impression on their young lives; and actually prevented some from choosing a life of hardships and mistakes. 

Each year, when the State Fair came to town, we would plan a night to take all the kids for fun, food, and rides. As was the usual routine, we entered the fairgrounds and began to walk around to determine the night’s schedule – what we wanted to ride, side attractions we wanted to see, and of course strategically planning out all of the food stops. As we were walking, we came across an organ grinder who had the cutest little monkey, dressed in a red coat and a little red hat. The little monkey would dance around, and then “work the crowd” for handouts and tips. He would come up to you, remove his hat, and hold it out for the money. If you gave a dollar, the monkey would shake your hand. For $5, you could actually hold the little fella. Well….animal lover that I am, and the monkey being as cute as he was, I certainly wanted to hold him!! The church kids were egging me on to do so. I pulled the $5 out of my pocket, and waited for the organ grinder to see me. I was SO EXCITED!! That monkey was one of the cutest little animals I had ever seen.

His handler took my money, showed me how to hold the monkey, and then handed him over to me. I had no sooner gotten him in my arms, when that monkey wrapped his arms around my neck and gave me the biggest ole’ kiss right on my lips. I’m thinking, Arghh! I have monkey lips!!! I was so surprised, and the monkey was looking around at everyone grinning from ear to ear.  (Don’t ask me how I knew he was grinning…you would have had to see him…but he WAS grinning!) Everyone found my situation very humorous, and our church youth were beyond reason with laughter! Well, apparently, this was not standard behavior for the monkey. The handler was frantic and came over immediately to get the monkey. That’s when we ran into problems. When the monkey saw the handler coming over, he gripped my neck with both arms, and would NOT let go! By this time, a huge crowd had gathered to watch the antics. I’m not sure whether they thought I was part of the act or not, but they sure got a free show that night! The harder the man attempted to remove the monkey, the stronger and tighter those little hairy arms got. The monkey’s cute face was right next to mine, and he was hanging on for dear life. I suddenly began to notice a few things that I had not paid attention to earlier…his teeth did not seem so small when they were about an inch from my face. In fact, it seemed his teeth were growing longer and longer by the minute. I was standing there thinking, this little monkey really likes you! And I was not certain that I should be pleased with this knowledge, or a little concerned that a wild animal had taken a liking to me…Finally the handler was able to pry the monkey’s fingers and arms from around my neck, and was able to get him back under control. I bowed graciously for the audience (who was hooping, cheering and applauding) and made my way back to our group, who could not contain themselves!

I find, that in life, people make choices without giving much forethought to the end result of their decisions. I don’t think people truly “think things through.” They make decisions, even huge, life decisions without considering all the possible outcomes, both positive and negative. You see, I made a decision to hold a monkey for $5. It never crossed my mind to consider what might happen, once I had the monkey in my arms. I had just looked at the first immediate outcome, and that’s all I saw. But, my actions precipitated a series of events that could have caused me or others harm. The story is certainly good for a laugh, but I think the moral of the story is better. When decisions or choices need to be made, I am more careful now. I ask the “what ifs?” I try to determine if there are more than one possible outcome. I try to look at every possible scenario…and I follow the decision all the way through BEFORE I act. It doesn’t make me any less adventuresome, but I would hope that it makes me a little wiser. And so far, I have only been kissed by one monkey….I’m going to continue to THINK before I ACT! Won’t you join me? Just for this week…

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You’ve got WHAT in your pants??!!

WOW!! It’s the middle of September! Autumn is about to descend upon us…and then winter will be here before you know it! Every year, around this time, a national “tradition” begins…FOOTBALL! So…I thought it would be more than appropriate to share a football story…

Most of you know that I have lived much of my life in Mississippi. You probably also know that we do not have a professional football team in the state. Years ago, someone made arrangements to bring in two professional teams for an exhibition game…the Buffalo Bills and another team, whose name escapes me at the moment. (You can tell how important this was to me…it is “telling” that I can’t recall the name of the other team…) Anyway, I, and a couple of good friends, decided that we wanted to go to the game. Just as an aside, you should know that our standard modus operandi for football or baseball games was to “eat our way” through all available snacks/refreshments, and then leave!

As this was a “pro” game, we felt that it was absolutely necessary to stay for all of it! A huge event for our state, the game was booked solid, with thousands attending. As we were sitting there in the stadium, enjoying the game, I could not get comfortable. It was “body to body,” and I kept thinking that “something” was crawling on my legs. My friends kept “humoring” me, giving assurance that they could not see anything crawling around my feet or legs.

When the game was over, we all stood up to leave. As soon as I took one step, I knew something was wrong…I felt a sharp stab on my thigh. I stopped and jiggled my leg around, found nothing, so we continued walking down the bleachers. Then I felt the sharp stab again, and again. I saw a little bump under my jeans and realized that a bee or wasp had crawled up my leg, and was now stinging the fire out of my thigh! I didn’t know what to do. As long as I stayed still, I did not get stung; but the minute I moved, the little rascal would sting me. My friends had been walking just a little ahead of me and had no idea of my dilemma. I cupped my hand and placed it over the bee (who was having a great time under my jean leg….), in an effort to keep it contained, and made my way up to my friends. One look at my face and they knew something was wrong. I shouted, “There’s a bee in my pants!” They both burst out laughing! I told them that I was going to have to get it out, but that I could not let go of it, or it would sting me even more. So they asked, “how are you going to get it?”  I replied, “I’ve got to take my pants off!”  Of course, their response was that I could not possibly do that, out in the middle of the stadium bleachers, with literally thousands of people milling about. I convinced them that if they got on either side of me, and held their jackets “just so,” I could do it. It took a little coaxing on my part, but I eventually convinced them that taking off my pants was the only solution. So there, in the middle of thousands of people, I cautiously pulled my pants down and got the little bugger  off my leg. Not one person noticed! AND I did not get arrested for indecent exposure…

Some times, when people are in trouble, and need our help, we don’t always respond as quickly as we should because we can’t see their plight. Maybe we simply need to trust their words, and provide immediate assistance or support to prevent additional harm. I am going to start listening closer, and responding faster to those who might need “to take their pants off.” Won’t you join me? Just for this week…

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Are YOU talking to ME????

Throughout my career, I have had the pleasure of going to every state within the United States, with the exception of Alaska (on the bucket list…). Within each state I have found wonderful, caring people, who have been supportive and loving throughout the years. I have NEVER met anyone, from any part of the country, that “fit” a TV stereotype. I think that most people are inherently good and honest, and will treat you, and respond to you, in a like manner if you extend your own warmth and hospitality. However, I do have some stories…

We were traveling around the country on business in our motor home. We were in one of the states that won’t allow you to fill your own gas tank. You must wait in line, the attendant will motion when they are ready for you, you pull up, and they will fill your tank. We had been driving for quite a while, and as we were motioned up to our “spot,” I got out to stretch my legs and talk with the female attendant. As we were talking, a couple in a convertible BMW whipped out of line, went ahead of several other cars, and pulled into the spot right in front of our motor home. As they did this, the attendant said something under her breath very derogatory about the persons in the car, and their actions. The female passenger in the car heard the comments, and thought I had said them. She almost did not wait for the car to stop…she hopped out with a look of pure hatred and anger on her face…and strode right up in front of me. She did not even give me a chance to say hello or any other type of greeting. She began “cussing” me up one side and down the other. As I stood there listening to her ranting and raving, I began to get angry myself, and thought, “just who does she think she is?” and “I did not do or say anything…” So as she was ranting and raving, I realized I had a choice. I could get caught up in her anger and negativity, and let it ruin the rest of the trip for me, OR I could have a little fun with the situation. 

When she got through with her tirade, I looked at her kinda perplexed and went into my “dumb Southerner routine….” (You already know I have a southern drawl, but did you know I can ACCENTUATE that particular “asset” when necessary?) I looked at her for a moment and said, “Ma’am, Ah am soooo sorry, but Ah dint quite ketch whut you sed. Cud you tell me agin so I can get it?” She was so startled that she began repeating everything again!! She was so upset, spittle was spewing forth from her mouth! When she got through with the second tirade, I scratched my head, a little like Forrest Gump, and said, “Ma’am, Ah don’t mean to be stoopid, but Ah still dint get everthin you sed. If youns would tell me one more time, I promise to concentrate really hard and try to get what your sayin.” She threw up her hands and walked off! As she walked off, under my breath, I said, “Got cha’!” It has been a good story and a lot of laughs throughout the years.

Every day we make choices about how we will act or respond to others. Some times they get the best of us, and drag us down to their level. Other times we take the higher road and choose not to let the other person impact our day negatively. Understand this, you are ALWAYS in control of your reactions and responses. You are the only person making the choice. I don’t know about you, but I will NOT be driven to make choices that are not my own. My actions will NOT be determined by another person…that will ALWAYS be up to me! I think I will continue to take the “high road.” I will sleep better each night, and I will always have something to laugh about. Won’t you join me? Just for this week….

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The Third Floor Georgia Hall Gang…

Last year at this time I was in Nashville, TN, getting together with my “old gang” from college. There were eight of us who lived in one dorm, Georgia Hall, at Trevecca Nazarene University. We were known as the “Third Floor Georgia Hall Gang.” We have kept in touch all of these years, getting together every now and then to “catch up,” and maintain our lifelong friendships. Since most of us were the same age, we had decided that when we all turned 60, we would meet and celebrate together. Although one of the gang could not make it, the rest cleared their schedules and met in Nashville a year ago this weekend. We realized that it had been 15 years since all of us had gotten together as a group!

This group of ladies is so close that when we get together, it is as if we have never been separated. The conversation flows, and of course, the laughter is absolutely unstoppable. These are the friends that I grew up with. These are the friends who shared the same faith, values, and beliefs as mine. The weekend together was wonderful! We learned of accomplishments, births, deaths, tragedies and hardships. We looked at photos, past and recent. We shared stories of wonder and heartache, and some that were even a little “bizarre!” It was a wonderful weekend, and we did not want to leave. We’ve done a little better this year with keeping in touch. These ladies will never know the depth of my love and feelings for their friendships.

Friends that we made years ago cannot be replaced or matched. They are precious treasures and hold a place in our hearts that no one else can fill. As you get older, it seems more difficult to make friends. New friends, although wonderful, don’t share your history; they don’t know you “from when.” How long has it been since you talked with an old friend? Do they know how you feel about them? Have you simply lost touch? Could it be that they might really need to hear from you, just at this very moment? Could it be that they might need encouragement, and it would be more meaningful, coming from you? And maybe, just maybe, could it be that they might need “just to hear your voice…?” I think I am going to call a different “old” friend each day, just to say hello and see how they’re doing. Won’t you join me? Just for this week…

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No, HERE’S What We Are Going To Do, “Mister” Policeman…

I will need to make a disclaimer for this week’s story. I have good friends who are policemen/women, and they are good, honest, caring, and the kind of honorable professionals who would truly give their lives to protect you. This story is NOT about them and should not be considered as my opinion of this particular profession.

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I DID NOT WANT HIM!! I was doing just fine being the baby girl, and then, suddenly, one day, they brought him home. They tell me that I went out to the carport, sat on the steps, placed my head on my arms, and sobbed my little heart out. At least that’s what I did until Grandma came out, scooped me up in her lap and arms, and whispered the words that I so badly needed to hear…”You can be my baby…” And that was that! My world was fixed for the moment. Of course, I was still going to have to deal with him…

As you can tell by the expression on my face in the photo, my feelings for the little fella changed…I grew to adore him. He ended up being “my baby,” and I have loved him all of his life. I am his fierce protector and friend…ALWAYS looking out for him and taking care of him….no matter how old he gets…and tomorrow is his birthday. He is four years younger than me, and do we have stories…

As most of you know, my Father was a minister, which made us four children “preacher’s kids.” Out of the four of us, my brother was the only one that rebelled against everything that he was taught. From the period of high school to early adulthood, he was into everything…especially alcohol and drugs. My parents tried everything within their power to help, guide, and attempt to get him to realize that he had a huge problem. After one too many incidents and car accidents, my Mother told him, “No more! If you are involved in any other type of altercation or accident, do NOT call me of your father. We won’t be coming to help you!” We knew they meant it! I tried to help him with everything that was in me, but it fell on deaf ears. I tried to get him to understand that there would be no “next time” with Mother and Daddy. I could not, for the life of me, understand how this precious child/young man, who I loved more than life itself, had gotten so messed up.

I happened to be home visiting with my folks on this particular weekend. My brother left for a night of partying with his friends. At 1:00a.m. Mother got the call from the hospital…my brother had just wrapped his car around a telephone pole, right at the entrance of our little town’s hospital. In fact, the hospital was using emergency generators, as his wreck had knocked out their electrical power. I found out later that the emergency room staff had been listening to the police chase on their radios before the accident occurred. Mother came to my room and woke me up with the news. She said, “I’m not going to the hospital. I told him that if he did not straighten up, I would not come the next time.” She was crying as she spoke the words. I was shocked, even though I knew it was the right decision, and she and Daddy had to stand firm. So I got dressed as quickly as I could, and dashed out to the hospital.

I got to the hospital and they let me in to see him as soon as I arrived. Fortunately, he only had a few cuts and bruises. God had spared his life one more time. He was crying for Mother, and I explained that she would not be coming. He cried harder, repentant and asking forgiveness…with both of us knowing that he would not change…At that moment, one of the policemen, who had been chasing him (quite a few times…not just this particular night) asked to see me outside. We stepped out into the darkness at the entrance of the emergency room. He brought out a little white bag of cocaine and said, “We found this in your brother’s car. I’m going to have to arrest him.” In that moment, I remembered that little baby boy being brought home, all of our loving times together, and now this policeman was telling me that he was going to prison. I then did something unexpected. I looked at that cop, and said, “NO! You are NOT going to arrest my brother! You are going to let me take him, away from this town, and you will never see him again!” He said, “You know I cannot do that. I have to take him in!” And I said, “If you arrest my brother, I will tell your wife (a friend of mine) about the affair you are having with…(and I spoke the name of the young lady with whom he was involved).” He knew I was speaking the truth, and that I would not hesitate to follow through. My heart was beating a mile a minute as I waited for his answer. He slowly put the bag of cocaine back in this jacket, and said, “Get him out of here!” I did!!

And as they say….the rest is history…I did take him away from that little small town, and he did live with me for a number of years afterwards. There were “slip-ups”…I would find the occasional bag of marijuana…he had my car impounded while I was away on a business trip…but the end result was what I was hoping and praying for. He ended up getting his life together. I got to introduce him to the lady who became his wife. Together, they have been ministers for most of their lives. A happy ending after all…He will never know the number of prayers that were whispered for him by literally hundreds of people…CONSTANTLY! He was given that “second chance,” and has worked hard to “make it count.”

Don’t ever say “never.” If you had asked me beforehand, if I would ever blackmail a policeman, I would have thought that you were out of your mind…preposterous! However, in that moment, realizing the ramifications of my brother’s choices, and how those choices were going to impact his future, I acted in the only way that I could…The only way that my heart and love would allow. (And just for the record, I found out about 10 years ago that my brother did NOT have any cocaine in his car, or on his person, that night. He had every other kind of drug, but not cocaine. It was a setup!) My message for this week is this: keep having hope and believing in miracles. Don’t ever give up! Remember, someone, somewhere is whispering your name in prayer…Won’t you join me? Just for this week….

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Come on out, Wolf!

A while back, we lived for a year at the top of a mountain near the Smokies. It was absolutely gorgeous! The swing on the porch faced those magnificent mountains, and there was a “drop-dead, take your breath away” sunrise and sunset every day! A friend of mine lived in her own little chalet, one mile down the mountain from our home. That sets the scene, now to the story…

The mountain where we lived was fairly remote, and most of the people who lived there, had been born in the area…really good people, and certainly what you would refer to as “mountain people.” They either liked you, or not…NO in between. Fortunately, for us, we fell into the first category. Strangers would drive out from the various towns around us and do the unthinkable…drop off unwanted puppies and cats, leaving them to fend for themselves against the elements of nature and the wild. Most of us on the mountain would either adopt the ones we found, or try to find good homes for them elsewhere.

My friend “down the mountain” had as soft of a heart as I did, so when this “part hound dog/part wolf/part German Shepard pup started hanging around her house, she took him in. She named him “Wolf!” He was the sweetest dog you would ever meet. He finally grew  into his paws and was a massive sight to behold!

One night Wolf got into a fight with some other animal on the mountain, and received a severe scratch to one of his eyes. His “Mama” rushed him to the vet, had him cared for, and returned to the mountain with instructions to clean and apply drops to the injured eye twice a day…otherwise, Wolf would lose vision in that eye. Not a problem for my friend; however, she could not do it by herself, he was too big to manage. Enter, the friends from up the mountain…namely, me…I would go down twice a day, and help my buddy hold Wolf, while she applied the drops.

She had to go out of town a few days on a business trip, and asked if I would go down and apply Wolf’s eye drops while she was gone. Of course, I said “Yes!” I “coerced” a friend into helping me. We were successful the first few times, but Wolf quickly caught on to what our arrival meant…

On this particular night, Wolf ran upstairs to one of the bedrooms. I followed him in the dark and was trying to coax him from under the bed. I was down on my hands and knees, talking ever so sweetly, when my “helper” came up behind me and asked, “Cat, what ARE you doing?” I said, “I am TRYING to get Wolf out from under the bed so we can put the drops in his eye.” She said, “You don’t say…” and flipped the light switch on. Standing directly behind her was Wolf! I quickly turned back around to see “who” or “what” I had been trying to coax from under the bed….and there before me was the cutest little rocking horse that I had ever seen. I had just spent the last ten minutes trying to talk a rocking horse into coming out from under the bed! We were laughing so hard, that we almost never got the eye drops in.

Sometimes we think we are doing “exactly the right thing,” when in reality, we don’t have a clue! I was so busy taking care of Wolf, that it never crossed my mind that he was not even in the room. I was not paying attention to any of the “signs,” because I was SO convinced that he was in the room. People give us “signs” everyday and we ignore the messages…continuing to see things “our” way, or the way we “think” it should be. I’m going to start paying more attention to those signals…and I think I will stop talking to rocking horses under beds…Won’t you join me? Just for this week….

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You stole something from someone???

Hope everyone has had an excellent week! I cannot believe we are in August already. WHERE did the summer go? School is upon us, so I thought another “going to school” story would be in order…

I have twin sisters who are three years older than me (something I like to remind them of on occasion…). Being older meant they got to go to school before me. They would come home each afternoon telling me of all the activities, events, and fun times they were having. I just could NOT wait until I was old enough to go to school. I pictured myself sitting in a little desk, learning how to write, add and subtract, having such fun at recess, and making a lot of new friends. The day finally came around and my dream came true…I was going to school! For some reason, however, it just did not turn out as I had planned. I got THREE zeros (out of a possible score of 100), AND I got a spanking on the first day! You won’t be able to guess what it was for….OK, I’ll tell you…TALKING!!

We were in our little reading circle, and the teacher was called out of the room for a moment. Before she left, she told us to remain quiet (which I guess is the meaning of “not talking”). Of course, as soon as she vacated the room, I could not possibly have sat there and kept my mouth shut. (Those of you who know me personally, know this to be true…) I started talking, and as a result, all of us in the reading circle were talking when the teacher returned. She simply went over, got her little paddle, and “made the circle,” lightly tapping each of our legs. I was devastated! However, I learned a valuable lesson that day: you don’t talk when the teacher leaves the room and has told you NOT to talk. As an aside, I will tell you that throughout my school years, I had to write the sentence, “I will not talk in class.” about a zillion times…And by the way, I ended up having the teacher, Ms. Bertie, for first and second grade, and loved her so much that we kept in contact till her death (and she lived to be 90+). She taught me more than I can convey, but that is not really the story for this week. It is just the “lead in.”

My family was poor. We never lacked food or clothing, or any other item that was a “necessity,” however, there was never any money left for “frivolities.” We were rich in family and love! (And to be honest, I did not KNOW we were poor until I became an adult…) When I went to school that first year, I saw students who had EVERYTHING…the neatest erasers, the neatest notebooks, the neatest book sacks. As a young child, it was extremely hard not to notice those things. This one kid (and I will be honest, I cannot remember whether it was a boy or girl) had a way cool notebook. I would watch them open it, write in it, close it, and place it in the little “cubby hole” under their desk seat. I coveted that notebook. I dreamed about that notebook. I wanted that notebook. And I was going to get it….One day, the notebook was left out, unattended. No one was in the classroom, and certainly no one was watching me. I grabbed that notebook, placed it in my little cubby hole, and sat with my jacket covering the seat of my desk, so that no one could see the stolen item. The minute I took it, I felt horrible; however, I wrapped it up in my jacket and took it home with me. Once I got the notebook home, I hid it in my room from my sisters and parents. I could not even look any of them in the eye. I was so ashamed of what I had done, that I could not tell anyone about it…and I certainly could not USE the notebook. I was so filled with guilt and remorse, and I couldn’t return the stolen property, without confessing what I had done, so I just threw the notebook away where no one would find it. I never stole anything from anyone EVER again for the rest of my life. Lesson learned.

Now here is the kicker to that story…to this very day, I wish I could have confessed to that person, and asked their forgiveness. If I knew who the person was, I would track them down, right now, tell them the story, apologize, and ask them to forgive me. It has bothered me that much! There are very few incidents in my life that I regret, but this is one of them…I knew right from wrong, and I knew that you NEVER took something that did not belong to you. It was not, and is not, who I am. You see, I DO have a conscience. I think you should earn what you have, not just take it from someone else. Won’t you join me? Just for this week….

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I did what you said….

It seems that it is back to school time…everyone is rushing around trying to enjoy the last few days of “summer freedom,” and parents are attempting to clothe and “supply” their children in order to be ready for that first day… No matter how old I get, I still think that I should be getting ready to go back to school when it nears September. Just to let you know how bad I am about this, and how strong that “pull” is for me, I will share a little secret. At this time of year, when I go into a store, I find myself invariably drawn to the school supplies aisle. I will pick up those “composition books,” new pencils, etc. and hold them to by nose and just breathe in that wonderful smell of “school.” I’m sure I have been flagged in numerous stores as “that woman who sniffs the school supplies.” She’s baaaccckkkk…. So, of course, this week’s post is about school….

My Mother told me that when I was five years old, she was cooking dinner, and I walked up to her at the stove and said, “When I grow up, I am going to college.” Now, I don’t know how on earth I even knew what a college was. We were poor, lived on a farm, and had no TV. However, she said that she never doubted for a moment that I would go, and that I would attain that goal. Twelve years later, I was off to college. I got grants, scholarships, and worked constantly to pay my way through. I did attain that goal. Upon graduation, I was determined to work in my field of education and make a career for myself. I attained that goal. I said that I would have my dream car, a midnight blue corvette, five years after graduation. I attained that goal also. You see the pattern here; right? It started very early for me…

My grandmother had a sister, whose name was Mabel. However, EVERYONE called her “Spunk.” So, to me, she was Aunt Spunk. When I entered the first grade, she told me that if I made all A’s the entire year, that she would give me a dollar. Now, it may not sound like much money to you, but to a five-year old back then, a dollar was a lot of money!! So I worked hard all year, and sure enough…I made all A’s. The first thing that I did when I got the report card was write a letter to my Aunt. My mother did not know anything about the letter – I just “took care of business” on my own. So the letter went something like this….”Dear Aunt Spuck, I made all As. Send me that doller.” I addressed the envelope to “Ms. Spuck,” with no street address, but I did write the town (it was a different one from where I lived) and state with no zip. She got it!! In the return mail, I got her congratulatory letter AND the dollar!! I was so pleased with myself. Fast forward sixteen years later and I was graduating from college. My Aunt Spunk gave me a wonderful graduation gift, and secretly hidden within the gift was the envelope and letter that I had sent her sixteen years earlier, asking for that “doller.” She had kept it throughout the years to give to me, and I still have it today. It serves as a reminder that if you set goals, and work hard, you can attain pretty much whatever you want…

I don’t understand how people get anything accomplished if they never establish goals. Every few years I will ask myself…is this what you wanted?…do you want to change anything or do anything differently?…is there something else you want to accomplish? It is a bit of hope, faith, dreams, belief in one’s self, and a LOT of hard work! As “cliche” as it sounds, today really is the first day of the rest of your life. What are you doing with it? OR what do you WANT to do with it? I want to make the most of my life…and I work at it every day…Won’t you join me? Just for this week…