Tag Archives: Communication

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Yummm…..This is delicious!!

As you can see I am late in my post this week. A long week of repair work at my Dad’s house, followed by a very long road trip back late last night…torrential rain…four long traffic jams due to wrecks…so, the article did not get written. I apologize. I realized that last week was the half-way mark of my year’s commitment to this blog. I can’t believe that I have actually written 26 articles! I hope that you still enjoy reading them as much as I do writing them. So, here is this week’s story…

My Mother was one of the greatest cooks ever!! Period!! No argument!! If I could only be half the cook she was, I would be considered a “wonder in the kitchen.” It was one summer many years ago, and fresh peaches had just come into harvest. As anyone knows from the South, there is nothing quite like that first bite of a fresh, home-grown peach. Mama had gone down to the little farmer’s market in town, by the courthouse, and had purchased some fresh peaches. She was planning on making us an “out of this world” peach cobbler. She had a new recipe, and she could not wait to try it out on us.

All afternoon we were forced to smell the delicious aromas coming out of the kitchen. Our mouths were drooling just with the expectation of what was to come! The time finally arrived for her to pull the cobbler out of the oven and share her “masterpiece” with the family. We were all oohing and ahhhing over her creation…it looked like a cobbler straight out of the pages of Southern Living Magazine…and smelled something wonderful!

Mother got us each a bowl and we stood in line to get a scoop of that peach cobbler. She stuck a  spoon into the cobbler to dip the first serving out…only there was a  problem…the spoon could not break the surface of the cobbler. She dug in with a little more force, attempting to scoop up a bite full. Still no luck! We all began looking at each other, wondering what was going on. She finally got a knife and attempted to cut us a piece of cobbler. The knife would not even make a dent in the cobbler. By this time Mother was so distressed, and we were famished for the taste of what we had smelled all afternoon. Finally my Father picked up the cobbler as one piece and tried to tear it apart. By this time, all of us were on the floor laughing hysterically, for you see, Mama NEVER messed up with cooking! And it was so funny seeing Daddy trying to tear the cobbler apart with his bare hands, so we could all get a little taste. He was finally successful in getting each of us a little piece to “gnaw on.” The taste was out of this world…you just couldn’t eat it!! We got to calling it the “peach pot pie.” And for years afterward, all anyone would have to say is “peach pot pie” and it would send us all into shrieks, and we would relive the event once again. My Mother never did figure out what happened to make it turn out so disastrously, but it sure turned into one of our favorite family “moments.”

So many times we make very specific plans and arrangements as to how “things should go” in our lives…family gatherings, meals, events, celebrations, holidays… And most times, things never go according to plans. And oh, the stress we place on ourselves trying to achieve that “perfection.” Maybe we should relax a little, and try not to make everything so “perfect,” for out of imperfection may come one of the most cherished moments of your life. I’m not going to worry so much about perfection. I will strive for excellence, but even in failure, there may just be some success…Won’t you join me? Just for this week…

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Hang in there, baby!!

We are definitely feeling summer! Hot days, afternoon thunderstorms, sitting on the back porch swing watching fireflies in the evening, visits and sweet conversations with friends on the lake. Seems it took a long time to get here, so you won’t hear me complaining about the heat. Life truly is good! This all brings to mind a good “summer” story…

Most of my friends and family know that as much as I love the water, I have a healthy respect for it, and would not really be considered a “strong” swimmer. It is well known that I cannot properly hold my breath under water without the use of “nose clips.” I don’t know what the problem is, but ever since I had my adenoids removed, water just pours up my nose when I swim underwater. I will do almost anything though, if I have those trusty nose clips…

As I have gotten older, my selection of appropriate swimwear has become a major production each summer…no more bikinis, no two-pieces, and I have developed a fondness for those “body-enhancing” swimsuits. They claim to take 10 pounds off of you, and even have the ability to transform or camouflage “problematic” body parts. A true, modern day miracle!

On this particular occasion, we had just gotten a new tube to pull behind the boat…a “Hydra-Maniac.” We were out in the middle of the lake, and it was my turn to experience the “maniac.” I stepped toward the back of the boat, slung my legs over the side, and was about to get into the tube. Now, someone with half a brain would have known to slowly lower their body into the tube…But, me, in my infinite wisdom, determined that the best way to get in, was to simply step into the middle of the tube. Of course, as I did this, the middle of the tube collapsed with my weight, and I began pitching forward, arms flailing wildly about, as I tried to correct my fall. The last words I heard my friends screaming, just before I stepped off the boat were, “Cat! Nooooooo!!” So as I am wildly sliding upside down into the water, the bottom of my one-piece swimsuit caught on one of the boat cleats. This stopped my fall, however, now I was hanging upside down, on the side of the boat…laughing hysterically at my stupidity and predicament. Hanging there, by the bottom of my swimsuit, I was thinking…”Wow! This fabric really IS phenomenal!” Everyone was trying to figure out how to help me. They really could not get to me, to pull me back into the boat, and the prevailing thought was that eventually the swimsuit fabric would tear….no such luck! I’m telling you, this was some kind of space age, supersonic material!! The decision was finally made to try and ease the fabric off the cleat, and simply let me drop into the water. Of course, by this time (and you should already be picking up on this lifetime pattern of mine…) a crowd of observers had gathered…I plopped into the water with as much dignity as I could muster, and came up sputtering like a drowned rat. Everything turned out OK, but it did give new meaning to the words, “Hang in there!”

Have you noticed that people say those words a lot when you are going through “tough” times? “Hang in there!” What does that actually mean? And how does it help? I have figured out that the words are meaningless. What they really mean to me is, “I’m not going to take any of my own time to offer you true assistance, support, comfort, or help. However, I have done my part by offering those consoling words, hang in there.”

I no longer use that phrase! If my path runs across someone who is going through a difficult time, I offer whatever I can do to help…whatever they will accept, whatever they need that I can provide. People need more than words…they need action! Won’t you join me? Just for this week….

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Dear Lord, save me from Facebook and politics!!

Friday was the first day of summer! If you are like us, we have had to wait quite a while for the warm weather. I don’t think I can ever remember wearing a jacket at the end of June.  There is something just not right with that picture…Anyway, I am so glad that the days are warmer and we can actually begin doing some of those wonderful summer activities. Hope you are enjoying this time of the year…

This past week, I had a friend post on Facebook, “I will no longer ever post any thing political…” Apparently, she had posted something very innocent on her page, and someone disagreed with her statement, and took her to task for it. Numerous supporters shared stories of how they had been “unfriended” by “friends” during the elections, because (very obviously) they were not voting for the “right” person. Still others told stories of being “viciously attacked” through words, simply because there was a difference of opinion. It is amazing to me that the ones who are so quick to pounce on someone for their views, will be the first to decry that their own rights are being violated if someone happens to disagree with them. Wow! The way I see it is that if you have the right (and feel compelled to do so) to voice your opinions in whatever way you want (interpret rant and rave) via Facebook, and I am forced to see it, look at it, think about it, be bothered by it, etc., etc., etc., then you should certainly give me the respect to hear my views and opinions. It should go both ways. 

I am so thankful that not everyone sees things the way I do. How boring life would be, and how limited my growth as a person would be. I love it when individuals in my conference sessions will raise their hand, and say, “I’m sorry, Ms. Selman, but I disagree with what you just said.” I always smile and say,”Wonderful! Tell me why you disagree!” For some, they cannot tell me WHY they disagree, just that they disagree. I toss those comments in the “do not be concerned about” file. However, for those who can share with me their opinions, thoughts, and views in an articulate, heartfelt, passionate manner, I LISTEN!! And beyond that, I learn from it. Some times those remarks actually give me new insight and I will change my opinion or perspective. Speaking of perspective, I discovered something interesting in the bathroom the other day. (No, don’t be alarmed, we are not discussing any body parts here…) It just so happens that I have a free-standing toilet tissue holder in my bathroom. I am one of those people who turns my toilet tissue so that it rolls “over” the top. As I was looking at it, I realized that someone had turned the toilet tissue to roll “under” – not the way I like it. As I was pondering that, I saw that no one had actually turned the toilet tissue ANY way. The stand had simply gotten turned around. So, if someone were looking at the stand from the left, the toilet tissue would be going over the top. If someone were looking at the stand from the right, the toilet tissue would be going under the bottom. I thought to myself, if you asked someone to tell you which way the toilet tissue was turned, you would get two different answers (depending on where the respondents were standing), and both answers would be absolutely correct!!

I have friends from almost every realm of the human species. Some are so conservative, with narrow thinking, and view the world one way, and one way only. Then we go across the spectrum, all the way to the other side, and I have friends that are so liberal, free-spirited, and free-thinking that it can almost take your breath away. And you know what? I would not trade any of them for any amount of money in the world. I love all of them, especially for their uniqueness and individuality. Each person that I come in contact with, who becomes a part of my world, I learn from. They either reaffirm what I know to be true and right within my own beliefs, or they open my mind to consider other perspectives, and it broadens my knowledge and my “personhood.” But I would only discover that if I am open-minded, willing to listen and share.

So, to my friend, I would say this: Do not give the control of what you say, write, or think to someone else, simply because they disagree with you. After all, we DO live in America, where you are supposed to be able to say exactly what you think…In fact, it is actually written into the Bill of Rights, and guaranteed by our Constitution! I, as well as countless others, are extremely interested in what you have to say, think, and do. And even if we disagree on some issues, I will show you the respect of listening, as this is a way that I can also grow and learn as a person. We should listen with an open mind to others’ thoughts, opinions, beliefs, and YES, even politics. It is called dialogue; it is called respect; it is called friendship. Those friends who “unfriend” you because you do not share their views, are probably not the people you want as friends to begin with, and how sophomoric is that? I intend to be the kind of friend that people are comfortable and safe with sharing their innermost thoughts and beliefs. Won’t you join me? Just for this week…

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How About a Little Coke Up Your Nose???

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Today is Father’s Day! Due to my schedule, I was unable to be with my father this Sunday; however, I went and spent five days with him a little over a week ago. So, I got my “Daddy fix” in, and got some good “sugar” during the process…We celebrated “Father’s Day” at that time. I did get to talk with him today, and told him how much I loved him, and that I was so glad that he was my father. I think that is a pretty good lead-in for this week’s story…

When I was a child, I absolutely idolized my Daddy. Whenever he was at home, not working, I was his shadow. He worked so hard in construction every day, out in the hot, hot temperatures. When he would come home, he had sweat so much during the day, and was so exhausted from the heat, that his voice would almost be gone, and his eyes were just sunken back into his head. As a child, I did not realize how hard he worked to take care of, and provide for, us. He was simply my Daddy, and I wanted to be just like him.

When he would come home, the first thing he would do, of course, was to take a nice cool bath. Once he had done that, he would get a tall glass bottle of Coca Cola, lay down on the floor in front of the couch, and prop his legs up on the couch, with one arm behind his head. I would lay down beside him, prop my legs up as best I could (I was really, really small), and put one tiny arm behind my head…just like him. On this particular night, I was probably about 4 years old, and he had shared his coca cola with me in a small glass. Lying there, he tipped that bottle to his mouth, and swigged a good part of his Coke. I wanted to do everything just like him, so I tipped up my little glass of Coke, and of course, as you can imagine, it went up my nose and all over my face! It scared and startled me, and I started crying, because I could not understand why I had made a mess, while Daddy was able to get all of his Coke into his mouth. Not to mention, that I was choking because I had Coca Cola up my nose…Now, I know that Daddy was tired, and the last thing he wanted to deal with was a child’s mishap and tears. However, my father picked me up so sweetly, held me close to his chest, and told me that everything would be OK. He then gave me a swig of Coke from his bottle, and explained to me why I could not do the same with a glass. It was one of many lessons that he taught me throughout my life.

He taught me how to build, roof, paint, repair. Any time I build a “project,” there is a little voice in my head that ALWAYS says…”just like Daddy.” He taught me how to drive a car AND a truck (stick shift on the column), and whenever I would start driving a little too fast, he would say, “gettin’ a little too pure…” and I knew to slow down. He taught me how to love by loving my sweet Mother, and his family. He taught me how to love God, because he lived that life every single day of his life. And now he is teaching me how to deal with loss, as he lives a life without my Mother. He is a quiet man, but when he is not at home, the house is so silent and lonesome. I am so glad that I still have him in my life! He is a sweet, tender man, and no matter how old I get, he will always be my “Daddy.” 

Fathers, please realize the path you chose when you had a child. Understand that children want to be just like their fathers…whatever you do…they will also end up doing. Set the example, have patience, and teach your children well. Love them with all of your heart! I will be extra thankful that I had, and have a Father who cared. Won’t you join me? Just for this week…

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Did that little bird peck you??!!

It is FINALLY Spring! Flowers are blooming everywhere, the scents are intoxicating, and little baby birds are hatching all over. Reminds me of a story…
Years ago I lived in Shreveport, LA. The house that I lived in had a nice, fenced-in backyard, with beautiful landscaping, flowerbeds and trees. At the time, two little toy poodles were very much a part of our family. It was Spring, and new “birth” and growth was evident everywhere! As was part of our daily routine each morning, we let the pups out to take care of “business.” Just as they stepped off the back patio onto the yard, a mama bluejay dove down from a nearby tree, and dive-bombed both of them, scaring them half to death, and startling us! We gathered both pups up and rushed back into the house. We went back out, leaving the pups inside, to investigate the situation. (Of course, we dared not step off of the patio, for fear that Mama Bluejay would dive-bomb us also!) We discovered that there were FOUR baby bluejays in various locations throughout the yard, attempting to learn to fly, and Mom and Dad were protecting them.
By now, the pups were desperate to get out in the yard, and we were trying to figure out what to do. We had plans for the day in the backyard, and knew that we needed to move the babies to a safer location. I got the bright idea that if we held an umbrella over our heads for protection, we could safely relocate each baby (using gloves, of course). Very quickly we put gloves on, got the umbrella, and went into enemy territory! As soon as we stepped off the patio, those bluejays came after us, pecking holes in the umbrella, and actually flying under the umbrella to get to us. We raced back into the house for safety, with images from Alfred Hitchcock’s movie, The Birds, flashing through our heads.
Safely back inside the house, we realized that this situation was more than what we wanted to deal with, and determined that we might need to solicit some outside help…but, who? Humane Societies were not common back then, so that was not an option. Calling the police for rescue also seemed a bit of a reach…
At this point my brain began kicking in…I thought, well if fire departments can send firemen out to climb trees to save little kitties, surely, it would fall under their responsibilities to relocate baby bluejays…So…I made the call and explained our situation. I also explained that they would not need a firetruck for this mission… Ten minutes later a huge firetruck, with sirens screaming, pulled up in front of our house, and four huge, burly fireman rushed up to our door. (So much for requesting discretion…) We all went out to the patio where I explained the morning’s “activity. ” I gave full disclosure by warning the fireman that the bluejay parents were highly agitated and would aggressively defend their babies. Being good ole’ southern boys, those firemen sorta smirked at us, a little condescendingly to my mind, and swaggered out into the yard, as we retreated into the house to watch. They had not gone two steps before Mama Bluejay chose her target well, initiated the approach, and made contact with the first fireman’s forehead. He screamed as blood rushed down his face, stating the obvious, “That bird pecked me!” The second fireman was running for his life, arms flailing about, trying to get away from Papa Bluejay. The other two fireman had played it safe and remained on the patio, trying to hide their laughter. All the while, we were standing inside the house, behind the curtains, killing ourselves laughing! And I am thinking to myself, “We DID warn you…hey, big guy, not as easy as you thought, huh?”
We got out the first aid kit, and gave the injured fireman a bandaid, while they determined their strategy. They came to the conclusion that a little more “appropriate” gear might be called for. So, they went back out to the truck (where a curious crowd of neighbors had gathered), and donned jackets and fire hats. They went back out into the backyard, and very gently and safely relocated the babies outside of the fence. Success!! We thanked them for their “heroic” actions, and expressed our sorrow that one of them had been injured during the process. Then we went out and gave explanation to the neighbors. Everyone had a good laugh!
How many times do we ignore the advice of individuals? How often do we think that we know what is best, that our way is the ONLY way? And that the other person could not possibly be right? I am going to listen, and heed, the advice that knowledgeable and experienced people give me. After all, they just might know what they’re talking about! Won’t you join me? Just for this week…
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So When Do You Leave….?

I LOVE elephants!! Do you know why? Well, the first reason is that my best friend has collected elephants (not the real ones, of course…) all of her life, and I have grown to love them and have learned an awful lot about them as a result. Elephants are such a loving family unit…and “the Aunts” are heavily involved in helping and assisting with the development, growth, and care of all the new babies that are born into their family unit. You see, I REALLY like that part, because I AM an “Aunt” – many times over! In fact, I am a GREAT Aunt (literally and figuratively….)! All of my nieces and nephews have never thought of me as an adult…most of them view me as a “toy” to play with…and I would have it no other way! There is something in my heart that just jumps and explodes when I see the delight in their eyes when they finally land on me. It is truly intoxicating!

Whether you like Hillary Clinton, or you don’t, is NOT important to me; however, I strongly believe one of her philosophies…that it DOES take a village to raise a child. It takes the parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, church leaders/Sunday School teachers, school teachers, neighbors, friends, and community – that IS a village, by the way. At least, that’s the way it was when I was growing up. We felt “safe” because “someone” was always watching out for us, and teaching us life lessons. As an Aunt, I have taken the responsibilities of that “job” very seriously. I have tried to “broaden my nieces’ and nephews’ horizons” – to let them know there was more in the world than they saw in their own, small town…to let them know that, especially in people, “different” did not mean “wrong,” but just different…that there was nobody better than who they were, or who they could be…that they could be and do anything they wanted in life if they worked for it…that faith in God was what you believed, trusted, lived and relied upon…and that life should be worth living – doing what you enjoyed. Most importantly, each one knows that there is never anything they could do in life that would affect the tremendous love I have for them. It is truly unconditional! They know they could tell me anything, do anything, and my love would never waver…that I am ALWAYS only a phone call away. So now that you have all of the background, let’s get to this week’s story…

My baby brother and his wife tried for many years to have a child. My sister-in-law (and I use that word so you know who I am talking about, but in our family, she is indeed my sister, period) had a battle with cancer early in their marriage. She had to have heavy doses of radiation and chemotherapy. As a result, she was told that the treatments had left her sterile. So, the journey began to adopt a little one into the family. This journey went on for many, many years…Resulting in heartbreak, after heartbreak! Each new opportunity for adoption failed. All of our hearts were sad. Then one day, they got a message from a personal friend (they were all officers in the Salvation Army at this time). He reported that a church family’s young daughter had become pregnant, out of wedlock, and they were placing the baby up for adoption. There was only one catch…the family wanted each couple, who wanted that precious baby, to write a letter explaining why they wanted a child, and how they would raise the child. Out of all the families submitting letters, my brother and his wife were chosen!! We were thrilled!!! The time came for the young lady to give birth, and she had a little girl, my Elizabeth! We got her when she was two days old, and from that moment, I was mesmerized. I cannot understand people who say that could not love a child as much, who is not of “their blood.” We know NO difference!! She is ours!!! In fact, both my brother and I will forget and say, well…you got your allergies from us…her nose is an exact replica of my brother’s…but it would NOT make any difference if it weren’t . (And, by the way, it ended up that the Drs. were wrong…a little boy was born a few years after Elizabeth arrived…., and yes, we love him to death also…even though he is not adopted…He will also have a post about him later on…)

She and I have had a special relationship from day one. When she was really little, she could not say my name, so I became “Aunt Tat.” There was no greater pleasure for me than when she would crawl up in my lap, place those little chubby arms around my neck, and say, “I wuv you, Aunt Tat!” On this particular day, I was down visiting with my folks, and we were all sitting out in the sunroom. Of course, Elizabeth was sitting in my lap, and I was loving every minute of it. As we were sitting there, she snuggled in a little closer to me, and very quietly said, “I know where you are taking me this summer.” Surprised, I said, “Well, tell me, where am I taking you?” She looked at me with those beautiful, blue eyes, smiling from ear to ear, and said, “Disneyworld!” I quickly looked over her head to my Mother, who was shaking with laughter, and she mouthed, “When are you leaving?” I chuckled, and said, “As soon as I can clear my schedule…” And yes, we did go to Disneyworld (which will be a later blog article) that summer, and had a wonderful time…just us girls…She has now become a Mom herself, and has given me two more opportunities to be an aunt. Her birthday is this coming week, and I could not be prouder of her, or love her any more than I do today.

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Those of you who ARE those special Aunts…remember the impact that you can have on a child’s life…and will continue to have as they grow. Help those mothers who are finding it a little difficult to do it all by themselves. Be an elephant!!! That’s what I will be doing…Won’t you join me? Just for this week….

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It Will Never Be The Same Again…

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As many of you know, my Mother passed away in February – that means that this weekend holds a holiday that I have never experienced without my Mother. So, here’s the story for this week…

Two weeks ago I had to go grocery shopping. We were just about to head to the checkout, when I remembered that I needed just one more item. I rushed back to the area where I thought the item could be found, and turned down an aisle to get there a little faster. As soon as I started walking a few feet into the aisle, I realized that I had made a mistake. I had unknowingly turned down the greeting card aisle, and plastered everywhere were Mother’s Day cards. In an instant my eyes were filling with tears as I realized that this year I would not be buying a Mother’s Day card, nor would I be making the trip to spend the weekend with her in celebration. I left the aisle as quickly as I possibly could, and tried not to think about what I had just seen, and what it meant for me.

I will be honest…I have struggled with this loss, just as I struggled with her disease process. I have the skills, expertise and ability to train healthcare professionals in these areas, but I have been rather inept in helping myself. I have a very dear friend, who has watched this struggle of mine. She finally asked me, “Cat, just what are you thinking and feeling? What are you hoping for? What are you looking for?” And I tried to verbalize…I said, “I don’t feel Mother’s presence. In my mind, I just assumed, because we were so close, that when she died…I would feel her presence ‘with me’ constantly. That has not happened, and I don’t know what to do.” As soon as I expressed those thoughts, she said, “Cat, she is with you every day…she is in your heart…she is in your mind…she is living inside you.” And now comes the best part…she said, “All you have to do to ‘feel her’ is continue being the person that she wanted you to be.” And just like that, I felt a peace that I had not felt since Mama’s death. You see, I realized that this is something I could do! I can be the person she raised and was proud of…I can emulate the character, integrity and Christ-like traits that she taught by living example. You see, I simply do NOT know how else to be, but who I am…who she made…and who she loved.  I AM my Mother’s child!

For those of you whose mothers are still living…MAKE the time and effort to visit with them, make memories with them, enjoy them, just “be” with them…for one day, they absolutely will be gone from your life…and it will never be the same again. For those of you whose mothers are no longer living, do what I am doing…let’s live the lives that our Mamas taught us to live…strong in faith, compassion, loyalty and love…and ALWAYS doing for others. BE the person that “Mama” would have you be. Won’t you join me? Just for this week….

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It’s Dangerous in There!!!

When my little niece (Elizabeth, who has now become a lovely lady with children of her own) was learning how to use the potty, it was a nightmare for her. She would get so upset when “the time” would come, and she did NOT want to go to the bathroom. My brother finally asked her why she got so upset when she needed to go potty. She looked up at him, with those big, beautiful, blue eyes, and said, “Dad, it’s DANGEROUS in there!” We all got a good laugh at that, and eventually, she got the hang of it and overcame her fear of the bathroom. So here is this week’s story…

I was on a business trip with a friend and we had quite a layover in one of the major airports. Not wanting to “just sit,” we had walked over the entire length of the airport two or three times (several miles it seemed…); had eaten as much food as we could possibly hold; and had “window-shopped” as much as we could. (Neither one of us are much on shopping to begin with….) It got a little closer to the time for us to board the plane, and I thought that maybe I should visit the restroom one more time before getting on the next flight. I asked my friend if she would mind watching my stuff, and off to the restroom I went.

Now, airport bathrooms have changed over the years, and the “improvements” that have been made are always a “challenge,” depending on which airport you are in. The first improvement involved providing different seat heights for the toilets….some sit tall, some are short, some are in-between. There’s nothing more comforting than to rush into a cubicle, thinking the seat is at a certain height, and realize (when you hit the seat a little harder than anticipated) that you picked a cubicle with a “short” toilet. Then came the plastic rotating seat covers…did you rotate the plastic before you sat down…after you sat down…where was the button to initiate said rotation…and HOW would I know if they were just not recycling the same piece of plastic over and over to save money…I came up with a solution for that problem: mark an “x” on the plastic seat, press the button to rotate the seat cover, and look to see if your “x” came around again. (Now before you think that I have lost my mind and have a germ phobia, let’s look at this rationally…have you SEEN the people who fly on planes nowadays???? I need not say more…) Then came the paper seat covers. Great idea, I thought! So, I got the seat cover in place, turned around, unzipped my pants, and just as I was about to make contact with the seat….SWOOOOSH!! The toilet had automatically flushed itself and I no longer had a paper armor against the germs of society (the flush took my paper seat cover with it…). I stood up and tried to figure out how to “outwit” the toilet…So, this is what I did: I unzipped my pants, assumed the position and got ready to make contact. At the last minute, I slipped the toilet seat cover into place, and hurriedly sat down before the toilet flushed. SUCCESS!!!

Now that I had conquered the challenges within the cubicle, I was ready to face the remaining few…the automatic soap dispenser, the automatic water dispenser, and the automatic hand-drying options…Now, you need to know up front that there is something really goofy with my body (no snide remarks from those who know me really well…). Apparently, I do not have within my chromosomes the exact chemistry that will respond to, or activate, any type of “automatic” dispenser. It is indeed an effort to get anything to work for me, and I usually end up having to make numerous attempts at different sinks. I went to the first soap dispenser….no matter what I did, what motion I performed with my hands….no  soap. So I went to the next sink…same thing…a lot of motion and activity on my part, but still no soap. (Please understand that I have to complete this same exercise in EVERY airport bathroom that I visit…) I moved on to the next sink with even MORE enthusiastic motion and play of my hands…STILL no soap. I moved to the final sink. That was when disaster struck…the soap dispenser not only worked, but it was a super sonic dispenser! The flow of soap squirted out, shot completely OVER the sink, and landed directly on the front of my pants! I looked down and all I saw was a great big wad of white soap beginning to ooze slowly down the front of my pants. Of course, I panicked and thought, “get some paper towels, and DO IT NOW!” (I did mention that the paper towel dispenser was “automatic” also; didn’t I?) I waved my hands across the sensor. It did nothing! I tried two hands, wildly motioning in the senseless attempt to just activate it. STILL…nothing!!! I went to another dispenser…nothing. I was wild by this time because the soap had spread on my pants down to the crotch area. I began dancing and moving my body all different ways in front of the sensor to JUST GET SOME PAPER TOWELS!! By this time, I had drawn a crowd, who could not figure out if I was having a seizure of some sort, or that I was just a really weird air traveler. In a way of explanation to my “audience,” I was uttering under my breath as I was dancing…”soap”…”flew out of dispenser”…”on my pants”…”got to get it off”…”doesn’t work for me.” I finally realized that I was not ever going to get a paper towel, so I ran back into a cubicle to get some toilet paper. Wiping rapidly, I attempted to remove the gummy soap from my pants. The toilet tissue, being dry, began rolling into little balls and STICKING to the soap that was STICKING to my pants. It was time to wet the paper towel and see if that would help.  Guess what? The water dispenser was “automatic” also….On the fourth attempt, at the fourth sink, the water began to flow. Others began to help me. THEY were able to get some paper towels, and we made a valiant effort to remove all of the particles that had become a permanent part of my pants. Everyone, including me, eventually accepted defeat and gave up! As I was leaving, I noticed a woman having a little difficulty of her own in getting the paper towel dispenser to work. I leaned over and confidentially whispered, “you have to dance!”

I finally came out of the bathroom and headed in the direction of my friend. She took one good look at me, and those soap-gummed pants, and asked “What happened to you???” I just looked at her and said, “The bathroom has become a very dangerous place….”

There are people in our lives who have fears, whether actual or perceived. At times, we may dismiss those fears as being “silly” or unfounded simply because they are not our fears. As a result, we are not compassionate, patient, or understanding. I am going to be more understanding and tolerant of those who express concern or fear over events, tasks or actions that they face. I am going to provide the necessary support to assist them in facing their fear, and let them know that they are not alone…that I am there with them. Won’t you join me? Just for this week…

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But it’s NOT for me!!!

Sorry I am a little late this evening. It has been a busy week, but a good one. This week’s story includes some “sexually explicit” references, so I am giving everyone fair warning. If you are easily offended by the idea of older people being sexually active, or actually having sexual needs, this story will probably offend you…SO STOP READING NOW!!! However, if you are a healthcare professional in aging services, or if you are a mature adult who understands “where you came from,” you are going to appreciate the story…laugh quite a bit at my expense…and maybe , just maybe…you will get the message I intend.

When I first started working in a nursing home, to say that I was naive would have been a huge understatement. My father was a minister (yes, that does mean that I was a “preacher’s kid…”), so I was raised extremely conservatively in a very small southern town. When I graduated from high school, I attended a small Christian college for the next four years. Once I got the much desired college degree, my first job was that of Social Worker in a nursing home. I was ready to solve all of my residents’ problems, and meet their needs. I was enthusiastic and ready to put my education and knowledge to the test.

I have never understood why people think you stop loving once you get older. If you have loved someone for most of your life, have enjoyed kissing, holding, and loving them, why would you stop as you age? I would think, that for most people, love only grows stronger and becomes more precious.

One of my female residents was still having sexual “urges,” but did not have a “partner” to help fulfill those needs. As a result, she was continually injuring herself using assorted items. As the social worker in our building, figuring out a solution to this problem fell on my shoulders. In my innocence, I came up with an answer immediately – she needed an “item” that would be both safe and hygienic. So…off to the “adult book store” I went…

I walked up to the counter, and in a nice voice, uttered these words…”I would like to buy a vibrator.” And then it hit me….so I said very quickly, “But, it’s NOT for me!!!” The man looked at me as if to say, “Sure, lady, they ALL say that…” (wink, wink…) I hurriedly completed the purchase and left the building as quickly as I could.

Now, if anyone had seen me entering, or leaving, that store, they would have made an assumption about the kind of person I might be…a pervert, a porn lover, a “deviant.” And every assumption would have been wrong! I was, indeed, an “innocent,” simply trying to take care of a resident in my facility. Whenever I tell this story, people look at me and ask, “Surely you were not that innocent?” And the answer is always, “Yes, I was!”

Why is it that people are so ready to find fault with others? Why do we judge so harshly and quickly? Why do we jump to conclusions so easily, and not give people the benefit of the doubt? In fact, why are we “looking” in the first place? People are so busy looking at everyone else’s “yards,” that they fail to take care of their own “backyard.” I have trouble enough keeping my own life straight, walking in the light that I have been given. I have neither the time or expertise to tell people how they should live their lives. I am going to try really hard to take care of my own backyard, and let others take care of theirs. Won’t you join me? Just for this week….

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Are You a Member of the Good Words Club???

I have been so blessed in my life! I have an abundance of family and friends who love me completely and fully – warts and all…Throughout the years, my best friend’s family members have become my family also…”friend-in-laws,” if you will…I was around when her little sister was born, and got to be with this little one, watching her as she grew up to be a wonderful young lady…a college student…a wife…and finally, a mother! Of all the words that I could use to describe her, the one most “fitting” would be “mother.” Some people are not meant to become a parent, but oh my, she was simply designed for, and made to fill, this role.

When the long-awaited time came, she gave birth to a little girl, Adison. The new parents had very clear thoughts on “do’s and don’ts” for this precious child…One of the “don’ts” dealt with “appropriate” language that should be used when the toddler was in “hearing” distance. So, that’s the background…we will now go to the story…

First, you need to know that I do not use curse words…EVER! I feel that there are so many better ways to express one’s feelings without the usage of “those” words. You also need to know that my friend’s grandmother was almost a saint, and if you “slipped up” occasionally, and happened to use a “curse word,” she would very sweetly ask, “Don’t you want to be a member of the Good Words Club?” And of course, at that very moment, you do wish that you had been a member of the Good Words Club….

When Adison was three, her parents bought a brand new house. We were so excited for them, and for days had helped them move and get settled in. Since I am a pretty good “handy” person, I was given the job installing all of the window blinds. We had measured each window and Home Depot had cut the blinds to our exact specifications. As I was installing the blinds, “little one” was right with me, wanting to do whatever I was doing. I had to provide her with a little screw driver, show her how to use it, and she would hold the rule as I measured each window to match it with the correct set of blinds.

We got to a window, and no matter what I did, the blinds just would not fit. I kept going back and forth from one room to another, one window to another, trying to figure out if I had used the wrong blind on one of the windows. In doing this, my little helper became distracted and I ended up in a room by myself. By this time, I was tired and aggravated, in that I could NOT figure out why the blind would not fit. FINALLY, I thought to myself, why not remeasure the blinds and determine if they are the right size? As I did this, I was standing high on a step-ladder. In a moment of absolute clarity, I realized that the blinds had been cut wrong!! All this time I had been trying to “fit” the blinds to the window, and had just realized that they would never fit ANY window.  As the full realization hit me, I said, “Dadgumit!!” As soon as I said that word, I heard this tiny, soft voice repeat, “Dadgumit!!” Little one had eased up behind me and was standing on the first rung of the step-ladder…

My heart started beating faster, and I became more anxious, thinking, “OH NO!!! You have just taught her a curse word!!! That is expressly forbidden!!” I jumped off the ladder, grabbed her up in my arms, and ran into the living room to confess my sin to the parents. Fortunately, for me, they did not think that I had “damaged” the child too badly, and there was a lot of discussion as to whether what I said was even a curse word! But here is the bottom line…those little ones watch everything you say, everything you do, and will usually mimic it and make it a part of their own lives. What are you saying in front of impressionable children? Are you teaching them “good words” and “good acts?” Don’t you want to be a member of the Good Words Club? Just for this week…