giving up true love on Valentine's Day

“I could not tell you if I loved you the first moment I saw you or if it was the second or third…But, I remember the first moment I held you…somehow the rest of the world seemed to vanish when I was with you.” – Cassandra Clare

It’s Valentine’s Day and so our attention turns to love, true love, and for many of us that is not a human at all – it’s our smart phone. Think about it. If you accidently leave your phone at home or misplace it, aren’t you absolutely lost, as if a body part is missing? Is there a human who makes you feel that way?

 
Without your phone, you feel disconnected, alone and inconsolable. You are your phone and your phone is you. Not only are our phones our life lines – they have become our ultimate objects of desire. I have a nice, new smart phone and I see people looking at it lustfully, with a desire that I never saw turned towards me, even in my youngest, most fit and sexy days.

This is all new to me, as until recently I didn’t have a smart phone – didn’t want one; had no need for one. I relished the silence, peace and time for contemplation my dumb phone offered,  because unless I was using it to talk to someone, it had no hold over me.  

Then, a couple of months ago, Mr. Clark shamed me into getting a smart phone. Apparently, our plan cost $25 per month more than it needed to because it was accommodating my dumb phone. So, even though I really dislike change and was quite attached to my dumb phone, I made the switch.

Mr. Clark wheeled and dealed me into one of the smartest smart phones around, “all for less per month than we were paying for that dumb old dumb phone,” he declared proudly. Hello, telephone plan savings; good bye emotional freedom and contemplative peace and quiet. Now my phone runs my life. It’s the first thing I look at in the morning, the last thing I see at night, and it chirps at me all day. I had no idea a phone had so much to say…

 

According to a couple of NPR shows I listened to, we become so in tune and attached to our phones because they tap into some of our brain’s most basic functions. We are reward oriented; we like surprises; and, if the reward involves a surprise, even better.
 

The psychologist B.F. Skinner demonstrated this with rats over 60 years ago. His studies showed that the most powerful way to train an animal is to give it intermittent, unpredictable rewards - this creates obsessive behavior. Rather than running mazes or nibbling food or taking naps or doing any of the other things healthy lab rats do, Skinner’s rats would simply sit there, click, click, clicking on their treat releasing bar, hoping to trigger a reward, which was always random.  

 

The sound our smart phone’s alert when a new message, text or Facebook post comes in gets our attention in the same way and pretty soon our rat brain is incapable of not responding. We hear that cheery alert and we can’t help but check to see what kind of treat just came in and the random, unpredictability of those messages, texts, posted treats makes them all the better.  

 

Of course, I could put my phone on vibrate or silence the cheery chirps altogether, but what fun would that be? And, I am in plentiful company. Everywhere I go people are engaged with their smart phones when they should be directing their attention elsewhere. That pause at the green light, when no one goes? The drivers are all busy on their smart phones rather than pushing on the gas. Lunch out with coworkers? Everyone’s as busy texting and tweeting and checking their email as they are eating or, God forbid, talking to each other. It’s to the point that folks don’t even try to hide it anymore…of course, I’m checking my social media, why aren’t you?    

 

The Zombie Apocalypse is here and smart phones are our weapons of choice, but, it’s not fully our fault. Much of our addictive behavior (and not just with phones) is driven by our brain’s need for/enjoyment of dopamine – a brain chemical that is released in anticipation of different types of rewards like food, sex, drugs or a new text message.

Apparently, releasing dopamine is the brain’s way of rewarding behaviors that helped early humans survive, which is why it is released when we have sex or learn something or master our environment in some way. But, how to control our need for that rush?

The obvious answer is to step away from the smart phone for a while…take a walk, go out under the night sky or go to sleep, either without your phone or with the chirping and vibrating turned off.

A friend just announced he’s taking a break from Facebook. It’s dominating his already busy life and he needs to get back in touch. While I will miss his ever witty, always amusing posts, I applaud his plan. It would probably do us all good to re-experience the silence our long lost dumb phones used to provide…

 So this Valentine’s Day, why not challenge ourselves to give up our one true love – that smart phone - for at least a bit of the day, in the interest of possibly rekindling or finding romance? It’s worth a shot. Who says rat brain can’t take a break, at least occasionally, on a holiday?     

 

just like that princess with the pea, I am HSP...

“Being a princess isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” – Princess Diana

 Remember the fairy tale about the princess and the pea? She proved she was a princess by not being able to sleep on a stack of seven mattresses because there was a pea under the bottom one. Well, she may have lived happily ever after, but like me, she is HSP and like Mr. Clark, her Prince Charming probably had to learn to deal with that.  

HSP stands for Highly Sensitive Person. It describes those of us who are very, very sensitive to most every detail of what’s going on in our environment. HSP’s are affected by big things like loud noises, chaotic circumstances and sudden shifts in our reality. We are also affected by little things, like itchy clothing, a rock in our shoe or that humming noise some fluorescent lights make.

 For an HSP, being in a room full of people is like looking through a colorful kaleidoscope of other’s emotions – that’s best case. On worse days, in worse rooms, it’s like being on a rollercoaster where every bump, jerk, twist and turn is someone else’s emotion and there you are, stuck in the car, experiencing each and every one of them. Being this “in tune” helps us be good photographers, writers, parents, caretakers, artists, etc. It can also turn us into difficult people and poor party companions. ..

 One thing I’ve noticed about HSP’s is that we tend to choose relationships with non-HSP’s. Let’s face it, being HSP is no picnic, so someone needs to stay calm. My daughter is married to an HSP – a hint of lettuce on that “meat and cheese only” taco and my talented, funny, creative son-in-law is ready to jump over the counter and fix his own meal. My son, who was an HSC (Highly Sensitive Child) got over it, and married a lovely, witty, HSP wife – who actually is a gifted teacher of special needs kids. As for Mr. Clark, he’s used to things like having to go out on an emergency bird seed run because I’ve noticed the feeders are empty and I’m over-empathizing about how hungry, cold and sad those poor little birds are…  

Google HSP (or www.hsperson.com specifically) and you’ll end up at the website of Ph.D. psychologist Elaine Aron who is the expert on all things HSP. She’s written four books, a self test, a checklist for parents, a list of international HSP websites, an on-line newsletter and links to HSP gatherings and retreats. (Talk about a crowd that can’t get comfortable…)

I took the test and my score was 20 – 14 or more means you’re HSP – no surprises there. Then I signed up for the on-line newsletter (“The Comfort Zone”) and went to the virtual store. It was all books and audio cds, which looked good, but a mug is all I after.        

According to Dr. Aron, HSP is a recognized personality trait – not disorder – which means being HSP is normal. In fact, one out of every four or five people is HSP. It is also innate, meaning biologists have found HSP’s in most beings - from fruit flies to chimpanzees. HSP brains process information differently, which is why we are so sensitive. Under some circumstances, being HSP is a survival strategy as in all that being super observant and hyper aware can help one avoid being attacked or eaten. That’s why so many of our HSP behaviors are driven by the need to feel safe.

Another psychologist, Paul Foxman, describes HSP’s as caring, kind, loyal, compassionate people who are good listeners, good students, good employees and employers. We are high achievers who often go into “helping” professions.

Foxman says the down side of being HSP is that we become over-stimulated easily and then we melt down.  According to Foxman, HSP’s tend to be perfectionistic “all or nothing” types who prefer structure and have strong control needs. He links HSP with anxious and says we often worry and think negatively. We have high stress levels, take things personally and can be resentful.

Another interesting point both make about being HSP is that is valued differently during different times in history and from culture to culture. Whereas in some places and times I’d be a seer or a sage, in others I’d be simply seen as strange.  

My strategy with regard to being HSP is to embrace it as a blessing and be wary of it, like a curse. Because I’m so profoundly aware of what’s going on around me, I can take good pictures and write touching columns. It’s easy to know where to point the camera or how to craft the sentence when you are engulfed by every detail…During times of challenge, I must be aware when stress heightens and do what I can to avoid the melt down. Just because I have a tendency towards depression, anger, perfectionism or feeling overwhelmed, doesn’t mean I need to take that out on those around me. After all, many of the things that upset me don’t really matter at all; I can be okay with that and just let go.

 The Story People are a wonderful group of fictitious creatures who spring from the mind and experiences of Brian Andreas, a wonderful artist who is also bipolar and not medicated. He says, “I'm beginning to think peace is something we made up to keep us from being satisfied with all this luscious chaos." For those of us with special blessings and challenges, he might just be right. 

 

 

The story of Zoobie, told by Zoobie

(The photos are me before and after...I look pretty sharp now ;)

 

“You know what I like most about people? Pets.
” – Jarod Kintz

 

 Hello. My name is Zoobie. I am Lorin’s tiny, 10-pound, four-footed, most favorite furry friend. She said I could tell the story of the rescue of me this week because our friends at Pup & Cat Co. are having a fundraiser on Feb. 14 and we want to help them raise money so they can help other pets the way they helped me.  

 

When Pup & Cat Co. found me I was a mess. I had infected eyes, infected ears, swollen feet and red itchy skin caused by fleas and food allergies. I didn’t have much hair; the vet called it “elephant skin” because my skin looked like an elephant’s. 

 

The vet told the lady at Pup & Cat Co. it would take a lot of medicine and time and money and maybe even a miracle to save me. The vet said without those things, maybe the kindest thing would be for me to go to dog heaven. But Ursula, that’s the lady at Pup & Cat Co., believes in miracles and she believed in me, so she asked the vet to try and make me better and that’s what the vet did.

 

Then Ursula sent a lady to take a picture of me, so that I could be put on something called a website and maybe find a foster home. That lady was Lorin and that is when our story began. I could tell Lorin was sad the minute she walked in with her camera. It turned out her old Rottweiller, Roland, had just died. He was a Pup & Cat Co. rescue, too, and she missed him very much.

 

It seemed like Lorin needed a miracle just as much as me, so I did my best to make her like me. I wagged my tiny tail and smiled my tiny smile and danced in circles for her. If it worked, maybe Lorin would take me home and be my foster mom. I knew I could take good care of her and she seemed like she would take good care of me. If we worked together, maybe we could save each other and that’s what we did.

 

I went home with Lorin the next day and it didn’t take me long to wiggle my way into her heart. Because I was so scared and sick, Lorin took me everywhere with her. She carried me in a front pack for dogs and took me on car rides when she went out. I wanted Lorin to adopt me because I felt so warm and safe with her and that’s what she did.

 

Ursula said she was glad Lorin and I found each other. Roland had been Ursula’s friend, too, and she understood what a big hole he’d left in Lorin’s heart.  

 

Lorin took care of me and I took care of her and we both got better. The medicine worked on my ears and eyes, and I didn’t itch any more. My skin got better and my hair started to grow. Lorin started smiling and laughing again. She took me on walks every day and never left me alone for long. Most of our days were spent side by side, Lorin doing whatever she does and me sleeping in my little dog bed nearby. Before long, Lorin and I were a pair, just like her and her Roland had been.

 

Then, we got happy, really happy. Now that there weren’t so many medicines and worries, we had a lot of fun together. I got to go to Maine and Colorado and to the mountains a bunch of times with Lorin and her family. They call that “vacation” and we always have a really good time. Sometimes, in between vacations, we go to brunch and antiquing and then, if I’m really lucky, we eat hamburgers and French fries at an outside restaurant where the girlsroller skate when they bring our food.     

 

I’m pretty old, so I don’t know how much longer I’ll get to be here with Lorin and her family. But I’m sure having a good time. So, that’s my story.

 

Once I was sad and sick and alone – a hairless little creature who didn’t stand a chance. Now, thanks to Pup & Cat Co. and my vets, I’m healthy and happy and have the best life EVER. Lorin says I’ve turned into a fancy Poodle – all coats and shirts and professional grooming and such. She says that’s a surprise because when she first got me I looked more like a bald possum than a dog…All I know is little kids love to pet me and older people tellLorin their Poodle stories and life is good, SO good, all of the time.

 

Now, about raising that money…The event is called “Paws for a Cause.” It’s at the Carl House, on Valentine’s Day, 7 p.m.-9 p.m. There will be live and silent auctions, a delicious dinner, dancing and some heartwarming stories about Pup & Cat Co. rescues like Roland and me. Tickets are $25 and the proceeds go to help Pup & Cat Co. rescue animals and make sure people know how important it is to spay/neuter their pets.

 

Lorin says to tell you Pup & Cat Co. is a Barrow-based, non-profit animal rescue/humane society. For more information, go to www.pupandcatco.com.  For tickets to the event, go to www.carlhouse.com, click on public events, email info@carlhouse.com or call 770-586-0095.  I’ll be there with Lorin. Hope we see you, too!

UFOs over Winder...?

“Today more people believe in UFOs than believe that Social Security will take care of their retirement.” – Scott Cook

I admit it; I’m a sucker for anything paranormal. I love ghost stories and tales of the supernatural. I watch vampire shows. I’m not a zombie fan, but I find those ever blurry photos of the Sasquatch to be intriguing. So, imagine how exciting it was for me to hear about a UFO sighting right outside of Winder, and it turned out, in Athens, Dacula, Buford and Lawrenceville at about the same time.   

The sightings occurred on the night of Jan. 15 at about 8 p.m. I heard about them on Jan. 16, at the place where one hears most breaking local news – the hair salon. It seems a good friend of the salon owner called her the night before, sounding rattled, to tell her about the UFO the friend and her son had just seen, hovering over their house off Hog Mountain Rd.

The conversation started with, “I’ve not had a drop to drink…” and I can tell you from my experience, the woman who saw the UFO is one of the last people in Winder I’d expect to hear a UFO story from. She’s just too down to earth (pardon my pun) to believe in that type of thing. So, when I heard who the source of the UFO story was, my ears perked up even more…After all, in this case, it had to be true!

Around 8:30 p.m. the woman and her son arrived home. Her son got out to get the mail and at 8:34 p.m. the woman looked up and saw a line of lights, some red, some white, hovering in front of the car. The colored lights were flashing, the white ones were not. The object was about the size of an 18-wheeler and it made no noise at all.

After calling her son back into the car and locking the doors, the woman tried to get a movie of the object with her phone, but the movie wouldn’t take – not even the flashing lights showed up. She then called her sister-in-law, who lives nearby, to tell her about the thing that was hovering silently in front of her car.

“I know,” said the sister-in-law. “There’s one hovering over my house, too.” The sister-in-law’s daughter was home and was so scared at the sight of the thing that she began to cry. Then, while the two women were still on the phone, both objects silently rose up and disappeared into the night.  

Once in the house and calmed down, the woman called the sheriff to ask if there was some training exercise or something going on. He said he was not aware of anything…

Back at the hair salon, staff and clients had spent the day (in between cuts and color, of course) searching for similar reports on the internet and ufostalker.com had the full scoop:

-          7:16 p.m., Athens, GA – “from my upstairs window I observed 6-8 pulsating red lights moving in a SE to SW line at about 500+ knots.”  (1 knot = 1.15 miles per hour)

-          8:15 p.m., Lawrenceville, GA – “white and red horizontal lights in the sky on a cloudless, clear night.”

-          8:30 p.m., Dacula, GA – “large light formation that resembled nothing that could be explained traveling across the sky with unusual unfamiliar characteristics.”

Similar sightings (on other blogs) were also described in Buford and Rutledge, GA at about the same time. From Buford, a woman reported: “There were 10 lights total; some were solid red, some were flashing red; they were all traveling in formation. They were coming from the direction of Winder and were headed towards Atlanta. There was no up or down movement. I couldn’t tell if it was one single or multiple objects. It made no sound at all.”

In Griffin, GA ‘two extremely large aircraft with blinking lights, definitely NOT airplanes” were reported on ufostalker.com. Later that night, a “large dark mass framed by lights or escorted/hauled by aircraft” was reported near Birmingham, AL and “8-10 bright red objects with a larger white object in the middle, alternating beacon-type lights with the red objects, traveling in a straight line” in Farmerville, AL. 

Coincidentally (or not), the day before, Jan. 14, a Winder man working downtown reported seeing a “white object in the sky” when he went out for a smoke break at 9:30 a.m. Initially the object appeared to be stationary, then it moved across the sky, stopped, then went “straight up really fast for a second, then stopped again.” The man reported (on ufostalker.com) “the speed it went up was not something I’d seen before. I’m not saying this was a UFO, but it moved faster than a normal object can. It also stopped twice and just sat there. If it was a plane, it’s not like any plane I’ve ever seen or heard of.” (He caught a cell phone photo, but didn’t post it with his report.)    

Since the story has been circulating on local blogs and such, other reports of people seeing the Hog Mountain Rd. UFOs have been posted.

Did aliens from outer space visit our area? You make the call…All I know is I can hardly wait for my next hair cut appointment. Maybe while I wait my turn, we can watch a few more of those mermaid sightings on You Tube.  

 

Happy 100th Birthday to my Gramma Opal

“It takes a long time to become young.” – Pablo Picasso

My grandma Opal Skinner observed her 100^th birthday last week and I surprised her by showing up to help her celebrate. Most of her family, nearly all the residents of her assisted living and many, many, many friends, neighbors and townsfolk ventured out on that windy high-of-4-degrees day in the snow-covered Eastern Colorado Plains to pay their respects and wish her well.

And, what an amazing woman she is! Opal’s mind is still sharp as a tack. She presided over her birthday gathering, sitting tall and proud, next to her 98-year-old sister, Myrtle, who is also still quite spry. An excellent conversationalist, Opal asked pertinent questions about children, health, pets and trips as people she’s known most of her life or only for a short while filed by, offering their cards and hugs, as they laughed, reminisced, snapped photos and enjoyed the punch and cake.

Trouble hearing and an, at times, unsteady gait are the only concessions my grandmother has made to her years. Recently she’s consented to using a walker or resting on someone’s arm as she makes her way through her still activity-filled days. Her eyesight is good and her coordination excellent. She makes wire and bead angels for friends, family and church bazaars. She sews brightly colored bags filled with bird seed to warm in the microwave, then drape on the neck to take aches away. The one badge of aging she’s always wanted – a full head of white hair – continues to elude her. She has so little grey her hairdresser describes her as a brunette.  

Attitude-wise, Opal is opinionated and unfailingly positive. Ask her a question and you’ll get an honest, respectful answer. Opal’s glass is ever half-full, her clouds always silver-lined, and her response to any challenge is to look on the bright side. For the past few years, her answer to the question, “How are you?” has been simply, “I’m blessed.” 
 

I’ve always known my grandmother to be a remarkable person, but when I Googled “how many people live to be 100,” it became obvious just how special she is. Only 0.0173% of Americans live long enough to become centenarians – that is roughly one person in every 6,000. (Fifty years ago, only one in 67,000 reached that mark.)

So, what is the secret to Opal’s long life? There are a few:  

Hard work. She and my grandpa were wheat farmers, starting out as teenaged newlyweds and continuing through their late eighties. They lived off their land, gardened to fill the storm cellar with food, butchered livestock to keep their freezers full, and kept chickens for eggs. My grandparents were up before the sun and, when the season demanded it, worked well into the night.    

I don’t recall seeing my grandma relax much. There was a bit of time after the big farm lunch was cleaned up, before it was time to start dinner that she’d sit on the floor and play games with us. And, on long summer evenings, she’d pull us into her lap and rock gently in the old glider swing that sat on her front porch. We’d watch the birds play in the baths she kept clean and full for them, and enjoy the sweet scent of the red and white pansies she always planted around the house.  

Exercise. An enthusiastic walker and occasional bike rider, Opal always had a “walking buddy” (another farm wife or church friend) she exercised with several times a week.

Opal watched her weight and took pride in her appearance. I don’t think I ever saw her without her hair fixed, her lipstick fresh and, even on the sweatiest of work days, she smelled faintly of perfume. She wore scarves in the wind and aprons to cook and never once did I see her step out of the house “looking like something the cats have been dragging around,” as she described being disheveled.

Regular checkups and promptly dealing with any hint of a health problem were part of Opal’s regimen. She didn’t drink, except maybe a sip of Mogan David wine on holidays. She never smoked and she was a big believer in good clean fun – card games, board games and not too much TV.

Keeping her mind engaged. Opal is an avid reader, who likes listening to informative radio shows. It’s not unusual to get a newspaper clipping or magazine article in a letter she’s written (yes, she still hand writes her own letters) that has to do with something that reminds her of us or that we might be interested in.

Travel. Opal loves seeing the world. I escorted her to a cousin’s wedding in Mexico when she was 90 and I was 45. It was a planes, trains and un-airconditioned busses kind of a trip and I could barely keep up with her. That was when I realized, if I had any of Opal’s genes at all, my life was, indeed, only half over…Even now, she says, “If that van (at the assisted living) is going somewhere, I’m on it!”          

Faith. My grandma reads the Bible daily, attends church regularly, prays, believes and trusts in the Lord. “His will be done,” sums up the way she explains everything that happens – good and bad.    

And, last but never least, family. My grandmother loves her family. Four kids, eight grandkids, 16 great grandkids and three great-great grandkids later, we can still depend on a greeting card from Opal arriving promptly on each of our “special days,” as she calls them.

I don’t know how many years I’ll live, but I hope to live each day with the same understanding of and love for life that my grandma has.  Happy birthday, Opal!  

 

processes not resolutions in 2014

“I am still learning.” – Michelangelo

Even though the notion is a bit cliché, I am a big fan of the New Year’s resolution. They are a way to note where we are, decide where we’d like to be and set a course in that direction.

Some resolutions remain perpetually on my list, partly because I never quite pull them off and partly because they’re just such good ideas. These include: drink more water, drink less wine; eat less meat, eat more fiber; exercise more, watch TV less, go outside; read, find ways to keep my mind in shape; clean the house thoroughly, get organized.

Next are the self-reproach-based resolutions which include things like: listen more, talk less; be less judgmental; reduce the clutter, live more simply, work towards a “greener” lifestyle; do more sit-ups, commit to cardio at least three times a week; lose weight; worry less, laugh more; don’t sweat the small stuff, it’s all small stuff…you get the idea. 

Lastly, I ponder the intangible resolutions: find joy; be at peace; have more fun; be kinder and gentler; give more, expect less; keep the faith; let go, let God…that type of thing.  

 

Year after year I make the same resolutions and while progress is being made, it’s in baby steps, not leaps and bounds. Feeling successful about resolutions helps us keep working towards them and since so many of mine are like library books I keep renewing, but never quite finish, I recently decided to start viewing them in a different way. From here on out, my resolutions will become processes.

Drinking more water (and less wine) as a process is do-able; it doesn’t present like a challenge needing to be met, so much as simply something to do each day. It’s the same with the other diet and health resolutions – eating less meat and more veggies, exercising more, sitting less, losing weight, and committing to weekly cardio don’t sound nearly as scary when they’re simply “maintaining a healthy lifestyle.”    

Getting the house cleaned and organized? If I do something along these lines each day, the process is underway…The same with reducing the clutter and working towards a “greener” lifestyle. The City of Winder provides me with a big bin and free recycling; if I just read the mail as it comes in and trash or recycle it, along with my beverage and food cans, stray cardboard boxes, etc. I’m headed down the path…  

Finding joy and being at peace don’t seem so intangible when all I’m committing to is a couple of yoga classes each week. As for worrying less, laughing more and having more fun - not sweating the small stuff and it’s all small stuff is probably the process.

There’s something about “resolutions” that is destined to fail. Like bad companions, they’re big, loud and lofty, so full of themselves they don’t really care how you and the long term work out. Quiet process, on the other hand, just keeps on ticking like a chill version of a Timex watch or a Zen version of the Ever Ready Bunny.

I’m going to bet that being kinder and gentler, giving more, expecting less and keeping the faith begin to unfold in our hearts easier when we’re on the process path of letting go and letting God, each and every day, whenever a challenge large or small appears.

Like resolutions, the process of self-growth is ongoing and can loom larger than life. It’s easier to imagine myself enjoying a ripe tomato, just picked from the vine, while standing in the middle of my recently weeded garden, than it is to imagine myself obtaining personal peace and lasting calm while meditating on a mat…Process, do-able steps, one after the other…as George Sand said, “The old woman I shall become will be quite different from the woman I am now. Another I is beginning.” 2014 may be a very good year…    

 

even my black dog chooses "Hope!"

“She said she usually cried at least once each day not because she was sad, but because the world was so beautiful and life was so short.” – the StoryPeople/Brian Andreas

There’s a melancholy which, for me, always follows Christmas. It’s such a poignant pleasure to decorate the house, wrap the presents, prepare the food, set the table and then take a moment, rocking by the Christmas tree, to savor the anticipation of the arrival of the actual holiday and my most loved ones. Next comes the pleasure of the time together – the laughter and love and blessed plenty, celebrated in the cheery glow of the candlelight and Christmas lights.

As we unwrap presents, we wax poetic, thankful by the fire…Then come the sweet Christmas Eve “Goodnights” and happy, groggy Christmas Day “Good mornings.” How I love the simple pleasure of sharing coffee with Mr. Clark and our grown children, together at the table, in the morning…A bit of breakfast and then they’re gone, off to the things that come next in their busy holidays.

My children have in-laws and friends and pets at home that need feeding, plus a myriad of other valid things that take them from my life before I’m ready to let them go. I get that; it is what it is – a blessed reality where they have full lives that I get to share only at times. Somehow, I never get quite enough time with them, though; it’s been that way since they left for college nearly 15 years ago, that feeling of never quite enough time.

I’ve always envied families who live in one town and see or talk to each other every day. I and mine have never had that…Maybe it’s something that comes with being from the West – my people left those towns where everyone stays close and ventured out to where the wind blows loud and cold and the nearest neighbor is miles away…Maybe it’s something that stays in our blood even after the suburbs have replaced the farmsteads and there’s little adventure left in our hearts. Our extended families live far away from us and each other; we are islands that make weekly, monthly, maybe only on a holiday calls…How nice it must be to have everyone together for every Sunday dinner, the way so many folks do, here in the South.

But, back to my post-Christmas melancholy…Some years she has me pack the decorations away slowly, leave the lights up way too long and savor the season until nearly Valentine’s Day. Other years, I start repacking the plastic bins marked “Christmas” on December 26. This is one of those years – most of Christmas has been put away and it’s only New Year’s Day…Like William Styron’s Black Dog of Depression, I can’t predict or judge what post-Christmas melancholy will have me do, I just follow her lead, knowing that if I do, my life will become my own again, sooner rather than later.

Enter the 2014 datebook-day planner/Ipad-smart phone e-calendar/etc. – this is where optimism reappears. There’s something so hopeful about all those blank calendar pages stretching into the year ahead and something so cleansing about throwing all of those old calendar pages away.

I take a moment to be thankful for all the good things that happened during the last year, lick my wounds over the bad things that also occurred, then move on, filling in the birthdays and anniversaries and already known plans for the New Year. I’m not an optimistic person – every glass is half-empty, every silver cloud has a dark lining, disaster in one form or another lurks around every corner…So, you see why this ritual of sitting down and savoring a fresh calendar is special to me. It’s a fleeting and precious time of optimism in my otherwise pessimistic year. 

A particularly optimistic friend proclaimed “We choose Hope!” in her Christmas letter this year – multiple exclamation marks, “Hope!” always capitalized - several times in each paragraph. The tone of her letter was no surprise, but, something in her message stuck. “Hope!” is a choice we can all make. “Hope!” can replace fear or dread as our anchoring emotion…Imagine that, post-Christmas melancholy and Styron’s Black Dog…

It’ll be mid-January before my emotions settle down again…In the interim and thereafter, I hope I choose “Hope!” again and again…Even that Black Dog can thump his tail at times.

(The Black Dog in the photo is Roland, my beloved, old, rescue of a Rottweiller. He chose "Hope!" and thumped his little stub of a tail every day of the brief time we got to share his company.)