Thinking about Memorial Day
Mother’s Day is not my favorite holiday. Actually, I’m not a big fan of any holiday, as most of them seem to have evolved into things you need to buy and when you need to buy them by. Life is busy enough, why do we have to put MORE deadlines and shopping lists into it?
I saw one of my kids last Monday, when I helped him and his girlfriend clean his old apartment and the new house into which they are moving. Downing egg salad sandwiches and fancy soda pop, while sitting on the floor of their new living room – well, that was a nice party that I was glad to be at.
First Written June 18, 1999
I have just returned from a week in Utah and Colorado where I attended a family wedding in Grand Junction, Colo. It was a grand and energizing adventure.
I encountered dozens of interesting people on the trip, but the one I noticed most was the one who was not there. My husband didn't come along on this escapade. I soon discovered that an illuminating and entertaining way to contemplate Father’s Day is to try to be one. (Something single mothers have been saying all along.)
How do symbols get started? And why does a person want to give their sweetheart a partridge in a pear tree, anyway?
We were Deep in the Big Muddy of Marriage. Kids. A mortgage on a 2-story house that was suddenly showing water stains behind the glasses in a kitchen cupboard on the first floor. Oh yeah, that was going to be so easy to figure out and fix. We had jobs that were keeping us going but not making us rich. Each of us was well into middle-age. You know; thicker glasses, thinner hair, bigger pants, a closet filled with responsible brown shoes.
What happened when Len gave me the WRONG bathrobe on Christmas morning the first year we were married - and other stories of knowing and being known by the choices we make and the gifts we give and receive.
Is it Advent now or is it Pre-Christmas?
Help! I’m listing!