Brothers....
25 December 2006
23 December 2006
Before He Cheats
I've been meaning to get this up here for a few weeks.
Carrie Underwood’s song “Before He Cheats” is one that (I have to admit) I enjoy singing along with. Here are some of the lyrics….
I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive
carved my name into his leather seats..
I took a Louisville slugger to both head lights
slashed a hole in all 4 tires...
maybe next time he'll think before he cheats.
I might've saved a little trouble for the next girl
cause the next time that he cheats..
oh you know it won't be on me! no.. not on me..
It’s a catchy tune with lots of strength in the vocals. It’s just damn fun to sing along.
While singing along one day (in the car for fear someone might actually hear me) I realized that part of the pleasure of singing to this song is that I could relate to the desire (I guess we all have at one time or another) to punish someone for being so lousy. It then occurred to me that the act of revenge wasn’t going to really accomplish anything for Miss Underwood or any of us that feels ‘cheated’. It won’t convince the cheater of anything. We are under the misconception that we can ‘teach a lesson’ to another person or get them to understand they are wrong. Well, I think I’ve come to the place (a little late perhaps) where (at least in my thinking mind) that the ‘wrong doer’ is no more likely to understand than I am liable to lasso the moon. No amount of cajoling, tears, conversations, explanations or outright punishment will change this person. No matter how wrong we think they might be. In fact, when Mr. Cheat sees what’s happened to his precious truck he’ll simply think the gal he cheated on is nuts. (How do I know it’s a truck? It’s a country song, people!) Now I have to admit that there might be something to having at his vehicle if for no other reason than to let off some steam. But don’t believe that it will change him. In fact, be the bigger man (which happens to be woman - ok, couldn’t help myself) and walk away with your dignity. Recognize your own worth and get away from a person who disrespects you. And most of the time (if you aren’t kidding yourself) you already knew he was a cheat.
Amen!
Carrie Underwood’s song “Before He Cheats” is one that (I have to admit) I enjoy singing along with. Here are some of the lyrics….
I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive
carved my name into his leather seats..
I took a Louisville slugger to both head lights
slashed a hole in all 4 tires...
maybe next time he'll think before he cheats.
I might've saved a little trouble for the next girl
cause the next time that he cheats..
oh you know it won't be on me! no.. not on me..
It’s a catchy tune with lots of strength in the vocals. It’s just damn fun to sing along.
While singing along one day (in the car for fear someone might actually hear me) I realized that part of the pleasure of singing to this song is that I could relate to the desire (I guess we all have at one time or another) to punish someone for being so lousy. It then occurred to me that the act of revenge wasn’t going to really accomplish anything for Miss Underwood or any of us that feels ‘cheated’. It won’t convince the cheater of anything. We are under the misconception that we can ‘teach a lesson’ to another person or get them to understand they are wrong. Well, I think I’ve come to the place (a little late perhaps) where (at least in my thinking mind) that the ‘wrong doer’ is no more likely to understand than I am liable to lasso the moon. No amount of cajoling, tears, conversations, explanations or outright punishment will change this person. No matter how wrong we think they might be. In fact, when Mr. Cheat sees what’s happened to his precious truck he’ll simply think the gal he cheated on is nuts. (How do I know it’s a truck? It’s a country song, people!) Now I have to admit that there might be something to having at his vehicle if for no other reason than to let off some steam. But don’t believe that it will change him. In fact, be the bigger man (which happens to be woman - ok, couldn’t help myself) and walk away with your dignity. Recognize your own worth and get away from a person who disrespects you. And most of the time (if you aren’t kidding yourself) you already knew he was a cheat.
Amen!
21 December 2006
18 December 2006
17 December 2006
O Holy Night
"A thrill of hope, the weary soul rejoices,"This is one of my very most favorite Christmas songs. I heard a fabulous version not too long ago by a very talented local artist. I feel honored to have been given that most precious opportunity. I won't forget the gift that it was or the pleasure it brought. Thank you.
12 December 2006
Pearl's pearls....
Excerpt from "The Child Who Never Grew" by Pearl Buck, copyright 1950! Timeless words.
How often did I cry out in my heart that is would be better if my child died! If that shocks you who have not known, it will not shock those who do know. I would have welcomed death for my child and would still welcome it, for then she would be finally safe.
It is inevitable that one ponders much on this matter of kindly death. Every now and again I see in the newspapers the report of a man or woman who has put to death a mentally defective child. My heart goes out to such a one. I understand the love and despair which prompted the act. There is not only the depair that descends when the inevitable makes itself known, but here is the increasing despair of every day. For each day that makes clear that the child is only as he was yesterday drives the despair deeper, and there are besides the difficulties of care for such a child, the endless round of duties that seem to bear no fruit, tending a body that will be no more than a body however long it lives, gazing into the dull eyes that respond with no lively look, helping the fumbling hands --- all these drive deeper the despair. And added to the despair is the terror and the question, "Who will do this in case I do not live?"
There is also despair in the loss of freedom that comes with the raising of such a child. Adam keeps me from things that I would otherwise be undertaking. It's not his fault...I don't blame him, but it limits my life choices in ways that people can't fathom. It's difficult to have a job that allows me the flexibility that his care requires. I miss working outside my home. I miss the productivity and the social aspects. Also, it's difficult to find things to do that allow for my older son's desires and needs while still allowing for Adam's needs. Each year the gap between what each one wants and needs to do grows greater. How do I find the time to spend with my eldest son doing things that a 10 year old wants to do? How do I find a way to not only care for my sons now, but in the future? I will only live just so long. The financial burden is large. College for Tyler? Full-time care for Adam? Retirement? Despair is a word that fits. I had always thought myself a person capable of anything. That vanity is gone. I don't know how to do this. Luckily my sense of loyalty remains and I will do it. I am a parent. That's what a parent does.
How often did I cry out in my heart that is would be better if my child died! If that shocks you who have not known, it will not shock those who do know. I would have welcomed death for my child and would still welcome it, for then she would be finally safe.
It is inevitable that one ponders much on this matter of kindly death. Every now and again I see in the newspapers the report of a man or woman who has put to death a mentally defective child. My heart goes out to such a one. I understand the love and despair which prompted the act. There is not only the depair that descends when the inevitable makes itself known, but here is the increasing despair of every day. For each day that makes clear that the child is only as he was yesterday drives the despair deeper, and there are besides the difficulties of care for such a child, the endless round of duties that seem to bear no fruit, tending a body that will be no more than a body however long it lives, gazing into the dull eyes that respond with no lively look, helping the fumbling hands --- all these drive deeper the despair. And added to the despair is the terror and the question, "Who will do this in case I do not live?"
There is also despair in the loss of freedom that comes with the raising of such a child. Adam keeps me from things that I would otherwise be undertaking. It's not his fault...I don't blame him, but it limits my life choices in ways that people can't fathom. It's difficult to have a job that allows me the flexibility that his care requires. I miss working outside my home. I miss the productivity and the social aspects. Also, it's difficult to find things to do that allow for my older son's desires and needs while still allowing for Adam's needs. Each year the gap between what each one wants and needs to do grows greater. How do I find the time to spend with my eldest son doing things that a 10 year old wants to do? How do I find a way to not only care for my sons now, but in the future? I will only live just so long. The financial burden is large. College for Tyler? Full-time care for Adam? Retirement? Despair is a word that fits. I had always thought myself a person capable of anything. That vanity is gone. I don't know how to do this. Luckily my sense of loyalty remains and I will do it. I am a parent. That's what a parent does.
11 December 2006
Pearl Buck and I
Pearl Buck. Over the years I have read some of her books. For 5 years or so her book, "The Child Who Never Grew", has sat on my bookshelf unread. I've tried to read it in the past, but couldn't manage to get past the first few pages. I just wasn't ready. It happens that Pearl Buck and I have something in common. I would love to say that my writing is as wonderful as hers, but that's not it. We both bore a child with special needs. There are many years difference in our experience; however, the feelings and concerns that tore at Pearl's heart many years ago are much the same as the ones that plague me now. She manages to convey these feelings and concerns in a style that is wise and eloquent.
"The Child Who Never Grew" is her account of finding a way and a means to deal with a 'retarded' child. This book would not be considered 'PC" by today's standards, but its ideas are timeless. What Buck refers to as "inescapable sorrow" is well known to me.
"...for endurance of inescapable sorrow is something which has to be learned alone. And only to endure is not enough. Endurance can be a harsh and bitter root in one's life, bearing poisonous and gloomy fruit, destroying other lives. Endurance is only the beginning. There must be acceptance and the knowledge that sorrow fully accepted brings its own gifts. For there is an alchemy in sorrow. It can be transmuted into wisdom, which, if it does not bring joy, can yet bring happiness." Pearl Buck 1950
I guess I just haven't gotten to the fully accepting part. I certainly don't feel wise and the joy of life has, of late, eluded me. It may just be that I'm enduring rather than accepting. For me it is a heart rending struggle from the shore of endurance to that of acceptance. I may have made the leap at times over the years thinking that I've made it only to suddenly find myself back where I started and wondering how I got back there.
Thank you Pearl for braving the world and telling your story. Your words have reached me and gently pull me toward a better tomorrow.
"The Child Who Never Grew" is her account of finding a way and a means to deal with a 'retarded' child. This book would not be considered 'PC" by today's standards, but its ideas are timeless. What Buck refers to as "inescapable sorrow" is well known to me.
"...for endurance of inescapable sorrow is something which has to be learned alone. And only to endure is not enough. Endurance can be a harsh and bitter root in one's life, bearing poisonous and gloomy fruit, destroying other lives. Endurance is only the beginning. There must be acceptance and the knowledge that sorrow fully accepted brings its own gifts. For there is an alchemy in sorrow. It can be transmuted into wisdom, which, if it does not bring joy, can yet bring happiness." Pearl Buck 1950
I guess I just haven't gotten to the fully accepting part. I certainly don't feel wise and the joy of life has, of late, eluded me. It may just be that I'm enduring rather than accepting. For me it is a heart rending struggle from the shore of endurance to that of acceptance. I may have made the leap at times over the years thinking that I've made it only to suddenly find myself back where I started and wondering how I got back there.
Thank you Pearl for braving the world and telling your story. Your words have reached me and gently pull me toward a better tomorrow.
10 December 2006
08 December 2006
Who are you?
We can only ever know someone by the pieces they reveal, by the pieces we uncover and most importantly by the pieces we will never know.
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