Simple needs, not simply got

You know...  All I want is to be openly loved by the man I love and to be a part of his life.  Is that so much to ask?  I'd like my son back, too, but these things are out of my control.  

Such simple things, love and family, and yet... so effing complicated and out of reach.  I'm not a difficult person to love.  And I'm not a bad mother.  I'm good, kind, understanding, patient...  But these two things--the love of my man and the love and presence of my son, the absence of which leave such holes in my heart--constantly evade me.

I'm not a person to bemoan my fate and ask, "Why me?"  But today, I'm feeling at my outermost limit.  Why can't anything ever be normal for me?  When will things get better?  My heart hurts.  And I'm so very tired.

When will I have love?

Will I ever have my son?

Such simple things, but not simply got.

Weekly Writing Goals

My writing goal for the week:
One complete flash fiction piece, 1000 words or less.

Writing goal for the month:
Two completed pieces of flash fiction ready for submission to two writing contests. Each 1000 words or less. Deadline, June 25.

Shared with Memoires for Android

Published with Blogger-droid v1.7.0

Update:  7-12-2011  Screw the weekly writing goals!

Every Day is a Lazy Day

I just saw this video from Bruno Mars's Lazy Song.  I liked it so much I wanted to keep it forever in my blog and share it with all my friends!  No, I don't live in a cave.  Yes, I'm familiar with the song, I hear it all the time on the radio.  And while this catchy tune often plays on the radio and bounces around in the back of my head while I drive, I've never paid much more attention to it than to bob my head and tap the steering wheel in time with the beat.

But after watching the vid, it's more than a catchy tune.  Bruno Mars has a sense of humor, and that always captures my attention.

So here it is...  Enjoy!

UPDATE 11-16-2013:  
This vid still makes me smile, still one of my faves.  Need a smile on your face?  Watch this to lift your spirits.

During Lunch, Between Storms

During lunch, yesterday, I sat beneath a tree, listening to rainwater drip through its leaves.  Together with the ambient odor of cigarette smoke, it brought me back to my days at Faire. 

This picture was taken between severe thunderstorms.  The mist wasn't visible except on the image.  I took three photos, each with the same mist.  It wasn't cigarette smoke, just an interesting effect of the light through the trees, refracting off the moisture in the air.  

1993.  My first year at the Bristol Renaissance Faire.  That's me standing in the middle of the frame, in red and blue, playing recorder.  Two seasons later found me as Assistant Music Director, actor, and founder of Tabardynn, my recorder duo.  First with Erica (the young lady in blue, far right), and then with Lori a few years later. It looks dry in the picture, but I'm fairly certain it rained like crazy later in the day...  In the beginning, Erica and I splashed in the puddles during the rain.  Later on, we learned it was far preferable to find cover somewhere and stay as dry as possible--which wasn't very dry at all!

'Shrooms!

I found these mushrooms at Angela's, today...

All in a day's work at clinical...

My resident in clinical this week is a wonderfully sweet woman who came to the US from Germany when she was 16. She was born in 1916.

She's been at this place for some time, and recently had been confused to the point that she can't understand or speak her native German, and can't answer where she came from or when. It's rather tragic;  she's a very gentle, endearing woman, and I've been told her family are also very nice.

I suppose it goes without saying that aside from her diagnosed Alzheimer's, she also suffers mild compulsive disorder. She snaps out of her stupor when she's toileted, at which time she shouts that the bathroom isn't clean. Of course, it's very clean.  It didn't surprise me one bit that this old German woman would be hyper-concerned about the state of cleanliness of her toilet.

That aside, she's become my very favorite resident. 

Today, a mother duck and her ducklings were ushered from the enclosed courtyard, indoors across the hallway, and out to the front of the building. The mother led the ducklings (ushered by the maintenance man) across the hall and outside again.  She stood to the side beneath a tree and honked loudly, calling to her fowl crew. 

A few made it across the hall from courtyard to front yard without incident. The others escaped, avoiding the herding humans and scampering around the human barricade to scatter this way and that down the hallway. Some were shooed outside.  Others had to be picked up and placed outside.

It was quite a sight, and I was delighted to be a part of it (I was asked to hold open the door leading to the front yard). I so wanted to pick up one of the ducklings, but was afraid to scent them and have them rejected by the mother. I'm actually a little worried for the ones who had been picked up. The maintenance guy pooh-poohed someone's concern by saying, "Oh, they have a bunch of new ones every year!"

It seems this is a yearly occurrence and nothing new to the maintenance man and other staff.  That inner courtyard is a nice safe place to nest and sit on the eggs... Until they hatch and can't get out. The mother duck can fly in and out, but the babies can't.

Finding Nemo

Finding Nemo

In the science building, there's a salt water aquarium that has a few anemones, a Dory fish and three Nemo fish that I could find.

Two of the Nemo fish are little, about what you'd expect, still young.

The third is fat and nearly as big as the Dory fish. Duskier in color than the other two Nemo fish. Obviously the Grandpa of the three. He's big.

Grandaddy Nemo.  Clownfish at WCC Science Building.

Just woke up from a crazy dream.

Just woke up from a crazy dream.

I was in Germany, and someone--a man, my grandpa?--took Alex after school and brought him to the place I was staying (my mother-in-law's!). I was terrified he'd be found before we got on the plane the next morning, and that he'd be taken away again. I was so happy to have him back, I cried and cried... But afraid to rejoice, in case we didn't make it back home together.

There was a bath involved, with a turtle, dry laundry hanging over the tub and falling into the water, another missing child found naked under the dry-then-wet laundry in the bath tub. His mother came for him, they went home. My mother-in-law was weirdly cooperative. I was irritated I had to speak german again, but managed.

There was getting ready for a Pink Floyd concert and a concert t-shirt. I looked thin yet curvy soft in the mirror. I was pretty, and surprised and pleased by that. I was with a man. He was Jeff. He loved me, and was proud of me. 

Then I found myself in a foot race. I ran fast... And won. It wasn't like running-thru-cement dreamtime running. I was fast! Alex and my parents were there, and they were proud of me. Esp Alex.

Then we were home and Mom, Dad and I were at Alex's first bike race (???). We were very proud of him, and he was beginning to loosen up around us. He wasn't upset about being with us and away from his dad, but he was shy and uncertain. He was happy to be with me again.

At the race, there was rain, an arrogant boy we at first mistook for Alex. But Alex was the quiet, wise one.

There were lots of parents.

After the race, there was the whole group, parents and kids, under the same shelter from the rain. There was an issue with a young woman and I desperate for a bathroom and using the nearby bathtub for lack of a toilet.

There were predatory animals (recurrent theme) passing through in a kind of show-and-tell parade. These animals were an alligator, a wolf, a panther which particularly sniffed around me for a long time, then walked away. I was terrified and worried that my fear was of yummy interest to the panther, but he finally moved on.

After the race, someone, an evil man, (old, thin, scrawny, wily, and a crazy-Amish-farmer look about him) took Alex and ran away down this labyrinth of horse stalls. I chased after them and found the man in a stall. He was standing on a stool brandishing a hammer at a cluster of people, intending to kill them with it. I snuck up on him, attacked his legs with something, missed. Strick out again, missed again. He swiped at me once, twice... Missed, turned himself into a pair of very large pencils.

I grabbed them, then smashed them to bits against a pole. I was worried the pieces would reanimate into the evil man again, but thought burning them should take care of the matter.

I woke up after the killing.

It sounds like a terrible dream, but looking at it from the other side, it's really about succeeding over all obstacles. I came out on top in every situation.

Phone Gizmos: Ultra Mate Diary for Android

Oh boy. A new journal. This one's on my phone, which I think is a great idea. I can write on the go, anytime, anywhere, and I don't have to bring my notebook with me. I can backup to my SD card, email entries to myself and others, then just copy and paste to the journal program on my laptop. The best part is that, when using the Swype or trace function on your mobile, it's faster--and funner--than writing by hand...

UM Diary.  Not to be confused
with Ultra Mate Diary 1.0

Ultra Mate Diary Key

Look for UM Diary, by Urmobilife, in the Android Market. There's a free version, and a paid-for version.  You can purchase the "key" after installing the journal itself, which unlocks some nifty extras, including fonts, styles and other pretty little trinkets.  Life is peachy without those add-ons, but they make journalling on your phone that much more interesting. 

 

Ultra Notes

As if that isn't enough, for all you list makers and note takers out there, give Ultra Note a try, by the same developers.  Your life will never be the same.

Coventry Carol

Finally, Coventry Carol, as it was meant to sound.  This music comes to us from the 16th Century, played on Lute.  This music stirs my soul, as does Oh Come, Oh Come, Emmanuel, both hauntingly reverent pieces.

Christmas Blessings to All.

Lully, lullay, Thou little tiny Child,

Bye, bye, lully, lullay.

Lullay, thou little tiny Child,

Bye, bye, lully, lullay.

O sisters too, how may we do,

For to preserve this day

This poor youngling for whom we do sing

Bye, bye, lully, lullay.

Herod, the king, in his raging,

Charged he hath this day

His men of might, in his own sight,

All children young to slay.

That woe is me, poor Child for Thee!

And ever mourn and sigh,

For thy parting neither say nor sing,

Bye, bye, lully, lullay.

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel - Enya

Oh Come, Oh Come, Emmanuel is the second of my favorite Christmas carols. This rendition is performed by another of my favorite artists, Enya.

The origin of this carol is a little blurred.  The version we're accustomed to was arranged in the 19th Century.  The traditional music can be traced back to the 15th century (once again, explaining my love for this song), with possibly even 8th Century Gregorian roots, and the "lyrics" to the 12th Century. 

Generally, I prefer these carols to remain as true and simple as possible, but sometimes it's nice to mix up the flavor a bit.  Hence, the Enya version of Emmanuel, and the McKennitt version of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.

Christmas Blessings to All.

   

 

Oh come, Oh come, Emmanuel
To free your captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice, rejoice, Oh Israel
To you shall come Emmanuel

Oh come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan's tyranny
From depths of Hell Thy people save
And give them victory o'er the grave
Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, oh Israel

Oh come, Thou Day-Spring
Come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death's dark shadows put to flight
Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, o Israel

Oh come, Thou Key of David, come
And open wide our heavenly home
Make safe the way that leads on high
And close the path to misery
Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, o Israel

Oh come, Oh come, Thou Lord of might
Who to Thy tribes, on Sinai's height
In ancient times did'st give the Law
In cloud, and majesty and awe
Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, o Israel

God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen

I want to share my favorite Christmas songs with you. The first, God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.

This rendition is performed by one of my favorite artists, Loreena McKennitt.  It captures a certain primality I've always associated with early music.  It was this song, first heard and played on the piano when I was five or six years old, that ignited my love for medieval and renaissance music--and I didn't even know why I liked it so much.  God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen (while neither medieval nor renaissance, but more likely from the mid-18th c.) remained my very favorite Christmas song into my twenties, when I added two more to the list--both period pieces, as well.  By that time I was able to discern what it was that I liked about my music, but the bottom line is that these songs strike a very deep, erm, chord within me.  They will always stir my soul.

Yuletide Blessings to All.

God rest ye merry, gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay
Remember Christ our Saviour
Was born on Christmas Day
To save us all from Satan's power
When we were gone astray.
O tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy;
O tidings of comfort and joy!

From God our Heavenly Father
A blessed angel came
And unto certain shepherdsBrought tidings of the same
How in that Bethlehem was born
The son of God by name

"Fear not," then said the angel
"Let nothing you affright
This day is born a saviour
Of a pure virgin bright
To free all those who trust in him
From Satan's pow'r and might"

The shepherds at those tidings
Rejoiced much in mind,
And left their flocks a-feeding
In tempest, storm and wind
And went to Bethlehem straightaway
This blessed babe to find

But when to Bethlehem they came
Whereat this infant lay
They found him in a manger
Where oxen feed on hay
His mother Mary kneeling
Unto the Lord did pray

Now to the Lord sing praises
All you within this place
And with true love and brotherhood
Each other now embrace
This holy tide of Christmas
All others doth deface

Sitting in a hospital room

Today reminds of early morning flight times, of sitting in a plane on the runway at the airport...

Clear, winter-morning sky an expanse through the window.
Tinny television volume, and thick white noise of the ventilation system muffling ambient sounds.
That peculiar insular feeling, solitary in my own little capsule of hope and excitement.

The expectancy of travel, forward movement, and new vistas hang heavy in the air.

RECAP: Things I will do when I am single, again (and new things to do, now that I am!)

Recently, I ran across this old post from April 2007--nearly four years ago--on a defunct blog page. Now that I've been single for nearly that long, and divorced for 2.5 years, let's see how much of this I've accomplished, so far...

1. I will read, study, write, watch, listen to, buy and do anything I want, anytime I want, and leave it all out in the open and not hide it for fear of recrimination or fear of having it thrown away, or having to answer for myself to an ignorant clod of a husband who has no tolerance for the parts of me that make me different from him. Including my gender. In short, I will be nothing less than MYSELF.
CHECK!

2. I will leave the bed unmade. Always. Except for when I'm expecting company.
CHECK! And sometimes I leave the bed unmade, even when I do have company.

3. I will no longer fear that, when the telephone rings, the person on the other end might be my mother-in-law.
Oh, zippedee-do-dah, CHECK! Though now, when the phone rings and the number is unrecognizable, I tend to worry that it's a bill collector. But at least it isn't the wicked chicken hawk of Middle Europe.

4. On weekdays, I will leave the breakfast dishes in the sink until after I get home and dinner has been eaten.Well, SORT-OF. Living with mom and dad pretty much precludes treating the house as if it were my own. Except when they go out of town. In which case, yes, I leave the morning dishes in the sink to worry about after work and after dinner.

5. I will burn incense and leave fragrant candles and sachets all over the place, and I won't have to smell the stink of metabolized alcohol anymore.Again, SORT-OF. No stink of metabolized alcohol haunts my olfactory nerves, anymore. But Dad prohibits the use of candles and incense. When I think back, there was no issue against burning candles in our house when I was married. Rather, it was the scent that the ex was bitchy about. So, while I can't burn candles in my parents' house, I can scent my room as I wish. Burning candles at will, will happen when I'm out on my own... And that's another to-do list, entirely.

6. I'll go to bed any damn time I want and not have to wait until hubby leaves for work late at night so I can chain the door at his insistence (even tho I've told him that one good kick by anyone who wants to get in would rip the chain right out of the jamb, which makes it pretty much useless).CHECK!

7. And on that note, I will chain the door during the day if I feel like it, even tho he won't let me chain the door when he's home. (figure that one out)
CHECK. The doors around here are locked 24-7, anyway. This one's pretty much a non-issue.

8. I will sleep with the windows open.
CHECK, CHECK, CHECK!!!

9. I will sleep with my bedroom door closed.
Oh, CHECK! And I can even lock it, if I want to. Ah, bliss...

10. I will live in peace in my own home.
CHECK. Yes, I live in peace, but in my parents' home, as I've already mentioned. Since the family moved here when I was only 17, I definitely consider it my home, if not independent living.

11. Once more, I will be MYSELF.
INDEED.


In all, I would have to say that I've accomplished my goals. And as these ideals have been met, I've been creating a new list of things I will do when I'm finally independent.

1. I'd like to own a house. Or, for the sake of convenience, a townhouse. I will burn candles with abandon, yummy-scented ones.

2. I'll burn incense, too, on occasion. There are a few varieties I really like, but incense in general tends to leave a pervasive funky odor behind that doesn't appeal to me.

3. I'll leave my purse, shoes, jacket and keys wherever I please. I'd really like to be able to set my keys down on a hall bench or a table, or a kitchen counter near the door. My shoes, too. I want to be able to say, THIS is where my keys go, my purse goes, my shoes and jacket. I'm tired of storing everything in my one bedroom, and having no other place in the house to claim as my own.

4. Providing there's space, at my own discretion, I will leave oft-used toiletry articles on the bathroom counter. Perfume, for instance. Hand lotion. Face moisturizer. Things I easily forget to use unless they are right there in front of me, as I'm getting ready for work. Or for my boyfriend. Or for bed.

5. I'd like to walk around my place in just my t-shirt. Or naked from the bathroom to my bedroom or in just a towel.

6. I'd like to wake up in the morning with my boyfriend at my side, then make breakfast for him. I suppose this can be done now, providing he's able to stay the entire night, but this is something I'd rather keep private, between me and my S.O. Not something I'd like to share with my parents in the morning.

7. My space will be my own. I will walk from room to room, knowing each space is mine, and I will place things as I wish.


When I compare the two lists, I see the first is all about expressing myself, being who I am, and being allowed to explore myself and my opportunities.

The second list seems to be about privacy and territory issues. While I love my parents and don't mind living with them, it's still not my space. The only area I have as my own is my room, where everything I own is stored. I can't leave my book in the living room, or my keys or purse on the counter, or my shoes by the door. I can't leave oft-used mundane items on the bathroom counter, or a cup in the sink. I can't have my espresso machine on the counter, or a shelf in the cabinet, but a single drawer in the fridge for my own. I can't complain, but...

While I live in peace now, and am happy, and am at liberty to be myself, I still need my own space. I'm not quite an adult, yet, but that, too, will come in time. Perhaps in four years, I'll revisit this new list and smile, because these things will have long been accomplished... And then realize I have a new list of goals and desires to share.

Life's simplest pursuits lead to one's greatest joys.

Oh, Noes! I'm so not ready!

I just realized that it's the first day of NaNoWriMo, and I'm completely unprepared for the challenge.
Crap.  I'd better get started.

First, I have to refresh my hair color and take a shower.  Then I've got to run to the post office.  And after that...

Synchronicity: It's Exactly What you Think

Synchronicity as defined by Carl Jung:
Coincidences which are more than chance, less than causality. 

Metaphysical view of coincdences: 
There are no coincidences.

I had an interesting experience, today.  As usual, I was slow getting out of the house to take care of things I needed to take care of.  It was well after 13:00 before I made my way to my first destination, the local community college, where I had to drop off some papers needed for my nursing program application.  It was a very quick trip, probably less than 5 minutes from parking lot to Records and Registration and back to car again.  But my mind and heart have been troubled, today, and when I returned to my car and turned it on, I found myself just sitting there, staring into my lap.  I may have been thinking about the source of my distraction, or I may have been simply contemplating the depth of my navel.  Or, I simply may have been waiting with a completely empty mind for the air conditioner to cool down the car .  I don't rightly recall.  But a few minutes later, I looked up and into my rear view mirror just in time to see a familiar head cross the field of view behind me. 

It was Connie, my CNA instructor from last semester with whom I had forged a bond.  It's been six months or more since I've spoken to her and I've probably thought about dropping her an e-mail (something I've become embarrassingly lax about, across the board) at least once a day for the last few weeks.  I couldn't believe my luck.  I jumped out of the car, quick as a bunny, and bounced after her, calling her name.

It was a quick reunion.  She was on her way to a meeting, and judging by her pace she may have been running late.  I walked with her to the building I had just left, and we said our goodbyes in the foyer. 

Returning to my car, I considered the amazing synchronicity of our meeting.  She's been on my mind nearly every day for weeks.  She teaches at the Copley campus and her office is located there;  she happened to be at Sugar Grove for a meeting.  I was slow getting out of the house and spontaneously stopped for a hamburger to munch for lunch during the drive to school.  My errand was quick, but I uncustomarily spaced out in my car for a few minutes before looking into my rear view without conscious intent to see Connie walking briskly behind me.  If I had been a minute earlier or later, if I hadn't stopped for that hamburger (plain hamburger, no onions, please), if she hadn't been running late, we would have missed each other, completely.

They say the power of thought is all-powerful.  What you think is what you manifest in your life.  I suspect Carl Jung was really on to something with respect to the Collective Unconscious and synchronicity, and it blends very well with my steadfast metaphysical view that there is no such thing as coincidence.  If I ever needed any proof that any of these theories hold water, yesterday gave me that proof 100 percent.

Carl Jung's Synchronicity

Those little peckers!

Several birds just tried to get in through my window.

They didn't slam into it, as if wanting to pass thru. Nope. They hovered, pecking at the glass.

First one, then two, then four at once.

What were they thinking? 


 "Hmm, I'll bet there are some tasty worms and berries in there to stock up on for the flight south, Eugene. I already tried to get in there once, but something invisible and solid is blocking the way.  We'll have to get reinforcements.  Fred?  Mabel?  You guys in with us?"

Odd. 

Alex, Harry Potter, and Tortellini a la Deutschland

In spite of the raging headache, I'm feeling pretty darned good. My heart's where I like it to be, and I even got to speak with my son. My favorite part of our increasingly pleasant conversations is when he says, "Can I ask you something?" Today's question was about the Harry Potter books.

 

He and his father have returned to Germany this month, where they will permanently reside.  I'm glad they're back in Stuttgart.  While I don't waste my altruism on him, personally, I wish the ex well only for the benefit of taking decent care of my son.  That's all.

 

In the meantime, my lovely boy is back in Stuttgart where he will have a better advantage academically than he would in Kavala, Greece.  Even after only a few short weeks, his accent now sounds more like his old self than it has the last two years he's been speaking Greek.  That's a bit of a relief to me.  He sounds less a stranger than only one month ago.

 

He's begun reading the Harry Potter series, beginning with the seventh and last book.  His reasoning:  He'd already seen the movies and knows the story up to that point.  I asked him if he would like me to send him the rest of the books in English.  He said yes...  

 

As we (he) talked about The Deathly Hallows, I was deeply struck--and touched--by this effort on his part to reach out to me.  Among other things, the Harry Potter stories and films were a strong point of bonding between me and Alex, before we returned to the US and all hell broke loose.  We'd watched the first three films over and over on DVD (in English!), and I had read to him the first six books.  For years, we even played the EA Sports computer game based on the second film, until he and I had finally replaced it with another computer game called Fate, in 2005. So, it was lovely to be able to restore that aspect of our connection.  And it was his own decision.  Part of that discussion involved the fact that he had recently gotten a library card, and that was his book of choice.  "I can keep it for a whole month!" he'd said.  

 

The library was a new bond he and I had created, in the months before his abduction.  You can read about it two posts back, or so.  So, that connection had also been restored.  

 

He had also asked me what I was doing, that very moment as we spoke.  "I'm making lunch," I said.

 

"What are you making?"

 

"Chicken barbecue sandwich.  What did you have for dinner tonight?" I responded.

 

"Tortellini," he said.

 

"Mmm.  Tortellini, my favorite.  No one does tortellini as tasty as Germany does.  I sure wish I could get it over here.  Do you think you can send me some?"

 

He laughed.  "No... It would probably get icky."

 

Tortellini and pizza take-away night was also a special event in our family.  We all looked forward to it wish relish, and indulged in our Saturday night fare with abandon.  Seriously, the tortellini and cheese sauce we had in Germany simply cannot be seconded, anywhere.  I have tried and tried to find an equally tasty replacement, but nothing I've yet come across can quite compare. 

 

And the pizza was pretty damned good, too.

 

Our favorite take-away place was Pizza Phone.  I wouldn't be surprised if that's where they'd gotten dinner, tonight.

Tortellini night was the one time during the week when we mostly got along well as a family.  Not always, but mostly.  While it shouldn't be mistaken that I miss my ex at all, I do miss the family-ness of tortellini night, the excitement, the one time we all sat down together with a sense of unity and joy.

 

But that sense of love and unity can be recreated with others, in different ways.  Mostly, I just miss the tortellini.  

And my wonderful, brilliant, wise son.

 

Solitudestr. 64, 70499 Stuttgart

Words of Wisdom from Lao Tzu

Be careful what you water your dreams with.

Water them with worry and fear
and you will produce weeds that choke the life from your dream... 

Water them with optimism and solutions
and you will cultivate success.

Always be on the lookout
for ways
to turn a problem into an opportunity for success.

Always be on the lookout
for ways
to nurture your dream.

--Lao Tzu

 

A trip to the library

Went to the library this morning to look for The Fiery Cross, Diana Gabaldon's fourth book in the Outlander series.  I'd read the first three right before I got married, then read them through at least twice more while still living in Germany.  By the time book four came out in 2001, purchasing English-language books was still pricey, as we hadn't gone online yet, and I didn't have access to Amazon.co.uk.  So, I lost track of the series, altogether.  Now there are six books in the series, if I'm not mistaken, so I decided to get a leg up and break away from the likes of Stephen King.  I'm in need of a little unadulterated romance in my life, and a good time-travel book seems in order. 

I had to look for my library card.  It's been years since I'd used it and wasn't sure where it might be.  In fact, the last time I was at the library at all was with Alex, fostering his love of a good story and the written word.  When I found the card nestled in the pocket of an unused wallet (a relic from Germany and a former life) that had been shoved to the back of my desk, tucked behind the last school picture I owned of my son, I noticed that it not only had to be renewed, but that my married name (naturally) was on it.  Seeing that surname connected to my own still gives me a pang of discomfort.  As well, it felt bittersweet to return to the library--but without my energetic little boy in tow, who so clearly loved to visit and had so many interesting books to choose from.

When I found what I wanted (and then some!), I checked out.  The librarian surprised me with an overdue fine from July 2007.  I believe that was day I'd first taken Alex to the library and gotten each of us a library card.  For all subsequent visits, Alex had checked out his own books.  The fee was for 1.25, which sadly enough, I did not have on hand!  When I asked for the title of the book, the librarian gave me a puzzled little frown.

"Harry's Horrible Secret," she said.  "It's a children's book.  Does that sound right to you?"

"Yes," I said, the loss squeezing my heart.  "It was for my son."

"Well," she responded after a moment's consideration.  "I'll forgive it for you.  That was three years ago and it's only $1.25."

Three years ago.  Can you imagine?  I was two months separated, still delirious about having finally escaped my ex-husband's insanity.  Well, not entirely escaped, but certainly no longer immersed in it.  So full of hope and exhilaration and freedom, pleased as punch that I had removed my son from Alfi's constant influence to give him a sense of normalcy and calm and quietude, after a day at school and a few hours of his father's chaos until I picked him up after work.

The best laid plans of mice and men, often go awry...

Oh, the irony of it all.

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I'm all for a holiday tree!

I woke up this morning to see an interesting poll on Facebook.  The question was:  President Obama says that they will have a Holiday Tree this year instead of a Christmas Tree.  Do you agree with this?

The reaction by some of my fundamentalist and right-wing friends was predictable.  They did not agree with the possibility of renaming the "Christmas" tree to "Holiday" tree, and everyone had a slightly different take on it.

I normally try to stay away from discussing politics and religion with friends, as my oldest and dearest friends and I have tacitly agreed to disagree.  I love them all, but we have differing views, and for the most part I'm fine with that.  However, given the general reaction to this poll, I couldn't hold my tongue.

The reactions I've seen so far are these:

1.  This is the typical idea of a PC Liberal who doesn't know the definition of the First Amendment (Freedom of Speech, Press, Religion)


2.  Either use the Christmas tree for what it represents (the birth of Christ, I'm assuming) and call it by its rightful name, or don't have a Christmas tree at all.

3.  Surprise that Obama would bother calling it a Holiday tree at all, rather than just a Tree, because the word "Holiday" comes from the term "holy day".  The thrust of this argument was that try as some might to remove Christ from the population, He cannot be removed.

4.  General reluctance over changing the nominal designation of the Christmas tree.  No one would change other religious symbols (menorah, Kwanzaa symbology, etc), why change the Christmas tree?

It must be noted that the Christmas tree isn't Christian, at all.  Christmas trees, mistletoe, yule logs, feasting on ham, etc., are of Germanic pagan, pre-Christian origin and symbolize LIFE and SURVIVAL during the coldest, darkest, most life-threatening season of the year.  The customary use of a Christmas tree wasn't adopted until the 16th century in Germany.  It first made an appearance within a few scattered households, and later was adopted by one German cathedral after another until it became widespread, then finally introduced to the British and American cultures in the 19th century.  In fact, the Christmas tree historically has been controversial within Christianity because of its pagan origins.

Furthermore, this time of year isn't holy to only one faith,  nor only to Christ.  Changing the nominal designation of the tree within the White House does not "bastardize" a customary practice.  Not only would such a change absolutely excercise the First Amendment, but makes this ancient symbol more accessible on a national scale to practitioners of ALL religions within the nation. Having a "Christmas" tree in the White House connotes a strictly Christian faith for our nation, and does not include the multitude of religious practices we each have the right to enjoy.  A "Holiday" tree, on the other hand, would be a way of including EVERYONE in this nation at this special time of year, rather than excluding EVERYONE ELSE.  A Holiday tree would be a symbol of unity and solidarity in our country: "We are one nation under God--no matter who your god is."
Isn't it true that the government represents all, not just one?  All individuals, all practices, all faiths.  Why not have an all-inclusive tree--at a time of common holy days--symbolic of that unity?

Really, anyone can have a Christmas tree--or a Holiday tree, call it what you will--to celebrate the holiday season.  But the next time you put up a Christmas tree in your living room, remember that you are continuing an ancient pagan practice of the Reverence of Life during the hardest, most life-threatening season of the year.  How awe-inspiring is that?

In the meantime, there's the probablility that all of this hullaballoo is the result of another hoax.  Take a look at Holiday Tree Hooey at Factcheck.org