What We Do Makes a Difference

Oh these wonderful women that I call friends. On a day to day basis you step out there and make the world a better place.

Yesterday I was reading over some of the past posts from friend’s walls. You see, I’ve kind of been in a funk lately. I have always been the eternal optimist, looking for the good wherever I can find it. If a person is mean then I always think there must be something going on in their lives, some hurt or trial that propels them to act out. But lately the meanness seems to be escalating.

My blog has been silent due to my recent overload of negative people bashing, political hatred and nasty attacks via the internet on everything from disagreeing with someone else’s opinions to their religious beliefs. I am overwhelmed by the constant complaining from people who feel they have a right to negatively comment on the most miniscule news, idea or posting. As if sitting behind a computer, spewing hatred, allows them some anonymity and therefore they can hit and run without reprisal.

Seriously, I was in a funk and even sitting down to write caused me to slip even farther into my bad mood.

So yesterday I tried a new exercise. After reading some past posts about friends that have gone to Haiti to help rebuild, spent time on the gulf coast re-habilitating animals hurt after the BP spill and volunteered to help up north with the recent tornado damages I thought I’d try something.

I posted a simple, “What did you do today to make a difference in someone else’s life?”

Some of the answers were -

• Helped my Mother get her computer up and running
• Shopping with Mom for her birthday and made her a cake
• Approved several $$ dollars in business loans
• Got a patient home health care as she lives alone
• Sent 42 boxes of food and magazines to Men serving in Afghanistan
• Got a family with an ill child relief from their electric bill

And then I remembered something I tried to teach my kids. Doing the big things is important. But it’s the everyday differences we make in people’s lives that make the world a better place.

I guess I need to stop letting the poison in and take time to appreciate the positive.

So, to these wonderful women who I call friends, that make differences in the lives of so many people every day.

I salute you and thank you for pulling me back.

Wrap Me Up

I was cleaning out the closet for my annual spring clean when I came across a piece of clothing I’ve had for I don’t know how long. Ladies, you know the one. It started out flannel, but it has been washed so many times it looks like an old cotton shirt. It was my fathers or my grandfathers, I don’t remember, but somehow I inherited it.

It’s navy blue, white and green checked. It’s extra large and when I put it on its baggy in all the right places. I need to roll the sleeves up to keep them from hanging over the end of my hands. It hits perfectly mid thigh for use as a nightshirt or an occasional, “I don’t think I’ll get dressed today” shirt.

It’s the piece of clothing I put on when I’m sick, when I’m tired or achy or just need to have the warmth of my shroud surround me.

It hangs conveniently on the top of the closet door or sometimes when I’ve had one of those weeks; it hangs on the top of one of the posts on my four poster bed.

As a writer there have been times I have counted on the shirt to help me through a brief block. I grab my shirt, a cup of earl grey tea with a shot of Irish whiskey and work through.

As my husband was piling his old golf shirts and workout clothes into the large bag he nodded in my direction. “Does that go?”

“Not in this lifetime,” I replied.

And back it goes, hanging close by, for when I need it to help me through or bring me comfort.

As always it’s the little things……

Today was just a bit different

The day started out like any other. I stretched, got out of bed, and opened the blinds to the new day before setting out to complete my morning tasks. Dog out, check… coffee made, check… newspaper read, check… dishwasher empty, check… upstairs to make bed, check… shower and dress, check… Then I sat down to get some work done. The latest book needs some serious editing. But before that I thought I would check the FB page.

The first post stopped everything. A friend from high school had passed away. He wasn’t a close friend. In fact I’ve only seen him twice since graduation. But he was that one guy that every time you saw him he was smiling. My sister said that she remembered him as being a person that accepted everyone for who they were, not caught up in the crazy hierarchy that makes up most high schools.

But every time we hear about a person in our own age groups, no matter what age, aren’t we all reminded of our own mortality? Doesn’t it make you stop and examine your own life for the briefest moment wondering what this thing we call life is all about?

Oh, you know for a few days we’ll think hard about what changes we can make in our lives. We’ll do more, take a few more chances, say yes instead of no. Yes to life. Yes to those moments where we step outside our safety nets and live. It’ll last a few days, but then we will all slide back into our safe existence. It’s not bad; it’s just what it is.

So…for those of you that knew him, here is my Terry "Jake" Jakeway story.

I can’t remember what year it was so I’ll say I was a freshman. I was in typing class. Yeah I know, easy class, but it filled a credit hour and I thought it would be undemanding. I was late to class, probably due to playing kissy face with the boyfriend. (I won’t put his name ‘because it wasn’t Kirk). So I take one of the last chairs and I happen to be in front of Greg Bates and Terry Jakeway. For those of you that went to Gahanna you know this was not good. I guess the jocks took this class for an easy A. Let’s just say I did better than those two, but not by much. But I do remember the teacher was one of those that phoned it in. You know, “Okay type," then leave the room to get a coffee. Greg and Terry would entertain the class. I’ll never forget the fun we had. So what if I still only type 30 words a minute with typos, the memories made in that classroom where what high school should be about.

We lost Greg when he was way too young, and now Terry. The only thing I can say is God’s heavens just got a little more laughter, but at what price to those of us left behind?

We need the laughter here, we need the joy, we need the smiling face.

Rest in Peace old friend.