Guilty Nudes

We lived in a modest home on the corner of Summit and Norton Road in Springfield. Our house was primly perched on the leveled top of a small hill with a view out the front window of a pasture full of grazing cattle. And there began my sexual education. Being a child of 5 or 6 I can assure you that sex wasn't even remotely in my vocabularly or understanding but it was sharply slapped to the front of my head one day in church by my mother's loving hand. I had been given pen and paper to occupy myself during the service and scribbled around eventually producing a picture of one of the 'cows' that I saw frequently grazing across the street. Upon proudly presenting my rendition to my mother she grabbed my arm, a look of forboding on her face, and dragged me out of the sanctuary and into the ladies bathroom. My mother never said a word, only emitting various sounds of disgust and loud snorts as she whailed away at my bare nether parts. She then tore my drawing into tiny pieces and made me flush them down the toilet. It was obvious to me that I had drawn something terribly wrong but it was years before I figured it out and the residue of guilt stained my feelings for many years. It's still beyond me why my mother thought the drawing of a bull was bad thing.

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Same house. The street in front was little traveled so we kids were free to ride our bikes, playing chase or wear vegetable cans smashed around each shoe which gave off satisfying clanking sounds with each step. At the bottom of the hill was a double wide culvert under which a miniscule stream trickled. After a rain the stream would grow and pool under the culvert providing hours of splashing, cool fun. My brother and I raced that day wanting to be the first to arrive at the culvert pool. Before I got to the concrete edge of the culvert my brother popped up crowing and waving a magazine high above his head. I demanded to see at which time he dropped the magazine in the water and raced off. I rescued the sinking book and sat down under the culvert to read my new treasure. To this day I can see the image of a naked woman leaning forward, her breasts large, seeming to almost plump themselves off the page. And the caption read "her cups runneth over". I not only threw the magazine in the pool, I stayed to make sure it sank all the way to the bottom. My brother never mentioned the incident to me and I never felt the need to bring it up either. I did find it strange that the good Lord would be making a comment under such a picture.

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For some reason I still haven't figured out, I started first grade at the intrepid age of five. It was immediately obvious to both my teacher, Mrs. Beacham, and myself that we shared a problem that never seemed to improve. Although I found school interesting in general I frequently felt the need to chat with my near neighbors. I made many friends this way but one of them was not Mrs. Beacham. There was no such thing as PMS then in 1953 but I feel pretty sure that is what Mrs. Beacham was experiencing as she marched me to the storage closet. On the way she announced that I would be sharing space with spiders and snakes that lived there, quietly, in the dark. I found myself a spot against the far wall and sat down, watching Mrs. Beacham's feet disappear from view under the closet door. It seemed a perfect time to daydream since my glance around had confirmed there were no critters there to cause me any harm. After an indeterminate amount of time she reappeared at the door and asked sternly if I thought I could sit quietly at my desk. I thought a bit and then said "no. I don't think so". She slammed the door and it was some time before she came back. It's entirely possible that she intended to leave me there overnight. Although Mrs. Beacham and I couldn't claim a complete cure for my chatting problem I did settle down, mostly, to complete my first year of school. I can still view this experience with humor because I'm sure I enjoyed my time in the storage closet much more than did Mrs. Beacham.

But It's Too Early For Halloween

Ir's still too early for Halloween but somehow there are spooky things going on around here. I was in the living room this morning around 5:00 a.m. Della, Iyah and Mendilah (MeanMindy), my three doggy pets, were already fed and cozily tunneled under blankets. Except MeanMindy who continually pesters me. Continually. Anyhow, I'm watching the news while holding Mendy's meedle sharp baby teeth at bay when I hear.....THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD. These were rapid, solid thumps on my front door. MeanMindy jumps up, growling and staring at the foyer. I get up and look out the door window. No one there. I know it can't be my cat Camy because she only knocks on the front window when 1. she's out of food, 2. she wants in, or 3. she's conveying, get the heck out here, there's a stray cat about to attack!. Plus I don't think she can count to five anyway. So what to do. I could play spy lady and warmly wrap up in my wooly bathrobe armed with a flashlight, phone and fog horn lurking beneath my humongous moonflower plant while perched on a comfy cushion from the porch swing. But probably not a good idea because pre-Halloween only comes once a year and that would be a very long wait. So, Della, Iyah, MeanMindy and I will bravely carry on, occupying our living room with our morning routine until the next spooky thing happens. But I warn whomever is doing this. The next time I won't be so charitable because the next time I'm opening the front door and turning MeanMindy loose.

Just Another Day At My House

You know how it takes awhile being around others before you really, really get to know their true selves? Well, we're experiencing this right here at my house. Little tiny Mindelah (Mindy), all of two pounds, apparently has 3 personalities. The first two, Sybil and Eve, can be found in any psychiatry book, and then the precious, adorable Mindy who only enters that third personality when asleep. I have raised a number of dogs but never have I had to deal with a pup that whines wanting to be picked up and then growls fiercely and gnoshes on your fingers, hands, anything she can get her teeth into. She truly has her bluff in on all visitors, running to them and begging to be picked up while I secretly sneer at her fraudulent behavior. You would think she was a timid little thing in need of protection. Not so. Not so at all. While walking the other day Mindy demanded to be down. I didn't want to right then because there was a huge chocolate lab racing toward us. I could just picture the gore my little Mindy would become but then her growling and biting communicated to my nerve endings and I let her go. The lab's owners were screaming, I was screaming, as Mindy playfully approached that behemoth dog. And they began to frolic on the lawn, Mindy charming yet another group of people. Time to go and I pick her up to her growls and chomping on my thumb. I know those people think I mistreat this little heathen and I begin to explain and realize Mindy's precious puppy behavior would trump anything I would explain and make me look even more guilty. So I slink off, snarling puppy in hand, and plan to avoid that block for a very long time.

And then there's the time I was a bit frazzled with grandchildren's visit. Their mother walks in, sees the kids rowdy play and says "you have to play quiet, kids. Your grandmother has PTSD". Just another day at my house.

Angelic When Asleep

Can E. be anything but precious when you see the way he sleeps?

Hi,I Iz Mindy

I iz a girl so doan aks my age. I wuz lil when I moved in here and took over.These are the flowers I fell in the other day. Mom said I got pixie dust all over me.


This is a picture of me playing with my friend Samber. He may be big but he's really afraid of me.


This iz me on alert! Everyone else is asleep. This is when it fun to bite their toes!

An now the famous Mindy, fighter of great fights, biter of toes, the terror of the carpet set, even I haz to sleep.


This is Camy the cat leaving after I chased her to the door. I'z kidding. She was leaving anyway.




Doan blame me. I'z just a lil puppy. My Mommy iz smart, her just doan know what her's doin'.

Banking Is For The Brave

With interest rates rapidly rising on my credit card I realized I would be far better off to refinance my house and roll the credit card debt into my house loan. That made my trade from 23.9% interest to a tidy 5% a very practical move. Making that decision was the easy part but getting a mortgage loan ain't what it used to be. The lender will want to see at least 5 of your baby teeth (now, now, now no objections. If you want the loan you WILL come up with those teeth).You find two tiny teeth in your baby book and frantically call your mother, your favorite aunt, anybody who might have the remaining 3 baby teeth required. And they found those teeth, but I'm wondering now about these sick people that kept those baby teeth for 60 years! Are they nuts or what!(Just a note, you will have to pay for the DNA tests to verify that the teeth do indeed belong to you. I think they call it a processing fee). The lender will also ask for any and all crayon drawings of houses from your childhood. Preferably without any stick figure families. (I heard of one lady who submitted one drawing including the stick figure family. She was declined because her stick figure family appeared to closely resemble Hitler).

The lender will also ask for all cancelled checks on any debt remaining on your credit report even though said debt was deleted from your credit report 10 years ago. You're getting crosseyed now but still you dig through boxes and boxes looking for the missing checks and other forms that are being requested.
Never mind those hives that popped out about halfway through this process. You MUST get this loan. You can't eat, or sleep. Your friends and family have decided that you may have slipped quietly over the line into insanity. You huddle over stacks of paper, eyes glazed, hoping you'll locate those damn papers, ignoring the ringing of the phone, the door bell. Your little dogs cringe over in the corner and collectively decide they would be better off outside even without food or water.

And then, AHA! I found the cancelled checks! And things begin to fall into place. This makes for one very happy packrat, folks. Everything has been delivered to my mortgage banker, who has been very sympathetic through this whole process, and we wait. And wait some more. I think I don't care any more. Well, yes I do. 5% is 5%. And the answer finally comes.... I get the loan! I just don't get my baby teeth back.

You're a Baptist

While leading a group of 9 and 10 year old FAA students and supervisors through the Episcopal community hall and into the lovely old sanctuary, one young girl gazed breaathlessly around at the colored glass windows and heavy old world arches and said "I want to be married here one day". To which her mother immediately replied "you can't honey. You're a Baptist!".

GOD vs. Science

A science professor begins his school year with a lecture to the students, 'Let me explain the problem science has with religion.' The atheist professor of philosophy pauses before his class and then asks one of his new students to stand.

'You're a Christian, aren't you, son?'
'Yes sir,' the student says.

'So you believe in God?'
'Absolutely.'

'Is God good?'
'Sure! God's good.'

'Is God all-powerful? Can God do anything?'
'Yes.'

'Are you good or evil?'
'The Bible says I'm evil.'

The professor grins knowingly. 'Aha! The Bible!' He considers for a moment. 'Here's one for you. Let's say there's a sick person over here and you can cure him. You can do it. Would you help him? Would you try?'

'Yes sir, I would.'

'So you're good...!'
'I wouldn't say that.'

'But why not say that? You'd help a sick and maimed person if you could. Most of us would if we could. But God doesn't.'

The student does not answer, so the professor continues. 'He doesn't, does he? My brother was a Christian who died of cancer, even though he prayed to Jesus to heal him. How is this Jesus good? Hmmm? Can you answer that one?'

The student remains silent.

'No, you can't, can you?' the professor says. He takes a sip of water from a glass on his desk to give the student time to relax.

'Let's start again, young fella. Is God good?'
'Er...yes,' the student says.

'Is Satan good?'
The student doesn't hesitate on this one. 'No.'

'Then where does Satan come from?'
The student falters. 'From God'

'That's right. God made Satan, didn't he? Tell me, son. Is there evil in this world?'
'Yes, sir.'

'Evil's everywhere, isn't it? And God did make everything, correct?'

'Yes.'

'So who created evil?' The professor continued, 'If God created everything, then God created evil, since evil exists, and according to the principle that our works define who we are, then God is evil.'

Again, the student has no answer. 'Is there sickness? Immorality? Hatred? Ugliness? All these terrible things, do they exist in this world?'

The student squirms on his feet. 'Yes.'

'So who created them?'

The student does not answer again, so the professor repeats his question. 'Who created them?' There is still no answer. Suddenly the lecturer breaks away to pace in front of the classroom. The class is mesmerized. 'Tell me,' he continues onto another student. 'Do you believe in Jesus Christ, son?'

The student's voice betrays him and cracks. 'Yes, professor, I do.'

The old man stops pacing. 'Science says you have five senses you use to identify and observe the world around you. Have you ever seen Jesus?'

'No sir. I've never seen Him.'

'Then tell us if you've ever heard your Jesus?'
'No, sir, I have not.'

'Have you ever felt your Jesus, tasted your Jesus or smelt your Jesus? Have you ever had any sensory perception of Jesus Christ, or God for that matter?'

'No, sir, I'm afraid I haven't.'
'Yet you still believe in him?'
'Yes.'

'According to the rules of empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, science says your God doesn't exist. What do you say to that, son?'

'Nothing,' the student replies. 'I only have my faith.'
'Yes, faith,' the professor repeats. 'And that is the problem science has with God. There is no evidence, only faith.'

At the back of the room another student stands quietly for a moment before asking a question of His own. 'Professor, is there such thing as heat?'

'Yes,' the professor replies. 'There's heat.'

'And is there such a thing as cold?'
'Yes, son, there's cold too.'
'No sir, there isn't.'

The professor turns to face the student, obviously interested. The room suddenly becomes very quiet. The student begins to explain. 'You can have lots of heat, even more heat, super-heat, mega-heat, unlimited heat, white heat, a little heat or no heat, but we don't have anything called 'cold'. We can hit up to 458 degrees below zero, which is no heat, but we can't go any further after that. There is no such thing as cold; otherwise we would be able to go colder than the lowest -458 degrees.'

'Every body or object is susceptible to study when it has or transmits energy, and heat is what makes a body or matter have or transmit energy. Absolute zero (-458 F) is the total absence of heat. You see, sir, cold is only a word we use to describe the absence of heat. We cannot measure cold. Heat we can measure in thermal units because heat is energy. Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just the absence of it.'

Silence across the room. A pen drops somewhere in the classroom, sounding like a hammer.

'What about darkness, professor. Is there such a thing as darkness?'

'Yes,' the professor replies without hesitation. 'What is night if it isn't darkness?'

'You're wrong again, sir. Darkness is not something; it is the absence of something. You can have low light, normal light, bright light, flashing light, but if you have no light constantly you have nothing and it's called darkness, isn't it? That's the meaning we use to define the word.'

'In reality, darkness isn't. If it were, you would be able to make darkness darker, wouldn't you?'

The professor begins to smile at the student in front of him. This will be a good semester. 'So what point are you making, young man?'

'Yes, professor. My point is, your philosophical premise is flawed to start with, and so your conclusion must also be flawed.'

The professor's face cannot hide his surprise this time. 'Flawed? Can you explain how?'

'You are working on the premise of duality,' the student explains. 'You argue that there is life and then there's death; a good God and a bad God. You are viewing the concept of God as something finite, something we can measure. Sir, science can't even explain a thought.'

'It uses electricity and magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one. To view death as the opposite of life is to be ignorant of the fact that death cannot exist as a substantive thing. Death is not the opposite of life, just the absence of it.'

'Now tell me, professor. Do you teach your students that they evolved from a monkey?'

'If you are referring to the natural evolutionary process, young man, yes, of course I do.'

'Have you ever observed evolution with your own eyes, sir?'

The professor begins to shake his head, still smiling, as he realizes where the argument is going. A very good semester, indeed.

'Since no one has ever observed the process of evolution at work and cannot even prove that this process is an on-going endeavor, are you not teaching your opinion, sir? Are you now not a scientist, but a preacher?'

The class is in uproar. The student remains silent until the commotion has subsided.

'To continue the point you were making earlier to the other student, let me give you an example of what I mean.'

The student looks around the room. 'Is there anyone in the class who has ever seen the professor's brain?' The class breaks out into laughter.

'Is there anyone here who has ever heard the professor's brain, felt the professor's brain, touched or smelt the professor's brain? No one appears to have done so. So, according to the established rules of empirical, stable, demonstrable protocol, science says that you have no brain, with all due respect, sir.'

'So if science says you have no brain, how can we trust your lectures, sir?'

Now the room is silent. The professor just stares at the student, his face unreadable.

Finally, after what seems an eternity, the old man answers. 'I guess you'll have to take them on faith.'

'Now, you accept that there is faith, and, in fact, faith exists with life,' the student continues. 'Now, sir, is there such a thing as evil?'

Now uncertain, the professor responds, 'Of course, there is. We see it everyday. It is in the daily example of man's inhumanity to man. It is in the multitude of crime and violence everywhere in the world. These manifestations are nothing else but evil.'

To this the student replied, 'Evil does not exist sir, or at least it does not exist unto itself. Evil is simply the absence of God. It is just like darkness and cold, a word that man has created to describe the absence of God. God did not create evil. Evil is the result of what happens when man does not have God's love present in his heart. It's like the cold that comes when there is no heat or the darkness that comes when there is no light.'

The professor sat down.

Case closed.

The Grandma I Remember

My grandma and namesake lived a long life, 92 years. Her last word was 'well'. And yet there was so much more to this woman. For instance she gave birth to four children in her iron bedstead while lying on a feather mattress accompanied by a midwife. Each child was born healthy. While Grandpa tended to the cattle and worked the farm, Grandma took in ironing to make money, raised chickens, and even a border or two. During harvest time, immigrants would stop by for a couple weeks to harvest the wheat and stack the bales in the barn. She would fix mashed potatoes, homemade chicken and noodles, home grown beans and corn on the cob, yeast bread, and fried chicken for everyone. Her table was overflowing with the fruit of her labors. She grew it prepared it cleaned it up made ready to do it again. She didn't ask much of my grandfather. They had little to say to each other but I know he could have been kinder to her.

Grandpa didn't allow Grandma to drive but each Sunday morning he would drive her down the dirt road to the old timey Methodist Church, waiting for her in the car until she had completed her worship of her Lord. One weekend I spent with her and accompanied her to church. The piano made a pling, pling sound with each note of each hymn played. I remember the preacher saying if we knew the Holy Spirit was with us then we would feel a tickle in our palm as we each filed by and shook the preacher's hand. As I neared the preacher Grandma nudged me forward and I stuck out my hand. As our hands touched I'm sure there was a look of shock on my face because I felt the tickle in my palm, just like the preacher said! I started to say something to my grandmother but she shushed me. We filed back to our pews, bowing to the final prayer and quietly walked down the steps and out to the car. Grandma looked over the top of the car as we're opening our car doors and winks, and that's how I knew she had felt the Holy Spirit too. This was a special time for me, to share the Holy Spirit with my Grandmother.

I remember watching Grandma take yet another flannel gown, a gift from one of her children or grandchildren, and lay it beside two or three stacks of nearly identical gowns. I think she must have been hard to buy for because she wanted little and asked for nothing. My Grandma worked hard, received few thanks, and yet she seemed to feel the act of caring for others was her reward. It would be a better world if there were more Grandmas like mine around today. Especially one you could share the Holy Spirit with.

Beauty IS In The Eye Of The Beholder

My 9 year old grandson helped carry overnight luggage into the house. We then walked around the house into the back yard and he exclaims "Nonnie, your weeds are beautiful!". The thing is, he was obviously sincere. A couple of things went through my head then. First , that is so sad that this 9 year old recognizes that I have only weeds growing in my back yard. Second was that this child found beauty in something we spend every summer trying to destroy. Maybe I need to preserve this beauty instead of having it mowed down.

The Truth About Madoff

Seems Madoff made off
with some peoples cash
And now no one knows
where's the stolen stash.

Yes Bernie got caught
the miserable sot
And now sits in jail
where he's likely to rot.

There's something to learn
from this story we're told
Leave it alone
if it's not your GOLD!

Divine Guidance

Yesterday was designated an errand/shopping day. I usually try to do three or four things per trip to conserve gasoline so I'm headed out the door with hands full and realize, not only do I have my cane in my left hand but also my second cane, hanging from my right arm. I didn't want to have to unload everything to return the second cane so I carried everything to the car, loaded up and drove off. While heading down Harrison Avenue I noticed a young family heading toward their van, the hobbling man leaning heavily on an unfolded metal chair. And then the whole reality was there before me. The reason why I had 'accidentally' carried my spare cane to the car. I turned around and drove near their van, asking the young woman if her husband needed a cane. She said 'yes' so I handed over the cane and suggested that he keep his hurt ankle wrapped, elevated and on ice. Some could call this a coincidence but I don't. I've never accidentally carried my spare cane to the car before and to be honest, I've never seen a hobbling young man using an unfolded metal chair as a crutch either.
I do believe in divine guidance and I think this whole thing was meant to happen. And what better way to glorify God than by serving others. It does make me wonder though how many other opportunities have been placed before me that I didn't notice. Believe me, my eyes are open now.

It's All A Matter of Taste

What would be my first reaction if I stood before a table on which lay a manuscript signed by Shakespeare, The Royal jewels, rare Egyptian artifacts, and a half eaten sandwich? Okay I confess, it would be 'I wonder what's in that sandwich?'

Stranger Danger or Maybe Not

It was a cold, blustery afternoon but my 2 grandkids insisted on going to the nearby park. I finally agreed with them alternately running and walking while chatting and me, driving in the car. We three neared the same intersection and I rolled my window down and said 'hey, little boy. Would you like to help me find my lost puppy?' E, with an impish grin on his face said 'maybe. What kind of puppy?' M., his sister, promptly leaned forward, leered and said 'so what kind of candy do you have?' We all laughed and continued our journey to the park. But this encounter concerned me, first because I made joke of it, and second because the kids had obviously been well schooled on Stranger Danger and also thought it was funny. Or maybe laughing was a release for the tension and fear that Stranger Danger provokes. My heart goes out to the families who have lost their children and have yet to find them.

An Affair

As I was getting out of my car last night the doors opened in the car next to me and a very elderly couple emerged. The driver, a white haired man, walked with a cane. He stood on his side of the car urging his partner, a tiny and obviously frail woman, to get a hustle on it. So the two very slowly move toward the restaurant door, he with his cane and she with her walker. I hurried to open the door for them, smiled, and asked "is this a date or just a regular dining out night?" He thanked me for opening the door, gave me a charming smile and replied "it's an affair." And I think that's a good definition of love don't you? !

Is It Al Gore Or Is It Satan???

My friend and I occasionally cross paths with a charming elderly couple on the hiking trails in the east park. Tony, who is from Austria, and Rose, who is from England, have endearing accents often accompanied by cheerful expressions. I like to think of them as special european smiles. We encountered one another in a local store and not having seen each other for some time due to cold weather we had some catching up to do.

Our stories were getting more exaggerated and then the topic swerved right (left?) to Al Gore. Or rather Rose deftly steered us in that direction. Dimutive Brit, Rose said in her proper London accent "if Al Gore was right here I'd pop him in the face. I would! That global warming nonsense. Makes me mad all over again just saying his name. Al Gore. POP! Just like that! That's what I'd do if he was right here!" As Rose demonstrates a roundhouse punch to the absent Al Gore's nose. And then she asks "so what do you think about global warming?" After a brief thought I replied "Maybe it's the fires of Hell getting closer to earth's surface." Rose and Tony laughed, we exchanged farewells and hopes for fair weather so we could meet once again on the hiking trails.

Personally, I'd like to think Al Gore is right. The idea that Satan is that much closer to us is scary, don't you think?!

After the snoring fiasco at the movie theatre I thought I would never set foot outside my house and most definitely not at the movie theatre, ever again! There's wasn't the a living cell anywhere in my body that wished to relive that humiliation.

So I was sitting home

When Humiliation Can Be Funny

On a rare occasion I will drive to a nearby town to view a current movie. I had been toying with the idea for some time and the opportunity presented itself last Sunday afternoon. Though I had arrived early I took advantage of the time to doze a bit, being the only one in the theatre at that time. Various people wandered in, settled and began munching their popcorn. The movie began, one I was most interested in, but somewhere shortly after, I fell asleep. My next memory is of a disembodied head floating just above my shoulder who said "ma'am, your snoring is upsetting the other patrons. Would you please leave and continue your nap in the lobby?" I was mortified. I glanced around the theatre but no one would look at me. My first thought was to leave but the Scot blood in me demanded that I watch the movie I had paid for so I stayed, bruising my thigh with continual pinches so I wouldn't fall asleep again. (I could just imagine myself being led out to the lobby to 'continue' my nap, with moviegoers walking by and my assigned caretaker quietly explaining that I had to complete my nap before I would be allowed to re-enter the theatre.)

The movie was set to end when I perched by the door, determined to be the first to leave and save myself further embarrassment. Upon reflection it wouldn't have mattered since no one would look at me anyway. It will be a long time before I go to the movies again. That was enough humiliation for me.