My high school reunion is coming up. Dare I say of how many years? Okay, it's 40. Wow (minus the exclamation point, due to the intonation being that of a groan rather than excitement). Am I really that old? Not a day goes by that I'm not reminded of something or someone from my school days, so it's hard getting a handle on the fact that those memories are of so long ago. It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase, "feels like yesterday".
While I'm not thrilled about how quickly time has passed, I am looking forward to celebrating the past. Old friends from that era of my life helped shape me into what I am today, and it will be good to see them. As I picture their faces in my mind, I've noticed that recollecting their names is far easier than doing so with people of my present life. Is that why those with dementia often talk to someone as though they are back in time? As the ability to find space on our aging brains for new memories decreases, we need the security we derive from being sure of something. There's comfort in that. Losing memory is like losing touch with friends, thus, making reunions all the more special. For myself, this reunion will be particularly refreshing as I travel back to the days when my parents took care of me, instead of the other way around. Don't get me wrong, others have it a lot worse than I do. I've just begun that journey, and my parents are still reasonably active. If they're happy, I'm happy. I love them. That's what makes it so hard.
As usual, this post took on a life of its own, with a direction different from what I originally intended. What I wanted to say is that maybe you have a high school reunion coming up. Don't be too busy. Go to it.
This is the second picture of my series of green glass called, "Sundown". It has nothing to do with memories or reunions, but it is part of a group and, as such, goes well with the story.
After one of the longest winters I've ever experienced, life has begun to replace the boring look of sameness that was behind my house on the football field. Instead of the white ground, topped with a white-out sky, a blur of school colors, in constant motion on the track and inside of it, refreshes my soul. Even though the last snowfall was just four days ago, today, the grass on the field is magically green. I don't believe in magic, but that word seems to fit. The grass everywhere else is still a dead-brown. Looking out my back door, you would think spring has been here for a while, and I couldn't be more grateful. The students practicing their track events seem grateful, too. There's a big pile where coats and backpacks have been thrust aside, and even though the air is a bit chilly, t-shirts, shorts, and sneakers adorned by these young men and women give them the freedom they need to compete. I hear cheering and shouts of support. It's a new season. Best of all, Easter is this Sunday, a little later than usual, and like the late arrival of spring, there is hope in new life.
My latest photo, "Crinoid Star", is perfect for today. It's the first one of a series of green glass (for the green grass in the post).
"Whatcha doin'? Handin' out love letters?" teased the third beggar on the bridge. "I am!" was my reply. The mornings of my Vegas vacation didn't belong to me. I had given them to God. There were two overpasses along my route that, by nine o'clock, would each have at least four homeless men with cardboard signs and styrofoam cups. My mission was to look them in the eyes, tell them "Good morning", and place a gift in their meager collection of coins. If they seemed open to conversation, I'd tell them my name and ask them theirs. Only one man was hesitant to say his name. He tilted his head, squinted one eye, and finally said, "I'm John". As he started to laugh, I did too, and said, "I bet you're not!" He was the one that asked for a love letter. Up until that point, I hadn't called my gifts by that name, but "John" was right. They were love letters from the Bible, words of encouragement from the mouth of Jesus. No condemnation, just love.
Inside each folded note, was a quarter or a dollar, so I sometimes would say, "I have a gift for you. Will you promise to read it?" They always said they would, and even though I told them how little money was in the letter, they were grateful. It was never the same people, either, so I had met over 30 different souls on my walks. I was touched by the fact that not one of them had averted my eyes. Their eye contact created a connection that took away all judgement and blame. One young man, with a remarkable resemblance to pictures of Jesus, with watery blue eyes and a scorched sidewalk tan, said quietly, "I don't care how much you gave me, I appreciate that you stopped. No one ever stops." It took me a while to recover from that encounter.
If you're a follower of this blog, then you know that my posts are simply whatever is on my mind when it's time to write. It's not meant to be a "selfie" story. This story is for the people I wrote about, and I certainly didn't stop for everyone. There were too many, and the numbers grew as the day progressed, so I hardly put a dent in the cause. Hopefully, you'll join me in praying for a miracle for all of those who need one, and just maybe, leave someone a love letter.
This water-sprayed sea glass photo is called, "On Eagle's Wings". If you know where I found this title, you know why I chose it.
There must be something special about honey for it to be so important in the Bible. The Promised Land was described as flowing with it, and John the Babtist's diet, along with locusts, consisted of it. Currently, the news of a bee shortage has implications beyond a lack of honey, affecting many other food sources. Some studies even show how to achieve relief from allergies by consumption of honey made by local bees (rather than importing it from elsewhere). Personally, raw organic honey is worth its weight in liquid gold for another reason. If you're familiar with my earlier posts, you know of the difficulty I've had with acid reflux. Guess what? One teaspoon of local honey, labelled "Raw Organic", taken first thing in the morning and again right before bedtime has taken away the painful symptoms that I used to get after eating something acidic. As long as I don't overeat to the point that I literally feel too full, I can eat whatever I want; this includes drinking coffee. (Huge smile)
You know I'm not a doctor, so I would never say that honey will work for everyone the way it has worked for me, but if you do suffer from acid reflux and would like to try something natural, honey's the way to go. In the beginning, you may need an extra teaspoon during the middle of the day if you have heartburn. Remember that too much of anything is never a good thing. Two to three teaspoons a day should do it. Also, you've probably read that children one year and under should never have honey, so check with a doctor before trying this with young children. As for us adults, why take yet another side-effect-filled medication when there are options? And did you know that honey never spoils?
Petoskey stones are fossilized coral that lived 350 million years ago. I chose this photo not only because of the honeycomb-like pattern of the fossil, but also for its age. Remember? Honey never spoils.
