Life is a Carousel

Not all of the time, but there used to be a time when outside of every grocery store and department store there was a machine waiting quietly to seduce children to climb on their backs. The child would jump on, then whine and beg for a dime. Later, it was a quarter to get the machine to rock, to buck, and sometimes to play music or to roar. The manufacturers offered an entire menagerie of animals from horses to hippos, pigs, and pachyderms. Some machines were rockets, stagecoaches, or pony carts. Occasionally, the enticement was a carousel with two horses or some other type of animal that called to the child. I think this was the introduction for many children to ride the much larger version of the merry-go-rounds at the amusement park.

The amusement park’s carousel played loud, whimsical music that could be heard for several yards around the ride. The alluring sounds of calliope notes called youngsters and oldsters to step up onto the wide platform. Eventually, they would find an empty saddle on a lion, zebra, or painted horse. If the child was fortunate enough, he or she could claim a noble steed that pranced in an up-and-down motion driven by a brass crank-shaft above.

Many smaller children were held into the saddle by their parents standing at their side. Child and parent would laugh and enjoy the lighthearted music. The wide twirling motion of the platform and the smell of food from vendors around the ride added to the festive feeling. Sometimes, the less adventurous folk or the elderly were enticed to join, but because they couldn’t or didn’t want to climb on the back of an animal, they chose a seat to rest their feet in the gaily festooned bandwagons interspaced on the merry-go-round platform.

Waiting for the carousel to stop was almost as magical. The music tempo would change as the whirling creatures picked up speed or slowed before the waiting crowd’s eyes. Those people would be touched by a mystical breeze stirred to life by the herd of spinning creatures making the anticipation for their turn seem to last forever.

Then there was the chaos of people exiting the ride and those who were climbing on board clashing like opposing ocean tides. Eventually, the turmoil would cease and the attendant rings the bell with several loud clangs. The lumbering behemoth begins another circuit around the motor-driven gears hidden behind elaborately decorated and gilded panels and the calliope begins to chirp a merry tune. The ride through fantasyland begins.

Going to the Dogs

As we sat around the Thanksgiving table yesterday, the stories began to flow, reminiscences of our past. Hunting stories, fishing tales, and tales about Uncle Dale began to circulate. Small mobile enclaves moved through my sister Kathy’s house. A cluster would form, talk, listen, and then move to another cluster of people. The topics and stories were as varied as the food itself.

We had cranberry salad, but the green leafy one was rendered inedible by the shattering of its glass container. The roughage would have been welcome in our aging body, but it was scarcely missed in the mélange of the food brought to be shared. I was responsible for the ham, so I went a step further by making ham potpie. That one dish was my sister’s favorite. I baked three pies: pecan, pumpkin, and added apple to my usual contribution to the meal.

Photographs were pulled from Kathy’s archive. Someone asked if I had pictures of my grandfather Raymond Miner’s family. Doug made copied of some and I took cell phone copies of others. I shared some last evening on Facebook.

Eventually we talked about the dogs we had as kids. My brother Ken talked about two special dogs that he owned, Sam a docked Doberman Pincher and Bella, the Pomeranian that he owns now. Frisky was a black miniature poodle that Grandma Becky owned. It was a ball of energy and always underfoot. I mentioned the Great Dane my mom and dad owned when I was small. Our home was near busy Rt. 711 and if I’d stray too close, that beast would grab me by the seat of my pants and return me to the safety of the yard. No family dog story would be complete without mentioning my mom’s favorite, Bimbo. He was an intelligent, brown and white Rat Terrier mix. His playful antics could always make Mom laugh.

The direction of conversation changed into other memories of the past, and so it was until the annual Thanksgiving Beck feast was over, except for the dividing of the leftovers.

Toying With Nostalgia

When my grandchildren left my house after a visit, I found two stuffed animals with which they'd been playing. My mother Sybil Miner Beck often held those animals on her lap as the ravages of Alzheimer’s disease became more and more noticeable. As I returned them to their storage bins, I began to recall their importance. One was a fuzzy white dog about twelve inches long and ten inches high. The other was an even fuzzier white cat with almost the same dimensions.

My mom was raised on a farm Near Indian Head, Pennsylvania with seven brothers and sisters: Rachel, Cora, Violet, Dale, Ina, Ted, and Cosey. She used to share stories of her past life as she raised me, my brother Ken, and my sister Kathy. These stories became fewer as she aged. Sometimes we would start a story and look to her to corroborate the facts and she would only respond, “If you say so.” Her past memories became locked away in the dim recesses of an uncooperative mind. It was sad seeing this intelligent, witty woman disappear as Alzheimer’s claimed more of her faculties.

She loved to read, but Alzheimer’s stole that ability from her. Near the end of her life, she forgot how or why it was necessary for her to eat. Occasionally after much coaxing, she would reluctantly take a bite and swallow it.

With that history out of the way, I will return to the reason I started to write this tale. While she still lived with my dad Carl Beck, she was given the dog and the cat. Some women claim a doll to hold and care for as their mental capacity diminishes. My mom claimed the cat and dog instead. She would hold one or the other on her lap, stroke it, or just rest her hand on its back. I can’t remember where she got them, but they were constant companions.

When she and my father passed, I inherited them and kept them with the toys to entertain my grandchildren when they visited. This time as I tucked them away, the significance of what there two creatures meant to my mom struck me and they now have a new resting place on my bed.

Thanksgiving or Giving Thanks

It’s almost Thanksgiving and on what are we concentrating? Is it the turkey, ham, dressing, or the pies, cranberry sauce, and the varied side dishes to serve? Are we trying to decide whether or not to watch football games or making a schedule of which ones to view?

Are we really thankful for what we have? Will we give thanks to our Creator and Lord for what He has allowed us to have? If we have food, warm clothing, a warm place to live, and a family to love, we should be thankful and give thanks to our Maker.

If we aren’t thankful, we can slip into a feeling of entitlement. Like a spoiled child who feels that what he or she has is something that is deserved, something to which we are entitled. We can become discontent with what we have, become unsatisfied with our blessings. It can become an overwhelming desire for the things that our friends or neighbors have. Those feelings may turn to envy and fester into ill will toward even our closest friends or relatives. It doesn’t have to be a possession. It can be the friend’s position, job, or relationship.

We can have a feeling that we are justified in our belief that we should have what they have and be blinded to the things we already have. We may have good health or a loving family that the neighbor doesn’t have and wishes that he had. We can be so consumed and embittered with our lust for things we do not have, we are unable to enjoy what we do have.

Being thankful allows us to reflect on the good things in our lives. To actually see what we have and take into account of the good things in our lives. Not being thankful blinds us. Not giving thanks opens our hearts to sins of greed, envy, and lust. Being thankful opens our eyes to the needs of others. When we have the feelings of good fortune and being blessed, we are more willing to share to those less fortunate than we are and are happy when another person gets a new car, a new job, or becomes engaged.

Psalm 118:1 O give thanks unto the Lord; for he is good: because his mercy endureth for ever.  

Uneventful Events

Many of life’s incidents we find that are unremarkable fill our days, our weeks, and eventually the years set aside by God to complete the pages of our history book. We don’t know the number of chapters before God places the final period and writes “the end.” Each page is filled with innumerable choices which change the direction of our existence. Even the smallest of choices can change the outcome of the day. Do I vacuum the house, do the laundry, or do I drive to the store to get the potatoes I forgot to buy yesterday?

If I vacuum, will that ready my house for as of yet unknown visitors? If I do the wash, will the washer overflow or the dryer stop working? If I decide to drive to Wal-mart’s, will the car break down or will I be involved in an accident? Each selection and each decision we make often has unseen and sometimes far-reaching consequences, not only for us, but to our family, to our friends, or to complete strangers.

When I am out and about, I try to be polite and friendly. Who knows, I may meet that person again when I could use their help and as an author and writer, I always have to advertise my books and my BlogSpot, so it behooves me to be on my best behavior.

Not only that, but as a far-from-perfect Christian, I need to share my life witness with others as a example of what a Christ wants us to be. I try to be more cordial and less grumpy than my human flesh wants me to be.

I also try to share when I get an answered prayer. This past week, I was praying about finding my lost house key. Somewhere it slipped off my key ring. After frantic searching, I came to the point that I knew exactly where it happened. It had to have fallen off in the church parking lot Sunday evening. I would search there on Wednesday evening. As I exited my car, I saw the individually wrapped Lifesaver candy on the gravel parking lot. I always carry a few to share with kids. The white minty halo drew me like a beacon. I strolled over to retrieve it and nestled there beside it was my key.

That unexpected event caused me to drive to Wal-mart and have several spare keys made. I am in the process of distributing the newly made ones to my kids. I also plan to keep a spare key inside my house “just in case.”

This sin't exactly where I was planning to direct this post, but one small choice led to another.

Postcard Repository

For my friends who follow me on Facebook, they already know that each day I share a different postcard. Being the oldest in my family, I have slowly become the end of the line for many items; glassware, furniture, postcards, and other documents. The postcards now fill a boot box. Rather than allow them to become food fare for silverfish, I photograph them and post them for others to see.

Many of the artist’s drawings or actual photographs of buildings are no longer there and many of the far off places, most people will never be able to see unless they catch a glimpse of them with my daily Facebook shares. Some of these cards are in nearly pristine condition despite their age while others are in poor conditions because of rough handling. A few cards are advertisements for hotels, motels, hardware stores, and even one for a privet hedge nursery. It is almost unbelievable the amount of untold history that is uncovered by looking at the image captured on the front, the date and the message written on the reverse side. Several of the cards were sent during the World Wars eras up to and including a card I just received several days ago from Iceland.

Cards from several foreign countries grace the collection. There are sepia colored portrait cards, a few had no writing to label who these men and women were. Some cards are scenes of war; some are a rendition of boot camp, cadet schools, and a few that poke fun of war.

The most of the collection share scenes from the United States. Some were historical showing the conception of America to the near past. There are Easter cards, Thanksgiving cards, Birthday cards, St. Paddy’s Day cards, and a plethora of Christmas cards. I try to dig them out to post at the appropriate times. These cards are a heritage that I treasure and try to share with you all.

Living in a World of Anger

The world around us seems to be more and more filled with chaos and anger; road rage, violent protesting, stabbings, spouse abuse, child abuse, terrorists attacks, and multiple shootings have gained prominence in the headlines of our newspapers. They’ve captured the lead spots of our televisions and radios. If we are not careful, we will respond in a like manner and perpetuate a hostile world.

Often the media is reporting, “Is there no safe place?” Saying our homes and churches are no longer havens. The sanctuary cities that have been created are to protect those who would try to do evil. These criminals are protected while the general population is put at risk.

Some misguided politicians hold a serpent to their breast under a misplaced sense of goodness and deal inappropriately with these non-citizens at the risk and expense of the actual citizens of the community.

If we are guided by feelings and feelings alone, the world will only become worse. If we have no guide other than our hearts, we are doomed. The Bible tells us, “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?” Jeremiah 17:9. The human heart can be very loving, but in the next instant, it can be filled with envy, lust, rage, hatred, pride, or greed. How can we trust such a fickle entity to guide us? We can’t.

Morality cannot be legislated. Each time politicians enact a law to stop one evil, they allow the criminal minds to find a way to avoid or corrupt the well-meaning regulation. It seems the law-makers try to circumvent and outright deny the truth and principles set forth in the Bible, but their adulterations of God’s Word have failed miserably.

There will be no healing without kneeling and dealing with our sins. There has to be a change in our lives and reveal the way God meant men and women to live. I can hear the groans of my readers, old-fashioned, he’s no longer relevant, but God’s Word has guided mankind for generations. Each time mankind has leaned on their own understanding, it is then that that civilization has collapsed.

A post for veterans that have fallen and those families left at home.

Alone Now

She weeps

Tears fall

Folded flag

Held tightly

Remembering him.

Tall and strong

Young and alive

But no more.

 

She weeps

Broken hearted

Inconsolable, empty

Ribbons and medals

Clutched in hand

Remembering him.

Gentle lover

Protector

Helpmate

But no more.

 

She weeps

No comfort

Grief stricken

Unbearable pain

Remembering him.

Tender hero

Valiant knight

Blessed hope

To return no more.

 

 

Americans and Veterans

Just a few quick lines before I go outside to stack another load of firewood. Tomorrow is Veteran’s Day; a day we as Americans have set aside to honor those who sacrifice time away from their homes. Sometimes they sacrifice limbs, eyes, and mental stability or even the ultimate sacrifice of laying down their lives for their comrades in war and for Americans who are far away from the battlefield. These who are kept safe and secure to carry on their daily life inside the border of the United States owe so very much to these warriors.

I also want to remember the families, the people who are left behind, wondering, worrying, and praying that their soldier, sailor, or airman will come home safely and in one piece. The family is left with the task of repairing any damage caused by the trials of combat, whether physical or mental. They are left with the task of supporting each other in the time of grief should their loved one not return home.

Parents, wives, and yes, even the children are involved in the aftermath of repairing the threads of their lives, putting back together the fragile threads that have in some way been damaged. Often it is a formidable and Herculean challenge. The repairs are not always as beautiful as the original cloth, but we can only hope that the mended areas are stronger and deeper than before.

This is the tribute for our veterans and their families. God bless each and every one of you.

Here Comes the Judge

Jury duty, what can I say. I got the summons several weeks ago and wanting to do my civic duty, I went. My body has deteriorated over the past several years, nothing extraordinary or debilitating, but just enough that I have slowed somewhat. Back pain, right knee and shoulder pain, water pill for my hypertension, and the recent start of insulin for my diabetes have slowly inculcated themselves into my life. I thought with careful planning, I could still serve as a juror.

Monday morning, the perspective jurors were herded into a large courtroom to ascertain who reported and who were delinquent. It was a slow process of showing your jury summons and driver’s license. (But people don’t need I.D. to vote?) Each juror-to-be was issued a button having their juror number. We were required to wear the badge the entire day. The courtroom where we gathered was grand with marble floors, rusty red marble walls, and large ivory colored chandeliers hanging from the gilded and frescoed ceilings. The seats were dark oak benches matching the judge’s bench, witness box, and the carved rail that separated the audience from the court proceedings.

The sorting and selection began. My number was called and was shuffled into another courtroom. From the initial gathering of prospective jurors until we arrived in the newly assigned courtroom took nearly 2.5 hours. As we entered, each juror was assigned a specific seat. Mine was a hard wooden chair. All this sitting on hard surfaces began to cause my right leg and foot to go numb. I was glad that I brought my cane. I sometimes need it to stand. Another 2 hours of inactivity and sitting ensued. I was glad they allowed us to visit the restrooms several times. Standing alleviated some of the worst of the tingling. Noon came and we were sent to find a place to eat, cautioned to be back by 1:30 pm.

After the meal, the judge arrived and handled a few cases without selecting a jury. A short while later, the judge said the case for which we were summoned took a plea bargain and we were dismissed to the hallway until we were needed.

To keep the tingling to a minimum, I walked the hallway. I spoke with the administrator of the courtroom to see if I might leave early, after explaining my predicament. I was asked to stay until the end of the day. I managed to do that, continuing my restless pacing. When I turned in my badge, I was told I would be excused for the week. I was glad to be free of the inactivity and sitting. The wheels of justice turned a lot more slowly than I imagined.

Hurray for the Veterans

This was the third year I’ve attended the Veteran’s Day celebration at Mt. Carmel Christian School. Again it was a great success. The younger children of the elementary classes shared memorized patriotic recitations and songs. The older students, clad in uniforms from the different branches of the military, shared excerpts of letters from military men and women who sent back some of the trials and tribulations from the fighting in which they were embroiled. Letters to wives, children, and parents gave a small picture of what they had endured or were experiencing to keep all Americans and loved ones safe and secure.

The ceremony began with prayer and a parade of military flags: the Army, the Navy, the Air Force, the Coast Guard, and the Marines. Each banner was solemnly and proudly carried down the central aisle to a place of honor at the side of the dais by students wearing donated uniforms of veterans.

The entire process of the celebration was dignified. It centered around and was dedicated to the men and women who sacrificed their time, their lives, and their limbs to protect all Americans.

There were many times I found a lump in my throat, unable to complete some stanzas of the several patriotic songs. A roll call of each veteran present was made having each veteran stand to be recognized as their name, the number of years they served, and the branch of the service were announced. The respect of these young men and women gave is refreshing in a day when the flag, the National Anthem, and the American veterans are being taken so lightly and with so little regard for their sacrifice.

After the ceremony, a meal was served to all who attended. The food was delicious with pies and cupcakes as dessert. I would like to give a hearty well done to the staff and students to Mt. Carmel Christian School.

Every day I post a different postcard on my Facebook page. I extracted the military postcards in my collection and will share them throughout the coming week. Somehow, I thought of the veterans from WW II for Veteran’s Day, but soon I understood there were veterans of many wars; from the French and Indian Wars, to the Alamo, WW I, Korea, Vietnam, Civil War, and those wars in which we are still embroiled. May God bless our Veterans.

The Weather or Not

The autumn weather has been unusually mild and has limited the bright hues from appearing on the trees. The golds, reds, oranges, crimsons and the intense yellows of the leaves have taken their time to slowly evolve into a dull brown or to just wither and fall off the trees. I don’t mind the warmer fall weather; I just don’t like the thoughts of the winter chill that is just ahead. The short reminder of the colder temperatures and the strong winds made me want to hibernate.

We should be thankful. So much of the country is going through drought-like conditions while southwest Pennsylvania has been blessed with ample rain. So much has happened in the past week. It has been another stress-filled week chock full of things to do. I had the carpeting and flooring installed on Monday. They have to come back to install the trim. They didn’t have what they needed.

Wednesday, I ate lunch with the Grande Dames of Frick. Once each month, the retired nurses from Frick Hospital in Mt. Pleasant Pennsylvania get together to eat, reminisce, and to update each other on our “boring” lives now that we’ve retired. I always say I didn’t know that retired meant feeling tired day after day because I’m still busy.

Thursday, I had an appointment to have my bathroom remodeled. It was a no show. I don’t understand what happened, but I certainly won’t hire them for the job. It was a referral through Home Advisor, so how reliable are their recommendations?

Thursday afternoon was the writers meeting at the Mt. Pleasant public library. I had a headache, but went anyway, escaping back home as soon as the meeting was over.

This afternoon, I plan to attend the annual Veteran’s Day celebration at the Mt. Carmel Christian Academy. Their respect and tribute to veterans is unbelievably moving. These young men and women make me proud to be an American and to know there is still a generation that respects veterans, our country, our flag, and God.

My New New Year’s Resolution

It’s not too soon for me to think about changes in my life style. Last year about this time my New Year’s resolution was, “If I am grumpy, I don’t leave home. No one wants to deal with a grumpy old man.” I’ve shared this resolution with many people at the checkout counters. Usually they chuckle and thank me. Some of them actually share some horror stories. It makes me happy that I am not on their black list. The good thing is, it is one resolution that I’ve been able to keep so far.

As the year is drawing to an end, I have been ruminating what to do. I want to make another positive change in my life. The past two months I have become extremely busy and can see that November will be another hectic month. My pocket calendar has become far too full and I think that is where my assault should be. After the first of the year, I want to be a recluse, a hermit, a person who loves the feeling of cabin fever; at least for a few weeks, maybe a month. I need to find some time to hide from appointments, meetings, and other events that want to lay a claim on my life.

There were ten days in October without something on my schedule that I planned to do. In those ten days I did the household chores, mow my yard and the neighbor’s yard, as well as do the laundry. I had to move my furniture getting ready for the installation of my flooring and carpet. Of course, I removed the carpet and padding to save a few dollars, shaving off more of my free time.

I guess what I am trying to say is I need to understand the word “no” and be willing to use it much more, even when I am talking with myself. That is the resolution I want to make. Whether or not I can keep it, only time will tell?