Wednesday, February 10, 2016

inner rooms

I'm feeling a little tentative today.
A sort of 'so far so good' kind of feeling.
It's because of yesterday.
Yesterday I was unhappy.
And something worse than unhappy.
I felt desperate.

Doesn't that make you curious?
Me too.
I wrote it an age ago.
Those feelings are water under the bridge.
Can't remember why I felt that way now.
I could take a guess of course but what's the point.

I was trolling through 'drafts' with the intent of tidying up my blogs inner rooms and have had some very entertaining reading.
Here's another-

I had spoken hesitantly.
"They just seem dark to me. You know.... things that seem to be all about war and evil."
"But they're Super Heroes," my grandson had exclaimed. "They fight evil."
It is good to know the difference.
Even very young children can grasp the difference.
Later he had asked with the sober wisdom of seven, "Is there more darkness or more light.?"

"Is there more darkness or more light?" my grandson asked. He is seven and is a philosopher and theologian as all children innately are.
"Do you think I could teach people about good and evil with my stories," he had wondered.
We were taking turns making up stories.
"There was once a righteous man and he had seven sons," he began, startlingly..
"But some of his sons were turning to the dark side."

part art

We used to listen to music on our stereo, it's speakers the size of refrigerators. And before that, our record player. Now music wafts out of our computer.
Nothing children enjoy today can compare to the fun we had with our record player. George Beverly Shea and Bing Crosby sounded like Alvin and the Chipmunks when we switched speeds. We laughed and jumped around the living room like crickets. Then we switched the speed again and the voices  s..l...o..w...e...d  w...a...y  down and took on an ominous tone, a sort of robot voice of doom that we found even funnier. Interactive music. Part sport, part theatre, part art.

had to be there

"Teenagers are getting arthritis," she exclaimed, her emphasis on the word teenager. "It's because of the texting," she added incredulously, and I imagined a generation of seniors unable to grasp their canes.
Isn't eaves dropping a revelation?
When I began to tell my husband what I had just heard I began to laugh and couldn't stop.
It was because of Far Side. I suddenly remembered an old Far Side comic about a Boneless Chicken Ranch.
I think you had to be there.

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

to say

"You always try your best." I say to my grandson. "You always work hard and that is why..." I pause to get just the right words. "And that is why I'll be successful in life?" my grandson asks earnestly. "Yes!" I say joyfully. "Oh," he breathes, "I was hoping that was what you were going to say."

probably would

"Can you do this Grandma?" my grandson asks hopping, his two skates rising off the ice in a perfect leap, and then another. I think about jumping. I think as hard as I can. I even bend my knees but my skate blades stay firmly bonded to the ice. "I jumped in my heart," I say, but my grandson has whizzed ahead and is now skating backwards. "Can you skate backwards?" he asks, sliding to a stop with a frosty spray. "I never learned to skate backwards," I admit. "How do you stop like that?" I ask admiringly.
"Hi Grandma!" my granddaughter calls. Her eyes are bright, her cheeks flushed as she rushes up the ice, her hands gripping a blue frame. And only a few moments later, there she is again, skating along with 'no visible means of support.'
My littlest granddaughter has made it out onto the ice too. It was touch and go in the change room. "They're too tight!" she wailed. "Too tight." The skates, the ski pants, the zipped up hoodie, the helmet.....But out on the ice, with standing up AND moving happening at the same time, happiness distracts her with a different kind of freedom.
I felt as stiff as a stick when I started skating. Stiff, but not brittle fortunately because I fell. Wasn't even sore the next day like you'd think. I could probably fall like that once a week without any trouble at all. And if I skated once a week, I probably would.

Friday, January 29, 2016

glorified

Did you go to Sunday School when you were a child? Church and Sunday School were a package deal when I was a kid and I have a lot of very early memories with wooden pews and ladies hats right in the middle of them. I must have been part beaver because I can remember kneeling on the pew as a preschooler and peering over the back at the people in the row behind..... and gnawing on the wooden back. It gave way so delightfully to my teeth, just like a pencil did a couple years later in grade one. My mother would eventually spot me defacing the property and give me 'the eye' or a murmured admonition. Oh the advantage of being the fifth born whence your mother's patience is a finely honed thing.
My Sunday School class in the little church of my childhood was up a very curved, steep staircase that opened upon a tiny room with miniature painted plywood chairs. I think if I had one of those chairs now, I'd hang it on the wall like artwork.
My teacher was a very short and very round lady with a wonderfully gravelly voice named Grandma Johnston. She always wore a hat; a sort of glorified head band. Very glorified because it was bedecked with gossamer flowers. I can't imagine how she got down low enough to perch on one of those little painted chairs so perhaps she didn't. I can't remember that detail. I do remember the stories though. Stories like Jonah and the Whale,  and David and Goliath, and Daniel in the Lions Den. Stories of high adventure and high stakes. I loved those stories. They were always told with flannel graph which was 90 percent of their charm. I have a sudden urge to tell you a story using flannel graph but alas, I have only Playmobil handy as a prop. What do you think?