White Christmas

                                                                                                              
It's nice to have a White Christmas, as long as your stocking comes with a little "greenery".
                            


                Linda  Poindexter

DANNY BOY

HAVE YOU NOTICED how we sometimes give more than one name to certain things in life?  Like, a car for instance (vehicle, set of wheels, ride, etc.) or money (cash, moola, dough, etc.)  Or even.....the bathroom!  It is known by lots of names like the "John",  the "toilet", the "restroom", the "powder room" (I like that one), and even the not so pleasant sounding term...the "crapper."  Well, our family has come up with yet another name for this most necessary room, although I admit strictly by accident.

A few years ago, I purchased these musical candles for all of the women in the family for Christmas.  They were pretty, smelled like vanilla when you lit them, and played the song "Danny Boy" when exposed to either a light or the flame.  My sister-in-law found that the only room that had a light strong enough to activate the song was her bathroom.  Every time someone went to the bathroom and turned on the light, "Danny Boy" began to play.  We soon learned that if the door was closed, AND "Danny Boy" was playing, that meant someone was in the bathroom.  And then eventually, when someone would go into that bathroom, they were said to be "in the Danny Boy".  Since then, that term has come to mean the bathroom.

I'm sure there are some names for things that no one really knows how they got that name, but if our name ever catches on......you can smile and say, "I know why they call it that!"  We'll gladly take the credit.

         

AM I AT THE WRONG CLASS REUNION?

HAVE YOU NOTICED how everyone you went to school with seems to look a lot older than you?
If you've ever walked into one of your class reunions, just for a split second, you think "I must be at the wrong reunion...I don't know ANY of these people....they're so much older than me!"  Little by little, you start to recognize them.  I'm sure if you had seen them all along through the years, they would seem pretty much the same as you remembered them. But life has a way of playing with the memory.  It seems like our memory never ages.  My husband insists he's never even seen some of the people before that showed up at his reunion.  "I look the same....why don't they?" he asked. (Of course, I know it's not true, but I shake my head in agreement.)  It reminds me of a joke I heard on one of the late night talk shows about some guy going to his class reunion and he said "None of my classmates showed up, but a bunch of old people did!"

It is also funny how, no matter how many years have passed, time does not affect your memories....it's like nothing has changed when you return to "the scene of the crime".  You gravitate to the same friends, talk about the same things, and still wish the most popular guy in your class would notice you...(he doesn't).  But he does look a lot older, and too bad for him, because you don't!  No, I haven't aged a bit.  I've convinced myself....now I just have to convince all of those old people.



  "True friendships are the ones where nothing changes over time except your faces".
                                                  ( Linda Poindexter )

   "When you're young, you think you will live forever.  When you're old, you just wish you would."
                                                  ( Linda Poindexter)



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ILLUSIVE KIDS

HAVE YOU NOTICED that kids don't play outside anymore?  Sometimes, if I happen to be driving down our road when the school bus runs, I will actually see some kids!  I don't know where they are the rest of the time, but you hardly ever see them.  It seems like they just don't play outdoors like we used to.  I guess it's partly because of the computer, TV, and all of those video games and partly because of safety reasons with the world the way it is today.  But if I were a kid today, I swear you would not be able to keep me inside.  When we were kids, we PLAYED!  We literally made pests of ourselves in our neighborhood.  If we weren't riding bikes, or walking up to the corner grocery store, we were out in our yard, yelling and screaming till way past dark.  Oh no, there was no chance you would only see us when we got off of the bus.  We were there, and everyone was going to know about it!  We knocked on our neighbors doors pushing our girl scout cookies and band candy till I'm sure they were sick of us.  Summers found us with our butterfly nets, heading off into the country (yes, the COUNTRY, all by ourselves), walking miles, hunting for pop bottles and Zebra Swallowtails.  Even if we weren't running through the sprinkler, or riding our horses, we still stayed outdoors...lying for hours in the cool green grass, just reading a book, or staring up at the clouds.  Our doors got all of their wear from us just going in and out a hundred times a day.  Today, I hardly know where the kids are.  I don't know what they do or why they don't play outdoors...why they don't learn to enjoy the world outside and all it has to offer, but I do know what they are missing....it's a thing called "childhood".  Yes,  it seems that kids playing outdoors are getting harder to find these days.....seems like they are as illusive as those butterlies.

           "Tell your child he is capable of doing anything he dreams of, and
             someday he will become everything you dreamed of."

                                  (  Linda  Poindexter  )

SMALL PACKAGES

Have you noticed how things are getting so much smaller?  Everything from cars, to computers, to phones and even the boxes and cans of food on the grocery shelves.  There was a time when BIG was better.  Well, not anymore.  Everyone wants you to think you're getting more....when actually you're getting a lot less.  Take for instance, a can of tuna.  Well, it used to be 6 ounces and now it has managed to shrink down to 5 ounces.  The price, however, managed to avoid the same fate.  I'm sure the distributor of these cans hopes that we won't notice.  But when I used to make tuna salad, one can would make two sandwiches  and now it only makes one and a half.  So did they think we wouldn't notice?  I guarantee you, in our family, someone will notice if they only get a half of a sandwich on their plate!  Maybe, since we're getting a lot less, we could demand that we pay a lot less.  I guess that things are going to get smaller and smaller, until one day you'll open up a box of your favorite cereal and......it will be empty!  (That's one way to cut down on calories.)  All of this talk is making me hungry....now where is the other half of that sandwich when you need it?

  "My new diet is very simple to follow.....if it tastes good, don't eat it!"

                          (  Linda Poindexter  )

WHERE'S THE GOOD STUFF?

Have you noticed that Flea Markets are not like they used to be?  There is a saying that "One man's trash is another man's treasure" and that motto has pretty much fueled the Flea Market business for years.  But lately I have begun to notice that there is a decline in what I call...."the good stuff".  You know,  all those things that people at one time couldn't live without, and now they hope you can't.  It seems like all of those "treasures" that you used to find at a Flea Market are disappearing.  Where are the mismatched dinner plates, the pink polka dot lampshade, and the radio that still works good despite a missing knob? How come no one has a cookie jar with a goose on the lid, or hedge trimmers with a missing cord???  Everything has been replaced with....God forbid.....NEW STUFF!  I don't want designer eyeglasses, and imitation leather wallets, and key chains with Playboy bunnies, I can find them anywhere......I want the GOOD STUFF!  I want the stuff that someone else bought new and now they want to sell it...CHEAP!  Whether is is out of necessity, or just the thrill of the hunt, we all go to the Flea Market for that one of a kind item.  And you must admit, recycling is good for the environment.  So the next time you decide to throw away that old pillow, or toss out those old cassette tapes, don't..... you just might make someone's day.  Like mine.


        "If one man's trash is another man's treasure, I must have the mother load!"
                                             (  Linda Poindexter )

TATTOOS

Have you noticed that it's hard to find anyone nowdays who doesn't have at least one tattoo?  Whenever we are out at some event or public place, I always enjoy people watching (and I guess that now includes tattoo watching.)  Tattoos used to be something reserved for soldiers and bikers, but in the past few years, it seems like everyone has decided they want one.  Of course, they all seem to have them where no one can see them, and then they have to adjust their clothing so it can be seen!  We're used to seeing more of today's body art on young people, but lately I have seen little old grandmothers sporting the latest designs.  Once I actually saw a man who had tattoos from head to toe, every inch of his body (that was visible anyway) was covered with some sort of tattoo.  From a distance he appeared to be, well, sort of green.  He could have been from some other planet.  I guess we could debate the pros and cons of tattoos.  The body is a temple and we shouldn't deface it......it's been done for hundreds of years......it's artistic self expression.....what happens if you don't want them anymore?.....what if they won't hire you for that bank president job?   In the whole scheme of things, I guess tattoos will someday be irrelevant....like did we really go to the moon?  Maybe not, but possibly to another planet.

SPRING ETERNAL

Have you noticed, there is something about spring that seems to bring out the best in people..and the world? Everything looks better, and smells better, and feels better.  Take for instance my yard.  In summer it looks so so...lots of grass and pretty much nothing else, followed by fall which is nothing but leaves (and, oh yes, did I mention leaves?)  And well winter, you can pretty much forget it...it's just there, underneath the left over leaves of fall and the fallen tree limbs from those winter cold fronts that blow through almost every week.  But for a few blessed weeks in the spring, right after we rake and mow and trim...the perennials pop out and the Azaleas bloom in all their glory and the Jasmine flowers, sending out its' heavenly scent.  It is for those precious few weeks that I live in the midst of Paradise (well, as close as I will ever get to it in my yard).  Yes, Spring is one of my favorite seasons, though fleeting it is.  Sometimes I wish it could last forever....but then I think if it did, it wouldn't be as special.  So I'll just take my few weeks and be thankful.....and then go back to my raking.

LETTERS HOME

Have you noticed that people don't write letters anymore?  In this day of computers with E-mail, text messaging, and cell phones, no one writes letters.  I confess, I'm one of those people who hates to write letters, but loves to receive them.  I also don't like to throw away letters, especially from family.  It just doesn't seem right.  I have every letter that my mother or father (and probably every other family member) has ever sent me...bulging out of manila envelopes, shoe boxes, and old purses that should have been thrown away years ago.  They are in no particular order, either by date or by sender, but somehow, these letters are like a timeline, a record of who was doing what, and when.  There are letters I received as a teenager from friends (and even a few I wrote myself and never sent for one reason or another.)  Those I read with amazement as I find out how different a person I am now than that young girl who once talked about nothing but where I wanted to go that Saturday night.  Then there are the letters that I received from home after I had set out on my own.  I can read about my Dad planting the spring garden, visits from my nieces and nephews, my brother and his wife wallpapering my parent's bedroom, and family dinners and vacations without me.  But somehow, I could be there, because someone took the time to sit down and write about it.  By writing that letter, they didn't know it...but they included me.  The other day I was reading through some old letters and I found one from my grandmother (one I had not remembered ever reading although I'm sure I must have.)  It was written shortly after my moving away from home and she was telling me all about everything that was going on there.  It was then that I realized that she had actually touched this piece of paper all those years ago, held it in her hands, wrote each word carefully in her own handwriting, sealed the letter and licked the stamp which now still holds her DNA.  If she had e-mailed me, those words would have been long gone and forgotten.  At the click of a mouse, they would have disappeared forever.  Holding that letter in my hands, I had something that meant so much more now than when I first received it.  I had a piece of the past..a family treasure.  Letters are something that you can touch, and smell, and feel.  They hold perfume and tears and dreams....and love.  They can bring back memories and stir up old feelings.  They have the power to make us happy or sad.  We should learn to create more of them before they go by the wayside.  I know that someday, handwritten letters will be a thing of the past...laughed at and mused about by just about everyone.  That's when I will pull out one of my boxes and show my great grandchildren something they have never seen before.....a letter.