Friday Fun

I thought to write a letter

Not knowing where or whom

Should receive such an epistle

Of darkness or of gloom.

Should stately enterprise resist

A penchant to deny

That all I ever really want

Is to gaze into the sky.

To sit transfixed and stare

At nature's lovely things

And wait with hopeful patience

For things that soar and sing.

The things I love do nothing

Or so to some it seems 

That writers who are fruitful

Must fill up many reams

Of paper loaded up with ink

And deeply rooted thoughts

That energize the mirth or dearth

Where each of us is caught.

My heart could give a lesson

My head could offer naught,

My love is found in things

That are ambivalent to plot.

This exercise was useful

To open  up the zest

That's found among the poems

Of our old friend, Edgar Guest.

Herb Ratliff, December 30, 2011, All Rights Reserved

Victoria's Secret

 Thought For The Day

Once upon a time there was a chubby, black, white, orange and yellow, striped, caterpillar, named Victoria. Victoria had a very pleasing smile and walked very gracefully for someone who had twenty-eight legs. She climbed in and about the milkweed bushes of her neighborhood every day, careful not to wander too far from home. Although she lived in a beautiful, open field, Victoria was not very happy. She was not happy because all of the other creatures in the garden called her pudgy and said she looked like a neon sign with legs.

Now, it is true that Victoria had a pleasant roundness of features, but that seemed only natural for a caterpillar with such an enormous appetite. She simply felt hungry all the time. No matter what she ate the next leaf she came across looked even more tantalizing than the one she had just finished eating.

So Victoria began to hide from the others in the garden. She would carefully look around to find a place to munch on leaves all by herself, until one day when she began to feel very, very tired. Victoria needed sleep. She began to look around for a quiet spot that would be safe and snug for a nap. Her curiously huge appetite had gone away. She began to feel groggy and disoriented. It became a great problem to figure out which foot she should start with. That had never been a problem before.

 It was early in the morning when she began her hunt for the quiet place and now it was growing dark. She felt like she could not take another step when suddenly, she tripped on a new leaf shoot and would have fallen to the ground but caught herself with her twenty-seventh foot. "Whew !", she gasped, not even being able to imagine what might have happened if she had missed the stalk. Carefully and slowly she worked her twenty-eighth foot into position to hold on to the branch. "Gotcha", she whispered, and fell fast asleep.

She awoke a few hours later with a feeling unlike any she had felt before. A little voice inside her was saying, "Look like a leaf." Victoria was very confused by this little voice. But, she heard it again. "Look like a leaf." Now Victoria was a pretty smart caterpillar, as caterpillars go and she was more than a little put off by this curious little voice telling her to look like a leaf. She felt even more ridiculous when she heard her voice saying, "Why should I look like a leaf?", and her chubby little cheeks began to glow red with embarrassment for talking back to an imaginary voice.

It was just at that moment that a very curious thing indeed happened to Victoria. A lovely silken thread appeared before her that shined with all of the colors of the rainbow through the light of the very full moon. And without knowing why, Victoria began to wrap herself in between the folds of a leaf with this wonderful silken thread until she did indeed look like a leaf.

Things in the garden continued to bloom and grow. Days turned to weeks and  finally one sun-streaked day Victoria woke up. "Oh my, she yawned. "Where am I?" She felt very cramped and crowded in this dark place. So She began to struggle to get out. She wiggled and she wriggled. She bent and stretched. She oohed and she ahhhhed until she saw a tiny splinter of light. That encouraged her to try even harder until she saw the full light of the sun.

 It was so beautiful. The sun, the flowers and the leaves on the trees were full and rich in colors. But Victoria felt wet and weak. She felt like she needed to stretch and stretch and stretch and so she did. It was then that another strange and wonderful thing began to unfold, her wings. She stretched and straightened and stretched and straightened until every part was straight and flat. The cool breeze felt terrific and then she noticed something incredible. Her wings were large and graceful with swirls of orange and black and white. They were beautiful, she was beautiful and she wasn't fat any more she was light and graceful.

Without any warning her foot lost hold on the limb to which she had so carefully attached herself and she began to fall. She began to struggle and in her struggle waved her wings frantically only to find that she could fly. What a happy day. She was beautiful and she could fly. And so, she did, because you see, Victoria had become a Monarch Butterfly.

Her heart was full and she was excited about her new wings and the lightness of being that she felt. She wanted to fly and fly and fly, but that is another story.


Herb Ratliff, December 29, 2011, All Rights Reserved

EAGLES

Eagles build bridges with instinct.

They leave no trace,

But, always find a way

to get back.

People don't build bridges,

they leave objects to step on,

a trail of cadavers in their wake

that create steps to take them

from one place to another.

I'd rather be an eagle.

Eagles are scavengers,

But, they do it with such grace.

I've always supposed it's because

they despise waste.

People don't despise waste

they create it.

It wouldn't be so bad if they would bury it,

hide it, or even deny it,

but, they don't.

They rather seem to measure their progress

by the amount of waste

left in their path.

I suppose the desert is so attractive

because there isn't really much time

for waste to accumulate.

There are so many in need of whatever

little value there is in anything

that it is taken and used

as soon as it leaves the hands

of the anthropological child

that tosses it off as useless.

Real survivors don't need very much,

but what they have, they treasure.

Friends are treasures.

Waste is someone you thought was a friend

who turned out to be a wastrel.

The economy of friendship

is fortune in transition.

Transition is scary,

particularly when you didn't expect it. 

Eagles don't worry much about transition,

they are transition.

Fluid, graceful, utilitarian

scavengers

of the bounty

because

there is so much that is

wasted

and so little

that is used.

Kindness is a little like that.

Tears well up in secret places

whenever there is time to feel things.

A lot of people feel things in secret places,

they don't feel them much in real places.

It's as if hiding realness

is a valuable thing to do.

I don't know how that got to be

an important thing to do

but then, I don't know a lot

about anything that I thought I did,

except that

eagles are scavengers,

they are graceful,

they are beautiful

and I envy them.

I think it's because

they despise waste.

Herb Ratliff, December 28, 2011, All Rights Reserved

Failure?

Failure is not a popular subject. It is far more gratifying to relate events in your life that have been successful than those that have resulted in failure. But what is the cost of focusing on success and ignoring or hiding failure? It may be the most destructive action that humans nurture.
People have reversed the focus on event evaluation. Little is said about process. It's all about who won, how much and who gets the glory. When people do not work out in an employment arena they are fired, failure again, loser. Don't misunderstand me, if a surgeon is planning on removing my gall bladder I will not be looking for one who has killed all of his patients. I won't be looking for carpenters who tables fall apart.
Here's the point. Not much happens that doesn't have failure associated with it. More importantly, not much happens without a lot of failure happening.

Everyone interested in sports knows Babe Ruth, the home run king. His failure rate at the plate was 65.8%, that's two out of three times he went back to the bench and sat. Have you thought about your efforts as a child? When you were born you had a few obstacles before you. First, it was vital for you to learn a foreign language and your fluency was critical to your comfort level. Your primary interest was food. What you discovered was that as your ability to describe what you wanted verbally improved your comfort improved. But your ability to develop a vocabulary was tedious, inaccurate, hard and no one who could communicate both ways was available to help you, at least not right away. You had to learn by immersion. Very frustrating but effective.

Next on your agenda was getting from one place to another. Rolling didn't get you much, crawling was a little better but becoming bipedal was the berries, I mean that was cool. It excited your parents too and the adulation for a step or two was out of this world. After many pratfalls and busted noses, heads and scares for you and your parents you discovered balance and voila, ambulation.

So why is failure treated like such bad thing? Failure is a true measure of curiosity, adventure, trying, doing, invention and on and on. What do you say we embrace it rather than pretend like it's a bad thing. Even Michael Jordan's field goal percentage was just under 50%. That translates into for every shot he made he missed one or his failure rate was half the time.

So, go for it. Cut your kids, co workers, friends, spouses, parents, et al a little slack. You might even consider cutting yourself a little slack, my friend. So maybe I will continue to play golf.

Herb Ratliff, December 27, 2011

The Morning After

It always seems so quiet after Christmas day. That's a good thing. In the hurry and scurry of anticipation, preparation and perspiration there tends to be a lot of noise. A lot of people seem to enjoy noise and I can see why. Noise is a natural result of amassing a large group of people, people like to talk, laugh and even screech, scream and snort. It's hard to do that quietly.

Children are gifted producers of noise. It might even be said that they are experts at the production of noise. Very little of it seems directed at anyone in particular, it's just raw expression and there is a lot of it. I like being a part of that setting for a while but my while is shortening more and more every year.

Yesterday I kept thinking to myself, cacophony. Now where does that come from? I like a party as much as the next guy. Anyway, I hope you had a great celebration with your friends and family. I hope you had plenty of noise, quiet or both.

And I hope you didn't overspend. There will be even more temptation for that now. The merchant community will have a bunch of offers you can't refuse when they look over their overstocked store rooms. Use restraint and spend wisely. It's only a few short weeks before we can do all this again.

 Herb Ratliff, December 26, 2011, All Rights Reserved

The Messiah

I have had a long love affair with Handel's Messiah. Going to see it performed during the holidays is a standard objective every year. Typically it is an objective I meet, but for the last two years I have fallen short and unless something happens very soon I am about to miss it for the third year and it makes me very sad to go that long without having a chance to lift my untrained voice with the trained ones and rejoice aloud in an explosion of gratitude for being alive and in good health.

I am fascinated by the effect of the music. There is nothing else that so resonates with me the purest form of communion with God. I set aside all of my religious prejudices and attitudes for the chance to achieve an unparalleled harmony that lifts me into a heightened awareness of the remarkable gift of life.
It is not a surprise to me that Handel composed the Messiah in 24 days. If he felt what I do listening to it, when he was writing it, the sheer force of ecstasy would have consumed him if it had been a long, drawn out process.

I had an opportunity, that is a story all by itself, to sit with The Mormon Tabernacle Choir when they performed  The Messiah a long time ago. I was not a member of the choir but they told me to sing if I wished and believe me, I did. I can't imagine how you could avoid singing under such circumstances. I will never forget that. So, I suppose that may explain some of my enthusiasm for the music.

I do wish all of you a Merry Christmas. This is a magical time. Give and receive gifts generously and give thanks often. Enjoy! Thank you, Herr Handel.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5_VARtvgGBY&feature=related

Herb Ratliff, December 23, 2011, All Rights Reserved

Delta is Ready When You Are

In my work I used to travel a lot by air. This time of year the traveling was problematic. There were inevitably those who were completely out of control with the idea of getting their stuff and their offspring from point a to point b without losing anything or anyone. There were always many business travelers who were trying to finish their work and get home to help with the last minute details. The senior members of the airline staff were usually on leave and so many of the employees who rested on lower rungs of the ladder were called to duty. And, as you would expect, there were travelers with the joy and spirit of Christmas and those who could find a way to have a bad day at Disneyland. Part of the way I kept my heavy travel schedule manageable was by finding a way to enjoy what I was doing when I did it.

I remember a late flight one year close to Christmas when I had been the happy recipient of plate full of beautifully decorated Christmas cookies at the last minute. I had no way of putting them in any of my luggage so they were in my hands when I boarded. The lines were long and slow so there was a lot of standing and waiting while boarding. At one point I found myself standing in front of the flight attendant that stands in front of the cockpit and greets the oncoming passengers. I offered her a cookie and she accepted it so quickly I could see she was very hungry, so I offered the whole plate to her and said she could share them with the other staff. She beamed and accepted without hesitation.

When the plane was fully boarded, we taxied off to our runway, took off and reached altitude. The pilot announced the seat belt sign had been turned off and we could walk about the cabin. After he had finished the flight attendant I had given the cookies to came to me and asked me to follow her. She took me to first class, went and got my carry on and brought it to me and said. "Merry Christmas, Sir. You have no idea how nice it is to have a passenger who is giving instead of demanding. Have a nice flight and if there is anything I can do to make your flight more comfortable please just ask."

There is a lot of power in cookies

Herb Ratliff, December 22, 2011, All Rights Reserved

A Gift for You

I remember very well a day many years ago, things had not been going well for me. I took my complaints to a few close friends and all seemed far more interested in their own lives than the difficulties I was suffering. It was never in me to suffer in silence and so I persisted until I was out of acquaintances to beleaguer with my woes.

The level of interest in me waning with each encounter, I happened upon a stranger who seemed  attuned to my importance and so I approached him with my story. He listened with great interest and so I was much encouraged to wax on with great passion for the inadequacies in my life. His patience was remarkable and finally I had run my course and stopped to breathe in his pity. I shall never forget his words to me in my hour of need.

He said, looking at me with great intensity, "Go and do something nice for someone and don't get caught."

Wise words and you may use them with my blessing if you ever find yourself in similar circumstances.

Herb Ratliff, December 21, 2011 All Rights Reserved

What Color Are You?

So I wake up in the morning and the first thing I see is the red light. At least it isn't that really white, white, bright light that is like the search light at the airport, you know the kind they used during world war two when there were air raids and all of that noise. It's softer than that and thank goodness for that.
If it were that bright, I don't think I could function.

And it could be all blinky, blinky like some Christmas trees that are pre-packaged with lights.

It could have been green and you know, it's not easy being green. So, for that I am grateful too.

Orange, I don't think so. Orange, what like a Popsicle maybe? Nah, that just wouldn't work.

For a regal touch it might be purple, but Barney's purple and that's enough, don't you think?

Yellow? You mean like sunshine yellow? Whoever said that should be removed from the lighting board. That would make everything look jaundiced and ill.

Blue, the house of blue lights. That was a song wasn't it? Anyway blue is a nice color but it's kind of a sad color and all melancholy. I don't think that would be such a good thing. I'm not at all against melancholy, but not for all the time.

So what does that leave? We've done red, green, orange, purple, yellow, and  blue. It reminds me of the song, the rainbow song:

Red and yellow and pink and green,
Purple and orange and blue,
I can sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow
I can sing a rainbow too.

I remember that song from a movie called "Pete Kelly's Blues". It starred Jack Webb (the original Dragnet guy) and the female lead was Peggy Lee, a jazz singer. But I digress, we were talking about colors.

Anyway, I see red and that's OK with me. I like the red and you all recognize me because of it, so how bad can it be. The first thing I see in the morning is the very thing that makes me special so I think I will celebrate it.

Your friend,

Rudolph.

As Good As It Gets

As Good As It Gets

Carl Jung, Swiss Psychologist, was instrumental in developing the analytic approach to the treatment of mental health. He also introduced the concept of introversion, extroversion, complexes and inspired the Myers-Briggs Type indicator.  There are many current day practices which have their roots in ideas put forth by Jung, but what drew my attention particularly to him during this season was his work in dream analysis and the idea that in interpreting a dream one must consider that all persons in the dream are the dreamer. Isn't that a show stopper?

The dream interpretation idea reminded me that many philosophies and religions integrate the idea that we are all from the same roots, that we are all a part of a greater whole, but that we make up the whole, small though we may be as an individual. That reminded me of a line from the bible which goes something like this: “In so much as you have done it unto one of these, the least of my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” The foregoing being a reference to feeding, clothing and caring for those less fortunate and in so doing the action is the same as if it had been done directly to Jesus Christ.

OK, I’m not a preacher, just a garden variety Herb, so to speak, but what I like about the idea is that our actions do not happen in a vacuum. Our work, effort, struggles, successes, dreams and hopes  connect us to each other because, in a way, we are each other and when we treat other well, it is well with us. When we treat others poorly, it is a deduction from our own account. So my wish is for your purse to be replete with gold, your health to be superior and your actions generous and heartfelt this season and always, because if you have it, we all have it. And, I think you deserve the very best.

Herb Ratliff, December 19, 2011, All Rights Reserved

Gifts

I remember working my way into a corner one Christmas. I had a specific item that I wanted above all else and made it clear that nothing else would do. There was a strange look on my parents faces when I confronted them with this ultimatum and ended it with the closing argument of: "If I cannot have that, I want nothing at all." There was some short, gentle persuasion from them asking me to reconsider my position but,  I would not budge. Finally, they conceded the argument and there it was, a line drawn in the sand not to be challenged. I doubt I will ever forget Christmas morning that year. After all the gifts had been distributed, opened and clean up was under way, I still was without a gift. I had younger sisters and so there was no forum for argument. There was only the clear message that my ultimatum had been honored. I had nothing.


If we are diligent in our measure of things it will become evident that we are among the most blessed people on the planet and live in a kind of favorable bubble of generosity. Many will find areas to complain about, others will find injustice, still more will find inequity and so there will be sour attitudes in abundance. But, do not be deluded into believing that you are an unfortunate beggar of alms in the town square. What we have as members of a free society is priceless.

As you consider your lot this Christmas, exercise caution in your demands, both spoken and whispered. You may get what you say you must have. I wish you bounty, blessings, and enough to share with others less fortunate. It costs nothing to look with kindness on another, a squeeze of the hand, a hug perhaps would lift someone's spirits or your undivided attention for a few minutes. Be generous in your giving and your receiving.

Herb Ratliff, December 16, 2011 - All Rights Reserved

Christmas from the Loge

Christmas from the Loge

Sit beside me for a moment,

Let me hold your hand,

take a breath,

close your eyes,

Smell the pine,

It's Christmastime.

The fire's blaze is softening now

the embers will take over

so while the warmth

caresses us

Let's caress each other.

The train set is another's job

that's not for us to do

we'll watch them play

and scurry fast

That's what is left to do.

I loved each toy I put together

I savored every moment

Well maybe not so much

right then, you know

But now ....

And don't you think I didn't know

how carefully you planned

each moment, every hour

And how your touch

your smile, your voice

Gave Christmas so much power.

Merry Christmas.

Herb Ratliff, December 14, 2011, All Rights Reserved.

Up on the Housetop

Up on the Housetop

I went to my grandson’s concert last night; he, Joshua Kingsley’s in the eighth grade. Thirteen, do you remember? Wow. There were several groups of musicians showing off their new skills, sixth, seventh and eighth graders. They did such a good job. I was great fun. The finale was a little horse-play entertainment around the reading of “T’was the Night Before Christmas”.  I’m a big fan of band experiences for kids. It’s one of the finest places for building character, cooperating, showing off, and experiencing the power of being better by joining together with others who share your same point of view.

The music was traditional and predictable except for a very nice version of “Il est ne, Le Divine Enfant”, He is born, the Divine Child. But what I enjoyed most were the traditional songs. One that resonated with me last night was “Up on the Housetop”. I swear I could hear my mother and dad and sisters singing it.  I particularly remember the phrase, “First comes the stocking of Little Nell , Oh, dear Santa, fill it well.” My mother had a sister whose name was Nell and I thought they were talking about her and I wondered how she got to be in a Christmas song. There is a lot of magic in the air this time of year if you are open to it.

There is a lot of difficulty in the world these days, serious difficulty. There is a woeful lack of leadership in this country. There is a staggering focus on filling our own stockings and a lot of anger with the scams and greed that show up day after day. But, there is beauty too. There is charitable giving at record levels and as American as apple pie hope that still gets us from one day to the next.

This is a picture of George and Mary from a stage production of "It's a Wonderful Life". That's my daughter, Dora Watson, who portrayed Mary. Isn't she adorable? No pun intended.

When the days dwindle down to a precious few

and chestnuts roast on and open fire.

When the sleigh of St Nick is covered with dew

and music is sung by a heavenly choir.

When children are nestled all snug in their bed

and fires are doused for Santa's arrival.

When  visions of sugar plums dance in your head

And all disagreement is naught but a trifle.

It must be Christmas, I'll tell you right now,

Let your eyes lift to heaven let joy take a bow.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Be joyful if you can

Happy will be OK

Thankful isn't bad either

If you are still having trouble

Try a little gratitude

To put you in the mood

If you've been misunderstood'

Herb Ratliff, Decmber 13, 2011, All Rights Reserved

The Magic of Believing (Part II)

This behavior, some might call it “expectation”, and what it does, lays the groundwork for later actions. Sooner than later, there is a minor shift created by parents, television and the community at large. (It is that early work with fictional characters: The Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, Leprechauns, Gold at the end of the rainbow, The Great Pumpkin and I won’t even say it but, you know who I am thinking of. (The business Anne Rice started with Vampires a few years back and now the Zombie thing has left me speechless on those issues.) It all creates a theater which asks us to withhold judgment, go with the flow and buy into the commerce and creativity associated with holidays. But hold on, there is a lovely side to this world of imagination.

There are things that happen in this world that are often not of it. The stories of these events emerge from real life and imaginary circumstances. My favorite Christmas Story is “The Gift of the Magi” by O. Henry. It is my favorite because it represents love so unselfish that what is given to one another is the most important material possession each of them have and it is given because each of them can see that and wish to honor it. You’ll have to read it if you want more than that.

The Saginaw News, the local newspaper in my home town, would run a serial story during the season that culminated on Christmas Day. My sister, Jo Ann read it to me before I could read it myself. Sometimes it took her an awfully long time to get around to it but, she read it. Each segment would take you to a cliff of expectation and leave you hanging on it till the next day and then the same thing would happen again. Following the crescendo of expectation the little boy or the little girl would have a magical experience that had seemed out of range before that.

There are many stories that come from believing so sincerely that the event occurs as a manifestation of that belief.  The magic is the believing. Call it faith, trust, or hope, it doesn’t matter. When you are fortunate enough to have a small child to hold in your arms during the Christmas holiday season, do it. Then, as you are holding them sit in a chair and rock and remember your childhood, your children’s childhood and your grandchildren. Now, believe that their lives will be filled with wonder and beauty and work as hard as you can to make it possible. That is the magic of believing.

Herb Ratliff, December 11, 2011, All Rights Reserved

When Christmas Comes With Bells a Ringing

It's called a nonet, nine lines, nine syllables in the first line, eight , seven six....Kinda reminds me of an upside down Christmas Tree

When Christmas comes with bells a ringing

And lights with colors beaming bright

Our hearts delight with freedom

It’s merriment we seek

To give glory

To the King

Mighty

King

Herb Ratliff, December 9, 2011, All Rights Reserved

And here is one of my favorites by a man of beautiful imagination.

little tree
by: e.e. cummings (1894-1962)

ITTLE tree

little silent Christmas tree

you are so little

you are more like a flower

who found you in the green forest

and were you very sorry to come away?

see i will comfort you

because you smell so sweetly

i will kiss your cool bark

and hug you safe and tight

just as your mother would,

only don't be afraid

look the spangles

that sleep all the year in a dark box

dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,

the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,

put up your little arms

and i'll give them all to you to hold

every finger shall have its ring

and there won't be a single place dark or unhappy

then when you're quite dressed

you'll stand in the window for everyone to see

and how they'll stare!

oh but you'll be very proud

and my little sister and i will take hands

and looking up at our beautiful tree

we'll dance and sing

"Noel Noel"

"little tree" was originally published in The Dial Vol. LXVIII, No. 1 (Jan. 1920). New York: The Dial Publishing Company, Inc.

The Magic Of Believing

In many ways life is a lot simpler when you are very young. You know who is in control. You have a pretty clear idea of what they want you to do. You have a strong sense of self and a pressing desire to meet your wants and needs.  The difficulty begins when you come to an impasse built of your needs coming into conflict with your providers belief that they know more about the importance of satisfying those needs than you. Here begins the seed of misrepresentation for self benefit. For example: Crying.

Crying is useful, necessary and conditional. It is communication that works when vocabulary is limited and need is high. There are, of course, a lot of different forms of this emotional display of dissatisfaction. We are familiar with most of them through personal experience. The problem is the action occurs without labeling. There is not a distinct cry for "I'm hungry" or "I'm thirsty" or "Ouch, I hurt myself". What crying elicits in parents is an immediate response, attention and some cuddling, warm milk or both. The satisfaction derived from this activity persuades us that crying is a very useful tool indeed. In a fairly short period of time we find that it is useful for any number of manipulations that result in cuddles and warm milk. O.K., we say, this is worth remembering.

So, crying is great until we are found out and while even being found out does not lessen the overall effectiveness of crying it does grow tiresome and can result in some distressing behavior from the tall people who bring the milk.

As we grow older, begin to wander around the house and participate in activities in our small community we discover the art and magic of believing. This is something that comes from training. We are conditioned to peak out appetites at certain times of the day for convenience and order. When we do that we expect food to magically arrive when the desire for it arises. Television soon finds it's way into the scheme of things and we are presented with a whole new world of desirable things that are made for us which can be delivered to us by the same people who bring the cuddles and milk. And you get them by being adorable or crying or both.

(So here is the problem. I meant to write a short piece on this but I find I am already over the self imposed limit I set for myself so rather that make this too long to conveniently read in one sitting. I'll finish it tomorrow. O.K.?  I hope you aren't disappointed.)  Don't cry!

Herb Ratliff, December 9, 2011, All Rights Reserved

Hiding Christmas Cookies

My mother would begin baking cookies for Christmas not too long after Thanksgiving. She baked them during the day when Dad was working and the rest of us were at school. She left no evidence of her activities and made no comments that would alert us. And, she hid them. She hid them all over the place and she must have really enjoyed it too because she did it for many years including the years that I was gone to college.

Somewhere along the way I discovered this activity and would systematically purloin the cached bounty but did it carefully so as not to alert anyone looking at the goods by moving the cookies around to suggest an untouched appearance. It was a good job but not good enough to fool the baker. And so began a cat and mouse game of hiding and snitching that lasted until after I was married. It was even mentioned during visits to the nursing facility where mom spent her last few years.

Last night I made some Christmas cookies and since I live alone there was no reason to hide any of them. They  sit willfully tempting in tin containers in the kitchen. But as I made them, frosted them and tucked them into the tins for later enjoyment I thought of mom and the Christmases past when she would make them for me and hide them and hope that I would find them.

©Herb Ratliff, December 8, 2011, All Rights Reserved

O K, You are naked. Now What?

Thought for the Day

Charley, my canine companion, never does anything to adjust for the differences in temperature when he goes outside.

I find that remarkable.

Imagine that, no boots, coats, hats to put on or store in a closet. No laundry to do, fashion to follow or fabrics to treat. When you are ready, you just stretch, let out a satisfying guttural sound and enter the natural world al fresco. That would simplify our world a good bit and certainly take a lot of the braggadocio out of size matters conversations.

I suppose it would require a little evolutionary adjustment to our bodies for comfortable management of temperature ranges. That or there would likely be mass migrations seasonally to compensate for the lack of fur or clothing.  But, hey, lots of people do that anyway, right?

Still, there is something vaguely familiar about this idea.

©Herb Ratliff, December 7, 2011, All Rights Reserved

Today

Today

Yesterday, late morning, I was on my way to the gym for a workout. I stopped at the intersection kitty-cornered from the county jail. I had been fully stopped only about thirty seconds and was struck from behind by a car driven by a woman about my age, I think. The impact was so extreme it dismantled the GPS from the windshield, opened the moon roof and dislodged the ear bud from it's seat in my ear. I had no hint visually or otherwise that it was coming so the event was a complete surprise. 

There is no pain in such a situation, just a high-level visual acuity. There isn't even any sound that I can recall. (I wrote a little about this kind of experience December 1st.) My immediate response was to get out of the car and see if the driver of the other car was injured. I think that may be a common reaction if you are a parent. 

The driver of the car was a woman who was about my age. She was on her way to a nursing home to pick up her mother for a concert. That she would be late to do that was her greatest concern. She asked if she could do that and then come back. I knew then that she was likely in shock so I asked her to remain in the car until the police came to sort out the situation. She agreed, so I returned to my car and realized that I was a bit dizzy. There was a tapping on my window that startled me moments later. She had come to apologize and explained that her brakes had failed. It was a fairly new Cadillac so this just confirmed my notion that she was in shock. She then began to explain that her father had died, she needed to go to the concert, she was so sorry and the tears came in buckets.

I got out and escorted her to the car again. The officer came and settled things rather quickly. I went to the emergency room for a check of injuries and the matter was resolved without any further difficulty. The thought that remained was simply: This is not a dress rehearsal. Every day is precious, every moment is dear. What impacts your life is often without warning. Do not delay the nagging thoughts that keep reminding you to live your life in the first person, present tense, right now.

Just do it!

River Magic

River Magic

You'll find me sitting by the water,

staring in it or around

watching all that starts

or ends there,

with or without any sound.

In the Spring it's mayfly hatches,

rising off the placid surface

while the trout's now lurking shadow

waits to dine, his only purpose.

Then the summer's rich delivery

when fish and insects do abound

I'll seek the shadows haunts to sleep in

hearing only water's sound.

Fall begets the tiny midges,

dragon flies and water sprites

then I fear that winter's coming

shorter days and longer nights.

Bundled up in downy vestments,

mesmerized by bluest skies

I think of all the trout engagements

ending in a sweet good bye.

©Herb Ratliff, December 5, 2011, All Rights Reserved.

Willingness to Share Your Bounty

I know you are the kind of person who is more than willing to share whatever bounty you have with those less fortunate than you. I really believe that most humans are that way at the very center of their soul. It just doesn't make any sense to be selfish. We are all likely to have a jelly side down day, month or year sometime, so it just makes sense to be thoughtful to those around us when it’s their turn.

One of the other really nice aspects of humans is their willingness to share by teaching others how to do things and it happens at all levels. Hang around a kitchen during the holidays and there will be ample instruction on how to fix: the turkey, the potatoes – sweet and white, rolls, cranberry sauce, even the green bean casserole. Go to a PTA meeting and there will be many who will offer suggestions about book selection, curriculum, teachers, class size and who should be the administrators and what they should do and even on occasion where they should go. Go play a round of golf and you can readily get instructions from almost everyone there at no charge and from people who actually cannot demonstrate by their own practice any of the suggestions they offer. It’s amazing.

People also are generous with their wealth. It seems sometimes like the people with the least wealth are the most willing to share but, the wealthy are very generous too. Now when it comes to time, the conditions change a bit. But, that’s another topic, isn't it?

People are very generous with advice too. I cannot tell you how freely my friends and relatives have been with advice for me. It is sometimes just overwhelming. Actually, I’m rather fond of something my mother told me when I was a young lad full of wisdom. She said, “Be careful about the advice you give, someday someone may take it.”

All of this is leading up to something I was thinking about last night. You knew that was coming, right? Anyway, here is what I was considering: If you were given an opportunity to tell someone about the world we live in what things they absolutely must do while here for a day. What would you say? Here are the parameters: You only have one 8 1/2 x 11 inch sheet of paper to write it on and they have no prior knowledge of this earth or anything in it. Fortunately, they speak and understand English.

I’d love to hear from you.

Exploring Outside the Box

Exploring Outside the Box

Do you ever wonder about sleep, how it works, why you can, why you can’t, what dreams mean, why it’s so easy to remember some and not others? What the heck is going on in there?

I usually sleep pretty well. Lately, it hasn't been so good. There is no particular reason I can think of that would stand as a reason for a change in my sleep pattern but, there is a change. I don’t like it but I’m like you in that respect. I don’t like change much either. There is a rather satisfying thing that happens as the result of awaking earlier than usual. I get to do some things that I normally wouldn't  I spend time talking to friends on Facebook. I listen to a Ted Talk. I write extra things. I get to see a part of the day that is a mystery to most other people. Today I experienced some music that I probably wouldn't have listened to on most days. I’m not all that fussy about music but I am a little parochial in my listening habits. So today I listened to Lady Gaga and Sugarland sing together. I know almost nothing about either of them but I was an instant convert when I listened to the song they sang together at the Grammy Nominations last night. I do love kick-butt, get up and get after it music. Yep, even at four AM. I know that’s a stretch but hey, we all have some unusual habits.

I must tell you that it is that kind of combination that makes you want to be very careful about prejudging what is enjoyable by categorizing everything into tight little bunches. The performance was so spontaneous, energetic and impassioned that I simply got caught up in the energy field. I must have listened to it four or five times. I was ready to go to a concert. (By now it was five and energy was coursing through me with a vengeance.) I hope you’ll take a look at it:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kwlIdI_nr2E

Anyhow, that’s where the muse sent me this morning. Try something different today. You never know where some secret pleasure lies that you could find with just a little exploration out of the usual haunts.

It's My Brain

Like the sound of snow falling,

or the sound of the sun rising,

the thunder of your silence

overwhelms

this empty room.

I read an article about stress reactions of the brain. One of the aspects discussed was how people tend to see things in slow motion. Well, they think they see things in slow motion. What actually happens, according to the article, is the brain is so focused, it works like a slow motion camera and takes many more frames per second than it does during normal brain activity. So, you see each frame in real time and that slows the action down because there are so many more pictures of the action that took place. Not only that but it turns out that many of your other sensory perceptions are in an altered state. Hearing decreases in favor of visual acuity.

Things are not always what they seem. Think of yourself as you were when you were forty, then look in the mirror. If you are forty one this is not a big deal, for some of the others of us this is a very big deal, over or under. 

I like to think of myself as a good communicator but when I explain things to my children or grandchildren they 

just look at me with a face that can only be described as "in pain". Surely there must be something I am good at.

That is where Charley, my dog enters the conversation. He thinks I am great. He has convinced me of it. Everything I do suits him just fine. Well, some of the things could be a little faster.

This is the season of dreams. It is for me anyway. I can still get that feeling I did when I was a kid that something magical is going to happen any time now. It really is, and everything is going to be OK.

Herb Ratliff, December 1, 2011, All Rights Reserved.