All It Takes Is A Little Love

I have often written about my childhood and the impact of my mother on the way I see the world. After my father died she somehow managed to keep me and my brothers fed and educated and loved. All three of us graduated from college and went on the have incredible careers and to earn advanced degrees. It was my mother’s influence that gave us the courage to follow our individual dreams. She loved and supported us no matter what choices we each made in forging the outcomes of our lives.

We grew up in a home with many blessings and very little money. There was seldom room for any kind of luxuries. My mother and I kept the house clean with a strict routine of tidying things every single week. My brothers kept the yard in shape and we all got little jobs as soon as we were able. With our group efforts we got along in the world quite well and most people had little knowledge of how strict my mother’s budget had to be. She was indeed a wizard at making things happen. She often joked that she had a hidden money tree that she used to keep us safe and sound.

All three of us worked very hard even when we became adults. My brothers earned a bit more income than I did as a teacher, but I loved my work and it was supplemented by my husband’s salary. We were able to provide our two daughters with the same kind of love and opportunities that my mother gave to me and my brothers but we still had to be financially careful. As a result I never used outside help to keep my home clean and my husband was a handyman who performed most of the repairs that we ever needed.

It was not until I was sidelined by knee surgery last winter that I finally decided to bring someone into my home to clean the rooms and freshen the general appearance of the place. My nephew had married a lovely young woman from Venezuela and she in turn had taken advantage of a program created by President Joe Biden to bring family members to the United States from Venezuela. Soon her sister, Maria, was living in her home and caring for their son while she worked outside of the house.

Maria has been a godsend for my nephew’s little family. Their son is autistic and Maria takes him to the therapy classes that he needs. She is there to watch over him when he returns. She has literally devoted herself to the task of keeping him safe and insuring that he will ultimately get better. He loves his “Tia” and she loves him but she also wanted to be able to earn some income of her own so she began to clean houses on the weekend. When I became unable to adequately keep my home in shape I asked her to come do her magic. I was able to transfer my earnings from homeschooling and teaching in a wonderful exchange.

Maria is incredible. She literally spends hours making every corner and crevice in the house squeaky clean. She moves furniture and dusts every inch of every surface. By the time she is finished the house looks brand new and I am oh so very happy. Somehow it feels right to give her an opportunity to earn some money while I am able to have a home as clean as my own high standards.

I do not get Maria here every single week. I do have other fun things that my teaching and tutoring allow me to do. I do most of the cleaning in spurts. I no longer have the energy to clean every room on the same day. I break down my chores throughout the week. I still have one bad knee so I am unable to kneel down to scrub a tub or clean the baseboards. I rely on long handled apparati to get the corners that I used to be able to attack with no trouble. Once in awhile I enjoy bringing Maria back in to do a deeper dive into the grime that builds up as part of our daily routines. She is young and flexible and even rather professional in her work so that the end product is truly a thing of beauty.

I have had to learn to rely more and more on the help of others. I used to be a human dynamo but age has made so many things more and more difficult to achieve. I am no longer able to hoist the big pots that hold my ferns and flowers. I have to ask the man who mows my lawn to do such things and he works for a very small price. Likewise I have had to empty out my attic because climbing in and out of it and then crawling on my knees is now a nonstarter. It has admittedly been difficult for me to admit that this old grey mare ain’t what she used to be.

My mother and mother-in-law quite graciously accepted their limitations as they aged. My father-in-law all too often refused to do so with the result being injuries to himself that need not have ever happened. He ultimately began to understand the importance of relying on others which was a blessing to us all.

Maria and Jose and Big John and so many others now do the tasks that my husband and I once did. We have a mutually wonderful agreement that keeps our home running smoothly and keeps me and my husband out of trouble. Realizing our limitations has become a gift to our daughters and a nice way of aging in place for us.

I would be lying if I did not admit that I am feeling anxious today. As we near the end of the campaigning season and have one final day to vote tomorrow, I worry about what the outcome of our American democracy will be. It seems as though a very needed sea change lies ahead but I actually believed that in 2024 when Kamala Harris was running for the presidency. To say that I was shocked by the outcome of that election would be an understatement. To this very moment I find it difficult to understand why so many Americans chose to return Donald Trump to office.

The damage that Trump has inflicted on our nation in just under two years is stunning to me and yet I still see very nice people that I know insisting that he is the chosen one who will keep our nation moving in the right direction. They do not understand my incessant warnings that Trump is running the United States into the ground. I have been accused of everything from being incredibly naive to being abnormally hateful simply because I express my concerns about how Trump and company are harming our democratic republic.

It frustrates me that Trump still has so many believers of his toxic political views. Most of what he sells to those who still follow him is based on creating fear in my fellow Americans. In targeting immigrants, Muslims and transgender women in particular he has created a dangerous situation for so many people who have done nothing wrong other than attempt to exist in our society without being harrassed. He has no positive policies to offer, only a grim vision of the world that demands his guidance. He rants and raves and encourages violence against anyone who would dare to challenge him. He sues individuals for having the audacity to point out his flaws.

Somehow in spite of the mountain of evidence that Trump is nothing more than an empty suit bullying his way in the world, he manages to keep a legion of faithful voters who truly believe that they are saving our nation by voting for him. It saddens me that he has managed to keep the truth of our situation from them with the help of media outlets that preach only the views of Trump no matter how absurd they may become.

I see so many signs that Americans are truly done with Trump. There appears to be a wave of voters determined to turn our ship of state away from the disastrous decisions that Trump has made in his second term of office. They seem ready to send a loud and clear message of what they believe to be the way the United States should be. Still, I have held out hope before that seemed to always be dashed in elections.

I live in Texas where we have been dominated by Republicans for many decades. They have created chaos in our public schools, brought data centers to our small towns, enriched themselves beyond what seems to be fair. My political views have not been heard or honored for a very long time. Again and again I have held out hope only to see that the candidates I supported lose by narrow margins. I worry that this will be the inevitable outcome for years to come. If we can’t break through now with outstanding choices like Jame Talarico and Gina Hinajosa I fear that we never will in my lifetime.

I will be seventy eight years old only a few days after tomorrow’s election. I have seen both good and bad in our American politics but nothing seems as horrific as what we have had to endure ever since Donald J. Trump came down his golden elevator in 2016. He has inflicted his bullying and vindictiveness on all of us for far too long. His name is not on any of the ballots but his will is very much there. He has shaped the Republican candidates and the Republican mindset into one of fear and the need for dominance over nations and groups. It is an ugly way of thinking and living that is based on hyperbole and lies. Surely there are enough Americans who want their voices to be heard. Surely this time we will overcome his dominance.

I am delighted that the people of Brazil refused to return to a far right government. I see people all across the globe asserting their freedoms. I have participated in protests and written blog after blog warning my tiny audience of the horrors that I see unfolding under Trump’s dominance. Now is the time to bring in new voices, new ideas, opportunity to negotiate rather than to blindly obey. I hope that the American people from state to state are ready for the change that we so desperately need and yet my fears keep me centered on realities that may curb my enthusiasm.

We shall see what tomorrow brings. I am hoping for at least some victories for those intent on checking the audacious power of the Republicans. It is the way our nation’s governing was meant to be. We should never accept being one voice. It is in allowing our differences to be heard and respected that we become stronger. I dream of a new day.

Many years ago my husband and I travelled with close friends to a ski village in Austria just after Christmas. It was a delightful vacation that I will always cherish. We stayed in the small town of Soll in a lovely inn with panoramic views of the mountains where skiers travelled up and down the slopes. The whole place literally looked like a scene on a Christmas card and the people and the food were outstanding in every possible way.

We visited other nearby towns like Salzburg and Innsbruck both of which were incredibly interesting but I would have been content just lingering in Soll. As a matter o fact one of the friends who was with us mostly did that. He was born and raised in Austria and donned his first set of skis when he was only three years old. He spent most of his days on the slopes having the time of his life while we set out to enjoy the nearby sites.

One morning we decided to travel to Berchdesgaden in southern Germany while the skier stayed back to rest his back that had begun to give him a bit of trouble. His wife had lived her life in Houston, Texas and she and I had known each other since second grade. We were in good hands with her because her mother was originally from Austria and she was quite proficient in German. Besides, she had travelled to the area many times so she knew the ins and outs of getting around.

We piled into our rented car and headed to the small town in Bavaria made famous as the site of the Eagles Nest where Adolf Hitler once entertained his friends and confidantes. From the center of town we saw the place atop a six thousand foot mountain. On that day it was eerily circled by dark clouds that seemed to warn us that bad weather or a bad omen was on its way.

We were not able to get a ticket to go to the top but we did manage to find a boat ride that got us as close as we might be without actually going higher. The weather was bitterly cold and somehow the whole place had a haunting feeling that I could not shake. I did not mention my skittishness to anyone but I felt as though I wanted to leave the whole time that I was there. Somehow the spirit of evil that was often discussed there by Hitler and his crew felt almost palatable. I didn’t even want a souvenir from there. That alone was strange because I rarely visit a new locale without bringing back a bobble for my Christmas tree.

It was beginning to get dark as our boat ride concluded. We were a bit hungry but only able to find a McDonald’s to purchase our dinner which we ate on the road back to Soll. All of us were oddly quiet as though the whole place had somehow been tainted by Hitler in the long ago.

The farther away from the town we got, the more lively our conversations became. We were driving on a mountainous road when the snow began to fall so rapidly that my husband who was driving was barely able to see what was in front of him. Then the car began slipping all over the slick icy trail that we were following. My husband found a place to park and attempted to secure the snow chains on the wheels of the car. He is generally quite advanced in his mechanical abilities but growing up in Houston, Texas had left him without knowledge of how to deal with snowy weather. Try as he may he was unable to attach to snow chains and suddenly we all went into a  kind of panic hoping that maybe someone would stop to assist us. Sadly the cars only buzzed by hardly noticing that we were there.

My friend saw a farmhouse across the road and decided to head there to beg for help. With her fluent German she was able to explain our dilemma and soon a young man walked with her to the car. He took only a few minutes to get the chains secured and we were once again on our way. My husband nonetheless drove as slowly as possible stiffened with anxiety as the snow turned into a blizzard.

After what felt like an eternity we got back to the town of Soll and drew a breath of relief as we parked at the inn where we were staying. The next morning we learned that the weather was so bad that the highway along which we had traveled was closed to all vehicles shortly after we finally got back on our way. There were reports of wrecks and stranded people that made us feel grateful that we had returned in one piece.

The two men took the rental car to assess what we might need if the bad weather continued. There they learned that we had mistakenly been given a car that was not outfitted with winter tires. The people at the rental place were amazed that we got as far as we did given the circumstances. They quickly gave us a properly equipped car and we enjoyed the rest of our trip.

I nonetheless felt somehow haunted by seeing the Eagle’s Nest. My discomfort in viewing it never really went away. I equated it with so much evil that I did not see it as simply a tourist destination nor did I need to hear the history that I already knew. When I heard that it burned down a week ago I somehow felt a sigh of relief. It did not seem right to be earning a profit from showing such an horrific place. While I do not condone someone maliciously burning it down I find myself glad that it is gone. I do believe that there are places so vile that being near them is uncomfortable. Somehow the spirits of horror that happened in them never truly goes away. So it was with the Eagles Nest which sadly might have been a place of comfort and happiness if it had not been the domain of a truly wicked man. I understood why the townspeople originally wanted to tear it down. In my mind it became a haunted shrine to the one of the most horrific moments in the history of mankind.

The signs advertising folks who hang Christmas lights are cropping up all over the town where I live. I suppose that people have to plan ahead by reserving such folks while they still have available dates. Still, when I saw a crew already placing lights on the trunks of the trees in my neighborhood I was astonished. We haven’t even hit Halloween yet and thoughts of Christmas are spreading like a virus.

I walked through a Macy’s store last week and Christmas decorations were everywhere. I gave that retailer the benefit of the doubt because it will be the one hundredth anniversary of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade and I suppose that they are anxious to spread to word. I know it will be a very special celebration for all of New York City. I certainly plan to watch the annual gala. I have not missed watching it for as long as I can remember. This year one of our hometown high school bands will be marching in the parade and I know some of the kids who will be performing with them. They have been planing and practicing for over a year so it will be fun to see them enjoying a very special moment.

I am a collector of Christmas ornaments. I have so many that I have to use multiple trees each year. I have a travel tree that holds the decorations that I purchase everywhere that I visit. I have a tree that holds special yearly ornaments that I buy each year. One tree is donned with Hallmark ornaments and another holds ornaments from friends and members of the family. I even have a tree that is dedicated to pigs which are supposed to be lucky as long as I honor them each year. My most recent tree holds only ornaments from England. So of course I have to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the Macy’s parade with a special ornament that is waiting in my china cabinet until I begin my decorating at the end of November.

I had a friend who is sadly no longer with us who used to set out her Christmas trees very early and then keep them until after Valentine’s Day. She believed that it was too much work to decorate a tree for only a few weeks. Christmas was a state of mind, not a date, in her belief. To each his own I always say but I can’t deal with having Christmas for several months. I usually take things down no later than January seventh. I use the Three Kings holiday of January 6 as my last day of the Christmas season.

My father-in-law’s second wife grew tired of taking her Christmas tree and ornaments back and forth from the attic as she grew older. Her solution was to place the tree on a rolling base that she shoved into a corner of her living room after New Year’s Day. She covered the tree still doneed with decorations by using a neutral colored cloth that blended amazingly with her furnishings. Somehow the tree seemed to simply disappear until she uncovered it again and rolled it into a space where it was featured. I doubt that I would ever want to do such a thing but I have to admit that it was a rather ingenious way of keeping the Christmas spirit alive even as she neared her ninety second birthday.

Now I see people installing permanent lighting on the eaves of their homes that can change colors depending on the season. They turn orange for Halloween, green for St. Patrick’s day, red, white and blue for July fourth. When Christmas comes they simply use a program to make them shine in whatever scheme they wish. It seems like an extravagance to me but it is certainly a timesaver.

Just before Christmas last year my father-in-law had an horrific fall. His doctor’s said that it resulted because many of his organs were shutting down. He ended up in hospice care that lasted until the first day of October. We were is such a tizzy attempting to make certain that he would get the best care possible that we were way late in getting our Christmas decorations in place last year. We left the outdoors for last.

One of our neighbors has a big party for the people who live nearby each year. On the morning of the event he came over in a panic wondering if the Grinch that we always place in the yard was available. It seems that he and his wife had created a treasure hunt that used the Grinch as one of the clues. We grabbed the green guy out of the garage and our neighbor secured him in place. We laughed when we realized that the kids around us love the Grinch so much that they wait expectantly for him each year.

I suppose that when I worry about the timing of Christmas cheer I am being a bit of a Grinch myself. I suppose that it does not really matter when or even if someone chooses to decorate for the season. I’ll no doubt stick to my usual routine or maybe start a wee bit earlier to celebrate along with Macy’s. Who knows? I just have to wait until the spirit moves me and right now it’s all about Halloween. I’ll see how I feel as we get nearer to Thanksgiving. Maybe good results in next week’s election will spur me to begin the celebration early this year.

Halloween is coming and I am ready. I have my witch’s cauldron filled with treats for trick or treaters. The ghosts are ready to light the pathway to my door. The pumpkins are stacked in a corner with lights peering through their smiles. I have my witch costume just waiting for me to don it. Of course I am a good witch who smiles with each child that comes to my door.

I am always amazed at how intricate the costumes of the trick or treaters have become. Nobody shows up with an old sheet with cut out eyes like kids used to wear. There are none of those creepy plastic masks paired with suits painted to look like a princess or a pirate. The kids of today look as though they are extras in a multi million dollar movie that skimps on nothing including the costumes. I am in awe of how remarkable they are.

I always loved Halloween when I was a kid. More often than not I dressed like a hobo or concocted a female pirate outfit with long skirts and a scarf tied around my head. Sometimes I’d just don some jeans and put on a cowboy hat. We had be ingenious back in the day but nobody noticed because none of the costumes were outstanding. The main point was to go from house to house filling our paper grocery store bags with goodies.

I went to Catholic School and All Saints Day, which landed on November 1, was always a holiday so that we might attend mass. That meant we could stay out as late as we wanted and of course we did. I lived in a rather isolated neighborhood where everybody seemed to know everybody else. We would keep going block after block until the adults closed their doors and turned the lights out. My mother would stay home to pass out candy so we were on our own and nobody worried about us. There were other moms constantly watching over all of us as we made our way from block to block.

Once my brothers and I returned home my mother had a ritual that we had to endure. She would upturn our bags and spread our loot on the living room floor inspecting each item to determine if we might keep it or not. Anything that was not securely packaged had to go. None of the homemade goodies passed her quality control. Sometimes we looked in sorrow as items that made our mouth’s water hit the garbage can. We never complained because we understood that she was just making sure that we did not consume something that might make us sick. We heard some creepy stories from other kids about items containing glass or razor blades but I never actually knew anyone who found such things. I often believed that those stories were just part of Halloween folklore.

Many years later when my two girls were young an horrific man poisoned his son with a pixie stick. At first he tried to blame it on one of his neighbors but the police ultimately found that he had opened the end of a pixie stick and placed poison inside. Luckily only one of his children consumed the tainted sweets. His horrific action ruined Halloween for a very long time. The big crowds of children coming to the house went down to a trickle after that. As a mom I began to be more cautious like my mother had been. My husband and I would take turns walking with our children as they scurried from place to place. More and more churches and schools and neighborhoods started having confined ways of treating the kids like parties and trunk or treat gatherings.

For some reason the children still come in massive numbers in my neighborhood. They are always accompanied by adults who sometimes even walk to the doors with them. I use packaged candy and toss any that has defective closures. I light up my home and greet everyone with a smile hoping that they will realize that they need not be afraid. I haven’t heard of anything terrible happening of late but I suppose that parents will always have to be careful.

The yearly tradition on October 31 usually ends much earlier than when I was a child. By nine the only visitors who come are the teens who don’t even bother to wear costumes. They are always polite and appreciative so I actually like that they are still enjoying the fun times of childhood before they will be way too old for such things.

If I end up with leftover candy I evenly distribute it to the children that I homeschool and tutor. They very gladly help me make good use of whatever is left. Of course my husband and I sneak a few things ourselves even as we both know that we would do well to watch our weight. I suppose the kid in us never really goes away.