Dun Da Da Dun

 

“Dun da da dun” is the sound of trouble in the middle of the night. It is an alert warning me that something significant has happened while I am sleeping. It comes from my husband’s phone which he 160824110618-italy-earthquake-debris-large-169charges on his bedside table each evening. It is tells me that the BBC has an important story. It usually signals bad news.

In the early hours of Central Time on August 24, I heard the familiar alarm and knew that somewhere something of import had taken place. The fact that it was still quite dark outside made it most likely that the occurrence was from another part of the world. When the sun finally peeked through my bedroom window it teased me from my slumbers. Remembering the sound that had roused me earlier I immediately checked my own phone to see what event had been so earth shattering that it merited a signal. As I stared at the headlines still blurred by my not quite awake eyes I learned of a horrible earthquake in the middle of Italy that had destroyed towns and taken far too many lives.

I sadly scanned the images and the details while clearing my head with my morning jolt of caffeine. I felt a great sadness wash over me as I read of the suddenness with which the rumbling earth had destroyed so many lives. One moment it was a beautiful day on which tourists and townspeople filled the streets, a time when the populace planned for weekend festivals. The next brought unimaginable horror as buildings that had withstood wars toppled to the ground burying the humans unfortunate enough to have been inside of them.

I next checked Facebook to see if any of my friends of Italian decent knew anyone who had been affected by the quake. Before I was even able to locate their posts I noticed a plaintiff cry for prayers from one of my cousins, a young woman with a beautiful family and an even more lovely soul. She revealed that she had been diagnosed with lymphoma and requested that we all ask God to help her. I felt as though I had been stabbed in the heart. I was shaken.

After gathering my wits I noticed a comment from a childhood friend whose family had immigrated from Italy long ago. She shared an image of the damage caused by the earthquake in the country of her ancestors and remarked that we should all live with the realization that everything that we take for granted can change in a heartbeat.

I was reminded for the millionth time just how fragile our lives really are. We assume that we will arise each morning and begin our routines. We make plans for the future never believing that anything will impede them. We have great intentions to do this or that but somehow become distracted with the mundane. We complain about small irritations that are generally easy to resolve. We act as though we have all the time in the world to do the things that are most important. We rush from appointment to appointment and often find ourselves apologizing for not having enough time to call a friend, check on a neighbor, visit someone who is lonely, send a card to someone who is sick.

We only have so many hours in a day and we have to prioritize, save our energy. “I’ll think about that tomorrow,” we reply echoing the now famous words of Scarlet O’Hara. All too often tomorrow never comes. We pile up regrets. The regrets turn to sorrow. We don’t quite know how to slow down the pace of our lives just enough to engage in a concerted effort to enjoy our blessings.

Of course our immediate responsibilities must come first. We have jobs. Our family members require our care and attention. We must maintain our own health. The drive just to accomplish those things may begin before dawn and only end in the dark of night. Our energy is limited. We can’t and shouldn’t push ourselves into to an early grave by attempting to be all things to all people. We know that this is true and yet each of us have known individuals who managed to redirect their lives just enough to be able to reach out to someone every single day. They demonstrate that it requires only a bit of organization and practice to include acts of kindness in the fabric of our daily routines.

I know people who keep rolls of stamps and boxes of generic greeting cards at the ready to send their love and concern to those who may need a burst of sunshine. It takes only a few minutes to jot down a note of encouragement but that tiny slice of time has the power to change someone’s entire day. Our phone calls don’t have to be long or move beyond a few sweeps of the clock. Just a quick few words tell someone that they are important. It need take no more than the time to say, “I was thinking of you. How are you doing?” At work we can give someone a thumbs up, acknowledging effort and the  importance of what they do. We shouldn’t wait for another day to express our sorrow or offer our contrition for mistakes or mend a broken relationship. A simple wave, a post on Facebook, a smile, a hug are gestures that take so little of our time and energy but have profound consequences. We should all strive to insert a few more of such endeavors into every one of our days. By doing so we are less likely to be filled with the regret of leaving our words unsaid, our actions undone.

The clock is slowly ticking. Each day is filled with uncertainty. It is a waste of time to dwell on the possibility of sudden tragedy but it is wise to realize that we only have so many opportunities to accomplish the most important tasks that center on the people about whom we care.

Last week I watched a biography of Jimmy Carter. It mentioned that President Carter loved and respected his father but sometimes felt that he was a bit too stern, unemotional and formal in his relationships. He didn’t think that his father’s business dealings merited much praise. He would have preferred to see his dad performing corporal works of mercy and charitable acts.  Upon his death Jimmy learned how wrong he had been in estimating his father. The funeral brought an overflow crowd and even more praises for the many kindnesses that Carter’s father had extended quietly and humbly to virtually everyone that he had ever encountered. Story after story told of small gestures and sacrifices that had made enormous differences in people’s lives. President Carter at that moment began to realize that it is in those everyday encounters that we touch the most hearts.

I will most assuredly once again hear the “dun da da dun” from the BBC announcing the latest news. My phone may ring to tell me of births, accomplishments, joys, sorrows, death. The unrelenting rhythm of life will march forever forward. The clock will tick. Hopefully I will have set aside a tiny slice of my day to live my best life. I can’t afford to wait until tomorrow to think about the things that deserve to be done today.

  

Life In Color

5172363-joseph-and-his-coat-of-many-colors_331590I’ve read somewhere that dreaming in color is indicative of a creative mind. Not only have I never seen night time images in Kodachrome, but of late I don’t even dream much anymore which is probably related to the fact that as I age I don’t sleep for long stretches of time anymore. I am growing older and I come from a time far different than today. I was a small child when television was in its infancy. The programs that we watched on those tiny screens inside wooden boxes were in lovely shades of black, white and gray. We couldn’t even imagine that there would one day be an NBC peacock. We were as content to tune in to those colorless shows as we were to see images of ourselves in mostly black and white photographs. We were still a very long way from so many of the advances that now seem to be par for the course. The progress that we have made is good, as it should be. Those of us in our senior years are nostalgic but our reverie should not include a desire to return to outmoded ways of doing things.

I remember the great anticipation that ensued when the television series Bonanza became one of the first programs to feature living color. It was an exciting time even for those of us who did not yet own color televisions. Just knowing that someone, somewhere was seeing the green trees and blue skies of the Ponderosa was thrilling. We had entered a whole new world that would only become more and more brilliantly hued over the ensuing years.

It is all too appropriate that our modern day images be filled with a spectrum of reds and yellows and blues mixed together to create greens and purples and oranges. Life is a magnificent rainbow that includes the glorious variety of nature and mankind. There is a beauty in diversity that is never found in the dull sameness of black and white. We are all part of a colorful world that we should embrace but sometimes neglect or even refuse to do.

Just as we didn’t have color photographs or television back when I was very young we humans had a tendency to isolate ourselves from those whose skin appeared different from ours. We convinced ourselves that our ways were normal but in reality we must have known that it was not right to judge anyone without ever getting to know them. Eventually we allowed ourselves to be neighbors and friends with individuals of many different colors. We learned that we had been missing so much and that life was more vibrant and lovely than we had ever before imagined.

When I was just a girl I thought that I would never know anyone who was gay or a lesbian, but I was wrong. As those with differing sexual preferences began to bravely reveal themselves I learned that some of my friends and relatives alike belonged to a world that had once seemed so confusing to me but now seems so perfectly normal. The rainbow flag of the LGBT community is a beautiful thing that represents love. I wonder how we ever could have believed that caring relationships between any two people was anything other than beautiful.

With inventiveness and acceptance we have entered a brighter world filled with possibilities that seemed not to exist when I was young. We have shown that blending hues together is interesting and inclusive. The days of our ignorance should be gone but sadly they are not. Just as it would seem ludicrous to find someone still watching television from a small box with only shades of gray, it should be just as ridiculous to continue to harbor outdated thinking that is cruel, unforgiving and without reason.

As a Christian I was always taught that God makes each of us in His own image and likeness. If we reflect on that idea we realize that God is telling us that every one of His creations is wondrous and perfect. He loves us without conditions and wants us to feel the same. He sent His son to teach us how to behave. Unfortunately some of us never really understood the messages that Jesus made so clear. Not once did He preach that we should spurn those who are not like us. He often went out of His way to embrace those who were outcasts of society. I interpret His actions as meaning that the rules are very simple. We must love everyone, even those who appear to be or think differently. It’s not really that difficult to do. It doesn’t even take much practice. It just requires suspending all restrictions and coloring outside of the lines. We have to break the old rules to follow the new rules which are far more right and just.

Once we experience the colors of the world there is no turning back. We burst out of the boxes that have constricted us and see the watercolors that make life so much more enjoyable. We begin to realize that we only see different hues because of the way our eyes are processing the light. Being able to see the true appeal of all of the world is a gift that makes us feel more joyful. Without the great big box of crayons life would indeed be dull.

Winter has always been symbolic of death. With its withering and limited palette of variations in light it has a certain beauty but none as breathtaking as the riotous colors of spring, a time of life and renewal. We can choose the end of the seasons or the hopeful beginning. It us up to each of us to see the full spectrum of life and rejoice in it.

I am often saddened in knowing that we still have many people who are unwilling to change but I’d like to believe that they are more and more often becoming the minority among us. Slowly but surely we are shining the light on a more beautiful way of living. Because our young have always been more willing to take risks and embrace adventure, they are leading the way to more colorful tomorrows and that is good. Perhaps one day the pallid world of old will be housed in an ancient junkyard and all of us will view life in color. 

Imagine the Future

opte.orgI grew up in an era when technology was still more or less within the realm of science fiction. When my father brought the first television into our home we made it the center of our family universe. It sat in its own room, dominating a wall, with chairs arranged in a semi-circle so that everyone might have a good view of the tiny screen. We watched the black and white images on that little square of light as though we were viewing the work of a magician. It was a far cry from listening to radio programs as we had previously done. The outmoded radio was moved to a dark corner and replaced by the more modern T.V. as the premiere source of entertainment.

Back then the television broadcast hours were limited as were the number of channels. Each evening the playing of our national anthem signaled the down time for programming. A strange looking test pattern lit up the screen until the next morning. We had no way of knowing that the shows that we watched would one day appear to be so amateurish or that the dull shades of grey would eventually be replaced with living color. We simply marveled at the wonder of the experience. A whole world of products were created to enhance our newest past time. There were T.V. trays to hold our food if we wanted to combine dining with viewing. Enterprising companies even created frozen dinners that only had to be popped into the oven to heat up while we consumed more and more of our time in front of the strange little boxes that so entertained us.

Of course my mother was far more circumspect about this marvelous new invention. We still had to eat homemade food at the kitchen table each evening and we were only allowed to watch one program per day. My father, on the other hand, was so fascinated that he often spent hours laughing hysterically at the comedies that were the bread and butter of those early days.

Eventually, of course, televisions became ever bigger and better as did the variety of what we might view. Color and high definition images allowed us to feel as though we were actually present in the places being shown. Today televisions are no longer just the domain of the family room. They might be found in any number of locations in the house. Interestingly, there are still channels that show the oldies from my youth and I have to admit that some of them are actually quite good even without all of the bells and whistles available today.

I am also from the time when writing a research paper for a particular class was a very complex process. It always required copious amounts of time spent in a library culling through a card catalog and leafing through dusty books and magazines. There were no copy machines or printers or computers or Internet or any of those things. Instead we came armed with index cards on which we hand wrote the information that seemed to be pertinent to our topic. It was tedious and time consuming and most often took place over a series of visits to several different libraries. So many sunny Saturdays and Sundays were spent inside windowless rooms searching for information.

Then came the writing process which was generally done on lined paper by hand. Editing involved scratching sentences and phrases out or using arrows to add ideas. It was a miracle if any of it was legible by the time that the typing began. Then the fun really started as we prayed that our fingers would hit the correct keys on the first strike. If we made a mistake it required carefully using whiteout fluid which the pickiest teachers didn’t want to see. I recall once taking more than twenty hours to complete the typing of a paper to the specifications of one of my professors. I don’t want to even discuss the problems associated with creating footnotes. Such memories send me into a state of unmitigated anxiety.

When computers with word processing software came along I felt as though I had died and gone to heaven. The ability to create a rough draft and then hone it until it was perfect was a godsend. When the Internet made research a more home bound project I was even more excited. A really coherent paper still required work in a library but even that was made more pleasurable with printers and copiers. The old index cards became almost obsolete. When I did use them it was to cut and paste printed pieces of information that was cogent. The new world order freed me from what had once been an odious task.

Now I have the capability of creating a blog while riding along the highway. I type away, able to correct my errors immediately. When I feel that my editing is complete I use the personal hotspot on my phone to get the wifi that I need in order to post my work. I can do this anywhere that I have cell phone coverage, which reminds me of yet another amazing device that we now mostly take for granted. Who knew that one day we would be able to carry a powerful tool like our cell phones in the palm of our hands? I still remember picking up the receiver of our home phone and hearing the conversation of a neighbor who was on the same party line as ours. We have come a long, long way.

The world is a truly amazing place and for those of us who have watched its evolution over the past many decades there is still a sense of awe at what we humans have managed to invent. I have seen so many things come to fruition that once seemed impossible. I now find myself believing that we haven’t yet seen the best of what is to come. Who knows what miracles will unfold in the coming years. If we go back and watch reruns of The Jetsons we might get a few ideas.

I wonder if we will all eventually get off of the grid, using energy sources like wind or solar as a matter of fact. Will there be flying cars? Will a pill or an operation cure mental illness? Will our adventures take us to destinations outside of our home planet? How will we live differently? Will we find newer and better ways of educating our young? It’s fun to imagine and to realize that we have probably only skimmed the surface of what is possible. I only hope that as we gain new insights into better living that we will also be conscious of our relationships with one another. We’ve never quite learned how to get along in total peace and harmony and maybe we never will, but it is nice to imagine what a cooperative world might be. If we can create wonderful things then we should also be able to conceive ideas that bring us more peace and security. We’ve been to the moon and back. Surely we can figure out how to bring harmony to our backyards. Every invention and idea began with a dream. Somewhere right now someone is thinking of the next big thing. We need to encourage anyone who mind works its way outside of the box to envision a better world. We can learn from looking back at the past but our focus should always be in moving forward. Our renaissance continues.

Keeping Up with Reality

i282600889606991555._szw1280h1280_I was recently thinking about all of the changes that have occurred in my lifetime and I began to feel a bit old for the very first time. I remember once having a conversation with my grandfather during which he spoke of what his life had been like as a young boy. His remembrances made him sound absolutely ancient. He had grown up without plumbing, electricity, glass on the windows of his home. I took all of these modern conveniences for granted and try as I may I was unable to fathom what his youth must have been like. Now I catch myself thinking about all of the things that are readily available today that were not even thoughts in our imaginations when I was a girl. Continue reading “Keeping Up with Reality”