A New Year is fast approaching and making resolutions appears to be a universal activity we indulge in as we lift our glasses to one another. Some might say I march to a different drummer, because I don’t make resolutions - at least I don’t write them down - perhaps because I usually fail to follow through. I’m human, after all, and life seems to dictate what I do, don’t, or can’t accomplish. I’m flexible that way.  I just daily do my best. Why did it take me so long to arrive at this point? Life got in my way (if you don’t believe it, read my memoir, “Life Interrupted”.

Perhaps it would be more productive to look back at what we’ve accomplished during the previous year? At least the past was real. The future is only a myth. If you’ve moved your family to a safer neighborhood, gotten that college degree, found that substitute job in this unsettled economy, or succeeded in growing a bumper crop of green beans or Brussel sprouts, you can feel good about yourself. So make that list of past accomplishments.

Personally, I’m glad to have survived another year. I’ve cultivated new friends and been able to keep the tried and true ones. The most meaningful gift we can give others is our friendship - and a helping hand.

I hope the New Year will be kind, but if it has other plans for me, I’ll work my way through those plans the best I can. Optimism is the key word - but optimism must be accompanied by action. Idle hands are definitely the Devil’s workshop. Let’s click the “off” button of negativity, open our minds and hearts to those sometimes hidden gems of possibility. Let’s humble ourselves and be open and ready to accept what the universe offers.

HAPPY NEW YEAR to you, my faithful followers, and thank you for giving me the gift of your time by reading my books. I hope it was time well spent. The worst thing a writer can do is waste a reader’s time. I RESOLVE to do my utmost never to do that.    Marie

HOW WILL YOU HANDLE THE HOLIDAY STRESS? In a relaxed and happy manner, or will you run up tremendous debt to disturb your sleep all next year? Will doing so make you feel more acceptable and loving to family and friends? I would suggest you pause a moment and access your present situation. If money is no object then you are one of the lucky ones (perhaps more hard work than luck). Regardless, giving of your time is the best gift, and more meaningful than another gadget, another sweater, or even a precious gem (unless it is an engagement ring). They may not remember the perfectly wrapped box or even its contents but they will remember HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.

This year, in particular, give your full attention to those about you. They may need a willing ear to hear and share in their concerns. Put aside the ego and help others cope with the Season with an extra tight hug, a friendly smile, and an “I love you” or “I understand”. That cranky old uncle you’ve been avoiding may have more to offer than you think. Throw him off guard by getting to know him better. Show him you care even if he is an old “poop”. You may turn his frown into a smile and, although he may never admit it, he’ll not forget how you made him feel.

I know you want the best for friends and family; just you and your presence IS the BEST. You’re irreplaceable even if you aren’t beautifully wrapped or wear a tropical shirt with pink flowers instead of a tuxedo. Real happiness comes from focusing on others and how you make them feel. Try it; your smiles may last all year through.

BEST OF THE CHRISTMAS SEASON - AND A HAPPY AND PROSPEROUS NEW YEAR TO ALL.

“The large trestle table was draped in Grandma’s heirloom lace tablecloth. The centerpiece held a grotesque, midlife crisis-shaped pumpkin flanked by two cheap porcelain pilgrims looking as if they had just straggled from the Mayflower and crawled to the rock of Plymouth. When the feast was laid out before my greedy family this Thanksgiving, lack of patiences would not be a problem for me. You see, I knew the biography of that big turkey.

Mom wasn’t aware that I was playing in the garage when she came out and opened the door of the old extra refrigerator. She reached in and maneuvered that turkey into both arms, turned and kicked the door shut with her foot. I barely stifled an audible gasp when suddenly that big bird slipped right out of her hands and landed breast down in that stinking kitty litter box. She looked around and, not seeing me behind Dad’s workbench, quickly picked up Old Tom and headed for the kitchen.

I knew in that moment I would never again feel the same about my mother’s cooking. Even the mincemeat pie on the sideboard had been made fatter by the addition of a box of moldy raisins she found all the way in the back of the cupboard. I know; I saw her rinse off the mold. She also didn’t know I was paying attention when she searched for something red to increase the quantity of the cranberry salad after Aunt Ida called to say she and my uncle were also coming for dinner. My eyes widened in horror when she took that handful of red peppers, chopped them to the correct size, and added them to the cranberries.

When my large family held hands to say the Thanksgiving Blessing, my prayer was that God would remove the memory of that litter box so I could, at least, enjoy the succotash.”

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

I was alone that morning; my husband had died in March of that year. I remember watching the news in total disbelief and shock - along with the rest of the world. I wondered what my husband would have thought had he been alive to witness such a dastardly assault against our country. He, too, had served his country in an extremely courageous way, and had spent his life doing good for others. I think he would have agreed that we all must fight back against those who would destroy others, and in doing so destroy themselves. He would have wanted to help assure that it never happened again. He would have vowed to never be found asleep at the wheel.

Sadly, we have to admit that evil does exist in the world, but also there is goodness and kindness, devotion to what is right, and there are determined souls who give their all to protect the rest of us. We should remember every day we’re alive that someone else is making our being alive possible. We must reach out to others in their loss and be willing to think of others and their needs before our own. 

May God bless all who are draped in sadness today, and may your pain ease as each year passes. Always know that we are not all bad guys; many of us weep with you. We must be strong and courageous as were those we’ve lost.

Here in Florida, when Irene began accosting our shores, the rolling surf was hypnotic to watch - merging and receding myriad shades of gray with hints of pale turquoise between the racing breakers.  With the prolonged media hype one would think we could write or paint something to express our feelings of dismay. The problem with me is that I can’t dismiss the “human” element. What if that was my loved one washed away, or underneath that downed tree? Granted, a bad outcome is often due to poor judgment, wrong decision making, or just the “law of averages”, but it still spells “loss”, and my thoughts went to friends and relatives living in the storm’s path.

After being assured of their safety, still unable to write, or paint that gray seascape with the subdued shades of green, I began polishing furniture, cleaning mirrors, and trimming dead leaves from my potted plants. Hours later, I was still at it, but looking at objects in a different light. It was still just “stuff” but somehow the special table lamp or the silver crystal pyramid, (a gift from my husband) took on new meaning and I treated it with tender care. The manual labor must have worked, since I’m back at the keyboard, and a blank canvas awaits on my easel.

 To all of you affected in any way by Irene, the nasty lady who visited without prior invitation, I hope your troubles are mild and fleeting and that Irene will soon become a fading memory. I look at disasters as learning experiences as well as a challenge to fix what is wrong in our journey, realize that nothing is permanent, and to enjoy to the hilt all that we are given.

Until next time……….Marie

I have just returned from my 1,000 mile solo auto trip to Ohio for a luncheon and book-signing as well as to visit relatives and friends. As an artist, I love to travel by auto to better enjoy the varied landscapes. The North Carolina, Virginia and West Virginia mountains did not disappoint. An Andrew Lloyd Weber CD and the magnificent voice of Michael Crawford singing “Love changes Things”, “That’s All I Ask of You”, and “Memories”, combined with the awe-inspiring scenery, tingled my nerve-endings and brought moisture to my eyes. Why do we travel abroad when there is so much beauty in our own country?

Held in a rustic winery, the luncheon was most enjoyable and my talk well received. Books were sold and autographed and some readers brought previously purchased books for signing. Remembered names were matched to time-altered faces, and new friendships were born. After spending precious time with relatives, I returned home with renewed spirit and enthusiasm for what I do. Where would writers be without readers? In order to refill our well, we need reassurance occasionally that our words are bringing pleasure, and hopefully making a difference in the lives of others.

With that being said, I wish to thank all those who attend book-signings to cheer us on our often lonely journey. Book publishing is changing rapidly, and whether we like the feel of a book in our hands, or enjoy the convenience of e-books, we must support writers to keep literature alive and available to everyone. Books have probably brought more pleasure to the masses than any other creative endeavor. We need each other.

I returned home from Savannah on the last leg of the trip to flattened landscapes, tropical flora and welcome ocean breezes, renewed in body and mind, and anxious to begin a new project. But first, I needed to respond to 200-plus e-mails and numerous phone messages, all of which I tackled with good cheer and thankfulness to my fans. 

Again, I thank all of you who have visited my website and for recommending my blog content to others. Write me any time and I will respond as quickly as possible.

Don’t forget to LOVE WITH ALL YOUR HEART. 

 I’m honored that teachers are recommending my book to their students. I must have done something right.

Also, I will be traveling to Ohio in early June to attend a luncheon and be guest speaker at a literary club. I’m looking forward to this particular trip since I will be renewing  old friendships. What could be nicer than that?

 My new book (a memoir) “Life Interrupted” is now listed on my website, as well as Amazon, etc. Please visit and read more about it. The book is being well received, and I thank all you readers who have bought the book or downloaded it on your e-reader. An autographed copy would make a nice gift and I’m happy to do that for you. Contact me on the website or call and I’ll rush it, or any of my other books, to you. I believe this memoir will ease the path for many readers who are caught up in life’s surprises. 

 Have a great summer, everyone; stay safe, be happy, and love with all your heart.

Marie

MOM - AS BEAUTIFUL AS HER GARDEN

 As eagles soar on a distant wind, my silver-haired mother rests in a swing on a narrow porch where white petunias twine and stick to each other in magnificent health. Clematis vines, lavishly dressed in saucer-sized pink blossoms, twirl and turn on a corner post as they reach for the eaves and downspouts. Dragonflies pause briefly and then flitter away. Mom’s hand-sewn, washed and starched sunbonnet rests on the washing machine in the kitchen, ready for another day of gardening. Her trowel and clippers are wiped clean and lie on the railing between the petunias and clematis. Her arm is loosely draped across the back of the swing, and I wonder if she is remembering the many evenings she sat beneath my father’s arm as they watched breathtaking sunsets.

She’s had a busy day. The weekly washing is ironed and carefully placed in paper-lined drawers. Bouquets of annuals were gathered from the garden while robins and meadowlarks shook tree branches with song. Two golden Guernsey cows languidly grazed in the meadow below the barn; having been milked earlier by a good neighbor. In lieu of pay, he accepted her presentations of fresh butter, rhubarb or berry pie when she did her weekly baking.

Before the early morning sun climbed too high into the sky, she had pulled weeds from around her “show-off” peonies. There were no insignificant blooms. Red, pink and white blossoms cohorted in one large rock-edged bed. Their heavy, drooping heads seemed to bow in shame, but I knew better. Their magnificent heads were nodding in reverence to the beauty all around them. Except for the fragile petunias on the porch railing, my mother didn’t care for puny flowers. She preferred showy species - tiger lilies, snowballs, multi-colored dahlias and zinnias, red cockscomb and lilacs. She liked her flowers to “make a statement”. However, each year she planted my favorite flower - cosmos - with their myriad colors and foliage as lacy as the collar on her finest blouse.

The white rocking chair and the sunset are too tempting to ignore. We share a dish of home-cranked ice cream while we rock and swing until fireflies begin their display of fireworks in the meadow. The eagles have again filled their nest, the cows have returned to the barn and only the mockingbird sings. My eyelids grow heavy with contentment and my heart overflows with love.

Happy Mother’s Day