Saturday, August 9, 2014


I have decided that Face Book and all social media could be compared to the first phones and "party lines". I can still remember a "party line" when my oldest child was a toddler, say 1976. When people first got telephones (from what I've seen on TV and movies) some people had to have one right now; some felt that they'd lived without it this long, so they didn't need it.  Some became snobbish because "they" had one.  But eventually the telephone became the way of life, and everyone had them.  With the "party line" people were enticed to eavesdrop on other conversations.

So now enters the cell phone.  Some had to have it right away; some still don't use one; some have talked about requiring everyone to have one instead of the land line.  Some use social media; some don't want to; some won't ever.  Social Media has gone from personal use to business use.  It's the way it is.  Sometimes I stop and ask myself, "what was life like before I communicated this way, with family, friends and acquaintances alike? Have I neglected any relationships because of my focus on using social media?  Am I getting into conversations I never would have? Is this my business?"

The one thing I know that I am missing is personal, face to face contact, and casual phone calls just to check in, that existed even during all this progress and great ways to keep in touch.  When I see others, youth and middle age, constantly connected to their phone, my hope is that they are also experiencing the face to face connection as well as the peace that comes from sitting alone, reading, wondering and dreaming.  We all need that.

My challenge in my own life, is NOT to respond to others, "Oh, I already saw that on Face Book" without wanting to share a moment or two in face to face conversation with another. Before Social Media, we might have responded that we already read that in the newspaper, or the church newsletter, or heard it in conversations with others.

I will continue to use social media, but hope to take a more active role in face to face communication with others, and listening to stories I've already heard about somewhere else.

How about you?

Friday, August 8, 2014


The sun seemed just right, so I brought two teacups to have tea in the garden.  My garden isn't situated so that I can add a table, so it's teacups and my beauties - lavendar, camomile, roses, impatiens and more.  Hope you enjoy them!

Monday, August 4, 2014


I take a bike ride every day.  I always go 2 1/2 miles minimum.  Tonight I went farther, to my old neighborhood, my childhood neighborhood.  I've been going there once a year for the last three years.  It just amazes me that I still get that "I'm home!" feeling when I round the corner; but I'm also amazed that things look so small every time I go there.

The only things that aren't smaller are the trees.  My dad planted two maple trees, one for my sister and I, at each end of our front yard.  Well, one is gone and has been replaced, and the other, mine, is so large around that I would guess it would take almost two adults to circle it.  The third tree, a plum tree, that Dad planted for my baby sister is big and doing well.

I've always wanted to go inside the house that my dad built for us to live in from 1957 to 1988, but I am afraid if I get inside that the changes will wipe away my memories.  But today as I rode down the sidewalk, I stopped my bike right in front.  I looked at the trees, the flowers, but not too close.  I wondered what the owners would think if they saw me looking.  Then I noticed that the front door was open behind the screen door; and before I could give it a second thought, I rode down the sidewalk and into the street and continued my ride through the next block, with memories aflurry in my mind's eye.

As I write this, my eyes are flooded with tears when I recall that opened door.  It's just the closest I've ever gotten to really, really thinking about stepping inside.

Have you ever gone back to your house after years of being gone? Will going there take away the memories I cherish....of the home my dad built....of the home my mother made....of the loving, caring life my parents gave us in this house on Juniper Street?

I wonder if I can do it.  I wonder if I should do it.  I know that I am the only one that can answer that. Maybe the next time I go there, I'll be able to walk up to the porch.