There are certain things that bring me joy.  An endless list… now that I come to think of it.

They are the kind of things, that for an unexplainable reason…. make you preposterously happy.  Or content.  Or calm.  Or joyful.

Some give you an exceptional feeling of warmth….and well-being….   from the inside out.

When a dog smiles.

The perfect click of a camera.

Good soup.

A bird in flight… dancing circles in the sky.

The smell of clean breeze.

Soft grass under your feet.

Mozart.

A genuinely kind hand on your shoulder.

The sound of certain words.  Like Marrakesh.  And Plucky. And Canoodle.

Falling asleep.  Waking up.

The way chocolate chip cookies smell while they are baking.

Gentle rain.

Little splendid things.  I love them.

“ Joy is not in things….  ….. it is in us. ” – Richard Wagner

Happy Father’s Day… to all the Fathers in the world.   And if you are a tall man….  I hope your day was Grand, Daddy Long Legs.

I have a wonderful Father.  Absolutely beautiful in a lot of ways.  I am lucky to have him.

Many people do not know this…  But…. We were Toad Farmers when I was a kid.  It is sort of like being a Cow Farmer.  But you raise Toads instead.

Now since there isn’t a big market for Toad Steaks, or Ground Toad, or Toad Sandwiches….  we were Dairy Toad Farmers.  And no.  People do not eat Toad Legs.  They are terrible.  Toads walk… not leap about like Frogs.  So… bad legs.

Anyway… It is the dickens milking those little fellas.  Well, technically, they are not fellas, but I’m getting off topic.  Again.

But we did.  Yep.  We were Toad Milking People.  I bet you didn’t know that Toad Milk supplements all other kinds of dairy products.  Other milks.  Butter.  Cheeses.  You name.  Toad Milk is chock full of Vitamin D.  It is great for the skin.

Wouldn’t you know it….. My Dad was a kind Toad Farmer.  He never made the Toads work any longer than they wanted to.  This made them Hoppy.   Udderly Hoppy.   And when Toads are Hoppy… they shake out more milk.  Little Green Milk Shakes.

My Dad let me have one of the Toads as pets.  His name was Wyatt.  Wyatt the Milk Toad.

I loved that little guy.  I had a little red wagon for him… and I took him everywhere.  He even played on my softball team.  He was a great little outfielder.  Never missed a fly.

After ball games, we would sit on our front porch and drink ice cold Croak-A-Cola.

One year, I bought him little green car… so that we would haven’t to walk every where.  He didn’t have it very long.  It kept getting toad.

We came to find out that Wyatt’s last name was Jablonski.  We traced his family roots all the way to Warsaw.  Turns out…. he was a tad Polish.

But, now… I have gotten way off topic.

I love my Dad.  Best Toad Farmer in the land.  When we had a chore to do… Dad would say… “Hop to it.”  But in a nice way.

Happy Father’s Day.  To my Wonderful Dad… and to all the great dads in the world.  And….  Don’t forget I toad you so.

The past couple of days, I have had a discussion with three separate people about fear.

Fear. Fear. Fear.

I think it is the cause of  a BIG BUNCH of “what” is wrong with the world today.

To “fear” could mean a variety of different things.  Fear is a distressing negative sensation.  It is triggered or  induced by a perceived threat.

We also use it as a basic survival mechanism.   This is in response to a specific stimulus, such as pain or the threat of danger.  Fear is apparently a universal emotion.

It seems as though all persons, consciously or unconsciously, have fear in some sort of way.  Animals too.

But fears will pop up, in many shapes and sizes. I have a good friend who is afraid of snakes. And… of course….. we all have different perceptions and apprehension.  Spiders.  Heights.  The number thirteen.  Bees.  Tight spaces.  Needles. Large Crowds.  Dentists.  Bats.

Then there are some that you don’t normally think of… at least… I don’t ever think of them.  Fear of hands, trees, flutes, chickens, machines, cooking.  Heck, some people are even afraid of string. Yep.  All of those are real, live, phobias.

Now… it is a wonder that I am not deathly afraid of clowns.  That fear is called Coulrophobia.  Look at the photo.  That is me… front and center in the clown ride. The littlest one.  Straggly.  Frowning.  Wanting to get the heck away from the evil clown face.

Holy smokes… what were they trying to do at that amusement park?  Send us all to therapy by the time we were 15?  That ride looks like one of the characters from the horror movie Clownhouse.  I seem a little disturbed in the photo, I’ll tell you.  Why were my siblings holding me hostage there?  Why was my Mother photographing the torture?

Ahhhh.  Well.  Crappy Clowns happen.

But back to “life” fears….  the big deal is…. people fear that which they don’t know or understand.

That which we don’t understand.

I don’t understand a lot about this life.  Maybe that is why I am so anxious all the time. Well… truthfully I  just get full of dread at circuses.  Mostly around clowns really.  Clowns.  And white grease paint.

For years now… I have wondered about the water tower.  Any water tower.

When we were little…. we thought they were Paul Bunyan’s Golf Tees.  Seriously.

Since that time….I’ve known they have some sort of association with creating water pressure to maintain the safety of the H20 Supply for certain communities.  And thank goodness for clean water… that much we can be sure of.

They come in all shapes an sizes, colors, and designs.  But one thing is for certain.  Those whacky edifices sure can hold water.

The towers  do things like help water to reach the upper floor levels of buildings.  They also makes it possible to get a decent flow out of your tap.  And, because they create pressure…. they can supply water to a town, city, or village…. during a power outage.

This is handy for flushing toilets. Be glad for this. I know the Tidy-Bowl Man is glad for this.

I am not sure about the whole logistics of how they work…. exactly.  But I think they are cool.  I like it when towns paint them in creative ways.  Big oranges, and such.

I have a friend who works for a water treatment plant. When he was in college, he studied water purification and had a great thirst for knowledge.

Arrghhh.

But now, he has to go out to the rural areas.  Yep. He goes from door to door, and asks “Is the water on your farm healthy?”  Most people out there respond the same way….”Yes, we only have well water.’

Ahhh…. but we are a culture of water drinkers.  Bottled water every where.  A waste of plastic if you ask me.  Tap it baby.  Tap it.

But we need our water… that is for sure.  From the time we wake… until the time we go to bed.  And since it is now time for me to got to bed… I will leave you with two short stories.

You Just Never Know…..

A guy notices that his new blond girlfriend brings two glasses to bed each night, one empty and the other filled with water. “Why do you do that?” he asked.  She answered, “Well, if I wake up i the middle of the night, I don’t know if I’m going to be thirsty or not.”

The Thirsty Thinker……

A father sends his kid to bed. Five minutes later, the boy screams downstairs, “Dad! Can you get me a glass of water?” The dad says, “No. You had your chance.” After a minute the boy screams again, “Dad! Can you get me a glass of water?” The dad says, “No. I told you, you had your chance. If you ask one more time, I’ll come up there and spank you.” After a short silence, the father hears, “Dad! When you come up to spank me, can you bring me a glass or water?”

Have a drink on me.

There is nothing like a Fortune Cookie to get the wheels turning…. I will tell you.  I popped open a couple tonight.  Which leads me to this….

I have met a few people who really “get” life.  They have the secret decoder ring, is what I am guessing.

It is my belief… that our purpose here on earth… is to “get it.”  You know.  Get it.  To figure out what it means to be a complete human being.  To fill our spirit with goodness, and completeness, and light.

Yet.  The thing of it is….. some people have it better than others here.  There are those who suffer endlessly.  I think it would be impossible to see goodness in those situations.  But many times, we will hear great stories of the human spirit…. where people overcome the physical, mental, and emotional challenges of life.  In spite of it all….. they are filled with virtues, and nobility… and joy.

Those people rock.  My heroes.

Other times, people have it pretty dang good, yet they still say…. “What’s to celebrate?  What is so good about THAT?”

Boy oh boy.  We all get our fill of the cynics. Their negativity can weigh down our spirits pretty quickly, I will tell you. Those people are energy suckers.  Like whirlwinds… they pull in all that is around them… and manage to leave quite a wake in their paths.

But I have come to realize that I don’t have to let them control how I see my life or theirs. It is important to keep my own perceptions positive.  If we are able to detach ourselves from those cynics, and pessimists… we become more valuable to others…  more “available” to those who may benefit from our good perceptions.  Perhaps.

Yep. If I can remember to focus on gratitude, I am much better off.  To notice all the tiny blessings rather than to focus on whatever might be wrong.  And then there are the huge, big, holy-colossal blessings…. I have so many of those.

Becoming grateful is the strongest, safest means of feeling good. It can change my perspective… in a heartbeat.

Oh yes.  To be thankful rather than “thankless”!

It brings serenity.

I love those people who radiate a singing spirit. The ones who truly love life, themselves, and others.   They teach me.  And for that… I have gratitude.

“Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds you plant.” – Robert Louis Stevenson

Today is Jimmy Maxwell’s Birthday.  Happy Birthday Jim-Bo.  Who the holy-heck is that, you say?

Well.  Since you asked.  James Clerk Maxwell of Glenlair was a Scottish physicist and mathematician.   Yep.  A Dapper Dude from Scotland.

He was born in 1831 and died on the 5th day of November in 1879.  Not very old.  At all.

Now….  his most prominent achievement was formulating classical electromagnetic theory. Yowza.  This was really something.   I will tell you that much right now.

When he came up with this really big brain fart…. he united all previously unrelated observations, experiments, and equations of electricity, magnetism, and optics into a consistent theory.

I wish I had brain farts like that.

Maxwell’s equations demonstrate that electricity, magnetism and light are all manifestations of the same phenomenon, namely the electromagnetic field.

The people who are all the shutzpah in the world of Physics think Old Man Maxwell is up there with Isaac Newton.  Number Two, and One, respectively.

Them are big magnetic potatoes.

A man of many talents… … he loved poetry.  He wrote it too.

I bet one of his poems went like this…

You are so sweet and so nice.
I like you  much more than lab mice.
My magnets are shiny,
But my heart is not tiny,
You make all my ions spin twice.

At any rate… it all didn’t stop there.

Since he had come up with the whole magnetic deal….  he need something to stick them on.

And… you guessed it.  Two years later, he invented the early workings for the modern day refrigerator. Truthfully, it was just a big piece of sheet metal that they kept  propped up against a wall in their kitchen.

Ahhhh…  …..but all great ideas have to start somewhere.

I am positive about that.  Absolutely Positive.

“The energy of the mind is the essence of life.” – Aristotle

I am tired tonight.  It is a good tired though.

The day was packed.  Lots of appointments and chores and such. Lists and To-Dos.

At the same time, it was a day filled with insight, lessons, learning, growing.

You see… my Mom has Alzheimer’s. But even still… she was able to give us ALL a lesson in politics.  In particular… Political Ads can NOT be trusted.  From either side of the aisle.  It went like this.

As I served them dinner tonight, Mom sampled the soup and noted…”Boy Oh Boy, this dinner tastes good.”
“I’m glad you like it Mom.”
A few bites go down.  “This soup sure is good.”
“I’m glad you are enjoying it Mom.”
Another minute passes.  “This soup sure is hitting the spot.  It is so good.”
“I’m happy you like it Mom.”

Then an ad comes on the TV endorsing Mitt Romney.  She watches carefully, and says…”He might make a good president.  I think I am going to vote for him. He might be best for the job.”
I responded, “You should vote for the person you think is best for the job.  Good for you Mom.”
Taco Bell chimes in during the next commercial break.  She wants to try a taco sometime… says she has never had one.

And then… another political ad appears.  This time, it is Anti-Romney.  Again, Mom watches carefully.  She responds…”That Romney guy looks like a real scoundrel to me.  I think he is as crooked as they come.  No WAY I would ever vote for that guy.”
Again I say…”Good for you Mom.  You should vote for whoever you think is best for the job.”

And in a few moments… it starts all over again.

As the great songwriter Joni Mitchell once noted…

“And the seasons they go round and round.
And the painted ponies go up and down.
We’re captive on the carousel of time.
We can’t return we can only look
Behind from where we came.
And go round and round and round
In the circle game.”

Let’s shed some light on the subject.

That is my objective tonight.  The phrase itself.. is one of my favorites.

I mean.  The ramifications are endless.

The saying itself means… to clear something up… or to help someone understand something.  Light changes everything.  Yep.  When time elapses, the light of day shifts and changes.  Some things become more visible and clear.  Yet, at the same moment, it casts longer and wider shadows in different directions.  It changes everything.

With all of that said, I bring you some changes in perspective, from the lighter side.

Here’s the deal.  In Cleveland, Ohio, it’s illegal to catch mice without a hunting license.  I say we all get together some weekend, take a road trip to Cleveland, purchase hunting licenses, and get us some mice.  We can then stuff their little heads, and mount them on plaques in our dens, living rooms, and libraries.

It takes 3,000 cows to supply the NFL with enough leather for a year’s supply of footballs.  Are you ready for some Football?  I have long wondered why the cows down the road started wearing antlers toward the end of the summer….

Thirty-five percent of the people who use personal ads for dating are already married.  I don’t like that fact.  Not one little bit.

Two-thirds of the world’s eggplant is grown in New Jersey.   They don’t call it “The Garden State” for nothing.  Coincidentally, “The Purple People Eater” song was also written in New Jersey.

A dime has 118 ridges around the edge.  I’m not sure who counted all of these tiny little grooves.  But it scares me.

The housefly hums in the middle octave, key of F.  Somehow… this scares me too.  Worse the Dime-Ridge-Counting-Guy.  The fact that they can hum in the first place is disturbing.

Chinese Crested dogs can get acne.  THAT is why they can’t get dates in high school.

No word in the English language rhymes with month, orange, silver or purple.  Quit trying to think of some.   It is useless.  The longer you try, the more you will durple your brain, and pilver your peace of mind.  I have donth to prove it.  I made a note of it in my worange.

The only capital letter in the Roman alphabet with exactly one end point is P.  Ahhhh. P.  That stands for Polly. You see, tonight, I only have one end point.  And this is it..

“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.” – Edith Wharton

What’s in a name?  This is one thing I was thing about today.  People’s names.  What they mean.  And….  how it is that certain names became shorty names.

For instance.  And there are many instances.  But let’s take old “Richard.”  How did it translate to Dick?

What about “Margaret”?  I can understand Marge.  OR Marg.  But Peggy?  Maggie?  What the heck?

Some I understand.  Deborah is Deb.  Fred comes from Alfred.  Or Al.  But looky there.  Al could also be Albert. Or Alan.

This is getting complicated.  Whack-A-Doodle-Doo.

Now three that come to mind right now are Bob and Bill and Bud.  Robert and William and Budweiser.

Here is the why of it.  Bill W. And Dr. Bob founded Alcoholics Anonymous on this very date… in 1935.  Of all places… in Akron, Ohio.  Yep.  Those guys put together that little program which has helped so many people overcome alcoholic addiction since that June 10th, so long ago.

Bill wrote out the 12 Steps.  It took him quite some time.  And once he laid out the main outline, he had to run it by the other members of AA.  It was quite a stir back then.  But finally, they all agreed on what it has become today.  The 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous.

Both their wives were Saints…. I am pretty sure.   Lois and Ann.  Their names aren’t short for anything.  They were born Lois, and Ann.  But they put up with a LOT while their husbands were drinking.  And then, in the early days of AA… they did more for the program than many other of the early integrals.

Little did they know that those 12 Steps would be utilized for everything from Over Eating…. to Quitting Smoking… to… well… just about quitting anything.

And the anonymous thing… they only go by their first names in that program.  Shorty names and all.

So…yes….  back to the names.  There you have it.  What is in a name?  Apparently.  A lot.

And to all the people in AA… Happy Anniversary.  A different kind of Bud is for You.  The kind that opens, and grows….  and with a little care and love… becomes something very much alive… and filled with beauty.

“Grow where you are planted.” – Proverb

A friend made a comment today about decency.  The long and short of it…. we could use some decency in the world these days.

Common Decency.

This was a phrase you would hear quite often.  Yep.  But, I don’t come across it so much any more. It seems we have become a world filled with the fast and the furious.   Our society covets the quicker and easier way.

Decency takes time.  It takes thought.  Caring and Compassion.  Decency takes character.

Yet.  When I look over the past few days, I can think of many little examples of such.

Yesterday, I was at a dinner in a public eatery.  A teenage girl got up from her table and knocked over a chair at the table behind her.  She looked at the chair, laying there on the floor, and walked a way.  Her little brother, sitting on the other side of the table, saw no one was watching… and got up from his place.  He picked up the chair, and righted it… back to its original position.  Decency.

Tonight I shopped at a Mega-Krogers.  It was teeming with people.  As I tried to maneuver my cart through the crowded deli area, I nearly bumped into a woman, 20 years my senior.  I apologized.  “I am so sorry Miss.”  She smiled graciously and touched my arm in a reassuring manner.  And she quietly said, “You are quite alright.”  Decency.

We’ve all seen the video of the Girls’ State Track Meet this week in Ohio.  In the 3200 meter, a young lady stops her race… to help a fellow athlete (who had fallen on the track)…. get to the finish line, and cross.  Valiant. Decent.

Yes.  It still exists.  It is alive… in little candlelight-flickers all throughout the sometimes dimmer days.

You see.It is okay to be wrong, and promptly admit it.  It is okay to say “I’m Sorry.”  We are all human.  It is okay to show compassion, and kindness, tenderness, and mercy.  And forgiveness.

In fact…. it is not only okay.  It is all…. quite decent.

“Morals are private. Decency is public.” – Rita Mae Brown