I really just have a few words to say tonight.

The first two: Dean Spanley

And lastly.  

I think I finally understand why I chase the moon.

I think we are getting soft.

Every once in a while, we get a Steve Jobs, or an Alexander Graham Bell.  Heck… even an Albert Einstein… or a Harriet Tubman.

But really, these days… the inventions… well…. for the most part…..

….. they suck.

People used to take the time to really come up with some astounding innovations.  I used this photo as an example of one particular gleaning of craftsmanship and the commitment to artistry, and technique.   The workmanship of long ago.  Yes, this ornamental apex is so high up on a building, it took a 300mm lens to shoot.  The man or woman who designed this, did so, for the sake of beauty, art, and expression… despite the fact that it would not be seen by most people.

But these days, it is mostly about the quick and easy.

I am deeply troubled by some of the things on the market today.

I just saw an ad on television (TV… now, there is a great invention, if you ask me)…. But. Yes.  I just saw an ad on TV for “Pajama Jeans” —  All the comfort of pajama bottoms, made to stretch, extend, and give way… all the while looking like denim jeans.

You will not catch me wearing a pair of Pajama Jeans on my own volition.  They seem… somehow…. contemptible and corrupt.

Or the new fitness cooking tool called the “Fat Magnet” —  Yes folks, this thing “soaks up grease like a magnet… to remove fat & calories instantly.”   We use a good old fashioned paper towel in our house… if there’s just too much grease on something.  They come in stylish rolls and sit right on your kitchen counter.  You can use them for a lot of other things too.  AND… they don’t cost 24.95.

Another great new idea… is the “One Second Needle” — Thread it in one second.  Just loop, pull, and viola’, it is threaded.  I am not buying it.  Figuratively or literally.  Not for $10 plus $6.99 shipping and handling.  For one, how much can it cost to ship a needle?  For another thing, the eye of that sucker better be the size of a tennis racket for me to thread it in one second.  I kid you not.

Yep.  We are soft.

Now the wheel.  That was a good invention.  And boy oh boy… did it go a LONG way. (No pun intended).  But really, where would cars be without them?   What would you put your shoulder to?   There would be no “Wheeler Dealers”  and kids couldn’t do “Wheelies” on their bikes.  We would lug dirt around in things called barrows.  It just goes on and on, really.

Those cavemen were thinkers.  Yes sir.   They came up with fire too…  another biggie.

And Buffalo Dinosaur Wings….  the first UGGs…  Golf (… well, the first clubs, at least)…    Pajama Hides….  the first “Man Cave”…  and…

… you know… tonight… I might just start working on re-inventing the wheel.

Happiness is…. [ you fill in the blank here ].

Yes, happiness means different things for each and every one of us.

When I was a kid, I used to read those “Happiness Is….” books… they might have been a Charles Schultz Peanuts thing. At any rate… I used to read them and think many of the “Happiness Is….” examples weren’t really for me. You know, Happiness is… a sugar cookie. What??

No.  When I was eight years old… riding my bike down Bruce Avenue Hill at full tilt and not crashing into anyone or anything…. now THAT made me happy.

We each have our own song and dance.

Another for instance.  A sizeable bowl of piping-hot-homemade mashed potatoes makes me about as happy as happy can be. Mashed spuds are just so good for you in every way! They are, after all …one of the PWFs (pasty white foods)… and I LOVE each and every one of those PWFs. Yet, on the other hand…. a good friend of mined detests all-things-potatoes. She and her family were potato farmers growing up, and to this day… she would rather not ingest a potato-anything.  Seriously.  (I know it seems…. just crazy-go-nuts … but it is for real!)

So to each his own.

Somebody wrote in this week…. and here is the letter.

Dear Polly,

What is your deal with Sock Monkeys? It is kind of childish.
Can you tell us why you are always talking about Sock Monkeys?

Sincerely,
Viola
Newark, NJ

Dear Viola,

No. I can not tell you what my deal is with Sock Monkeys. All I know is… they bring a smile to my face no matter what. I’ve never met a cross sock monkey. Viola… they simply make me happy.

As Curious George as my witness,
Polly

So there you have it. What makes you happy? Clams? Pigs in the mud? A Lark?

I hope you find it, each and every day…. whatever “IT” is.

“When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life.  When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.  I wrote down ‘happy’. They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.” – John Lennon

Okay. I take back everything I said about the Lady on Lamboll Street. In case you missed it… this past summer… a woman pitched her Cadillac up on the curb where “Me & the Girls” were walking. Max, Frances, and I stood there dumbfounded.

She rolled down her window, and quite pointedly accused me of watering my dogs on her house. To reiterate, I didn’t understand what she meant, at first. What the heck was “Water my dogs on her house?”

She meant peeing.

Okay. Got it.

“No Ma’am. I would never think of watering my dogs on your house. I’m not even sure where on God’s Green Earth you live.”

At any rate, she went on to say that imbeciles water their filthy animals on her home…. and her man, Leon, had to wash and scrub her house, AGAIN.   I then spot Leon… just across the way. Washing and scrubbing. He was about 102 years old…

Ms. Caddy-Lack then informs me (at great length) that humans… yes… derelicts…. vagrants…. scoundrels … have been watering on her house as well. They will let ANYONE downtown these days, she continued, in her southern Charleston drawl. Her ranting continued for several minutes.

I stood there thinking….”Well….. she must be off her meds.”

I know that I am running on here. But that is the gist of last summer’s incident.

Well… I take it ALL back. Every little word I mumbled about that nice, sane, lady.

Low and behold, I was walking back down Lamboll just yesterday, on my way home from an appointment….. and there… in the midday sun… stood a guy peeing on the side of our house.  OUR house!

So now…… I really AM standing in the middle of Lamboll Street…. dumbfounded. The first thing out of my mouth is “What the HECK?” The guy looks in my direction, bobs up and down on his heels a time or two… zips up… and off he goes around the corner.

Some people don’t believe in karma… but I tend to think it is alive and well and peeing in the alley ways of Charleston.

I should have never doubted old whacky-doodle-woman in the Cadillac. But I did. I poked a little fun at her. And now look what happened….

Somebody peed on my house.

Hey. Wait just a little minute. That guy looked a little bit like Leon….. actually… he looked a LOT like Leon. Hmmm.

“How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours.”
– Wayne Dyer

I wish we didn’t have war. But we do.

A lot of great minds have contemplated the subject of war and tried to make sense of it. I am not a great mind…. so try as I may…. I cannot make any sense of war.

One observation mad by J. Narosky acknowledges that “In war, there are no unwounded soldiers.”

I think this to be true. The service men and women of the United States of America serve our country proudly. They give themselves, and sometimes their lives, to protect the rights and the freedoms of our country. I am grateful for them and indebted to them.

But I think it is very hard on those soldiers… as they are sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and friends. They are humans with emotions of fear, anxiety, and pain… all amidst their bravery and call of duty.

Benjamin Franklin summed it up so clearly with “There was never a good war or a bad peace.”

Yet,  as I reflect. I have one more story about it.

A young man named Paul was studying to be a Design Engineer at the University of Cincinnati. He was moved to serve for the United States Army when he was 21 years old. When he was called up for combat he went readily and without hesitation. His unit landed overseas at night. The country they were invading was dark as pitch upon arrival. All of the lights in all the cities were darkened to avoid bombing. It was silent, except for occasional gunfire and artillery. It was also dismal, lonely and unnerving. He could tell their platoon leader was nervous… maybe even afraid.

Paul was a heavy artillery gunman and shot down enemy planes. He probably killed a lot of men during his two-year tour in combat. To this day, that fact does not sit well with him. He survived that war… but many of his comrades in arms did not. They were killed in action and he bore witness to this.

Paul came back to the U.S., completed college, married, and started a family. I am his youngest daughter.

The war in which he served was WWII.

Near the end of service, he began writing letters to himself, to keep as a reminder of this egregious experience. One of those letters has always stood out in my mind… and I keep a copy of it. Printed here are some various excerpts, as my Dad recalls the memory of those who died while serving.

“They felt that it was impossible for them to die before they, once again, had lived the life they had once complained about, and yet they felt they would never return. And they promised themselves that if they should survive, they would do everything they could to prevent the occurrence of another war.”

“All I know is that they wanted to live because they felt they were too young to die. If the people of the United States could and would make themselves realize how much life meant to those who faced death so that their country might survive, they could do much toward elimination future wars. The service men and women that died during this war had only one regret: That they were young.”

“The single regret of the war dead could act as a constant reminder to the people of this country to do everything possible so that in the future young Americans would not be forced by war to face this regret. They would face problems broad mindedly without prejudice and would try to understand those problems. They would seek truth instead of believing what they wanted to believe. They would act unselfishly. They would actually realize that they inherit a tremendous responsibility along with life and citizenship and they would not desert this responsibility. Then this country could function harmoniously and world peace could be possible.

I realize that I have presented only a theoretical solution because human beings lack imagination and forget too easily to make this solution workable.”

This….In honor of Veterans Day, November 11, 2011

Tonight, I am feeling about as clear as mud.

But, yesterday, we were speaking of politics…..so I will pick it up there.

The politicos vie for power.

Power to make his or her country a better place in which to live.

Power to accomplish things.  
Power to make situations better.

Power to do what is right and equitable for the people of the land….
That is all in theory. Really.

And…. With Power comes Responsibility.

Once again, a great thought. Noble. Virtuous. But theoretical.

Abraham Lincoln once said, “Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.”

Wise old Abe.

Joke for the Day….

Q: How many bureaucrats does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Two.  One to screw it in and one to screw it up.

Trivia…

Abraham Lincoln, of course, was shot by John Wilkes Booth.  Booth was injured while jumping from the balcony where Lincoln had been sitting.  Dr. Samuel Alexander Mudd treated Booth for his injuries, and was later sentenced to life in prison for doing so.  Hence the origin for the phrase “His name is mud.”

And still tonight… I am feeling about as clear as mud.

Muddling.

Election Tuesday has come and gone. It is one of the staples of November.

Now you would think we could all breathe a sigh of relief. Yes. The political ads have been silenced at last. We have a bit of a respite.

Okay. That sigh of relief is over. Momentary… at best. This is a Presidential Election Year. Like it or not, the political machine has begun to churn once again. The madness has commenced.

Politics in the United States (probably everywhere) can be complicated, confusing, mean-spirited and convoluted. Yet… we need it. We are built on the voting rights of the people, by the people, for the people.

You.  Me.  We the people.

Here is the best I can explain politics in America.

This morning I was eating my morning meal at my favorite breakfast restaurant, Toast. One of the things I most look forward to is their grits.

Yes, the grits at Toast are some kind of gift from the Breakfast Gods. They are so rich, and creamy, and delicious…. they are almost too good to eat. Almost. Yes. I probably eat more grits than a human ought to. But it is like manna from heaven. I delight in them. I make yummy noises while I eat. Are you getting the picture? I like ’em.

So yes. This morning, a man was sitting at the table beside me. A tourist from Ohio. The Cleveland area. Not that I was eavesdropping, but I was eavesdropping. He wanted to try this Southern Tradition called Grits.

I thought to myself, “Boy oh boy. This guy is in for a treat. He’s gonna’ fall right off his chair with joy.” The hot, steaming bowl of grits arrived at his table, he took a bite, and spit it out on his plate. The guy calls the waiter over and says, “Grits are the most horrendous thing I have ever tasted in my life. This is like eating tasteless, slimy, warmed up, paste. This is for total crap.”

Quote. Unquote.

And that….. my friends….. is politics.

Yes, what tastes like a golden delicacy to me, is crappy bowl of paste to someone else. Both of us are so certain and sure about ourselves and our opinions on this. We just tasted the same exact thing…. but we have two entirely different perspectives on a remarkably identical object.

And so it goes. Welcome to Election Year 2012.

“A fanatic is always the fellow on the opposite side.”
-Will Rogers

For squirrels…. our yard is a little bit of Paradise, yes it is. The Promised Squirrel Land. Utopia. Shangri-La. Bushy Tailed Bliss. That is…. before WE showed up.

The yard holds a line of well established trees. A great balance of sun and shade. A water source, in the way of a small fountain, and nice, soft ground. Oh so nice to dig around & hide things therein…..

So here’s how it played out before we arrived here in October. At least, my best guess.

All summer long, the little squirrels gathered a boat load of nuts. They preceded to bury them in our yard. Great strategic planning for the rest of the winter…. right? Theoretically.

Like I said. This was a great place until we showed up. We….which includes three dogs. Three squirrel-chasing-dogs.

The battle between these two parties intensifies on a daily basis.

The squirrels try to retrieve their nuts. The dogs try to retrieve the squirrels. The chasers and the chased.

So now the word is out on the squirrel street.

When we take our walks, the dogs and I…. we are frequently hit on the heads with acorns, pecans, walnuts…. you name it nutty…. it hits us.

I do NOT think this is coincidental. No. Not at all. The squirrels have it out for us.  A vendetta.   And wouldn’t you know it?  They have great aim.

They taunt us. I am starting to get a nervous twitch.

Why, just the other day, I think one of them was giving me the Peace Sign minus one.

I am not sure how to resolve this conflict… but it is getting out of hand.

So tonight I took my iPod with some portable speakers out back… and played a little John Lennon for my friends in the trees….

“Imagine all the people living life in peace. You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. I hope someday you’ll join us, and the world will be as one.”

I don’t know if this is going to work or not… but a few of them were swaying back and forth and holding up their little Bic Lighters.

All we are saying… is give peace a chance.

Well, there you have it….

YOU are completely & totally unique.  Just like everyone else.

Oh, it is funny, but it is true. We are all individuals, with our own ideas, and thoughts, hopes, and dreams. Each and everyone of us has something incredible to offer this world. Sometimes it surfaces. Other times, it never manifests. Yet the fact remains. We are seven billion strong in our uniqueness.

Yes. We are all one-of-a-kind, unrepeatable, distinct souls…. and the paradox therein remains…. so is every one else.

This makes life interesting…. and often times… challenging.

But every once in a while, we are lucky enough to find our other pea in the pod. Even if it is a carrot. On occasion, we are blessed with a champion, a confidant, a true friend, or even a soulmate and true love. (Even the better when it is all wrapped into one.)

C.S. Lewis once said that “Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, ‘What! You too? I thought I was the only one.”

And it is a good thing to find that comfort, that side-by-side-ness, that ease and solace. Such a gift…. that we might be blessed this way…. to share our lives with a few choice others.

In our uniqueness and distinctiveness, we can journey through this world, with others.  And it becomes true, that… in our friends, we find our second selves.

“If you live to be 100, I hope I live to be 100 minus 1 day, so I never have to live without you.” – Winnie the Pooh

Walking three dogs is a heck of a lot harder than walking two.  I used to think 2 dogs were troublesome to steer.  But now I know.  Three is simply borderline insanity.

This afternoon, while on our walk, a woman stopped me and asked how much I charge.  Well…. since my “hookin” days are over….

I asked her  “Charge for what?”

“Dog walking.  Aren’t you the dog walker?”

To which I responded, “These are my dogs.  I am walking them, so technically, I am the walker.  But none of them have a red cent… so I don’t charge them a thing.”   She waved her hand dismissively as she scurried away… muttering something about a crazy woman….

Oh well. More importantly….

There is a lot to be learned from our friends who are dogs.

They have a gazillion life lessons to teach us.  Golden Retrievers are especially adept at this…. but all dogs are pretty good, I’ll tell you.

Some general observances….

Wash your own dish when you a through eating.
Take naps.
If someone you like walks into the room, show them just how happy you are to see them.
On the other hand, if somebody bigger than you is peeing… get the heck out of the way.

Today, our dogs reminded me that “time” is a human device.  We labeled it, we conjured up its fragments of minutes and years and seconds and hours.  We live by its markers and measures.

All other beings follow their internal clocks.    Yes, this morning, at 5:27, the “girls” were awake and ready to go out.   The human clock followed the Daylight Savings Rules and “fell back” over night.  But to the dogs, time remained exactly the same.

This would would have been all fine and good… but I stayed up late watching reruns of Murder, She Wrote, to whittle away those extra bunch of minutes.  (I love the folks in Cabot Cove.  They have lots of Golden Retrievers there.)

But, yes.  Three dogs, we do have… three different styles of lesson giving.

From Maxine, the Queen Terrier of the house:  Set boundaries.  That way, others don’t walk all over you.  Bark just a bit… if your personal space is encroached.  Have a backbone.  Good lesson.

From Frances, the Saint.  Patience and gentleness do not go unnoticed.  Live life with those two devices, and you have set your standards of integrity and fairness at a very high place.  This is commendable.  Another good lesson.

From Ollie, the Court Jester.  Have fun.  Chase your tail. Forget about it.  Have fun.  Chase your tale.  Forget about it.  Heyyyyy…Have fun.  “HEY…. who put that tail back there???  I’m chasing it.  Wooo Hooooo!”  Forget about it.

Oh so many great things to learn from them.  But one of the best of all… might be….what they show us day in and day out.

“The heart has reasons that reason does not understand.”
-Jacques Benigne Bossuel (dog lover and keeper…. circa 1652 AD)