We were at a large conference in Costa Rica with over 600 persons in attendance representing countries from Central and South America and the USA and it was our turn to sing a song which exemplified our feelings toward our country. Members of each of the countries involved in the ceremony were to do the same, sing about their respective countries.
We Americans stood up in our red, white, and blue outfits and sang Lee Greenwood’s song, “I’m Proud to be an American.” Naturally my eyes became moist as they usually do when I sing a patriotic song.
I thought as I sang…I am singing with my fellow Americans but I am also singing among my cousins or sisters because my parents were immigrants from Mexico and the Central and South American women have Spanish and Indigenous ancestors as I do.
I heard and saw the women from the various countries in Central and South America as they, too, sang proudly and with emotion. We had some differences among the countries, but I couldn’t help but feel, we were so alike.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Perspective
Perspective
Someone said, “A person is the sum total of his experiences.” And those experiences determine how an individual perceives the world around him or her. A perfect example of this were the answers we gave my three year old grandson while reading a story to him.
First the backgrounds
Mine: I had a bench stolen from my front porch. Also, I have had folks steal other things from me in a variety of situations. Now I am more careful with what I do and where I place things.
My daughter's: My husband always told the children to do their best in school because of the bad economy. Economy was not an isolated word to him. Bad economy were two words that went together, no doubt about it. The children were well familiar with the term BAD ECONOMY.
My son-in-law’s: He works with companies that invest money. Investments are his middle name.
And now my grandson and the story he wanted us to read to him nightly, “The Beauty and the Beast”. We took turns reading the story to him and every time we came to a certain point he asked the same question. The story went something like this: There was once a very rich merchant with a beautiful daughter…The merchant suddenly lost all his money.
When I read the part of the merchant losing his money, my grandson’s reaction: Whyyyyyyyyy?
My answer: Someone stole it.
The next night my daughter read the story and when she read the part of the merchant losing his money, my grandson asked the same question: Whyyyyyyyyyyy?
My daughter’s answer: Bad economy.
The third night my son-in-law read the story and when he came to the part where he read the merchant lost his money my grandson asked the same question: Whyyyyyyyyy?
My son in law’s answer: Bad investments.
So you see the truth of anything lies somewhere in our answers, but our answers are all based on our perceptions or on our own experiences. I guess we have to draw our own conclusions, again, based on our thinking.
Someone said, “A person is the sum total of his experiences.” And those experiences determine how an individual perceives the world around him or her. A perfect example of this were the answers we gave my three year old grandson while reading a story to him.
First the backgrounds
Mine: I had a bench stolen from my front porch. Also, I have had folks steal other things from me in a variety of situations. Now I am more careful with what I do and where I place things.
My daughter's: My husband always told the children to do their best in school because of the bad economy. Economy was not an isolated word to him. Bad economy were two words that went together, no doubt about it. The children were well familiar with the term BAD ECONOMY.
My son-in-law’s: He works with companies that invest money. Investments are his middle name.
And now my grandson and the story he wanted us to read to him nightly, “The Beauty and the Beast”. We took turns reading the story to him and every time we came to a certain point he asked the same question. The story went something like this: There was once a very rich merchant with a beautiful daughter…The merchant suddenly lost all his money.
When I read the part of the merchant losing his money, my grandson’s reaction: Whyyyyyyyyy?
My answer: Someone stole it.
The next night my daughter read the story and when she read the part of the merchant losing his money, my grandson asked the same question: Whyyyyyyyyyyy?
My daughter’s answer: Bad economy.
The third night my son-in-law read the story and when he came to the part where he read the merchant lost his money my grandson asked the same question: Whyyyyyyyyy?
My son in law’s answer: Bad investments.
So you see the truth of anything lies somewhere in our answers, but our answers are all based on our perceptions or on our own experiences. I guess we have to draw our own conclusions, again, based on our thinking.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
A Gift From My Father
Today, Dec. 20, is my birthday I was born many years ago on a cold Monday morning in December. Possibly it was snowing as we lived in Central Texas. Upon hearing that my mother had delivered a little girl, my father was delighted. So happy was he about the new daughter he went to a store and bought me a Shirley Temple doll. Of course I didn't know the story until years later, and by then our bond was a strong one.
My mother, a kind person, and my father, a demanding parent, somehow or other rounded out my life through their different styles of guidance. My mother taught me kindness through example. I knew what Daddy expected of me and I attempted to please him. And I tried to never disappoint him. Right before he died at age sixty-three he told me I had never disappointed him. I thought it an odd statement as I had certainly disappointed myself several times.
Because he attempted to uplift us all by telling us we could accomplish much, I handle moments of sadness or rejection by recalling the positive statements he made to me. Then I remember it is all right and I have another opportunity to succeed.
Often I relied on the memories and the ideas he instilled in me. And that has been one of my anchors.
It's my birthday and I thank God for the parents He placed me with. And I still have the Shirley Temple doll.
My mother, a kind person, and my father, a demanding parent, somehow or other rounded out my life through their different styles of guidance. My mother taught me kindness through example. I knew what Daddy expected of me and I attempted to please him. And I tried to never disappoint him. Right before he died at age sixty-three he told me I had never disappointed him. I thought it an odd statement as I had certainly disappointed myself several times.
Because he attempted to uplift us all by telling us we could accomplish much, I handle moments of sadness or rejection by recalling the positive statements he made to me. Then I remember it is all right and I have another opportunity to succeed.
Often I relied on the memories and the ideas he instilled in me. And that has been one of my anchors.
It's my birthday and I thank God for the parents He placed me with. And I still have the Shirley Temple doll.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
The Influence of One Man
It was summertime and Janie, a Junior High student, took a job as an aide in a summer school program. The supervisor of the program Mr. Garcia had a meeting of all the aides in a school cafeteria. “I want to know the goal of every single one of you,” he told them. “What do you plan to do with your life?”
Janie raised her hand, “I plan to drop out of school.”
Mr. Garcia looked surprised. She had just been selected to work in an educational setting and she planned to drop out of school. It didn’t make sense. “Why do you want to do that Janie?”
“Just because. School is boring. I like to sew. If I drop out of school, I can sew for a living.”
After the meeting Mr. Garcia sat and conversed with Janie. “I like to sew better than anything else,” she told him.
“Do not quit school. I’ll talk to the counselor at your school so you can get in all the sewing you want.” And he did and Janie stayed in school.
Janie kept working in the summer but by high school she again told Mr. Garcia she was quitting so she could get a fulltime job and earn more money. Mr. Garcia had a summer job at a shoe store. He went to the manager and told him he wanted to quit but wanted the manager to hire an ambitious young woman. Janie started selling shoes in the summers.
Janie graduated from high school and then from college. Mr. Garcia felt so proud. She told me the story and I couldn’t get it out of my mind like a song with a catchy tune. In time Mr. Garcia died and many folks attended his service. I sat there and wondered how many folks at the funeral service were recipients of his advice. One man. An influence that lives on and on.
Janie raised her hand, “I plan to drop out of school.”
Mr. Garcia looked surprised. She had just been selected to work in an educational setting and she planned to drop out of school. It didn’t make sense. “Why do you want to do that Janie?”
“Just because. School is boring. I like to sew. If I drop out of school, I can sew for a living.”
After the meeting Mr. Garcia sat and conversed with Janie. “I like to sew better than anything else,” she told him.
“Do not quit school. I’ll talk to the counselor at your school so you can get in all the sewing you want.” And he did and Janie stayed in school.
Janie kept working in the summer but by high school she again told Mr. Garcia she was quitting so she could get a fulltime job and earn more money. Mr. Garcia had a summer job at a shoe store. He went to the manager and told him he wanted to quit but wanted the manager to hire an ambitious young woman. Janie started selling shoes in the summers.
Janie graduated from high school and then from college. Mr. Garcia felt so proud. She told me the story and I couldn’t get it out of my mind like a song with a catchy tune. In time Mr. Garcia died and many folks attended his service. I sat there and wondered how many folks at the funeral service were recipients of his advice. One man. An influence that lives on and on.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Travels with Mary
My sister Mary and I have traversed the state of Texas many times. Each time we travel peculiar things happen. The first time I noticed was when we took a trip to the central part of the state. We arrived, ate dinner, watched television, and then settled in for the night, she by going to sleep in her bed immediately while I did my nightly reading in my bed.
After an hour or Mary raised her head from the pillow and, while completely asleep, asked, “How far is it?”
I answered, “We are in Austin in a hotel.”
“But, how far is it,” she demanded to know.
“We arrived in Austin and now we are in bed.”
“But, how far is it?” she asked indignantly this time.
“Twenty miles,” I answered.
Surprisingly enough she went right back to sleep and I went back to reading my John Grisham book, although I must admit, at that moment, our hotel room seemed more interesting than whatever John Grisham offered. The next day she remembered nothing.
On another trip to Austin Mary slipped on her nightgown immediately after dinner while I, still fully dressed, read in my bed. A ringing occurred and it wasn’t the telephone. “What is that?” I asked.
“A fire alarm.”
I spoke to my sister, “Let’s go. This might be a real fire.”
“I’ve got to get dressed.” She explained.
“Just throw on a sweater or raincoat. Nobody cares.”
She comments, “I need my shoes.”
“You don’t need shoes,” I say.
Another bell rings and my sister states, “That means it was just a false alarm. You see there was no need to get excited.”
Recently we took a trip to Houston in a new car. On our way back Mary says, “Don’t forget to remind me to buy gas.” I thought only of the delicious barbeque restaurant in Wharton.
“Sure.”
After we ate our barbeque we drove on. Before long we passed Victoria and entered a long, lonely stretch in which no businesses of any kind can be found. Several miles later a small buzzer went off. “Ohhhh,” we both groaned remembering the gas we needed.
A word with the number twenty-six appeared on the dashboard. “Why, is the word DIE and 26 miles showing?” I calmly asked my sister. Surely, the car wasn’t telling us we were going to die 26 miles up the road.
“Look it up.” Sure enough, I found the manual and what it indicated was ‘Distance To Empty.’ DTE not DIE. We drove on.
She reached over to the dashboard and I quickly said, “Don’t touch anything. It’ll use up more gas.” We drove with no heating, no air conditioning, no lights, etc. The car kept showing the decreasing miles until the numbers disappeared completely and an asterisk appeared.
“What does that mean?” We asked each other as she drove on.
“I think we are on fumes.” She added.
We went down a small hill and there nestled at the bottom was a service station. We rolled in and began breathing normally. No wonder Mother always said, “En el nombre sea de Dios,” (in God’s name) before she ever entered a vehicle. Come to think of it…she only said it whenever my sister or I drove.
After an hour or Mary raised her head from the pillow and, while completely asleep, asked, “How far is it?”
I answered, “We are in Austin in a hotel.”
“But, how far is it,” she demanded to know.
“We arrived in Austin and now we are in bed.”
“But, how far is it?” she asked indignantly this time.
“Twenty miles,” I answered.
Surprisingly enough she went right back to sleep and I went back to reading my John Grisham book, although I must admit, at that moment, our hotel room seemed more interesting than whatever John Grisham offered. The next day she remembered nothing.
On another trip to Austin Mary slipped on her nightgown immediately after dinner while I, still fully dressed, read in my bed. A ringing occurred and it wasn’t the telephone. “What is that?” I asked.
“A fire alarm.”
I spoke to my sister, “Let’s go. This might be a real fire.”
“I’ve got to get dressed.” She explained.
“Just throw on a sweater or raincoat. Nobody cares.”
She comments, “I need my shoes.”
“You don’t need shoes,” I say.
Another bell rings and my sister states, “That means it was just a false alarm. You see there was no need to get excited.”
Recently we took a trip to Houston in a new car. On our way back Mary says, “Don’t forget to remind me to buy gas.” I thought only of the delicious barbeque restaurant in Wharton.
“Sure.”
After we ate our barbeque we drove on. Before long we passed Victoria and entered a long, lonely stretch in which no businesses of any kind can be found. Several miles later a small buzzer went off. “Ohhhh,” we both groaned remembering the gas we needed.
A word with the number twenty-six appeared on the dashboard. “Why, is the word DIE and 26 miles showing?” I calmly asked my sister. Surely, the car wasn’t telling us we were going to die 26 miles up the road.
“Look it up.” Sure enough, I found the manual and what it indicated was ‘Distance To Empty.’ DTE not DIE. We drove on.
She reached over to the dashboard and I quickly said, “Don’t touch anything. It’ll use up more gas.” We drove with no heating, no air conditioning, no lights, etc. The car kept showing the decreasing miles until the numbers disappeared completely and an asterisk appeared.
“What does that mean?” We asked each other as she drove on.
“I think we are on fumes.” She added.
We went down a small hill and there nestled at the bottom was a service station. We rolled in and began breathing normally. No wonder Mother always said, “En el nombre sea de Dios,” (in God’s name) before she ever entered a vehicle. Come to think of it…she only said it whenever my sister or I drove.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Life, Up Close
Our son took us to a presentation of The Secret Garden and obtained front row seats at the college theater, a gesture which was not lost on me. I love plays and the closer I sit, the more I enjoy it.
The play commenced with women attending a party in the garden. As they stood mere inches away from me, I, an aficionado of fabrics, designs, and craftsmanship looked over the costumes carefully. The dresses in blues and pinks and other pastels displayed long sleeves, lace and full skirts. How lovely, I thought. I looked closer. Much to my disappointment, I saw tears in the hems, crooked seams and missing lace. Obviously, the dresses or costumes showed wear and tear. Although it was a natural occurrence for clothes taken out of the theater’s wardrobe, I felt like one feels when an unexpected horrible and hurtful truth is told. An exposure I found hard to deal with.
But isn’t life like this? You have a girlfriend whose company you really enjoy, and then one day she lies, breaks off your lunch date and goes off to lunch with another friend. Or the boyfriend who tells you he is working at a project, and you hear he is actually with another girl. Same thing. When you get up close to the situation you see the truth. It’s just like looking into a magnifying mirror. All the flaws glare at you and you are suddenly shocked at the realization that you hadn’t seen what was really there. Perhaps you hadn’t noticed the flaws before or maybe you had just looked the other way.
Either way, the truth socks you like water splashing you when a car runs over a large puddle of water on the street which you failed to notice as you walked by. And there you are, stunned, frightened and not certain what to do next.
What to do? After mulling this over I’ve decided I still want to sit up close to the action. I want to be as close to life as I can be. Throw the truth at me. I can handle it. Surely, knowing and seeing the truth is better than believing in something and then finding out the truth later. That could hurt more. As I said before, just put me on the front row on the stage of life. I want to see and hear everything. I know all is not perfect nor is it supposed to be. I am ready to take what comes.
The play commenced with women attending a party in the garden. As they stood mere inches away from me, I, an aficionado of fabrics, designs, and craftsmanship looked over the costumes carefully. The dresses in blues and pinks and other pastels displayed long sleeves, lace and full skirts. How lovely, I thought. I looked closer. Much to my disappointment, I saw tears in the hems, crooked seams and missing lace. Obviously, the dresses or costumes showed wear and tear. Although it was a natural occurrence for clothes taken out of the theater’s wardrobe, I felt like one feels when an unexpected horrible and hurtful truth is told. An exposure I found hard to deal with.
But isn’t life like this? You have a girlfriend whose company you really enjoy, and then one day she lies, breaks off your lunch date and goes off to lunch with another friend. Or the boyfriend who tells you he is working at a project, and you hear he is actually with another girl. Same thing. When you get up close to the situation you see the truth. It’s just like looking into a magnifying mirror. All the flaws glare at you and you are suddenly shocked at the realization that you hadn’t seen what was really there. Perhaps you hadn’t noticed the flaws before or maybe you had just looked the other way.
Either way, the truth socks you like water splashing you when a car runs over a large puddle of water on the street which you failed to notice as you walked by. And there you are, stunned, frightened and not certain what to do next.
What to do? After mulling this over I’ve decided I still want to sit up close to the action. I want to be as close to life as I can be. Throw the truth at me. I can handle it. Surely, knowing and seeing the truth is better than believing in something and then finding out the truth later. That could hurt more. As I said before, just put me on the front row on the stage of life. I want to see and hear everything. I know all is not perfect nor is it supposed to be. I am ready to take what comes.
Friday, November 20, 2009
The World, Before and After Rain
It is raining hard outside right now. These rainy days remind me of rainy days when I was a child. Mama kept a large beautiful chiffonier in the living room. Even though she kept everything in it under lock and key, she gave me access to one of the bottom drawers.
In the drawer I kept play dishes and doll clothes and pieces of cloth to use on my dolls. When it rained and we couldn’t go out to play, instead of feeling disappointed, I felt joyous because it was my opportunity to play with my dolls and the things in the bottom drawer of the chiffonier. Since I was the youngest child for eight years I played mostly by myself.
We lived in a large rambling house with long glass windows that almost came down to the floor. From time to time as I played, I wondered what was going on in the outside world beyond the window, the porch, the street, and even our small town. What are other people doing when it rains like this?
I don’t wonder anymore. People do all sorts of things. They bake bread, sew, work on the computer, knit, crochet, write, converse with one another, read, and wait for the rain to stop so they can perhaps go outside and see how everything looks.
That’s what I did when the rain stopped. My brothers and I ran outside to see the world, now wet, the leaves now glistening with drops of water, roses drooping a bit, the ditch flowing like a small river, the rainbow way up in the sky, and the cleanest air one can ever breathe. It was another world and we were happy to be in it.
In the drawer I kept play dishes and doll clothes and pieces of cloth to use on my dolls. When it rained and we couldn’t go out to play, instead of feeling disappointed, I felt joyous because it was my opportunity to play with my dolls and the things in the bottom drawer of the chiffonier. Since I was the youngest child for eight years I played mostly by myself.
We lived in a large rambling house with long glass windows that almost came down to the floor. From time to time as I played, I wondered what was going on in the outside world beyond the window, the porch, the street, and even our small town. What are other people doing when it rains like this?
I don’t wonder anymore. People do all sorts of things. They bake bread, sew, work on the computer, knit, crochet, write, converse with one another, read, and wait for the rain to stop so they can perhaps go outside and see how everything looks.
That’s what I did when the rain stopped. My brothers and I ran outside to see the world, now wet, the leaves now glistening with drops of water, roses drooping a bit, the ditch flowing like a small river, the rainbow way up in the sky, and the cleanest air one can ever breathe. It was another world and we were happy to be in it.
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