Showing posts from July, 2008

The One

This past weekend, at the service for my former babysitter, I ran into the mom of a pretty good friend (partner in crime, really) from high school. I had met the mom only once, and did not recognize her. During our conversation, I found out her son he had moved back to area. I told her it would be great to hear from him or see him again, and she said she would tell him she ran into me. She asked if I was married and had kids, and I asked the same of her son. She said he had a girlfriend, but that she was not "the one." And then she said, "I think you were the one." I felt a little weird, but I managed to say something like he was a great guy/good friend. We both did like each other at different times, perhaps once at the same time, but it was just not meant to be.

But what is "the one" really? Except in very rare cases, I just don't believe there is only one person meant for each of us. After all, I have thought probably three or four different guys we…

The world around me

Sometimes I click on the "Next Blog" link at the top of my blog. In my self-centered existence, I often forget that there are millions of people on this earth who have lives that are as important and meaningful to them as my (pretty boring) life is to me.

Usually, when I happen upon a blog, I curse myself for not knowing another language (maybe Obama IS on to something). I have seen blogs written in about a half dozen different languages, and I have little to no idea what they say. I can probably recognize about 30 or 40 French words that have not left my memory from three years of French in high school and maybe 20 or so Spanish words thanks to Dora and Sesame Street, but that is it and that does not help much.

It is weird yet cool to me to experience others' lives in this medium. I have read about numerous vacations, babies, moves, art projects, dinners, deaths, etc. My visit to one site was akin to checking out Playgirl magazine. I sometimes feel as if I know these peop…

Too late (but never for hope)

I felt so smug, so good about finally getting around to writing and mailing various greetings. Instead, I should have just written them in the first place. I found out this evening that Vera, the woman who babysat my brothers and me for most of our childhood, passed away last Saturday. Unfortunately, she will never know I sent her a card wishing her a recovery to her stroke; I am guessing that card probably did not make it to New Mexico in time. My heart is heavy this evening.

George Michael wrote a song called "Praying for Time." It came out about the time of the Gulf War. I really liked it; it was one of those songs that made me cry whenever I listened to it. I caught about 10 minutes of American Idol all season, but 5 of those minutes were of GM singing that song. It still made my eyes well up with tears. And that song is going through my head right now. I think the words are especially fitting in today's time. So I will close with those. But know this: I still have ho…

From ashes to ashes

One of our neighbors, Fran, passed away on Thursday. A few weeks ago, I ran across the street to ask his wife how he was doing (Fran had cancer). Betty said that hospice had come that day. My limited understanding of that service was that people used it at/near the end of life, so I assumed his time on this earth was ending soon. Still I did not know what I could do to help, so I simply hugged her and said I would pray for them.

Bri and I did not know these people well. I first met Betty when Jordan was just a few days old and my mom was staying with us. I had just gotten out of the shower, and I heard my mom talking to a woman whose voice I did not recognize. I could not imagine why my mother let a stranger into our house. Fortunately, Betty seemed nice, and from that time on, Bri and I waved whenever we saw them. At Halloween, when I would take Jordan trick-or-treating, Betty and Fran always invited us in for a few minutes. And once when our power went out and I did not know how to g…

The road to hell is paved with good intentions

At one time, I was one of the most thoughtful people I knew (or so I thought). I never forgot a birthday (I am still good about that). I wrote thank-you cards right away (I seem to recall baby and wedding shower ones being written in a week and wedding ones getting done in three, and that was only because the honeymoon got in the way). I found the right words to say when a loved one of a friend died. But then something happened, and it all went to hell in a hand basket.

Probably at least once a month I think about a thank-you note that never gotten written for a gift from Jordan's one uncle (Brian's mom's brother) and aunt. From December 2006. Because Bri's mother and her brother don't talk all that much, it was thoughtful for them to send Jordan gifts the first few years of her life. Yet, for whatever reason, I never sent a thank-you note for that gift, although I still contemplate writing one, thinking it is never too late. And I give them credit; since then, they…