BELIEVE

DO YOU HAVE SOMEONE WHO BELIEVES IN YOU? I hope you do.

I know it’s important to have people who like you, people who love you and people who care about you. Lately though, I’ve been thinking how crucial it is to have someone who believes in you.

I did some googling, hoping to find a good juicy quote from someone I respect to help me make the point about how vital it is to have someone who believes in you. Weirdly, but maybe not surprisingly, the conventional wisdom—based on quotations from notables on this subject—seems to be that the most important thing is to believe in yourself. Here:

“If you believe in yourself anything is possible.” —Miley Cyrus

“When you believe in yourself and you believe that you're a person of influence and a person of purpose, I believe you can rise up out of any situation.” —Joel Osteen

“You have to believe in yourself when no one else does - that makes you a winner right there.” —Venus Williams

“When people don't believe in you, you have to believe in yourself.” —Pierce Brosnan

Okay, Okay. I realize these select examples are not exactly T.S. Eliot or C.S. Lewis or even Dr. Suess. But I have a sinking feeling these would garner a few Amens.

I’m going out on a limb here and share an idea I’m mulling over these days. This probably won’t end up in a Google search of great quotes but here it is:

I’m not so sure you can believe in yourself if you don’t have at least one person of significance in your life who believes in you. —Pops

Not to brag; but I have many, well a few anyway. Without a doubt the person who has been in the stands cheering for me the longest is my Mom. She’s in her 90s now and I’m knock-knock-knocking on 70’s door. Her belief in me hasn’t always been rational or justified or realistic, but it has been unwavering.

As a kid, I aspired to be a great athelete. Mom, a former high school cheerleader at Okmulgee High, knew a thing or two about encouraging aspiring sports stars to greatness beyond their talent level and physical potential. She used to sing this song to us when we were kids:

You’ve got to be a football hero
To get along with the beautiful girls.
You’ve got to be a touchdown getter you bet,
If you want to have a baby to pet.
The fact that you are rich or handsome,
Won’t get you anything in curls.
You’ve got to be a football hero,
To get along with the beautiful girls.

Thankfully the song is wrong. You can also be a drummer in the band and be lucky enough to have an Amazing-Missus with curls.

No matter what we aspired to, achieved or didn’t, Mom was always a believer.

A friend asked me one time: what is your greatest fear? Without hesitation, I said, “Squandering opportunity and becoming irrelevant.”

I told my oldest son that the other day as he and I were talking about Life. He said, “I wouldn’t worry about that Dad. I’ve seen you reinvent yourself numerous times.”

That is so empowering and encouraging. Every time my sons or others ask me for my thoughts, I know they believe in me. And the older I get the more I’m able to see their maturity and wisdom, their quiet, solid leadership. I believe in them. I believe in their beautiful wives and our grandkids.

Since 1972, the person whose belief I trust and value most is My Amazing-Missus. Without a doubt, I believe one of the most beautiful things about our marriage is that we believe in one another.

Maybe one of the greatest gifts we can give someone is to believe in them. That’s one of the things I loved about working with teenagers for many many years. I wanted them to know that I believed in them. Of course, I wanted them to know that God believes in them. I know that too. But it sure means a lot when someone says it to you. Maybe that’s one of God’s best gifts—the people he places along our journey who believe in us.

If I can be honest, I’m in a real dilemma right now. As I’ve said, my Mom has always been there for us. Now the shoe is on the other foot. I believe in my Mom, that’s for sure. She is a fighter. She has fought back from so much. A few months ago, she had a fall—not her first. She has more articial joints than real ones. This time though she is fighting back alone. My Dad passed a little over a year ago. He was always there to encourage her. She knew he believed she could and should bounce back. With the pandemic we have not been able to visit her in the rehab unit. She has been on her own.

In her last evaluation from her care team, they reported that she will not be able to return to her assited living apartment which means she’ll be moving to the nursing home wing. Anyone who knows my mom knows that she clearly and emphatically stands on preferring anything to going to the nursing home. Last night she told me she asked the physical therapist if she would just put her and her purse on a bus to California.

I tried to explain to her that she can once again gain the strength and dexterity to return to her apartment and be safe, so we don’t worry about another fall. But, when I told her that we had packed up her stuff for storage…

I’m afraid that she has come to the point where she thinks no one believes in her anymore. She says things like, “We know that won’t happen, I’m not getting better again. I’ve done all that the therapists have asked me to do. I don’t know what else I can do.”

Now, believing in her will have to different. My mom is very social, she loves to visit with people and dig in to their personal lives. She has a way of giving people the idea that she believes in them, because she does—if they will let her.

Maybe I will say to her: Mom I know this isn’t what you wanted, but I believe you will find ways to make a difference in people’s lives just as you always have. I believe in you Mom.

NOOKS AND CRANNIES

IT CAN HAVE A CERTAIN DESPERATION TO IT—we searched every nook and cranny. Or, you can describe your hoarding auntie—she has stuff crammed in every nook and cranny. Or, maybe it can prompt some sort of adventure—let’s explore every nook and cranny. Let’s talk about that one.

The Cambridge dictionary says that nooks and crannies are: every part of a place.

Dictionary.com says: Everywhere. This metaphoric idiom pairs nook, which has meant “an out-of-the-way corner” since the mid-1300s, with cranny, which has meant “a crack or crevice” since about 1440.

Since we’re going to go digging through nooks and crannies as a sort of adventure let’s start with the places. Places can be literal like an attic or basement, a library and even a book. Places can be your town, or your state, or beyond. Think about people like Lewis and his buddy Clark. As they trekked mapless across the continent it was pretty much all nooks and crannies. But, let’s go further, let’s say a place full of nooks and crannies can be your own mind and soul, your memories and your stories.

My adventure for now is sleuthing for goodness, truth and beauty in our modern day culture and in myself. I’m going to confess some despair, because in the thin, wide open, garishly-lit places of the 24-hour news cycles, politics, religion, social media, pop-culture, etc. I’m not finding much; goodness, truth, beauty that is. So, these must surely be in the nooks and crannies. I know they haven’t gone away completely. It’s just that most everything else is so loud, chaotic, shrill, flashing, strobing, grating, grinding, shallow, deceptive, false and dissimulating.

It sounds like I’m describing the Las Vegas strip. It’s kind of pretentious like that, but more pervasive and sneaky and ugly. I’ve been to Vegas twice: once for a trade show, once to accept an award for a web design project. I don’t like it at all. It’s not that I’m taking some moral highground, but I’ve been to Paris. I’ve been to New York many times. I would suggest that if you want to experience either, go there; not to some gaudy Vegas charade of those two great cities. (Although I would recommend seeing the 1963 film “Charade” starring Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn.)

Excuse me while I get my train back on the tracks.

Do you find all of this—our current state of affairs—a bit disorienting? I do. Do you sort of despise the “new normal”? I do. Do you long for something solid that you can count on? I realize this is beginning to sound like a set up for some product I’m selling like an herb or oil or potion, like a wand Harry or Hermione might have, or maybe a book or a sermon. Sorry.

I do have this though: there is goodness, truth and beauty all around us. There is a certain joy in the search and in the discovery. Looking in the nooks and crannies always promises a eureka moment. I often find them in song lyrics like this scripture turned popular song:

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under heaven

Or, in a verse:

“So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” —Jesus

Sometimes we can find them vicariously. Surely by now you’ve heard the stories of Steve Hartman. He is the Sherlock Holmes of uncovering goodness, truth and beauty; along the road. Here is his Facebook page. Click and rejoice. Discover them through Steve’s encounters.

Where do you find goodness, truth and beauty?

HANDS, LIPS & THE DEVIL

MY MATERNAL GRANDMOTHER was a fount of wisdom and warnings: Play with fire and you’ll wet the bed. Hike in the woods and you’ll get a chigger on your wigger. And, one I heard often: Idle hands are the devil’s workshop. Each of her warnings was uttered with the authority of divine edict, or certainly, scriptural backing.

I’ve done a bit of Bible reading over my life and can’t remember a reference to bed-wetting, chiggers or wiggers (unless you count all that circumcision stuff). The line about idle hands didn’t appear in any version of the Bible until 1971, The Living Bible version, published that year, intrepreted Proverbs 16:27 as, “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop; idle lips are his mouthpiece.” My grandmother was proclaiming this truth long before 1971.

I bring this up for a couple of reasons. #1) On that loose lips part, you should read what I wrote and was going to post before I chose to write this! #2) Apparently that idle-hands thing took root. I try to keep my hands busy so the devil’s workshop remains closed.

This also serves to meet the warning of my mentor and guide through the aging process who said that every old guy needs a hobby in retirement; or else. Retirement is at hand, so I’m trying to find ways to keep mine busy doing something besides running the TV remote and writing stuff that will get me in trouble. I’ve also discovered that if I don’t keep my hands busy, sometimes My Amazing Missus will find ways for me to get them busy.

I don’t play golf. I would play tennis but I think I’m too good to play with the old geezers. I don’t like yardwork, or sawdust. I like flyfishing but I live in central Oklahoma. The only trout you’ll find around here are in the freezer at the grocery store. I play my drums, but how much of that can we all stand?

So, I’m trying my hands at leatherwork. I did a bit of that back in the 60s and really enjoyed it. So why wouldn’t it work in my 60s.

Recently I made a leather case for a bottle of essential oil. It turned out well so I’ve made a few more.

My latest project was a bit more challenging. I decide to make a bag for My Amazing Missus. When I started on the project I thought, if this goes well I might make a few more and see if I could sell them to help support my hobby. The bag is done. Based on the work/time/materials, I think I’ll price them at $14,329.00 (including shipping). In other words: I don’t plan to make another one.

I don’t know what I’ll do with all the stuff I’m making but at least my hands are busy; some of the time.

Coaster set and holder

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FOR TODAY

TODAY IT SEEMS ESPECIALLY CRUEL. I’m not much of a socializer. It’s not that I’m shy or too sophisticated for small talk, or uninterested in the lives of others—well maybe a little. Let’s just say that when it comes to the social distancing part of quarantine, I’m okay. Except! When it comes to our kids and GrandKids; and Mom, especially today.

On May 12, we sang Happy Birthday to Malachi on a Zoom call. It broke my heart. I’m grateful for Zoom and FaceTime and for kids who are doing what they can to help us stay in “touch” with the GKs. But this is hard. Sunday, was Karlee’s piano recital. I’ve never missed one; until now. Oh, we watched on YouTube and it was wonderful, but different.

Today though it seems especially cruel. Today would have been Mom and Dad’s 74th wedding anniversary. This will be her first one without him. It will be her first one without anyone from her family being physically there with her. She is in assisted-living with strict lockdown. It is as it should be for now, but hard nonetheless.

I’ve thought about how it might be different for her if Dad were still here. Their life was pretty well suited to a quarantine type existence. They started each morning the same. Dad would be up first, his coffee made, waiting for her to start their daily readings. His eyes failed him years ago so reading was impossible, but he had mom. They would start with their daily devotional book and move on to the daily newspaper, page A1 headlines first and then the sports page (a routine she follows to this day, although the sports page is not what it once was). They would have been fine as long as Gunsmoke, M*A*S*H, and Jeopardy were on. The turmoil of quarantine would have hit once the scheduled St. Louis Cardinals’ game didn’t begin.

For a lot of 90-somethings you could have played any old Cardinals game from the past. They wouldn’t have known that Ozzie retired years ago. But Dad did. Mom served as a sort of play-by-play announcer for him. She knew all the players. She probably wouldn’t pronounce their names correctly but she knew them. Dad could see enough that he could tell the Cardinals players apart. I don’t know if he recognized their silouette, their batter’s box routine, their pitching motion?

But the Cardinal’s aren’t playing for now. Mom has a wonderful team of care-givers where she lives. For now, for today that will be enough for her. She is resilient. She has her books, her eyesight and GrandKids who love her. As she says, quoting her own mother, “This too shall pass.”

But for today; it seems especially cruel.