Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Growing Up American Part 3



It's been said that there's no greater blessing than having a happy childhood.

I truly did have a happy, innocent and relatively carefree childhood.  The world I grew up in cannot be recreated for my children.

But would I really want that?

Some days, yes. When the TV commercials assault my sensitivities and I hear profanity in public. When I pump gas for over four dollars a gallon.

Other times I am exhilarated at the time we live in. I revel in the web, cell phones and personal grooming products that make my life more like royalty than any other woman enjoyed in the past millinia.

But, we get what we get, and don't throw a fit. Or so I try to do.

No birth is an accident. I was placed on earth in 1958 and allowed to live to 2011 for such a time as this. So were you, no matter the date of your birth.

May we use our time wisely.


Monday, May 9, 2011

Growing Up American Part 2

We got our first TV, a black and white, when I was eight. I was already in love with Adam West who played Batman. Everyone else I knew was in love with Robin. Forgot his name...

As a middle-aged writer, I often feel a sense of loss that I started writing things down so late, even though I'd been writing in my head for years. Stephen King's "On Writing" encourages me as he reminds me that he and I are among the the final handful of novelists who learned to read and write before they watched TV. We have yet to see what a full generation of TV does to the world.

When I was in the fifth grade I remember making paper chains and glittered stars for Christmas decorations for the class, listening to John Denver sing "I'm leavin' on a jet plane..." Ironically, and unbeknownst to me, the first draft lottery since World War II had just occurred.

By the time I turned eleven, we'd walked on the moon, for the first time in History! WE, THE UNITED STATES had been the first country to do this! The Russians Sputnik had crashed, but we were literally on top of the world. We were the global big brother in every positive sense of the word.
The 'in' lipstick was white, as I recall. My father called it Fire Engine White. Needless to say, I didn't wear it.

As sixth grade ended, Ford introduced the Pinto and Jimi Hendrix died of an overdose. It was all lost on me because  in my family we didn't buy brand new cars, or listen to popular music.I don't remember any black children in my elementary school. Summer vacations were spent in the dirt lot down the street, or playing hopscotch and Chinese jump rope on my sidewalk, and the treat of all treats in the summer, swimming in 'the plunge'.

Pantyhose were coveted. I couldn't wear them until I was at least 12. My grandma bought me fishnets in psychedelic colors. My first bra didn't have any elastic. At all.

I didn't know anything about sex until we had the talk (separate from the boys) in sixth grade. As far as I know, not many others did either. If they did, they didn't talk about it around me.

None of my friends and I ever talked on the phone. The phone was used for practical communication, not hanging out. "Hanging out' wasn't invented yet. Letting your hair down was still a little suspect. (like the Russians) It wasn't done very often, but it didn't carry the connotation of anything immoral or illegal, but rather meant wearing more comfortable clothes for an outdoor outing, and maybe talking casually.

We ate dinner together every night. My mother cooked it. We ate out on vacations, and then we only ordered water to drink. There were no drive-thrus. No fast food restaurants. If you went on a road trip, you packed a lunch to eat on the way.

In the days I was growing up it felt like being American was more about the responsibility of being decent than being a superpower. It was who we were, not what we had.

Music, fashion, art, technology, and spirituality have all changed drastically since I was a child, and all of these now change more rapidly now than they ever did. The accumulation of more things that end up in the trash has escalated to an alarming rate.

As a child of the sixties, I straddled a chasm of cultural upheaval that few have the opportunity to experience. And, as a child of the sixties, I am expected to welcome, embrace, and even idolize the 'new' as superior to the old. Looking and acting old is the enemy. But - fellow baby boomers, we are growing old, and we cannot deny it forever.


Thursday, May 5, 2011

Growing Up American - Part 1



In the spirit of  my "Playing Church" tri-part blog, I'd like to ruminate in the pre-21st century American mindset for a while, specifically as I see it. I'm not unique, surely. In the past few years its been strangely odd to be an American, almost embarrassing, but when I was a kid, there was no stigma whatsoever. Everyone I knew would never have wanted to live anywhere else, except the missionaries, who only went other places so they could help people.

I was born in 1958. So was Michael Jackson, Madonna, and so were Hush Puppy shoes and Hula Hoops.
Elvis was peaking, and the first Sputnik crashed and burned. The Russians were suspect. 

By the time I was two, the Beatles had organized and they were sticking their fingers in every self-respecting adult American's sense of decency.

My days centered on going to school, which included getting under your desk if there was an air raid drill, and recognizing the dreaded triangular symbol for underground radiation-safe bunkers in case you needed to use one.They seemed to be everywhere. We pledged allegiance every morning, hands on our heart. Once, in first grade I wet my pants during the pledge because I had to go, and you didn't miss the pledge.

My father was a World War II veteran. He never talked about the war, and we didn't ask.

We ate dinner together every night. My mother cooked it. We ate out on vacations, and then we only ordered water to drink. There were no drive-throughs. No fast food restaurants. If you went on a roadtrip, you most likely packed a lunch to eat on the way.

Time seemed to pass slowly, but I am not certain that this is only a phenomenon of youth.

I learned to read in kindergarten, and to date it has been my most valuable accomplishment.

As far as I knew, everyone in my class learned to read. It would have been unthinkable if they had not.

















Monday, May 2, 2011

New News

How quickly the new news crowds out the old!

How catty (I mean chatty) everyone is!

fb is like a parlor gossipfest.

How entertaining it all is;
anything but face the sober fact of sin, death, and mortality.
How quickly elation is followed by fear.

Can we go back to the Royal Wedding?

Ah, life. The variety, the ebb and flow.
How thankful I am to be alive, and to have the option of trusting the God who loves me!

Friday, April 29, 2011

God Save the Queen - and Everyone Else

The bells rang for three hours!

When was the last time you experienced an event that warranted the glorious ringing of bells for three solid hours?

If nothing else, the Royal Wedding reminded me of all the good news I have ever known:

That little boys have angelic voices. 

That a country can remember the God of its fathers.

That Jesus Christ is the picture of a loving husband, offering his life in sacrifice to anyone who will come to Him.

That marriage is a living example of this.

That we are always encouraged to live at peace with each other, and race to be the first in honoring one another.

That personal relationships are not the answer to all our problems, our relationship with God is.

That the marriage of a man and woman is a sacred, holy moment, and deserves the attention of people everywhere who wish to support it.

In the spirit of good news, ring on!


Tuesday, April 26, 2011

The View From the Outside Cover of My Yet Unpublished Book(s)

The best things in life are truly free.

A friend recommended Stephen king's book "On Writing" and I picked it up at my favorite place-the Modesto Library!
After I trudged through the somewhat sad and seedy story of his early life (chalk that off the list of possible correlations of my life to famous writers) I got into the meaty business of how to be a writer. In the middle of a very practical treatise on making writing an everyday part of your life (or perhaps, 'how to fit a life into your reading and writing') I quote the King on this and declare it to be a true treasure.

"If you feel you need permission to do all the reading and writing your little heart desires, consider it hereby granted by yours truly."  He was 53 when he wrote this, and I'll turn 53 this year. Dare I call it a sweet coincidence?

To all my word-loving friends I pass this on, for free.

Thanks for reading!




Saturday, April 23, 2011

All Things Bright and Beautiful







May you and yours find peace and joy this Easter.

He Is Risen!




Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colors,
He made their tiny wings.

The purple headed mountains,
The river running by,
The sunset and the morning
That brightens up the sky.

The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one.

The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
To gather every day.

He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well….
Chorus
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful:
The Lord God made them all.