On Being Alone

Thought for the day:  Language has created the word 'loneliness' to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word 'solitude' to express the glory of being alone. [Paul Tillich]

[image courtesy of unsplash]

There's a huge difference between reveling in the glorious solitude of an early morning walk on the beach, where we thoroughly enjoy our own company and feel at one with the universe...

[image courtesy of unsplash]

and the devastating soul-sucking feeling of loneliness. The sense that one has been deserted. Has no one. Is totally alone and unwanted in this world.

Solitude is not the same as loneliness. Solitude is a solitary boat floating in a sea of possible companions. [Robert Fulghum]

By contrast, I suppose the lonely don't believe there are any possible companions for them. Nothing but a sea of emptiness as far as they can see.

[courtesy of unsplash]

My guess is you've all seen it: crowds of people with downcast eyes, fiddling with their cellphones while ignoring the flesh-and-blood people who are surrounding them. This isn't just a phenomenon that occurs among strangers, either. It happens within families.

From the boardroom to the bedroom, we're connected 24/7, yet loneliness is at an all-time high. More people are reaching for mobile devices than for the hand of someone in need. Where did our humanity go? [Elizabeth Kapu'uwailani Lindsey]

But we can't blame this disconnect on modern technology. Sure, the proliferation of cellphones has made the situation more blatantly noticeable, but the truth is, the disconnect pre-dates the advent of the cellphone.

[image courtesy of unsplash]

Why is it that people are more likely to react to a lonely dog with empathy than they are to a person?

[image courtesy of unsplash]

Why does a pitiful-looking kitten pluck on our heartstrings, while the sight of a saddened human being is more likely to make us look the other way? (If we even notice that person in the first place.)

It's as though we're all insulated in our own little worlds (i.e. our vehicles) passing thousands of other people, who are also insulated in their own little worlds. Separated. Disconnected.

[image courtesy of unsplash]

 How many of you would feel compelled to speak to a lonely old woman sitting by herself? To a laughing child? To a person of a different race, sex, or generation than you?

I confess. To me, strangers are just friends I haven't made yet. You could say I'm an equal-opportunity annoyer. That's how I acted as a kid, and I still haven't outgrown it. (Just between you and me, I hope I never do.) Smarticus is the same way. Some would call us extroverts, I suppose. Personally, I think we just have big yaps. No one is safe from our friendly yammering, and no matter how standoffish or surprised people may be initially, they've always come around and engaged in conversations with us in the end.

Know why? Because I think people are lonely. We NEED to feel connected to other people, and that sense of belonging is achingly absent in the lives of far too many people.

Loneliness can be a serious health condition, too, especially for the elderly. According to an AARP study, prolonged social isolation is as risky to a person's well-being as smoking fifteen cigarettes a day.

Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty. [Mother Teresa]

                                   And loneliness all too often leads to depression.

So why don't we reach out to each other more?  Are we introverts, or are we simply afraid of being rejected? Afraid of what that other person might think or how he might react? What if there were a safe place to interact with strangers, a place where you'd know ahead of time that the other person does, indeed, want to talk to somebody, and would welcome the opportunity to meet you?

Thanks to English policeman Detective Sargent Ashley Jones, these places do exist. He became aware of how devastating loneliness can be for seniors when an elderly widow who'd been bilked of more than thirty thousand dollars by a con man told him she didn't mind, because without the con man's daily phone calls, in which he pretended to be her friend, she wouldn't have spoken to another human being for weeks on end. She was lonely and that con man temporarily eased her profound sense of loneliness.

So the good officer did something about it. In June, he got permission to give special status to a couple benches in two local parks.

How are they special? They're called chat benches... and they have made a difference. So much so, ten more benches were added shortly after the first two, often in places where the elderly tend to congregate. Now, there are forty of these benches spread throughout the UK, and other countries are starting to  notice, like Australia and the U.S.

Isn't that fantastic???


                             Here's a short video to tell you a bit more about the benches:

So what do you think? Think this is going to be an idea that'll sweep the world and make a real difference in lives far and wide? I sure hope so. In a world of manufactured problems based on our perceived differences, how wonderful it would be if we all could learn to sit down and chat a spell with a stranger. Remember, (s)he's just a friend you haven't met yet... and even without a bench, each of us has the power to change that.

We can all fight against loneliness by engaging in random acts of kindness. [Gail Honeyman]

In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit. [Albert Schweitzer]

Try to be a rainbow in someone's cloud. [Maya Angelou]

If you light a lamp for someone, it will also brighten your path. [Buddhist saying]

If you meet someone without a smile, give him one of yours.

Give a stranger a smile. It might be the only sunshine he sees all day.

Making a person smile can change the world. Maybe not the whole world, but their world.

                                         Be the reason someone smiles today.

                               Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Careful What You Wish For

Thought for the day:  Why are you trying so hard to fit in when you were born to stand out? [Oliver James]

Have you ever felt like you didn't quite belong? Like you were on the outside looking in?

Meet Cowboy. He belongs to a neighbor, but I think he wishes he were our cat. Most mornings, when I open our front door, he's right there, waiting for me. He immediately sits up and peers in at me. (Or at least, he looks in my general direction... as cross-eyed as he is, it's kinda hard to tell.) He looks pitiful, and dare I say ... hopeful?

Matter of fact, he spends a good bit of time lying or sitting on our front porch. Looking in. Looking pitiful. Or in our back yard, following us around or gazing into the house from out there. He could be running around the neighborhood, doing whatever it is outside cats are supposed do all day, but instead, he bides his time ... wastes his time ... looking in our windows. Wishing he were inside. Hoping his luck will change.

If wishes were horses, all beggars would ride; it wishes were fishes, we'd all have some fried.

He isn't our cat, but I guess you could say he's our collateral pet, just like the other critters who come to our place for a handout and a scratch behind the ear. We don't mind him hanging around, but there's something heart-breaking about the sight of him looking in our window so often.

His expression looks so ...  familiar ...

I'm pretty sure I know how he feels. I've been excluded a time or two.

And I've seen people with that same wistful expression, people who bide their time ... waste their time ... pining to be someone or somewhere they aren't. Essentially, they're wasting their lives on wishes for fishes instead of eating what they have right in front of them, or reaching for the doggone fishing rod. Rather than enjoying what IS, they waste their time wishing for what isn't.

Sometimes Cowboy and Dot look at each other through the window.

Sometimes he and Dash watch each other.

Cowboy wants to come inside so badly. He wishes it were so. We can see it in his face when he stares in the front door. We can see it in his face when he stares in our back sliding glass doors. We can see it when he tries to slip inside when we open the door, and when he rolls on the ground in front of us, doing his tricks and trying so very hard to please.

He wants to be part of the... in crowd.

                                                                     Ironically,

                                                  when we're on the OUTSIDE, we want IN.

                                     

                                             And when we're on the INSIDE, we want OUT.

Is happiness always just on the other side of a proverbial closed door? When we're different from everybody else, we wanta be the same, and when we're too much like everybody else, we yearn to be different. Ya know what? Inside yourself or outside, you never have to change what you see, only the way you see it.  [Thaddeus Golas]  We yam what we yam. And we yam pretty damned good.

Okay, so maybe you never felt like part of the in crowd. Big deal!

So what? Be a standout.

Outside may very well be the new in place. There's lots of us out  here.

 I was always looking outside myself for strength and confidence, but it comes from within. It is there all the time.  [Anna Freud]

So by all means, chase your dreams. Never give up on the possibilities. May we never be so blind that all we see is our own small world, nor so self-satisfied that all we are is all we ever hope to be. Keep striving. But... don't waste too much time making fruitless wishes.

Cowboy may wish to come in, but I have a feeling he wouldn't like the reality of this mean old lady trimming his nails every couple weeks. And no matter how much he begged, we'd never provide him with live birds or mice to supplement his diet, either.

                                   And you guys? Always, always be careful what you wish for...

Well, ladies and gentlemen, it's time for this old gal to take her annual leave of absence. I'll be vacating the blogosphere and focusing on some other things for the next month... like working on my current book, doing some dreaded spring cleaning, and editing a very talented writer's most recent book.  I'll seeya in May. I wish... you all the best. 

But, first... I couldn't resist.

 Even though I won't be here for next Wednesday's IWSG post, the May question kinda goes along with this wishful thinking post:

If you could use a wish to help you write just one scene/ chapter of your book, which one would it be?  

 See what I mean? That question was like made to accompany this post. My answer? If I'm gonna wish, I might as well wish big. (Insert deep breath here.) The ultimate wish fulfillment would be to write a scene... any scene... that would so capture the imagination and respect of readers, they'd tell all of their friends, You've gotta read this book!"

Yeah, that'd be cool, but in the meantime, I'm not holding my breath. If you haven't read either of my novels yet, here's a heads up: next week, Amazon will have both e-books on sale for the paltry sum of ninety-nine cents in both the U.S. and the U.K. Don't have a Kindle? No biggie. I hear Amazon has a FREE app that'll allow you to read e-books. (A left click on the book covers in the sidebar will deliver you directly to Amazon U.S.)

                         
                               Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Keeping Count

Thought for the day:  Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down.  [Oprah Winfrey]

[courtesy of Morguefile]

Remember the simple innocence of childhood friendships? For me, part of those good old days entailed decorating a shoe box with lopsided construction paper hearts every Valentine's Day, cutting a big slit in the lid, and then sitting it on my school desk to collect cards from the other kids in my class. You know, back in the days when everybody was everybody else's ♪ tra-la ♫ best friend. 

Yeah, right.

It would have been really nice if it had worked that way. Truth is, not all kids got their shoe boxes stuffed full of cards. Some were ridiculed and shunned on the playground... and then horribly humiliated on Valentine's Day by how few cards made it into their boxes. That must have hurt. Kids crave a sense of belonging and self-worth, and for better or worse, they get a lot of that from how the other kids treat them. How many ♪ tra-la ♫ friends they have... or think they have... is terribly important to them.

You think that's why some people are so keen to amass a ton of ♪ tra-la ♫ friends on Facebook? I wonder. 

[image courtesy of Morguefile]

Now, don't get me wrong. I like making new friends as much as the next person. I'm one of those weirdos who strikes up conversations with complete strangers all the time. (Hey! Strangers are just friends we haven't met yet, right?) But I don't make ♪ tra-la ♫ friends indiscriminately on social media. Just because I always gave Valentine's Day cards to every kid in my class doesn't mean I have to say yes to everyone who approaches me on social media. 

Like that weirdo who said his hobby was collecting women. (Um, no thank you, I think I'll pass...) Or the despicable guy who slept with our friend's wife back in the sixties when he was deployed overseas with the military. (Did that guy really think I'd forgotten how much pain he caused...?) 

Are you a fan of Facebook? I must admit, I post on there from time to time... mostly punny stuff, things that tickle my funny bone, or info that I find particularly interesting. Can't say that I've ever announced to the world that I just ate a bowl of cereal for breakfast, or that I'm currently driving on I-85, though. (Who cares???) And I also like other posts from time to time, too. Again, it's mosty punny stuff, things that tickle my funny bone, or info that I find particularly interesting. But I, um, don't click like on my own posts. To me, that'd be like high-fiving myself. 

But how about today's kids? Being popular on social media is really important to them, and they all want the status of having BIG NUMBERS, so I don't know how much they discriminate. They want lots of friends, lots of likes. Being un-friended is a big deal, like a humiliating slap in the face. For youngsters, the whole experience can be wrapped in drama, and sometimes, in genuine tragedy. 

Life is an awful, ugly place to not have a friend.  [Sarah Dessen]

Author Medeia Sharif is well aware of how important social media are to young people these days, and it rightfully plays a vital role in her latest book. And guess what? You don't have to wait six months or more to read her new book, because it is being released... (ta DA!)

                          TODAY!!!!!!

Here's a little blurb to whet your appetite:

52 LIKES by Medeia Sharif

Cover Reveal, Evernight Teen, 2015

After a brutal rape and near-murder, Valerie wants to get past feelings of victimhood from both the assault and her history of being bullied. She’s plagued by not knowing the identity of her rapist and by the nasty rumors in school about that night. Valerie follows clues from ghostly entities, past victims of the rapist-murderer, contacting her through a social media site—why do all of their eerie photos have 52 likes under them? Their messages are leading her to the mystery man, although he’ll put up a fight to remain hidden.

Find Medeia – YA and MG Author

Blog   |   Twitter   |   Goodreads   |   Instagram   |   Amazon

Sounds good, doesn't it? It IS good. The lovely Medeia was kind enough to send me a copy last week. This is what I posted about the book on Goodreads:

What can I say about this book? I LIKED it; I reeeeally liked it. I think it's gonna hit a big fat bull's eye with its target teenaged market, but it's a book well worth reading for us (ahem) more mature folks, as well. 

The appeal for teens? The author zeroes in on what it's like to be a teenager in today's world, so kids will definitely be able to relate to the behavior and language of this book's characters. I must admit, I was a little taken aback at the first f-bomb I encountered, but hey! I suppose that IS the way some kids talk nowadays, whether we old effs (as in fogies) like it or not. Social media plays a vital role in this story, which is certainly something kids will understand. What's more, the potential danger of using social media recklessly is also a vital part of the story. Young people's eyes may roll or glaze over when we try to "warn" them about those dangers, but this book, while engrossing them in the story, allows them to reach that conclusion on their own. It teaches a very important lesson without waving an annoying know-it-all finger in their faces. (We ALL hate that, right?) Plus, there's the story itself. Rape and murder, pain and cruelty, and the meaning of true friendship... it's all in there. Oh, and how about some paranormal stuff, too, to stir the pot up even more? Yep, I think this is a book a lot of teens will love. Personally, I plan to buy it for my two teenaged granddaughters.

And for us older folks? It's absolutely eye-opening to see how cruel kids can be to each other. No wonder some kids hate to go to school. I had no idea...

Plus, there's the story. It's captivating, whether you're fourteen, forty, or (ahem) even older. I'd give it four and a half very enthusiastic stars, rounded up to five. Many thanks to the author for sending me a copy for review prior to publication. The rest of you can get YOUR copy on January 16th!
***

Um yeah, that's TODAY! 

Have a terrific weekend, y'all. Maybe we'll cross paths on Facebook this weekend. There's a real good chance I'll be having breakfast... and will be riding on I-85. Just in case you wanted to know...

                               Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Wanta Funny-Looking Cat?

Thought for the day:  You can keep a dog; but it is the cat who keeps people, because cats find humans useful domestic animals. [George Mikis]

[image courtesy of Morguefile]

I don't know who that cute kitty in the picture is, but I think he's laughing at Smarticus and me, because the cats of the world have us right where they want us. They've got us well-trained, pegged as a couple ol' softies, and have been tweeting and re-tweeting their mews far and wide: Visit the Swiderski Cat Resort.

Believe it or not, that isn't necessarily a good thing. Sometime messages get intercepted, ya know.

This is Dot. She's kinda the alpha cat around here. (When Dash lets her.) If we hadn't named her at such a young age, we could have named her better. Something like Ethel. Or Tankerbelle. (Um, yeah, she's rather large. And clumsy.)

Cats can work out mathematically the exact place to sit that will cause the most inconvenience.  [Pam Brown]

This is Dash. A better name for her would have been Lucy or Tinkerbelle. Or maybe Dora the Explora. She's tiny, but incredibly fearless when it comes to climbing.

A cat can purr its way out of anything.  [Donna McCrohan]

These two have been in charge ever since we rescued them as teeny kittens five years ago.

And this is Daisy. Yep, she's still with us. This is the sweet little girl neighbors left behind when they moved away. She's nice and healthy now, and eats like a lumberjack. But alas, we still haven't successfully assimilated her into the house. For one thing, number one and number two divas haven't exactly welcomed her with open paws. Yet. ( I haven't given up, but it'd be great if someone local would adopt her...)

I had been told that the training procedure with cats was difficult. It's not. Mine had me trained in two days.  [Bill Dana]

For now, Daisy is living in our Florida room. Because it can get rather toasty in there in the hottest part of the day, she also has an egress point so she can slip out into the yard. Unfortunately, an opening to allow escape also allows for entrance. And not just for Daisy.

Remember Cowboy? He's the neighbor's cat who spends most of his time hanging out at our place, because he obviously thinks he belongs here. Used to be, he'd look into our house all pitiful-like from the front porch or back step. Let me tell ya, he's verrry happy Daisy has taken up residence in our Florida room, because it's a much more comfortable spot for him to grab a snack and take a snooze.

We don't mind the big fella's visits. We don't mind the other neighborhood cats who likely stop in for a bite to eat, either. They're very polite. No fights. No messes. Just nibble-nibble, nap-nap, and on their way. No problem.

Until there WAS a problem. When we came home from a recent four-day trip to Tennessee, our Florida room was a disaster area. The five-pound feeder was knocked over and completely empty, and the dishes of water were black with filth. Dirt and feces everywhere. It was obvious someone was being a crappy house guest. Literally.

To catch the culprit,  Smarticus baited a trap with cat food and set it out the next evening. Next morning, we found one of the funniest-looking cats you ever saw...

Eating cat food doesn't make you a cat any more than hanging out in a garage makes you a car.

Things are back to normal again around here, or as normal as any feline resort ever gets, I suppose. I had no idea raccoons could be so nasty, though. Cute, but nasty... and definitely devious. Check out this video of another raccoon thief. The last part is a hoot.

                                    Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot! The lovely Carol Kilgore is featuring me(!) as her featured author for her giveaway contest this month. Winner gets an autographed copy of Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade and a copy of the super-duper Old Broads Waxing Poetic. To enter, visit her website and click on that nifty contest badge in her sidebar. It's easy, and it's FUN! Just respond to the question she poses there. Heck, why not make it a habit? She gives away neat stuff every month. No telling what we might sniff out...

When Cats Meow, I Jump

Thought for the day: Dogs have owners; cats have staff.

At one time, Smarticus didn't think he liked cats. But that was before we had cats. Now he spoils them every bit as much as I do.

Which, of course, is exactly what every cat deserves. Just ask 'em. They'll tell you. They were once worshiped as gods, and as far as they're concerned, they should still be worshiped as gods. Makes sense, right? This explains their uncanny ability to maintain such a haughty regal air about them, even when they're caught doing something stupid or clumsy.

Anyhow, much to my surprise, it looks like we have three cats now. Yeah, three.

Remember Dash?  This is what she looked like when we adopted her from the shelter almost five years ago.

And this is what Dot looked like. We figured two cats would be juuuuuust right. That way, they could entertain each other. Besides, we had no choice. They picked us. (Anyone who has ever adopted an animal understands exactly what that means.)

This is closer to what they look like now. Most of the time, they get along well, except for occasional bouts of sibling rivalry...

... like over who gets to sit on my lap. I was reading the newspaper... Oh well, what can I say? Their royal highnesses decided it was nap time.

If you'd like to see an earlier post about our girls, including some fun little-known secrets about cats, go here.

Cats work out mathematically the exact place to sit that will cause the most inconvenience. [Pam Brown]

Anybody remember Cowboy? I wrote about him a while back. Lots of you urged me to adopt him. He was forever hanging around our house, looking in the windows and waiting on our front porch to greet me every morning, so we thought he was a stray. I mean, he was the epitome of the poor outsider looking in. So you might think HE would be our new resident feline. But nope. It turns out, he has a home. He still spends a fair amount of time in our yard looking for some cuddles and some food, (not necessarily in that order) but since his owner got him fixed, he doesn't spend nearly as much time mooning at us through the windows. (Hmmm, methinks it may be possible he was mooning at our girls.)

This is the new Swiderski feline. We named her Daisy. Her previous owners moved away, and left her behind to fend for herself. Before they dumped her, we saw her in our yard a few times, often being chased away by Cowboy. But she was extremely skittish, and not very friendly.

Then we noticed she was getting thinner and thinner, so natch, we started providing her with food, too. Her own bowls on the front porch... away from where Cowboy had his bowls out back. (His and every stray cat from miles around, that is. I swear, there must be some sort of underground communication that enables critters to let other critters know where the restaurants are. A very very large raccoon especially seems to enjoy the cuisine...)

Anyhow, the more we fed her, the friendlier she became. The more loving she became. The closer she came to making us fall on our arses because she kept doing figure eights around our feet whenever we walked outside. And the more she tried to follow us into the house.

Uh-oh. It was pretty clear. She'd picked us.

So we had no choice. We took her to the vet. Got her tested, de-wormed, and up-to-date with her shots. She's spayed, clear of fleas, and has a clean bill of health. Okeydoke. Time to bring her inside.

FIREWORKS! [Morguefile]

Not so okeydoke.

Dash and Daisy don't get along very well. What an understatement! They chased each other around the house like a couple crazed bats outta hell. (sigh) Talk about noisy fireworks!

Oh well. Our fault. We should have taken more time to introduce Daisy into the herd. Especially to our princess Dash.

Now, the new little kitty is in our Florida room, where our other girls can see her... but can't get at her. Dash and Daisy still try to attack each other through the glass from time to time, but I think they're becoming a little more used to each other. I'm hopeful they'll eventually learn to live together, and soon. Otherwise, we're gonna have to find Daisy a new home.

[Would anyone like to adopt a cat? Daisy's about eighteen months old, less than ten pounds, and extremely sweet and loving. Isn't picky about what she eats, either. She gobbles up whatever kind of cat food, wet or dry, that we give her. I guess being abandoned on the street has a way of instilling appreciation, huh? Seriously, if any of you local folks are interested, just send me an email or give us a call. We'll even throw in a big bag of food! Pssst... hey, Kyle...!]

And so it goes. At least for now, we have three cats.

And I swear, we're stopping at three.

I think.



I had been told that the training procedure with cats was difficult. It's not. Mine had me trained in two days.  [Bill Dana]



Oh yeah, it's been a while since I posted anything new about the things our pets have taught me. Well, I've learned something else new from our cats, especially Dot. She loves to knead my belly. Vigorously. So what have I learned? It's her fault. I'm not really gaining weight. Thanks to her administrations, my belly is simply... rising.

Cats are the ultimate narcissists. You can tell this because of all the time they spend on personal grooming. A dog's idea of personal grooming is to roll on a dead fish. [James Gorman]

As you read this, I'm not anywhere near my computer. (Dontcha love the pre-scheduling feature on Blogger?) I'm actually doing something really really cool. I'll tell ya about it next Friday, but in the meantime, I won't be online to respond to your comments for a while. But I will get back to you. Assuming our four-legged furry kids let me up, that is...

                                     Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

The Face of Christmas

Thought for the day:  People who are homeless are not social inadequates. They are people without homes.  [Sheila McKechnie]

 You can't see my face, but I still have one.

Are there any homeless people in your town? Do you ever pass them when you're walking down the street? Maybe see them sleeping on a park bench or under a slab of cardboard? Do you... see them? I mean, really see them?

Most people don't, you know. Most don't look at their faces, and don't think of them as real people. As individuals. It's much easier to dismiss them as a faceless and nameless group of... what? Unfortunates?

A castaway in the sea was going down for the third time when he caught sight of a passing ship. Gathering his last strength, he waved frantically and called for help. Someone on board peered at him scornfully and shouted back, "Get a boat!" [Daniel Quinn]

Is that the kind of disdain society shows the homeless? I'm ashamed to say it, but all too often, it is.

Last month, a homeless man who's been wandering the streets of Atlanta since March was featured in the newspaper. His story started with him doing what he does every day... digging through dumpsters for something to eat.

Well, he found a wallet in one of the dumpsters. A Frenchwoman's wallet... and it contained her ID and credit card. This homeless man... this man named Joel... was determined to make it right for that tourist, so he walked from hotel to hotel, until he found where she was staying. At the luxurious Omni hotel, he turned the wallet over to the desk clerk. When the clerk asked for his name, Joel gave him a fake name. What difference did it make? He was... nobody.

But he wasn't nobody to the hotel manager. Based on Joel's picture taken by the security camera, people hit the streets until they found him... and brought him back to the hotel. There, he was given five hundred dollars and a week's stay, complete with free room service and a traditional Thanksgiving dinner.

Joel was much appreciative of the shower and bed. He also received new clothes, a haircut, and new-found dignity. He also got a lot of publicity. Other people sent money and gifts to him, and he got several job offers. He was the homeless man who'd done the right thing. He was the homeless man with a background story... the homeless man with a face. With a name...

And a family, a family that had been trying to find him for the past decade. His deceased father's long-time girlfriend and two half-brothers flew to Atlanta to reunite with him. They all had Thanksgiving dinner together. Then the family left. Went back home to their lives.

Joel's story certainly doesn't end there, but that's the end of the newspaper coverage. What happened to him when he left that luxury hotel? Did he go to Alaska, like he said he wanted to do? Did he get the medical and mental help he needed? Will he be able to hold a job this time? Can he get back on his feet... and stay there? Will he ever see his family again?

Joel's short time in the limelight brings up a lot of questions. Like, what does it say about decent society that it can be so insultingly surprised that a homeless man did the right thing? After all, no matter what his current circumstances, how can we justify jumping to the automatic assumption that he isn't a kind and caring soul, and a decent man with concern for other people?

I mean, I don't think I'm alone when I look at the homeless person or the psychotic or the drunk or the drug addict and see their baby pictures in my mind's eye. You don't think they were cute like every other baby? [Dustin Hoffman]

Hungry not only for bread — but hungry for love. Naked not only for clothing — but naked for human dignity and respect. Homeless not only for want of a room of bricks — but homeless because of rejection.  [Mother Teresa]

 I also can't help but wonder if this time of year... this glorious time of Thanksgiving, Hannukah, Christmas, and joy to the world isn't the real reason Joel got the royal treatment for a week. Do you think he would have been treated so well in the middle of  July or August?

Have you ever wished people were as loving and caring year-round as they are during this time of year? Wondered why the smiles and laughter aren't as heartfelt, and the hugs as warm, in March as they are in December? Why you don't get a mountain of wrapped presents every day, instead of just one measly time a year? (Only kidding about that one. Just checking to see if you were paying attention.) Anyway, Christmas is fast approaching. Anticipation builds, and as we all prepare to celebrate, I'd like to share an excerpt from Keeping Christmas, written by Henry Van Dyke:

There is a better thing than the observance of Christmas day, and that is, keeping Christmas.

Are you willing to forget what you have done for other people, and to remember what other people have done for you; to ignore what the world owes you, and to think what you owe the world; to put your rights in the background, and your duties in the middle distance, and your chances to do a little more than your duty in the foreground; to see that men and women are just as real as you are, and try to look behind their faces to their hearts, hungry for joy; to own up to the fact that probably the only good reason for your existence is not what you are going to get out of life, but what you are going to give to life; to close your book of complaints against the management of the universe, and look around you for a place where you can sow a few seeds of happiness.

Are you willing to stoop down and consider the needs and desires of little children; to remember the weakness and loneliness of people growing old; to stop asking how much your friends love you, and ask yourself whether you love them enough; to bear in mind the things that other people have to bear in their hearts; to try to understand what those who live in the same home with you really want, without waiting for them to tell you; to trim your lamp so that it will give more light and less smoke, and to carry it in front of you so that your shadow will fall behind you; to make a grave for your ugly thoughts, and a garden for your kindly feelings, with the gate open---

Are you willing to do these things, even for a day? Then you can keep Christmas. And if you can keep it for a day, why not always?
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                                        Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

If you light a lamp for someone, it will also brighten your path.  [Buddhist saying]