Gratitude and Joy

Thought for the day:  I don't have to chase extraordinary moments to find happiness--- it's right in front of me if I'm paying attention and practicing gratitude. [Brene Brown]

 Tomorrow is Thanksgiving here in the U.S. For a number of years, this drawing, along with my silly Thanksgiving poem, provided an easy-peasy starting point for a blog post to celebrate this time of the year. A good way to ease into the Holiday season with a smile.

But this year feels different.

Because it is.

This year is different in many ways, not just for me, but for all of you, as well. How do we give thanks when the entire world is being swamped by the third... and largest... wave of this relentless pandemic? When our healthcare workers are being overwhelmed by the sheer number of patients, by their own exhaustion, and by what must be utter frustration at the number of people who still refuse to wear a damned mask?  

How do we rejoice when we're still isolated, for the most part, from our families and friends? How do I rejoice without my husband? How do you rejoice without that special person you may have lost this year? How do we keep smiling through our tears?

                                           One day at a time... one blessing at a time. 

image courtesy of Unsplash

It's been four months since my husband died, and I must admit, it's still sinking in that he's truly gone... and each time that soul-sucking reality punches me in the gut, it knocks the wind out of me all over again. Yes, it brings tears to my eyes, but not for long. What good will tears do?

Far better to concentrate on the many blessings that still remain. We can spend all of our time lamenting what is gone... what has changed... or we can choose to accept our circumstances and be grateful for the many good things remaining. Goodness and joy are still all around us... we just have to look away from our sadness and anxiety and pay better attention. 

I betcha turkeys are finding it easier to be grateful this year, eh? Especially the really big ones. Not much demand for 20-something pound turkeys when our gatherings will be so much smaller. My daughter, her husband and a family friend will be sharing Thanksgiving dinner with me... but no turkey. Not even a little one. It almost feels like blasphemy to have something other than turkey, but Mike was the big turkey-and-all-the-fixings fan in our family, and it seems almost disrespectful to go through all the hoopla without him. So we won't. New beginnings. New traditions. We'll eat lighter fare, and we'll enjoy each other's company. And we'll shoot pool. Maybe play some board games. The one thing I'll try not to do is cry. Laughter is so much better for the soul. 

For all of you, I wish much joy and laughter, too. Whether you're celebrating Thanksgiving or just enjoying a regular run-of-the-mill Thursday, I wish you a grateful heart and many blessings. In spite of everything, life is still good. Different, yes. But still good. I am soooooo grateful for my kids... my friends... you. Hang in there, people. We've got this.

y

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

More Than a Number

Thought for the day:  Time is but a stream I go a-fishin' in.  I drink at it, but while I drink, I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is.  Its thin current slips away, but eternity remains. [Henry David Thoreau]

I didn't just want to go fishing in it; I wanted to stand in it. I wanted to feel the waters of time swirl around my feet, to be made poignantly aware once again of its dual nature of fleeting and eternal. I wanted to hear the haunting call of the seagulls, and breathe in the distinctive briny scent of the ocean. And five years ago...when Smarticus took this picture of me at Myrtle Beach... he and and our friends Kati and Cliff allowed me to do just that. Even though none of them share my passion for the ocean, they indulged me by granting me some time to stand in the surf and replenish my soul. I appreciated it more than I could say. Having them do that for me was humbling and made me feel cared for.

Recently, while struggling to keep my footing in a surf of swirling emotions, I momentarily felt as alone as I look in that photo. As a number of you already know, Smarticus... AKA Mike... my Number One and only... went into the hospital last week. Watching that ambulance take him away and knowing that because of coronavirus safety precautions, we can't see each other while he's there, was as painful as a kick in  in the solar plexus. With a steel-toed pointy boot. But thankfully, that devastating feeling of being totally alone has passed.

Our kids and friends circled the wagons, reminding me that I'm not alone at all... and that circle includes you guys. I'm humbled by your expressions of concern, and I appreciate your outreach more than I can say. Thank you.

We can... and do... talk on the phone multiple times a day.  He's been getting treatments to ease his pain and make him more comfortable, and he'll be transferred to an acute physical therapy place today, where the hope is to get him back on his feet again so he can come home. Believe me, if anybody can accomplish that, he can. Then we'll be ready to tackle whatever comes next. For more than 51 years, I've leaned on him, and now it's his turn. He can relax and lean on me now, and much to my surprise, I've discovered that I'm more than strong enough to hold us both up. We've got this, and we're still laughing together... even if it's only over the phone for now.

I'd planned to post the following video last Friday for Memorial Day, but you know what they say about the best-laid plans. But ya know what? It isn't too late to post it. I'm one of those strange folks who still thinks of Memorial Day as falling on May 30, as opposed to the last Monday of the month, so as far as I'm concerned, this post is right on time.

Yesterday's newspaper said we've now surpassed 100,000 deaths from the coronavirus here in the U.S. It's hard to wrap our minds around such a big number, isn't it? Hard to imagine such a profound loss. It's as difficult to assimilate the number of global deaths from this virus as it is to grasp the huge numbers representing the men and women who've died during wartime. Stark heartless numbers tend to dehumanize the reality of each of those individual deaths. In 2013, British artists Jamie Wardley and Andy Moss organized an amazing artistic endeavor called The Fallen that poignantly depicts the reality of the 9000 who lost their lives on the beaches of Normandy:

To those who died, honor and eternal rest; to those still in bondage, remembrance and hope; to those who returned, gratitude and peace. [engraved on the Illinois Vietnam Veterans Memorial]

[Yes, that's my hubby in the header pic... taken when he was a grunt in Vietnam. He's writing me a letter...]

       Again, thank you all. Your caring truly lifted me up. And psssst... keep smiling. I am.

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

Gratitude

Thought for the day:  Gratitude is an attitude. [Dr. Laura]

Smarticus and I mostly stay happy, but I don't think it has anything to do with retirement... although being retired does merit a bunch of fist bumps and heartfelt yippees. (I honestly don't understand those people who hate retirement... we think it's GRRRRREAT!)

I think maybe being grateful has a lot to do with being happy, ya know? You know how some people wake up in the morning like they need a jump-start... with a industrial strength pot of coffee, or maybe a souped-up car battery? You could say their brains are just kinda warming up and operating with the wattage of a sweet little night light first thing in the morning. Me? When I wake up, it's more like every light in the house has been turned on at once... on high ... and a band is playing a jig in the background. Okay, not a jig. This is going to sound over-the-top corny, but that's okay. I'll admit to being a corny nerd. Anyhow, first thing every morning, a song goes through my mind... and the words set my mood for the day: This is the day, this is the day. This is the day that the Lord has made, that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice, let us rejoice, and be glad in it, and be glad in it. Yeah, I know. Not exactly fancy lyrics, but the tune is bouncy and the message is a reminder to be grateful.

When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive — to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to live — then make that day count. [Steve Maraboli]

And I have even more reasons than usual to be grateful now. One GREAT BIG AMAZING reason.

Smarticus' lung cancer is G-O-N-E, GONE!!! Just typing those words makes me cry all over again. But it's a good cry, a really really good cry.

His oncologists are rather amazed, actually. Amazed that he suffered next to no side effects from the chemo and radiation, and amazed that he conquered the vile beast called lung cancer.

I'm grateful... but not amazed. Positive thinking made me believe, all along, that this would be the outcome. So that's one huge hurdle cleared, and a couple more to go. Monday, he'll be starting the first of ten rounds of radiation for brain cancer. Just between you and me, I know he's gonna kick its butt, too. But just in case I don't post for a couple of weeks, I want you to know all is well, and...

                                                          WE'RE VERRRRY HAPPY!!!

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. [Melody Beattie]

Although I haven't had the pleasure of meeting most of you in person, I don't consider you strangers. I think of you as friends. My blogging pals. And I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your kind thoughts, wishes, words, and prayers. Your support has been dynamite.

A quick aside. If you smoke, or if you stopped smoking in recent years, (Congratulations!) I highly recommend an annual CAT scan to keep an eye on your lungs. By the time a person shows symptoms of lung cancer, or it can be seen on a standard chest X-ray, it may be too advanced. Smarticus' lung cancer was caught very early, and he was completely asymptomatic. The once-a-year lung cancer screening program he was in... saved his life. His docs praised our positive attitudes, but that SCAN... I can't say enough good things about that scan, and about the doctor who got him into that screening  program. Okay. End of my PSA.

Okay, so maybe our cats aren't exactly demonstrative about their gratitude... but that doesn't mean we should wait. Having appreciation and  not expressing it is like having a beautifully wrapped gift and not opening it.

That's the way it seems sometimes, isn't it? Everybody's got a beef about something or another. Why not think of something that makes you... happy? That makes you smile, feel good, and feel downright grateful.

I wanted to close this post with a music video. At first, I thought about This is the Day, but nah. I'm feeling so full of joy, I decided Ode to Joy would be a better choice. Most of you are quite familiar with Beethoven's original arrangement, but this one is a little different. More... ragtime. Upbeat. Bubbling over with joy... just like me. I hope you like it. I think it's rather amazing. Just like this day. And this life.

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

        Don't miss today's sunshine  worrying about rain that might be coming tomorrow. 

Counting Our Blessings

Thought for the day:  Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it. [William Arthur Ward]

In the United States, we celebrated Thanksgiving yesterday. I suppose from an alien's point of view, some of the traditions associated with that holiday are a bit... strange. As an earthling, I think there's something a teensy bit strange about it, too. I mean, the idea of an annual holiday centered around the expression of gratitude sounds oh-so nice on the surface, but why isn't gratitude something we express every day? Isn't every day filled with blessings? Isn't every day a gift and a miracle? We don't need to shove bread up a turkey's butt  or stuff ourselves to the point of misery every day, but I think the world would be a better place, and we would be infinitely more content earthlings, if we made a conscious effort to express appreciation for the people and things in our lives and to give thanks for them... every day.

Appreciation can make a day, even change a life. Your willingness to put it into words is all that is necessary. [Margaret Cousins]

A most memorable story of  gratitude comes from the life of Corrie ten Boom. During WWII, her family was sent to a concentration camp for aiding and hiding their Jewish neighbors. The tent Corrie slept in at the concentration camp was horrifically infested with fleas, and yet, as she explained in the book The Hiding Place, she was grateful for those fleas. She thanked God for those fleas every single day.

Most of us with pets have had to fight a flea infestation at one time or another, but if you've never experienced that particular brand of hell, let me tell you, their bite induces a claw-your-skin-off kind of maddening itch.

So how could anyone be honestly and humbly grateful for an out-of-control infestation of those hellish creatures?

Because their presence kept the guards away, which allowed her the freedom to conduct Bible studies and prayer meetings.

Astounding, isn't it? The Bible admonishes us to be grateful in all things, but I honestly don't think I could ever live up to that example set by Miss ten Boom. Even so, we should try. Maybe not to give thanks for fleas, exactly, but to appreciate the many blessings in our lives. That being said, I'm thankful for you guys. Really. You are all bright spots in my life, and I'm grateful we met through the wonders of the Internet. I'm thankful for humor, too, even if it's sometimes inappropriate. (My bad)

Okay, how about some silly Thanksgiving riddles? They aren't even inappropriate...

• What sort of glass should you use to serve cream of turkey soup? A goblet.
• What's Alan Alda's favorite Thanksgiving dish?  M*A*S*Hed potatoes.
• What do you call sweet potatoes that are very outspoken? Candid yams.
• If I have relatives with Mohawk haircuts, multiple facial piercings, and a bunch of tattoos, what should I serve them for dessert? Punk kin pie.
• Not only was my neighbor's turkey infected with salmonella, but she undercooked it.  Guess what all her guests suffered the next day? Yup, 'fraid so. The turkey trots.
• The local restaurant served overcooked turkey, lumpy gravy, and cold mashed potatoes. Know how they advertised it? As the blooperplate special.
• NYC is placing tall bleachers up and down Broadway so spectators can get a better view of what slightly renamed event? The May See Parade.
• What famous play about a Thanksgiving turkey was written by Henrik Ibsen? Hedda Gobbler. 

Okay, enough groaners for now. Time to count my blessings. Care to join me? Check out this video  It'll put ya in the right mood.

And these cartoons are only a little inappropriate...



           

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

Canine Heroes

Thought for the day:  No matter how little money and how few possessions you own, having a dog makes you rich.  [Louis Sabin]

Dogs have almost always been a part of my life.

We may not have had the smartest dogs in the world, or the prettiest, but we always managed to share our home with the sweetest and most loving. And yes, being welcomed home by an excited dog can make you feel rich. And important.

Nothing against our cats... we love 'em to pieces... but they aren't exactly over-the-top "Welcome home; I've missed you soooo much!" kinda critters like dogs are. Their attitudes are more like, (yawn) "What? You were gone...?"

It isn't that our dogs didn't know ANY tricks. Not at all. They did. Our Springer spaniel could catch Frisbees. Really well, too. Most of our dogs were pretty good about conducting their, um,  business outside, too. (Most of the time.) And my grandmother had a beautiful boxer whose awe-inspiring farts spurred people to set personal best speed records in their mad dashes to the exit.

But none of our dogs were ever trained to be performers... like these dogs.

                                                                               

 There are Frisbee-catchers, rope-jumper, and break-dancers (Who knew?)... and then there are Military Working Dogs. Those amazing dogs are in a class all by themselves.

Even though dogs worked alongside soldiers during the Civil War and WWI, they weren't officially inducted into the U.S. Army until 1942. Currently, there are an estimated 2800 active-duty dogs, and about 600 of them are serving  in Iraq and Afghanistan. Over the years, these dogs have served honorably and saved many lives, doing everything from sniffing out enemy combatants and hidden explosive devices to ... jumping out of airplanes.

This pic from K9 Storm shows military dog handler Mike Forsythe and his dog Cara jumping from an airplane from a record-breaking height of 30,100 feet. Both of them had to wear oxygen masks to tackle this mind-boggling feat. Military dogs usually jump in tandem with their trainers, but with flotation devices, they can make short jumps into the water on their own.

This picture, from Manual J. Martinez, of the USAF  shows a jump from a Chinook CH-47 during a training exercise over the Gulf of Mexico. This dog is wearing a special flotation device.

MWDs and their handlers are a tightly-knit unit.

Equipped with cameras, these dogs lead the way into danger zones and allow their handlers to see what's ahead before the humans venture forward. Like their human counterparts, these dogs are not only highly trained, but are also highly skilled, and highly motivated.

And just like two-legged soldiers, they also get wounded... and killed... in the line of duty.

[image: Wikimedia Commons]

In 1943, the PDSA, a UK animal welfare group founded in 1917 by Maria Dickin, created the Dickin Award for animals that showed conspicuous bravery in the war. As the medal so aptly says, We also serve. This medal has been awarded to pigeons, horses, one cat, and many dogs, including a couple U.S. Military Working Dogs. (I wonder what the cat did...?)





A couple years ago, the American Humane Society came up with a similar award: the Lois Pope K-9 Medal of Courage.

Named in honor of Lois Pope, a philanthropist and avid veterans' advocate, the first four of these awards were presented to dogs in May of this year.

Nice... but where's the government been all these years? If these valiant and loyal dogs have officially been considered part of the military since 1942, where has the official recognition for their service been?

Oh, you'd better believe the soldiers know about their bravery. All who served with a working dog know how invaluable they are. Some men have pinned their own Purple Hearts to their beloved companions and protectors. One even gave his silver star to a dog for a brief while... until some people started complaining that those awards were for real soldiers... meaning people, of course.

But where was the government? Where was the recognition?

Finally, finally, our dedicated military working dogs may have their own official U.S. Department of Defense commendation.

On August 7, Senator Robert Menendez of New Jersey announced that his 2016 proposed legislation to create a Guardians of America's Freedom Medal in honor of the dedication and sacrifices of military working dogs had gotten enough votes to pass in Congress. Fittingly, he made the announcement at the War Dogs Memorial in front of a crowd that included four active-duty service dogs and their handlers, and two retired dogs, including Robby, a one-eyed German shepherd with wheels supporting his rear legs.

Four-legged heroes.

Now, all that has to happen is for our president to sign the legislation... and the award to be designed. No telling how long that will take, but ya know? I don't think the dogs mind. They don't do what they do for the medals. They do it for the people... they do it because of their fierce loyalty and sense of protection for the soldiers they serve and love. They're perfectly happy with a pat on the head and a kind word.

                                                And like all dogs,  they know how to wait.


So, how about you? Not that you've ever had a dog who jumped out of airplanes with a parachute, (they can ALL do it WITHOUT one ... but only ONCE) but what nifty tricks could your favorite pooch do?

[Mega thanks you to icanhazcheeseburger.com and perfectlytimedphotos.com for granting me permission to use their pictures.)

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

P.S. Here's the link to an earlier post, if you'd like to read more about military working dogs. 

Are We?

Thought for the day: What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. [author unknown]

Huh! So It's Friday the thirteenth again. Not that any of you guys are superstitious, right?

Me, neither. Actually, I rather like the number thirteen, and the only superstition I harbor is a more personal one: never ever comment about how well the traffic is moving in Atlanta, because believe you me, it will revert to its normal bumper-to-bumper misery before you've even got the words out of your mouth. (It might not even be safe to think about it...)

I guess I could re-run one of my Friday the 13th posts from the past... or I could write about superstitions... but I don't feel particularly motivated to do either. I'm still having some difficulty summoning up my usual enthusiasm for just about anything these days, and as it turns out, my lethargy may be medical in nature. (It's called laziness.) My blood pressure is reeeeally low, for some reason. (Maybe I need to drive through Atlanta traffic a few times...?)

So I'm gonna do something a little different. (Who... moi?) I'm going to share a poem with you. It's one of the ones I wrote for Old Broads Waxing Poetic. 

I can't help but wonder if I'm the only one who feels like this, or if some of you have these same feelings from time to time.

[image: morguefile]

                                                               Am I?

                                                             Is it horrid to be happy

                                                             When so many are so sad;

                                                             And heartless to be filled with peace

                                                             When war’s all some have had?

                                                              Is it wrong to sing a joyful song

                                                             When others live the blues;

                                                             And crass to count sweet blessings

                                                             When some have none to lose?

Is it selfish to eat chocolate cake

[image: wikipedia]

When others have no meal;

And callous to be healthy

When some will never heal?

Is it hateful to be wrapped in love

When some are all alone;

And sinful to leap and pirouette

When others cry and moan?

[image: morguefile]

I lift my arms in gratitude

And admire the morning sun,

Humbled by this gift of life,

Thank God for giving me one!

Yet I know I wield Excalibur

While some hold only air;

Life’s a wondrous miracle,

But it isn’t always fair.

Is it enough to love our fellow man

And do our best to share;

Is it enough to empathize and pray

And to always to show we care?

It is in some ways troubling

And foolish to pretend;

In light of others’ suffering,

I ask of you, my friend ---

                                                  Am I heartless to be filled with peace
                                                  When war's all some have had;

[image: wikipedia]

                                                       And horrid to be happy

                                                       When so many are so sad?
                                                                       

                                                           ***************

You ever feel guilty about your good fortune? Please tell me I'm not the only one who makes do  rather than buy new, because I don't want to be greedy or self-indulgent. I mean... why replace our nasty-looking well-worn 40+ year old bedroom carpet when there are people in the world who have no carpet at all... or no house. Or am I just nuts...? (Maybe just a little bit.)

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

                          P.S. In case you're interested in some of those superstitions...

Keep the Change!

Thought for the day: 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 spirits. [Albert Schweitzer]

Yep, it's that time again. Welcome to this month's edition of the Insecure Writer's Support Group meeting... er, virtual meeting, that is. Today, writers all over the world will be posting about the ups and downs, the highs and lows, the ins and outs... of writing. We'll celebrate... we'll complain... we'll commiserate and help rekindle those inner spirits. Whatever we need, this is the place to find it. Humble thanks and a jolly tip of the hat go to Alex Cavanaugh, our fearless ninja leader and the originator of this fine group, and to all of the other fine folks who've worked so hard to make it the huge success it is today. If you'd like to join (It's FREE!) or would like to read some of the other posts, please go HERE

On the writing front, progress has been glacially slow lately. Sales of my new book have been anemic; and reviews, practically non-existent. (sigh) Makes it a tad more difficult to stay focused and maintain enthusiasm about writing books two and three. But fear not. My enthusiasm will return. It always does. Now if only my damned muse would return from vacation...

Let's move right on to this month's question, shall we?

What are your ultimate writing goals, and how have they changed over time (if at all)?

When I was a senior in high school... you know, back in the Dark Ages... I contributed to and helped edit the school's literary magazine. After all these years, I still remember a poem my friend Bruce Troup wrote for it:

Change is never constant;

Constance never changes.

But all things change constantly.

Simple, yet profound, right? I guess that's why it's stuck with me for so long. 

Anyhow, to answer the question, of course my writing goals have changed. I used to think I was destined to be a great writer. Before I learned how to read, I made up the words and pretended to read books out loud. In second grade, a test we took to determine our potential career path (I kid you not!) said I'd be an author... and I believed it. In the summers, I concocted serialized fairy tales, and would sit in the shade of a tree and tell them to a group of neighborhood kids several afternoons a week. In fifth grade, filled with self-confidence, I entered an American Legion essay contest about Brotherhood...

[source: morguefile]

...and I LOST.

Talk about being one deflated puppy. Not even an Honorable Mention! I was crushed, because I'd worked so hard on that essay, and I thought it was so good...

PBBBBT! (That's the sound of my adolescent ego deflating.) Who was I trying to kid? I'd never be a writer.

Then my teacher, Mr. DeGrafft,  who was also one of the judges for the contest, took the time to tell me the judges loved my essay... but it didn't fit within the parameters of what the American Legion was looking for in a winning essay. They wanted rah-rah, Mom and apple pie feel-good declarations about our shared humanity and the inherent kindness of mankind.

 I, on the other hand, wrote about how people seemed to have an us vs. them mentality, so I thought the only thing that would lead to true brotherhood on our planet would be if we discovered a bigger adversary on another one.

Not exactly what they were looking for. But that wonderful teacher... that kind caring man...  rekindled my inner spirit by telling me why my essay didn't do well. He had so much confidence in me, he helped restore some of my confidence in myself. For that, I will always be grateful.

Since then, I've always been involved with some kind of writing, and like everyone else, my confidence levels ebb and flow. (Where's Mr. DeGrafft when ya need him?) Things might be at the ebb level now, but I'm pretty sure the drive will roll back in any day now...

So what's changed? I no longer believe I'm ever going to be a great writer. Nor do I dream about Pulitzer prizes and cheering crowds waiting for me at book signings. I don't expect to be accepted in every anthology I submit to, and I don't expect every story I send to a magazine to be published. Whether or not I ever had any innate talent is immaterial. I'm endlessly grateful for those teachers who instilled confidence in my writing and editing ability, but since I've gotten older, I've adjusted the bar to a more realistic level.

I write because I love to write, and I still love to spin a story. Do I still get discouraged? Sure, I do. But I'm a big girl now, (in more ways than one...) and I don't need affirmation and support like I did as a kid. (But I'd still like it every once in a while...)

That's why reviews matter so much to me. At their best, they show me that I've connected with another human being... and THAT is my overwhelming goal. When I feel a little low, I re-read some of the fantabulous reviews for Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade, and I look at some of the wonderful emails readers have sent me...

and I smile with gratitude. Life is good... even if no alien forces have united us yet.

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

Grateful and Gravely Humorous

Thought for the day:  Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it. [William Arthur Ward]

In the United States, we celebrated Thanksgiving yesterday. I suppose from an alien's point of view, some of the traditions associated with that holiday are a bit... strange. As an earthling, I think there's something a teensy bit strange about it, too. I mean, the idea of an annual holiday centered around the expression of gratitude sounds oh-so nice on the surface, but why isn't gratitude something we express every day? Isn't every day filled with blessings? Isn't every day a gift and a miracle? We don't need to shove bread up a turkey's butt  or stuff ourselves to the point of misery every day, but I think the world would be a better place, and we would be infinitely more content earthlings, if we made a conscious effort to express appreciation for the people and things in our lives and to give thanks for them... every day.

Appreciation can make a day, even change a life. Your willingness to put it into words is all that is necessary. [Margaret Cousins]

That being said, I'm thankful for you guys. Really. You are all bright spots in my life, and I'm grateful we met through the wonders of the Internet. I'm thankful for humor, too, even if it's sometimes inappropriate. (My bad) I'm also grateful that you guys aren't all judge-y, because that means you won't be too terribly annoyed at me for a re-running the following post, which was originally published right before Thanksgiving, 2014, as Immortal Humor. Enjoy!

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Thought for the day:  Running a cemetery is just like being President: you got a lot of people under you, and nobody's listening.  [Bill Clinton]

Oakland Cemetery, Atlanta, GA {Wikipedia]

It isn't my fault. Really. It isn't. I neeeeever would have thought about writing such a weird post as this one is gonna be if it hadn't been for that darned article in the newspaper. Then again, maybe I would have. It has been said that I do occasionally suffer from bouts of sick inappropriate humor.

Anyhow, the article. It was a little bitty filler piece about this year's Atlanta Regional Commission's Developments of Excellence Award, which for the last fifteen years has been presented annually to the location deemed tops in the metro area for livability and sustainability, and for serving as a regional model for future growth. Sounds nice, right? Well, would you believe in this, its sixteenth year, the award was presented to... a cemetery? (Oooh, dontcha know, that had to have ticked off some of those big shot fancy pants developers.)

[Wikipedia]

Now, don't get me wrong. Oakland Cemetery is a very nice cemetery, as far as cemeteries go. Lots of historical figures and famous people buried there... like famed golfer Bobby Jones, and author Margaret Mitchell (Marsh). Lots of really neat statues and such, too. And it's OLD... It was founded in 1850, so there are some really interesting old markers.

But does any of that equate to livability??? I mean, it's not like people are exactly dying to move into the place.

Oh shut up. You know what I mean. (hehe)

early 1900 postcard [wikimedia commons]

It isn't like people send postcards from the cemetery and tell everyone, Miss you. Wish you were here... 

or Please stop by, and have a nice stiff drink with me. (Or maybe a tall cold one?)

Then again, maybe some people, some people with a sick inappropriate sense of humor would do something that over the top...

[Morguefile]

Somebody really really cool like Bob McCully, Pittsburgh's long-time wagster, satirical writer, producer, and top of the crop ad man. The Christmas cards he created every year always featured his unique brand of dark humor, but his family and friends never expected anything like the one they got from the 88-year-old in 2011. Because, you see, he was already dead. He died that August, and most dead men don't send greetings from the grave. But he wasn't like most men; he wanted to get one more laugh.

Thanks to a co-conspirator relative, four hundred people received one last memorable Christmas card from McCully that pictured him on the front, sitting in an office, talking on a telephone, along with the words, Hello, please don't call. I recently moved to a quiet neighborhood. And on the inside, it shows the gates to the Allegheny cemetery, his tombstone, and the words, My new place doesn't have a phone, and our gates close after dark. 

What a guy.

[Night of the Living Dead- wikipedia]

Okay, so maybe that doesn't tickle your funny bone. Personally, I'd love to pull off something like that, but I can understand how the idea of reaching out from the grave might not be everybody's idea of fun. On the other hand, a lot of people who might not appreciate this kinda humor are fascinated by zombies. Whew. Not me. All that brain-eating is too hard for me to swallow. Maybe if they sipped tea and ate cucumber sandwiches or something, I'd feel a little better about them. And I think they should pick up after themselves, too. All those body parts left lying around is totally unacceptable. I'll bet their mamas taught them better than that.

[wikipedia]

So, if not the walking dead, how about the sitting, standing, motorcycling, or kayaking dead?

Yep, that seems to be the new trend. Instead of being laid out in a coffin, some people are opting to be... posed, so they can make their grand exit doing something they love. A lady in New Orleans was staged sitting at a table with a can of Busch beer in one hand and a menthol cigarette in the other. A Puerto Rican boxer stood in a boxing stance... wearing his boxing gloves, trunks, and hooded robe. There are lots more examples; there are even quite a few images to be found online, if you're curious. I chose not to post any of those pictures. (See? I have some class.)

Kinda made me wonder how I might like to be posed. Reading a book? Sitting at the computer? Singing a song and dancing the fandango? Nah. How about taking a nap? In a coffin...

[Morguefile]

Actually, I don't want a coffin, either. Like many others have chosen, I'm going with cremation. We've prepaid, and cheap frugal person that I am, since I'm a universal donor, I'm kinda hoping Smarticus might even get a rebate.

But ya know what would reeeeally be cool? There's a company in Alabama called Holy Smoke, and you know what they do? Mix cremains with gunpowder and then use it to pack shotgun shells or rifle cartridges. Then, Smarticus could take me to the shooting range with him one last time. Talk about going out with a bang...

[Morguefile]

Okay, I'll stop now. I hope I haven't offended anyone. Like everyone else, I've lost many dear friends and family members over the years, and of course, I grieve for them. It's hard to let go of the people we love, and we miss them terribly. Being without them leaves an empty spot in our lives that nothing or no one else can fill.  But I don't think death should be a taboo subject or free from humor. Nor is it something I fear.

Nothing to fear. Rabindranath Tagore put it so very beautifully: Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come. 

I plan on burning the lamp as long as possible, but always remember: there's joy in the morning. 

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross said, I've told my children that when I die, to release balloons in the sky to celebrate that I graduated. To me, death is a graduation. 

Sounds good to me. As long as we don't have to wear one of those stupid tasseled mortarboards.


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