Category Archives: Uncategorized

Happy New Year & Thank You….

Posted on by
20

Mom & Son GlamourSo, I got a new camera for Christmas, and I played a little with selfies and timers, and a little fun… So this is me and my favorite son saying Happy Holidays! Yes, he is my only son, but as far as parents are concerned, that’s beside the point…

I extend that to Happy New Year  and thank you all so, so very much, for being such wonderful supporters of my various efforts this year in expanding what I write.  It has been a blast to try new things from haikus to expanding the details on Indigenous issues, to pouring out my soul.  I really can’t thank you enough for that support, for all the encouragement, and for standing behind me in some of the challenges.

Happy 2016 -2      Happy 2016 -1

I can’t wait to see what you all have for 2016.  Cheers, to you all!

RL

Party Prep is Not For the Weak, And Friends Lie

Posted on by
8

 

maxine tip 2Hell hath no fury like the eyes of a host expecting guests.  They see EVER-Y-THING EVER-Y-WHERE.  They flood the entire house with the damning light of the unclean.  Condemned is the rosy glow of procrastination that normally allows one to see cobwebs as merely billowing indoor clouds – just a step closer to communing with nature really.

I am acutely struck by these evil eyes mostly on an annual basis, when I host a gathering at year’s end.  I love finally being able to get together with many friends and bask in their good humor and kinship. They are wonderful, wonderful people, but they LIE.  They LIE like my (dog hair-covered) front door rug.

maxine dusting hintNormally, my day-to-day entails apologizing for the clutter and other landfill-sized mounds strewn over floors.  In reply, my friends say things like, “Oh we never have time to clean either, or who cares about a clean house, there’s so much more to life that is far more important”.  A credo I actually believe in; a credo that I know I honestly uphold – alone.

All these able members of the Liars Club have homes ready for a photo shoot in BH & G at the drop of a paper towel.   Pop in on them, regardless of the time of day or day of the week, and you’ll be invited in to have a chat and sit on pristine seats atop the shiniest floors in the universe. These are the real shining lights reflected in the sky at night.

Maxine Super Bowl tipI cringe at every realization that I could rarely, to never, reciprocate that invitation.  I am the queen of doorstep conversation.  “Hey, how’d you like to have a seat on that outside chair right there, on the outside of the house, and I’ll get us a drink for here, outside”.  I wonder if they notice?   Of course they do.  Then they go home and re-shine their floors just to spite me.

So, while the thought floats gently through my screams mind that it really could be interesting to hold a front yard party in early January Canada, I grudgingly accept that I‘d never get the grass raked in time.  Thus, I rush to appease these eyes of damnation.  I fly from one end of the house to the other with cleanser and polish to head off any possible ugh! moment for a guest.

As I work through all that anticipatory contact, I spy something odd, even for me. Wait…is that… plum pudding on the blinds??!!  But, but we didn’t have plum pudding this year.  Oh my God.  OK kids, new goal:  Clean all the dirt that guests might recognize from last year!

While we’re scrambling to meet new achievements, I picture my friends discussing their impending visit to my mess O’ horrors:

  • “Um, so, Robyn’s invitation has arrived again…. And?  Well, she is our friend so let’s try our best to enjoy this as much as possible while looking only directly into each other’s eyes”.
  •  “Well, this year I’m putting the hazmat suit on under my clothes.  There’s no way I’ll be able to smile through feeling a glob of plum pudding stuck to my thigh”.
  • “OK, let’s re-do our plan from last year to drink as much as possible to get through the mess evening and maybe even to…. forget”.
  • “Hey, maybe we can invite her out next year”.

Hey!  I’ve been invited out three times this year.  Was that…. ?  Stop it! Go test the martini potency and then get back to work!

Somehow, in the midst of these mental meanderings and the frantic efforts of Thing 1 and Thing 2 (me and child), the house started to resemble something like the original intentions of the architect.

Maxine-On-CleaningEventually we got to an understanding.  Actually, more like simple resignation – what will be, will be. Whatever else we may spy gets a quick kick under the couch.  The rest of the prep plan is fairly simple – take off the apron, smooth down the hair, quick check via socks for dog hair on the baseboards. Last, but not least, turn down the lights and light up the candles.  Nothing says, what spot on the wall? like mood lighting.

Then I will deploy the ultimate mood lightener  – martinis.  I’ll take their coats with one hand, and plop a glass in their hand in one efficient motion.  I’ll keep the pitcher handy and refill often. Non-drinkers will get over-stuffed with plenty of fresh plum pudding. Even if they do notice a spot on the wall at some point, the odds are pretty good that they won’t care.  At least not until next year’s invitation arrives.

RL

Originally Posted on January 4, 2014by

Two Years for Me! And the Irish Celebrate the Indigenous!

Posted on by
13

Two years of dedication to informing, amusing, irritating, or boring! I know how to perform to expectation.  At least, I think so, but considering this is the day of green beer again, I won’t guarantee anything through a lens of verdant bubbles.

For 24 months as of today, I have loved meeting new you’s and the pals who’ve stuck around long enough for me to able to call them friend.  I am so pleased, honored, and humbled by that; you are the quality of life. You have no idea how you’ve shaped my world, but you have and for the better. Thank you for everything you’ve shared in your own amazing words of wisdom, your creativity, and most definitely your humor.

I’ve also used this past year to write more from time to time about my Indigenous ancestry and the issues that surround it.  Yesterday, I came across a story I had no idea about and I doubt many do, but  it couldn’t have made a more perfectly timed appearance in my newsfeed.  It is about a March 1847 effort by the Choctaw people in Scullyville, Oklahoma, who gathered funds and provisions to help the Irish during their great famine.

This effort was a mere 17 years after the Choctow were among those made to walk the Trail of Tears to great desperation and decimation themselves. This year an Irish town will erect a pretty poignantly designed sculpture in gratitude to those Choctow.  It’s quite a story and you can read about it here at Irish Central (March 6):  Irish town builds memorial to thank Native Americans who helped during Famine

Irish Memorial to Choctaw

Memorial sculpture of eagle feathers in Cork, Ireland in thanks to the Choctaw Nation

Happy Green, Happy St. Paddy’s Day, and Happy 2 Awesome Years with Y’all!

Irish road

RL

Roads that Twist Love

Posted on by
22

Have you ever come across someone who could break your heart, no matter how far away from them you could get?

Sister MirrorI had a best friend like that; no matter how often we did or didn’t speak, she could somehow open a wound just by existing.  I know that sounds odd, but all those years ago, when we once were so close, the bitterness of her wounds began to run too deep and widely.

It’s been years since I was last within her grasp, but even now I never know who I will run across or when something will let me know that her reach may be interminable; infinite maybe.  Probably.

Her ways back then were so needy.  She needed to be the biggest, the best, the most regarded, and the only.  She jealously guarded her needs.  She would place herself squarely in front of whoever was to be her latest trophy for career advancement, for recognition, for friends, for love.

I know where those wounds began, I know what they’re from, but what I don’t know is why they became stuck within her, why they screeched a halt to her ability to see with light.  I’m not even certain when that started, but one thing for sure, the child within flat-lined any more emotional development.

She needed special, which was measured according to what was special to someone else.  Coveting, I think that’s what that’s called, except she needed to covet up close and personal.  It really didn’t matter what the source of the glitter that caught her eye: someone else’s community recognition, someone else’s parental praise, someone else’s loves.  Nothing was off limits, as even I would eventually learn.

There were signs when things started heading south for her.  Accusations began to overtake any conversations, then retributions were meted out generously. Punishment of choice -malicious slander and brutal betrayal. Soon anyone near was indicted and we would all get turns at being the source of her poisoned well. Hell hath no fury like un-eased fears.

After a while, despair was not about living off the guilt of who did her wrong; within a few years of committing 6 of the 7 deadly sins, it was completely about how her own guilt was smothering her. The only way to keep ahead of that is to hit, numb, and run.

There was one moment when she realized the source of her pain was really found in a mirror, but it was only a brief dawning.  Besides, time is stopped for the inner child. They believe they have forever to tilt at windmills and they never really see how much the world has kept turning without them.

Someone told me recently how much he had loved her so many years ago.  I know how that felt, when we knew her. I live with the loss of that long ago love too. I don’t hate her – anymore, but I did learn that it’s not necessary for the both of us to drink the poison.

I also now know the opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference.  When we weren’t serving the purpose of total agreement with her, we got to experience her ‘or else’, and we were cast out without second thought. Some of us kept walking. I’d learn that a certain level of indifference was life-saving. Leaving the well to save oneself is not casting a stone upon another.

I don’t think of her every day anymore and I don’t feel that hurt either. Once in a while, I may fleetingly think about that someone I used to know.  I don’t try to understand any of it either. The most I will do now, is simply wish love and good health for her, and to continue in my own journey to move on in the same.

RL

Thank you to some people who inspired me to finally work out years of rumination.  Although I’m pretty sure they don’t know exactly what they said, I hope they’ll see some reflection of the thoughts they shared: Roberta Boulette, Christy, Melanie, and Rachel – Sisters to me, one and all – thanks.

The War On Christmas Started in 1959 – Did You Know That?

Posted on by
20

The infamous war on Christmas seems like a relatively new event in our modern days of internet posts and Facebook memes, but apparently it started back in 1959.  That would be about 100 years after Christmas became the rendition that we now know, which is quite significantly evolved from the far more somber origins of around 270AD, courtesy Emperor Aurelian.  Our current version is thanks to the imaginings of good old Charles Dickens.

So, for at least 100 years, this British version of Christmas that we now claim as ours, ruled undiminished. Then, this tradition to end all traditions seemingly began to die.

The sense of demise started when the John Birch Society et al, determined there was a strenuous effort to take Christ out of Christmas, not by immigrants, our current concern, but by the God-less Communists.  In 1959, someone introduced decorations with United Nations iconography. The Society, founded in the anti-Communism sentiment of the day, saw threat within those designs and the war was on.  They demanded a boycott of any stores that sold these obviously commie-based decorations.  Makes you wonder if they might’ve brought out actual artillery if they’d got to see our Elvis and KISS inspired ornaments.

The current Christmas wars could be something in theory, but only if we were to ignore all the examples that contradict the labors of this incursion.  The season officially held in December, starts in August now.  (Thanks so much, Costco et al).  By Halloween, next to the ghoulish costume displays are pre-season sales of last year’s Christmas cards and glass ornaments.  By November 1st, we’re in full decorative bloom with every store and mall on the continent swathed in garland and bows.  Seems like a lot of effort for retailers to invest in a dying event.

This is where we should be reminded that Christians are not the only people who celebrate during the weeks of winter solstice. For 6,000 years, cultures have been paying spiritual homage within the diminishing days of the year.  With our relatively new traditions, our continent hosts others, many far older than ours.

So, why don’t we see the celebratory implements for all these other apparently impinging cultures on those same store shelves? Despite our having sizable populations of those various cultures, who can recall seeing Jewish menorahs, Bhodi Day Bhudda icons, Kwaanza decorative mats, or Japanese Oshogatsu  mochi displays on store shelves, much less crowding out the Christmas goods?

mother and child As an aside, I often hear people insist that those moving to North America should adapt fully and only to the Canadian/U.S. traditions, especially Christmas.  I take it that, along with their regular seasonal rituals, they also fully engage in the traditions of the original cultures of the continent? Those would include: healing rituals, tobacco offerings, prayer drumming, ceremonial drumming, and dancing.

Christmas has always been, and still is, a tribute in motion.  In another 100 years it may not look at all like today, but I really don’t see how that would diminish the point of it.  We honour our faiths and gratitude for deep and meaningful reasons that have nothing to do with decorations, gifts, or greetings.

It could also be argued that the other cited example of downfall, saying Happy Holidays, is a way for businesses to remain inoffensive and maximize profits. Likely true, but Happy Holidays is also someone’s way of paying respect to the multi-cultural traditions.  So what?  That has nothing to do with the tradition of Christmas.  Or maybe it does?  Isn’t the idea of inclusion, respect, and kindness toward our fellow beings at the heart of Christian teachings?

This more recent defensive posturing on the meaning of Christmas is purely re-manufactured malarkey by a Fox News blowhard clawing for ratings.  The only way people can allow their God to be removed from their own hearts or holiday, is if they do it themselves, and that was, by and large, the original point of Christ’s teachings.

As far as how the war on Christmas is going, I think we can relax.

Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays to all!

RL