My small town bank

I ventured into the local branch of my bank yesterday.

This has been my bank for over a decade.

All of the tellers were new. 

I needed a photo ID to make a deposit and check on my balance.

The branch manager was new.

Gone are the days of walking in and chatting with the tellers and/or the branch manager.

Also gone are the days of running into the bank’s employees at the Farmers’ Market or around town. 

They don’t live here.

They are just passing through.

I know that I should be grateful that the bank is still open when so many branch offices are closed.

Also, I should be grateful that I can walk into the branch without an appointment.

Yet, I miss the old days.

The staff knew me and I knew them.

Sigh.

What’s the big deal?

What’s so hard about wearing a mask?

I wear one while exercising at the gym.

I wear one dining in a restaurant until my food is served.

I wear one in my drawing class.

Wherever I go, I am happy to do my part.

I don’t like wearing a mask but I accept wearing it for the greater good.

I wish everyone else felt the same.

Crying in church

I don’t cry very much.

In fact, I wish I could cry easily  and more often.

Over the years I have learned to maintain control.  

My emotions are contained.

I wear a happy face. 

Masks and sunglasses have helped maintain my facade.  

Unless I am in church.  Then my guard is down and tears come easily.   

“Amazing Grace” did it for me this past Sunday.

The healing grace of a good cry.

Does a body good.

Thursday’s Child

Thursday is the day I was born, eons ago in a galaxy far, far away.

Not really eons ago and not really in a galaxy far, far away. Continue reading “Thursday’s Child”

My last day

Writing in my daily journal, which is often a dumping ground for what’s happening in my life that day, I realized that this could be my last day.

Seriously, what if today turned out to be my last day? 

Continue reading “My last day”

Happy Birthday Son

~Photo by Ben Mack, http://www.oceanfeels.com/pexels.com~

Today is my son’s birthday.

I could tell many stories about him but this is a favorite.

He joined a year-round swim team the summer he was 12. He suffered from asthma and was a wheezy, underweight kid. We thought it would be good for him. It turns out we were right. (Score one for the parents!) By the end of the summer his breathing was so much better and he was less dependent on his inhaler.

Also at the end of summer was his first meet and he was swimming a 500 for his team. This means swimming the length of the 25 yard pool 20 times. It is a marathon especially for a beginner.

His swimming was much better after taking lessons and practicing all summer. Even so, he was no match for kids who  had been in the program since kindergarten.

The 500 started and the other kids literally swam laps around him and the event was over. The official told him he did not have to finish if he didn’t want to.

The other kids were finished but he decided to stay in the pool and finish the job.

The other kids and the parents all waited while this lone swimmer, this little skinny kid, swam back and forth to complete 20 laps. He finished.

He exited the pool to applause and cheers.

He didn’t win any medals that day. but he was a champion.

Georgia on my mind

I am on hold right now to order missing parts for a new bookcase that I ordered online. 

Every few minutes a recording updates me on my place in line, reminds me how much my patience is appreciated, and exhorts me to “remain on the line”. 

What choice do I have?  It’s this or no parts.  

That’s how I feel about the elections today. 

I am on hold waiting for the results.  

 

Christmas Day 2020

 

It is cold and raining in Portland tonight.

The end of a long and sweet day.

I was not sure how the day would be.  I just wanted to get through it.  Continue reading “Christmas Day 2020”

The Long Game

~Photo by Josh Soreson (joshsorenson.com)

When I was a teenager I thought my parents did not know anything of consequence. 

In contrast, I knew everything.  

Ah, what a rude awakening life can be.  Continue reading “The Long Game”

To be at home…

To be at home is to be known.

It is to be loved for who you are.

It is to share a sense of common ground, common interest, pursuits, and values with others who truly care about you.

In community after community I’ve met lonely people who felt homeless even though they had a roof over their heads Continue reading “To be at home…”