Category Archives: philosophy

Walking Down a Different Road…Poorly.

This title may not be what you think. I have found that I have grown tired of “just making it.” It weighs upon my mind a lot. I have also found that when you do finally start heading toward a point where you can do slightly more than “just make it.” The higher powers tend to see an opportunity to squeeze you for whatever extra it is that you have and put you right back to where you were to begin with. Yes, I tend to not write about things like this on my public blogs. However, writing is a form of release for me and today, I will, walk down a different road.

My family is not your typical american family when it comes to paying bills and debt. We are not drowning under credit card debt or a crushing mortgage. We have abstained from refinancing or taking out additional lines of credit against our house. While that may be the thing to do, I simply don’t feel it to be the right thing to get our bills paid when we can do it just fine without that. Borrowing from one source just to reduce the payments on another or to combing a bunch of nickle and dime things just does not seem like the thing to do. (Oh, Daddy, you should be so proud!) In hindsight, no credit card debt and the fact that we can pay our necessities without worry is great. We have TWO extra things that we have been working on to pay off over time but it is not so much that we have to struggle to make bills. These things are just to improve our credit score. Now that I think about it. I am only feeding into the corporate monster and living the Sheeple life by doing that. However, it seems to be necessary if we want to get ahead in any area of life like to purchase a new car. (Example only, walking is so much better for the environment.) Well, that will be over soon and we will only have to foot the bill for “necessaries” like power, water, mortgage, and internet. Yea, internet is a necessary. Well, at least until the world goes to heck in a hand basket. Then we can do away with THAT bill. Yay?

Still, none of the above is what weighs heavily on me. I think a lot about the vacations my parents took me on as a kid. Those were vivid memories which stood out against the bland backdrop of watching my previous year of school become a fading memory on the highways of this country. Remember, every ending school year meant that Daddy was going to sign a new contract with his company and they would ship up off to yet another state to live for the year while he straightened out the mess of a kitchen they sent him to. He provided for us and we had our vacations. I just never had any roots to grow until I became older. My roots are spread all over this country from coast to coast. Dry, brittle, and long forgotten, the things that stand out the most were the vacations. Maybe that was what they did to make up for uprooting me from potential friends and opportunities which could have been afforded to me growing up. Still, I would not have changed anything.

It’s not that our brood prevents us from taking a vacation. We have a support system and family who can watch the kids while we pick and choose or even watch the dogs while we are away. It’s the fact that, while this country tells you to make memories with your children, they put the financial portion out of the reach of the average person. The nuclear family has to make nearly $50, 000 a year to be able to put away something into savings and even then, you need nearly $5,000 to even think about a 3 day trip for a couple. Everything is taxed and everything is overpriced. When Reagan was president (yes, I know, cost of living, etc. BS to that,) purchasing a brand new car did not mean that you were taking out a note that was near the equivalent of the market value of your home. It didn’t cost $50 to PARK at a resort area only to again pay near the same PER PERSON to get in. Never mind the fact that you then have to pay just to breathe inside the park. Corporate greed, my friends. They try to make smiles only attainable for the extraordinarily rich and, frankly, I am tired of it.

On a different note, do you know why this country has become so fanatically engrossed in the fact that they love to watch the prepping shows and extreme couponing?  It is this: the poor are tired of being sucked dry and being pushed around by the rich. They remember the Great Depression and they know what it will take to hurt the rich. Not to assassinate or rob them. Let the stock market drop. Let the zombie apocalypse happen. Let there be some fantastic computer glitch that takes out the internet. Who is going to survive? Those of us who know what it is like to live without. Those of us who can survive on skill alone and not believe it to be the end of the world simply because your investments took a wrong turn. Snatch those comfy pillow out from under the stuffy rich who sit upon them and what do you have? Sniveling, snarling, rich bastards who believe they have just lost their entire world. Oh, sure, there will be a few who will move on and think that they can do it all over again. However, when the world goes to shit, their money is going to be nothing more than fuel for the fire. With their clean, unscarred hands and the inability to know how to do a hard day’s work, they will not last long. I can assure you of that.

OK. I feel better now. I put a foot on my soapbox and chewed the gum for a few minutes. Thanks for listening peeps. Oh, yea….

What do YOU think?

Good Morning Stranger

I get up and go about my usual morning routine. Only, I stop for an extra moment to ponder what I see in the mirror. Who is this looking back at me? I have not seen you for a long, long time. Good morning Stranger! Where have you been? Can it really be you? From way back when? Thinking back, I don’t know where you went. Did you hide? Was it time well spent?

Why do I say these things to the mirror? After all, it is just a reflection. A reflection of one’s self. However, that reflection can become someone else. Someone you hate, someone you don’t recognize and remain that way for many years. Sometimes, it is not even the fault of oneself that we end up this way. Sadly, in my case, I think it was. You see, the reflection I have been staring at (screaming at) for nearly 20 years was not me but someone much larger, lost, and different. I avoided her. I didn’t take pictures, I didn’t look in the mirror. When I did, I wanted to throat punch her and scream in her face until spit rained upon it. WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH ME!!!!????

But this morning was different. I have yet to wash my face and brush my hair but I can only smile at what I see staring back at me. I don’t want to scream at her. I don’t hate her. I know she has come a long way and has a long way to go but I can see her. My best version of me. She is beautiful. She is a mess. However, she is no longer a joke. She is wiser. Things like fat jokes are not funny anymore. She sees the world through a different filter. I like what I see. After all these years, I have found the person I was searching for and I can get back to loving myself. No more happiness in the bottom of an empty plate. That was the same kind of happiness a drug addict chases when they are trying to get high. I am beyond that now. No more turning to food and bad habits when things become stressful. Because I can love me and I am able to stare at the face looking back at me in the mirror, I am a stronger person. I can love me now.

It was strange, this morning, staring at my reflection. I liked what I see. Bed-hair and all. I have not felt that kind of comfort in a long time. Stranger, I don’t know where you went or where you have been, but please, please, don’t go back there anymore. I have a funny feeling you didn’t like it much. I know I didn’t like it when you were gone. I can smile at you and you will smile back. It will be a true smile. One that is not hidden behind a puffy face and slits for eyes. One that is not obscured by more than just a chin. It is you. Beautiful you! While you are not completely back, I can see that you are there and you have that determined look. You are here to stay!

I love you reflection. I know you feel better and I know you are working hard to show the world that you are still here. That you still exist. Thank you for caring enough to come back. Thank you for taking the journey to get here. Thank you for being…me.

Hello Stranger! I am glad you are here. Stick around and show pride without fear. Welcome Stranger, you’ve been gone so long. I can never apologize enough for steering you wrong. Hello Stranger! Where have you been? Can it really be you? From way back when? Thinking back, I don’t know where you went. Did you hide? Was it time well spent? I am glad you are back. Our journey will see, just how we both can stay on track. Stranger no more, I love me. My reflection, I love, is staring back at me.

What do YOU think?

The Breaking of the Beam

Stephen King had it right.

In the writing of the Dark Tower Series, he foretold of the destruction of man via people using their minds to break the beams that hold our worlds together. He wrote about a group of people in a desolate wasteland who went to “work” every day by gathering in a room and concentrating on one thing or another all the while their mental activity is chipping away at reality and causing the erosion of society. This story started in the machinations of this author’s mind long ago.

Translate that into today’s world, this is exactly what is happening. While you sit there, staring into the device that you are using to read this blog post, you are using your mental faculties to chip away at the beam of reality. All the while, the world around you is falling into chaos and disarray. You sit there, for hours on end, focusing on this little gadget. From an uninformed, third party, point of view, it appears that you are just staring at an inanimate object. The world forgotten. Like abandoned homes and buildings, the more attention you pay to the gadget in your hand, the more cracked, disregarded, and uninhabited your life becomes. We, as a society, are essentially breaking the beams to our own realities and letting technology take over. In the stories I mentioned here, there is a mechanical being that controls a thing or two. In our life, it is the cell phones and the computers and tablets that are taking over.The Positronics of the modern age.

It is not to say that this can be reversed. It can. It truly can. However, it is going to take more than one voice to make it so. Even as I sit here and write to you about the startling reality that is going on around us, I am feeding into the chaos and disarray as I compose my message to you.

For all the naysayers that disagree, I urge you to ponder this: How hard is it for you to leave your gadget alone for 24 hours. What about 48 hours? Three days?  It is nearly impossible for anyone to admit that they can do this without worrying about what they are missing or what they are going to come back to.

Tell me, what do YOU think?

Beach Choppers Ain’t Got Nothing on Jet Noise

Gawsh, I miss jet noise.

Let that sink in for a moment. Jet. Noise.

When our youngest daughter was a toddler, we moved to Virginia Beach. We were lucky enough to have lived on former Oceana Naval Air Station base housing. Aside from the obvious, that year alone was one of the most interesting of my life. (Ah, but I digress. Jet Noise is the topic of the day.) Our duplex was situated literally at the end of a takeoff/landing strip on the adjacent air fireld. Literally! It was our house, the back yard, the service road, a fence, grass and then the strip. They rotated the strips in the air field so that some months it would be a landing strip and others it would be a take off strip. On the take off months, our daughter could wave at the pilots AND THEY WOULD WAVE BACK!

Some interesting things to note about Jet Noise

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1.  Jets, at full power, are flippin loud!

2. When renting or buying a house in the vicinity of a landing strip, consider the waiver you sign acknowledging such very seriously.

3. Jet noise is impossible to talk over. If you are on the phone, even hiding in the center most closet of the house (and burying your head in the middle of the clothes) will not allow for an uninterrupted conversation when a jet takes off.

4. Jet noise pisses off your already possesed pomeranian.

Despite the deafening interruption to life several times a day, it was music every time. Patriotic. It even brought harmony to your heart. Sad to say, it is 12 years later and I still miss it. I miss it even more when I hear one of those snarky little beach copters flying right over our house. In the summer time, those gnats fly sometimes three deep. Annoying.

Before they posted a tourist stop up that put that flight path over our house, some of the local residents complained about the noise from the copters. I should have joined in on that wave. Busy bee copter noise all dayum day is a big bother to me. Certainly true when it makes me all nostalgic for Oceana. These people around here think those copters are loud? Nah…drip drip drop little April showers compared to a REAL bird.
To make my eyes well up even more? The local airport used to belong to an army air base back in the 50’s. The military still uses our tiny airport from time to time and the big cargo planes randomly come lumbering in. They are the only ones that fly so low you can almost read the serial number on the belly of the plane. The sight of these albatross planes make me wanna run outside and cheer. But then again, they are a more welcome, quieter,  reminder of a better place and a better time. I will take a low flying cargo plane over a beach copter anyday.

It took about 20 minutes to compose this blurb. Seven of those damn gnats flew shoobies overhead. Beach choppers.  Colorful helicopter wanna bes. Shoobs…leave the flying for real birds.

Gawsh I miss jet noise.

What do YOU think?

Lessons Learned 21 Bucks.

In a day where electronics have brought about the zombie apocalypse (even though we are unaware of such) and an ever increasing population makes attendance in public dangerous, it becomes harder and harder to teach our children lessons in honesty and integrity.  Today was slightly different.

Thanks to the electronic age and the perfect opportunity to have the boyz go for a walk with me. (1. ANY opportunity to get out of the house. 2. ANY opportunity to have them do something else besides electronic zombie activity.) I decided we were going to walk to pick up a new TV for the rec room. Now, if this was 1980, this would not have been possible with a plastic red rider wagon and two children. Thank gawsh for technology advances. (Yup…take a screen shot of that. Things I don’t say often. Ah, but I digress.)  So we walked there and back and the rec room is splendidly happy once again. However, there was a teachable moment which occurred in between.

Upon entering into our busy WallyWorld, I keep an ever searching eye out for discarded receipts. Savings Catcher has given me almost $100 bucks to spend and it’s great. Another story for another day. The first thing I see is a folded up piece of paper. From the printing along the edge of the paper I knew it was a payroll check of some kind. I sit down on a bench nearby and open it up. It is a SIGNED cashiers check with a deposit slip. I turn it over and see the amount.

$374.42

Wow. I know whomever lost this must be sick with grief. I thought about it for a moment and made a decision. This IS WallyWorld, afterall, and if I just hand it over to the snotty management staff, they will get the feel good credit for my kind deed and the owner will never know about the lesson I am trying to teach the boyz. Instead, I explained what the right thing to do was and then took matters into my own hands.

I walked up to customer service and asked the manager for a phone book. I did find a number that matched the name and address on the deposit slip. I called it but, there was no answer. Like the movies, I snatched the page out of the phone book and stuffed it into my pocket. Then, I told the manager lady that my oldest child had found a check the parking lot abd I wanted to leave her name and number at the customer service desk if the owner came looking for it. The manager demanded the check so they could “lock it up” and I told her again, my daughter found it on her way out and it is not here. So the manager gave me a pen and paper and I wrote.

“I found your check and I will keep it safe. Please call and I will bring it to you. Micaa 845-555-1212.” No sillies, that is NOT my number so don’t try it. You will get information.)

I explained to the boyz why I did what I did. I wanted to see the look on the ladys face when her money was returned to her. I also wanted them to experience the feel good feeling of being nice to a fellow human. As we were exiting the parking lot and, making our way home, my phone begins ringing.

“This is Micaa.”
“Hello! This is Ms. Randall. You have something of mine?”
“Oh yes! How are you? I do. We are at this so and so spot and walking you can’t miss us. When you get done shopping, I will have it for you.”
“Oh. THANK YOU!  I am not nearly as upset as I was thank you again!”

After walking along about ten minutes, a Cadillac SUV pulls up beside us with a lady about my mother’s age in it. The boyz and I walked up to the truck and she asked me if it was OK to give me $20. I told her it was OK and she insisted I spend it on the boyz. I told her of the lesson I wanted them to learn and that each will get $10. She said gratefully “You are an angel!”

Yea, I can say my feeling was that it was going to “pay” off but even the grateful look on her face and the teachable moment accomplishment

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was enough. Good deeds really do pay off.

On another note, Numba 8 even found a dollar bill on the sidewalk before we reached the house.

See how Karma does good things?

What do YOU think?

I Learned My True Color Today

Went fishing this morning with the love of my life. This is why Friday’s are my favorite day of the week. It is my only day off and I get to spend the mornings with my Cal. Today, we decided to drag the entire pond behind the house. It took about 2 hours. I am certain it would have been longer but I have become impatient and I think the storms from the past couple of days have knocked most of the bugs out of the air and washed them off the banks. This feeds the fish and they are not interested in our lures. While it makes for a boring time of fishing, we get to talk and carry on. What is important to me is that we get to spend time together…alone…without the children. Any time we can take to be child-free is precious when you do not trust random people to watch your children and the nearest trustworthy relative is a 4 hour drive away. Yea, I know we have a teenager but our children are like all north ends of a magnet. They cannot get along and do so much better separated.

Ah but I digressed.

My intent is not about children but about fishing. My constant readers and fans know well that I am in an interracial marriage so I can carry on about the “color” jokes sometimes. (Remember how “colored popscicles” got me in trouble and ended up having my supervisor use it to laugh at one of my co-workers? Yea. Like that.) Let me give you some background about how I came to the conclusion “I learned my true color today.”  When you see people do crazy stuff on television, most of the time, it is white people doing X-games stuff or just plain craziness. Outrageous, extraordinary, kill-yourself, stupidity is not something that black folks tend to do. While they do have their own silliness, it is nothing like jumping off the side of a rock cliff in a squirrel suit and hoping you don’t catch a bad wind gust only to become bugsplat on a rock face. Black folk silliness is never anything like that. Also, when you see someone run off scared, they are “white as a ghost.” After this morning, I have found that I am both white as can be as well as black. (Ya, that is honorary, I am an HONORARY black person because I married a Miles and I am still here after 20 years. 🙂 ) It takes a certain kind of person to live with a Miles and have the intestinal fortitude to survive it and stick around. This is why I am confident in my marriage because no one can handle my beloved Cal like me! This man was made just for me! (Yea, I digressed. It is TRUE!)

About halfway around the pond, there are 2 options. You can cross the rock cropping near the end of the pond, or you can go up to the road and cross over the bridge. Being that my fishing license had expired and I was using artificial bait, I did not want to be seen by the game warden or reported by a passerby for walking the bridge holding my fishing pole. I thought it would be best to try to cross the rock cropping. Not long before I had reached the cropping, Cal had lovingly warned me to watch for snakes. I was already doing so, with it being snake season and, we were walking in ankle high grass. I thought I could make it because the rocks were big and I called myself being able to see around them. He was far enough behind me where, even if he said anything, he would not be able to help and there was running water near me that was creating enough background noise that I wouldn’t have heard nothing more than his voice making noise. About halfway down to the inlet where the water was coming into the pond, I looked down and seen the middle of a snake snuggled down in between the rocks about a foot in front of me. Immediately, I did an about face and ran back up the side of the embankment. What took me almost five minutes carefully choosing secure rocks to step on, I confidently say I was out of there and back up on the grass in about  fifteen (15) seconds.

I looked over at Cal and all he did was give me a thumbs up.

Confused, I turned and took the bridge anyway. I safely made it back to the pond’s edge and resumed fishing AFTER my heart stopped racing and trying to jump out of my nose. I can say that the part of the snake I noticed was only about 6 inches long but that sucker was nearly 2-3 inches wide and I could CLEARLY see the scales on that flucker. I was NOT going to hang around to see how long it truly was and I am thankful it was not moving nor that I was able to see either end of it. It can happily stay right were it is in the rock outcropping and continue to bask in the warmth of the rocks from the day before. When Calvin (smartly) came across the bridge and started fishing near my location, he told me what he was thinking as he watched me attempt to walk across the rocks.

“I kept saying to myself…no no no no….don’t go down there in snakeville! No! But the next thing I knew, you got the hell up out of there! What were YOU thinking!”

(Of course I wanted to say ‘HEY! That is MY line!’ but no, I let him have that.)

Now, where do the colors come into play?  I was white for trying to cross the rock outcropping. Only a dumb azz white girl like me would try to do something like that in the middle of the summer when it is blazing hot. Yes, it is in the dead middle of snake season and I should know better. I have nature smarts and I have seen my share of snakes and other critters on previous fishing trips. Duh!  I was black for zipping up the embankment as fast as I did. In my family, it is the black in you that gets you the heck outta dodge whenever something starts to go wrong. A snake? Well, have you ever seen a black american snake charmer? Yeah, me neither.

So yes, I was reminded of my true colors today.  I am definitely white. But on the inside, I am black. However, I can assure you I was “white as a ghost” there for a minute after seeing that snake.

Open Wide

What do YOU think?

When Inspiration Hits

I have been reflecting on the times I become inspired to write.  We were riding around the beach and I found another alien face. (The Ghost in the Machine.) I remembered when I found the first one. I looked at it. Stopped. Looked at it again. Stared at it even. All of a sudden, I felt the need to take a picture of it. Surprisingly,  I never know the inspiration hit me until after I atake a picture of the thing. Its almost as if inspiration needs a visual confirmation that it’s presence is valid.

As always, I have someone with me who looks at me bewildered when I have that momentary sideways stare at something. It always happens at strange times. Also, as soon as the picture is snapped, I feel compelled to explain myself.

“I have to write about that.”

What do YOU think?

They are watching

The other day, yhe cable company came and did some work on the lines up the street. We all know I wanted to go scream at them and tell them they better not interrupt my internet without telling me first. Lucky for them, I was off that day. This means the sight of the bucket truck with “isp” on the side didn’t give me anxiety attacks. Besides, I was having a great day and was not going to let a silly field tech ruin my day. So ling as my stuff worked when I had to navigate that heckacious hallway traffic and go to work, they can do what they need to do.

This morning, Cal and I went for a morning constitutional
As we rounded the end of the road, we noted the high schoolers were boarding the school bus. Attempting not to “embarass” the grumpy smurf, we walked the other way. Early in the morning, I admire the sky and like to watch the birds flutter from here to therem its just a beautiful thing. As we turned to go the other way, I turned and looked at the cables that the isp was working on just the day before.

(O.o) There is a……FACE….on the cables.

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1. “What is THAT?!” I said.
2. **Micaa pulls out phone.**
3. “Come on. What are doing?” Says Cal. “I have to take a picture of that. It has a FACE!”

So I am standing there, taking a picture. Phone all in the air and the bus goes by. I just know I was being stared at. Cal turned to the bus and shrugged his shoulders. I imagine there were about seven teenagers asling the Smurf “What is yo momma doin this time girl?!” I can also envision the Smurf, with her face in her hands, shaking her head from emberassment. She will tell me later that I should have waited. I know. I know. Ah, but I digress. Back to the face. That FACE.

It is watching us. Never mind the city cameras. This confounded thing looks like an ALIEN! Even better, it looks lkke the good robot fro that Will Smith movie ‘irobot’ went and got high and infected the cable lines. OMG!! They have made the CABLES self aware! Its bad enough that the computers and machinescan now watch us (did you know they make an alarm system with a latch key feature to tell you when your kid leaves the house or someone else goes in the perimiter when you are not there? What? Honestly I didn’t think peeps left their minors home alone anymore. Oops. Another digression…) But yea! Now they have to go and make the cabling self aware! I will never look at my beloved phone charger the same way again

Why don’t they just force us to wear iris cameras and mark every move we make. That is where its going. At least until Blaine and Patricia come along and begin to destroy the paths to the Beam. (In case you didn’t know, that was a terrible, inaccurate reference to the 11.5 books by Stephen King so lovingly referred to as “The Gunslinger Series.” If you have a complete few weeks of your life to totally become…you should check it out.

What do YOU think?

One More Than Yesterday is Always Nice

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When fishing with family,

One more than yesterday is always nice.

One more fish, one more pound.

One more partner (son,) one more round.

One more pond, one more ground.

One more day, one more sundown.

When fishing with family.

One more than yesterday is always nice.

I love you Cal.

I love you Doug.

I love you Alyssa.

One more hug.

I love you Josh.

The one I miss.

One day he’ll fish.

Oh the bliss.

When fishing with family

One more than yesterday is always nice.

When fishing with you,

It makes me smile.

It makes me want to go

That extra mile.

I love fishing with you.

It makes me happy.

I wish you knew.

When fishing with family,

One more than yesterday is always nice.

**This is dedicated to my Cal and the babies. It includes the fishing partners I didn’t mention. CJ, Anessa and soon, Marlee. 🙂

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What do YOU think?

The Trees DO Have Voices

Our littlest one is becoming a little man. While I am excited for this, it saddens me all the same. Mothers never want their babies to grow up. It like ripping their heart out and giving it away. It’s difficult to digest. Our Number Seven had told me the other day that his Lorax poster was falling off the wall. When he pointed it out, I seen that it was hanging by one corner. Because it was sort of tilted (I hung it that way to be “cool”) I said “Oh, honey, I’ll fix it later.” This time, I believe my procrastination bit me in the rear.

Last night he brought me this poster. “Mom, it finally fell. I don’t want it anymore. Here.” I looked down and saw his little outstretched arm holding a tattered poster, worn with years and the Lorax looking at me with his old eyes. “Oh, just put it in my office chair.” Off he went. As quickly as he disappeared into the office, he went back to his room. I didn’t think anything of it really. Until I seen the discarded poster sitting in my office chair when I went to get ready for work. Then it hit me.

My babies are growing up.

Let us have some background on this poster shall we? OK. Our Grumpy Smurf is now sixteen. She was the first to experience the brilliantly written story by Dr. Seuss. “The Lorax.” It was with her that I perfected the ability to read this and several others with passion. When she was still an arm baby, I ordered a set of Dr. Seuss books which were to be delivered in installments of 2 per month until one decided to cancel or the whole set was complete. Randomly, when a classic (such as The Lorax or The Sneetches) came, it would be a larger book. The order I filled out promised a full-sized poster to come with The Lorax book. It was one of the first larger editions to arrive and, as promised, so did the poster. It was carefully folded to just smaller than the page sizes and inserted into the book for protection. All of the books were hard back. We still have every single one of these books. Every child in America has been exposed to Dr. Seuss at least once in their life. For most, good memories. (Ah, minor digression there.)

Back to the poster. Upon receipt, I immediately hung the poster in her little room. It was the biggest thing in there and full of color. Just like the book itself. She loved for me to read to her when she was tiny and often looked at the pictures when we were not cuddled up together reading. Wow, thinking about reading to the Smurf seems so long ago. Just about the time she started reading our Number Eleven came along. As the Smurf grew older and “outgrew” the Dr. Seuss stories, the books migrated to her brother’s room. Along with the Lorax poster. By this time, it had several layers of tape and a few holes in each corner and wear beginning to show where the poster was folded but nothing that was seen by just looking at it on the wall. We were renters until our baby was about 3 so it was hung and rehung many times during its life with us. Number 11 liked his Dr. Seuss books not only to be read to him but he liked the pictures. He held onto the collection a bit longer than our Smurf did. He was into picture books and that was his version of “reading.”

When we bought our house, I hung the Lorax on our baby’s wall. Since then, he moved to a room down the hall and this room is now my office but it was carefully hung in that room as well. Until yesterday…. I think when I get done with this I am going to make him sit with me while I read the Lorax to him. Possibly one last time. He wont like it but I will. He is a reader now and does not have time for me to read to him. That’s OK. As I sit here and gaze upon the beloved poster, the wear along the folds is terribly pronounced, there is tear about six inches from the top along one of the folds and some of the tape has begun to turn yellow with age. The Lorax himself looks ragged as ever. Then again, he always has hasn’t he? My chair is next to a window which looks out at the trees near the house. My Cal always said that the trees talk to him.

Trees. They DO have voices. I like being near Cal when the trees “talk” to him. He nearly looks at peace and one with the world. He knows a great deal about trees too. He has opened my eyes to identifying different tree types. I have learned how to identify mistletoe in the winter, squirrel nests, bird nests and even how woodpeckers do their thing when you hear them rat a tat tat on a tree for their breakfast. Another wonderful thing he showed me was that, you don’t need the weather man to tell you when it is going to rain. Just look at the trees. They will turn their leaves up toward the sky in a cup like fashion to catch the rain. Next time you can “feel” it about to rain, look at them…the trees…you will see the underside of most of their leaves. Then, on a dry day, compare. You will see the leaves out turned and you can see the shiny top sides of them. Amazing things trees are. Maybe I am a little attached to that poster more because Cal and his conversations with the trees. No, he does not talk back to them but he listens. You can see the serenity and awe on his face when they do. Its beautiful.

Maybe the trees do have voices. Oh, the stories they could tell. In the mean time, I am going to get that poster framed and hang it in my office. It reminds me of a happy time with each of the kiddos as well as reminds me of the love of my life. While he does not speak for the trees, the trees do have voices and they talk to him. My Cal. My version of the Lorax. (Though a younger version. He is not nearly as old as the Lorax! Ah, but I digress…again.)

**Takes her morning coffee on the deck to watch the trees talk. MUCH better than the morning news.Cheers!**

What do YOU think?

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