Doggy Pile

            The clicking keyboard disturbed the otherwise quiet room.  Squeaky toys littered the floor, someone’s stereo played in the back bedroom, I dozed on the couch listening to my husband write a speech.

 “What do you think about this paragraph?” he asked, and read aloud for several minutes. 

I only half listened, but managed to wake up long enough to say, “It’s wonderful, Dear,” before I dozed off again. 

It was a perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon, and I planned to take full advantage of the opportunity.  The dogs were taking advantage of the quiet, too, sleeping in a funny pile on my feet.  I was always too cold from the air conditioner, so they were welcome on my bare toes.

Suddenly the neighbor roared into the driveway on his big Harley, and the dogs leaped to their feet, barking and snarling to protect the house from the vicious motorcycle.  Then the squeaky toys looked fascinating again, and the ball had to be thrown, and everybody wanted to go outside.  Damn.  There went my afternoon nap.

Magic Carpet

I remember first seeing that little, blue Schwinn bike.  It was sitting in the living room on my fifth birthday.  I was excited—and terrified.  Flying around on only two wheels was a scary thought.  How can you balance on that narrow base?  Only a tiny bit of the bike actually touches the ground; that can’t be safe.  Still, I went bravely out with my dad to try it.  And promptly gave up.  I fell on the gravel road in front of our house, I didn’t like the bumpy ride over the giant rocks (okay, gravel isn’t giant, but it looked really big from the top of that bike), and the bike obviously didn’t want me to ride it. 

My dad put training wheels on the bike, and I happily rode on four wheels for two years.  When I was almost seven, the training wheels came off over my protests and against my better judgment.  The bike certainly hadn’t gotten safer in those two years.  If anything, it was worse since I was taller and had further to fall.  My dad didn’t believe that the bike wanted to hurt me, and those training wheels came off anyway.  I was too scared to sit on the seat to ride.  I sat on the crossbar between the seat and handlebars and coasted along, unable to reach the pedals from that awkward angle, but safe sitting only a foot off the ground. 

One day I decided to sit on the seat and coast.  I was tall enough for my feet to easily reach the ground on both sides, so I figured I probably wouldn’t die up there.  Before I knew it, I was riding, feet on the pedals, flying over the street.  I’d never been so fast in my life.  I rode a magic carpet on two wheels, a thoroughbred racehorse with thundering hooves, a space craft capable of escaping the pull of gravity and flying to the moon.  It was magical, freeing, FAST.  I ran inside to make my parents come see my newfound talent.  They stood in awe of my magical self and my superb bike (probably greatly relieved that I’d finally stopped being scared of that little blue bike). 

After years of alternately trying out her bike and avoiding her bike, my granddaughter learned the magic trick of flying on two wheels.  Her proud grin, splitting her face in two, showed her own delight in knowing how to ride a racehorse and a space ship.  Proud grandparents applauded her mastery of her fabulous bicycle, feeling awed and amazed (and not a little relieved that she overcame her fear of that little pink bike). 

I relived my own discovery of freedom while she discovered hers.  I dragged out my bike—big and black, now—and sped around the neighborhood.  It’s still magical and fun and fast.  Go out and borrow a bike from one of the taller kids in your neighborhood.  Try it out.  Rediscover the wonder of racing in the Kentucky Derby, flying to the moon, and swooping over distant lands on your own magic carpet.  Wear a helmet, and have fun!

Monday Letters: Freedom and Patriotism

He is a poor patriot whose patriotism does not enable him to understand how all men everywhere feel about their altars and their hearthstones, their flags and their fatherland.

                                                  Harry Emerson Fosdick

Freedom is still expensive.  It still costs money.  It still costs blood.  It still calls for courage and endurance, not only in soldiers, but in every man and woman who is free and who is determined to remain free.                               Harry S. Truman

We live free to choose for ourselves our careers, our education, our worship and our ethics.  We are free to criticize our government, military and police force.  We can discuss the wrongs of the world in public without fear of imprisonment.  We are free, even, to leave the country and live somewhere else if we so choose.  In this, we are among the lucky ones of the world. 

I hope you understand and appreciate the gift from men and women who believed in liberty enough to fight and die for it.  Liberty is not now, nor has it ever been free.  Worldwide peace will only be achieved when all men are free to think and choose for themselves, and can choose peace.

You may be called upon to defend the freedom or rights of someone.  You may witness bullying, victimizing or other aggressive acts designed to reduce freedom.  I hope you will be willing to stand up for the rights of everyone, speaking out for freedom from fear and mistreatment in behalf of those who cannot speak for themselves. 

You may also be called upon to respect differences in culture, temperament and worship.  There are people in the world who think very differently than you.  Their values may be incomprehensible to you. 

I pray that you will have the wisdom to understand the difference between culture differences and culturally accepted atrocities.  I pray that you will have the courage to act when necessary.  I pray that you will have the respect to allow everyone to choose his own morals and ethics.

Reasons to Marry an Older Man

1.      I will always look younger than his friends from high school.

2.      He’s learned a few things over the years about how to treat women.

3.      He is established in his career, not just starting out.

4.      He’s happy to stay home and read with me, and never expects me to learn a new sport.

5.      Gray hair is distinguished and sexy on a man.

6.      He’s lived alone for a while, so he knows how to do house work.

7.      He has older kids, who give me grandkids for free!  I didn’t have to survive their adolescence, but get to spoil their children.

8.      He has a lifetime of friends and activities to introduce me to.

9.      He’s learned how to change a leaking faucet, a flat tire, and a baby’s diaper.

10.  Two words: life insurance.

Remembering Grandpa

You know what I love about this picture?  I love how happy they all look.
This is Amy, Grandpa Bensch (Jeremy's father), and DJ.  Grandpa was a firefighter, and he brought home firefighting clothes for the kids to try on.  They were amazed at how heavy the clothes are. 
Grandpa Bensch died a few months ago.  He was way too young to die, and it was very unexpected.  I am grateful for my faith in an afterlife and in a loving God.  This is a letter I wrote to my kids just after he died, in hopes that they will also take comfort in faith.

Rembering Grandpa

            When Mikey was a baby, Grandpa Bensch tended him while Daddy and I went out sometimes.  Grandpa told me once that Mikey’s eyes looked older and wiser than baby eyes, like the eyes of someone who hadn’t forgotten living with Heavenly Father.  He also said he felt like he and Mikey had known each other for a long, long time, and I think he was right. I like to think Mikey and Grandpa have had time to talk now.  Perhaps Mikey came to meet Grandpa and show him the way home.

            After we die, our spirits go on to a post-mortal existence. Grandpa definitely was a good man who understood service, compassion, and genuine concern for his neighbors and family.            

         I have been blessed to know that Mikey was waiting for Grandpa.  I know they already know and love each other.  It makes me happy to think of these two men talking about their lives, their family, and you now that they can be together again. 

          I am glad your Grandpa was so cool.  I'm glad I knew him.  I'm glad I once (but only once) beat him at gin.

My kids are very lucky to have had such a Grandpa.  The world is poorer now than it was last year, but Heaven is richer.

New Adventures

After serious consideration, I am moving forward with becoming a living kidney donor.  Follow my adventures (if you care) at http://www.lesdonates.blogspot.com/
I'm excited for this opportunity to serve and to learn.  Wish me luck!

Harmony and Hope Trump Human Nature

            I have heard amazing things from the people around me, and not always in a good way.  There is so much sadness, bitterness, anger, and incivility in the world.  Encounters with other humans so often leads to betrayal and hurt and annoyance. 

            I know one woman who is convinced that if she lets anyone close to her heart, she will inevitably be betrayed.  She thinks it is human nature that people can’t help but be selfish and uncaring in their words and actions.  I don’t know what happened to break her heart, but it seems she has had more than one friendship turn sour in her life, leading her to block out everyone and isolate herself.

            One man said he often thinks of stoning other drivers on the highway.  He gets cut off, blocked, treated rudely every time he gets in his car.  I have never been in a car that he’s driving, but his wife says he snarls and complains at other drivers all the time, sometimes believing they can hear him. 

            I hear stories all the time about cranky people in the grocery store or the gas station who go out of their way to be rude, inconsiderate and boorish to everyone around them, customers and cashiers alike.  People push past others in the aisles, mutter snide remarks in passing, and take the last item someone else was just reaching for. 

            Is this really the world we live in?  Are we all destined for a lifetime of hurt and sadness?

            I don’t think I live in a world like that.  I have several genuine, true friendships with women who would never intentionally hurt my feelings.  I have always chatted with customers and cashiers at the grocery store—I even know the personal stories of some of the cashiers at stores I frequent.  I have never been cut off while driving (and yes, I do drive in Utah, and California, and sometimes Nevada, where everyone complains about everyone else on the road).  I don’t think I’m moving around in a giant, protective bubble that keeps out the crazies and the meanies.  I think I simply choose to see the good in people.

            Or I choose not to care.  Every once in a while, someone will approach me and say, “I hope I didn’t offend you,” and I will have no idea what they’re talking about.  Maybe I wasn’t listening when they said whatever-it-was.  Maybe I just don’t care enough about that person’s opinion to let it get to me.  I’m not an angel, and one of my faults is that I just don’t care much about what other people say or think about me.  I’m rarely offended, but I fail to be touched sometimes, too.

            I do have a couple cousins who love everyone and are loved by everyone.  For them, the world is full of friends and potential friends.  Bad people, anger, betrayal simply don’t exist in their worlds, because no one would ever dream of hurting them.  I wonder if they attract only good people, or if the way they choose to perceive their surroundings changes how they feel in their surroundings. 

            Life is not all about perception, I know.  There are instances of genuine betrayal.  The family “friend” who molests a child, the man who gets violent when angry, the person who spreads rumors and lies just to ruin a reputation—these people exist, unfortunately.  No amount of positive thinking and genuine human compassion will make these behaviors acceptable in any way.  Some people should be shunned by polite society.

            But some people are just trying to get through the day, like everybody else.  Sometimes choosing to perceive the world a little differently can make a huge difference.  Learning to let little things blow by without being affected by them can, perhaps, contribute to the harmony in the world.  And we could use all the harmony we can get.