Magic

 Do you believe in magic? Most people would say no. I believe.

When I am out for a drive to the top of a hill and see all the scenery I gasp. I can see farms, animals, and fields. Occasionally I see a stand of trees or a river. It is beautiful. It is magical. 

The tinkle of a toddler's laugh makes everyone laugh too. That is magic.

The clean sweet smell of a baby after its bath is magic.

Seeing a tree full of migrating birds stopping to rest is magic.

One day I watched thousands of little ants scurrying to some destination. I was fascinated. It was magic.

In the spring lilac bushes, jasmine, and honeysuckle magically fill the air with their lovely scents. Dandelions, crocus, and violets peep up to cover the ground with colors of magic. 

Fruit trees leafing then blooming are magic. Those blossoms becoming fruit that we can eat is magic.

Seeing a small herd of deer fills me with wonder. Seeing a flock of wild turkeys fills me with fascination. Seeing a herd of buffalo fills me with awe. I am in the presence of magic.

Snow and ice in the winter are magic. Special magic is reserved for a hoar frost. Everything looks like it has been covered in powdered sugar.

Even the occasional garden snake I find coiled in my yard is a magical creature. How do snakes move simply by wiggling?

Brussels sprouts. They taste so good. Along with other vegetables they magically nourish us.

Computers were science fiction when I was a child. Their magic is such that almost every home is now online.

Grass magically grows during the summer. It is enough that people mow their lawns every week.

Have you ever seen the wind blow so hard that trees bend over double? After the storm there stands the tree tall and proud. Magic.

I once saw a triple rainbow. My son took pictures of it. That is magic.

Mother and child. Father and child. Man and woman. Any two people who love each other are creating magic.

The fact that you are reading this is magic. I guess you believe too.

Tell Me A Story

Before humans had organized methods of writing there were storytellers. Depending on the culture they had different names. The Irish and Scots had The Seanachaidh. In India there were The Kathakar. The Skald told the tales of Norway and Iceland.

The storytellers of the area around Turkey and Iran were called The Ashik. In Japan there were The Hanashila. Central Europe relied on The Minstrels for their stories. The Griot told stories in Western Africa.

In Hawaii a person would tell the moʻolelo. Chants and hulas also convey the history of the islands. Native American tribes relied on the storytellers to keep their traditions.

Every culture had storytellers. They were necessary for members to learn their history. Of course there were often exaggerations. These built the heroes memories and gave birth to myths associated with each culture. The storytellers were honored and treated with reverence.

The Irish say that to know who you are you must first know who you come from. I believe that to be true. We are not all descended from royalty or great warriors but our ancestors were important. Without them we would not exist.

When I was a little girl I would quietly sit and listen to the adults telling stories of my ancestors. It was not only great fun but also I learned who I came from.

There are probably storytellers in your family...usually more than one. Learn from them. They are keeping your history alive.

Good Girl

Every so often during the day my son's Alexa will suddenly say, "Delilah. You're a good girl." Sometimes she will add, "Maybe even the best girl."

Delilah is his dog. The moment she hears her name she jumps up and runs to him to be petted.

It just shows that every vreature including us needs to be appreciated now and then.

Superman

I am a Daddy's girl. When Daddy was in the Navy during World War II he bought kimonos for his wife and little girl. He did not know either of us yet. I am the little girl he wanted and I have always felt special because of that.

Daddy was not perfect but I was a teenager before I knew that. He is close enough for me.

Daddy could build or fix anything. At one time he had a business. He was a plumber

. It seemed to be successful. His wanderlust kicked in and we moved.

He was town marshal in two small towns. In those little towns he was also dog catcher, water commissioner, jailer, and chief of the volunteer firemen. He used to come home with stray dogs. Or maybe he would have a bunny in his shirt pocket. We had great fun with the homeless animals he could not bring himself to destroy.

He was working for a farmer. One day Daddy was standing on the back of the tractor as the farmer backed up to hook up to a plow. Somehow Daddy's foot was struck in between the tractor and the tongue of the plow. His foot was broken.

Have you ever seen someone run over by a house? Daddy was working for the local house mover. People would buy a nice house and have it moved to another piece of land.

One day they were moving a house near to where we lived. Mom took us to the little country dirt road they would be travelling so we could see what he did for a living. They used back roads like that so they would not disrupt traffic. 

Daddy had a long pole with a forked end he used to hold power lines up so the house would pass without catching them. He was holding up power lines in the crossroad. The house was mounted on special little trailers and pulled by one of the big trucks. 

One of the trailers ran right over his foot! Luckily his foot was only pushed down into the deep loose dirt of the road. He was not hurt. 

We built a house for our family. A cement truck deposited cement for the floor of the basement. Daddy smoothed it all out and waited until it set. Then he built the foundation with cement blocks and cement he made himself.

Daddy did most of the work but we all helped. I can remember him telling me I used the hammer like a girl. He showed me the correct way to pound a nail. 

We all loved that house. It is one of two buildings that I feel strongly about. It still stands and I drive by every once in a while to say hello to it.

One summer Daddy took a job in Washington state. He worked on a dairy farm. There was another employee from Germany who spoke no English. He and my father worked well together. The man had a daughter about my age who went to the fields with them because she spoke English and could translate. Daddy arranged for me to go along to keep her company. I wish I had been smart enough to learn German from her.

While we lived there Daddy got real sick. He had the Asian flu. The doctor quarantined him to the boys' room. We were not allowed to see him at all. Poor Mom was the only one who could go in to see to his needs.

Daddy was alone in that room for about a month before we saw him again.

My father was a superman to survive all he did.

He did not have a happy home growing up. My grandfather was a drunk and my grandmother was not a loving person. Without an example of good parenting my father was a great father.

He volunteered to chaperone school functions. He umpired ball games for my brothers and uncles. He was a good man. And he was my Daddy.

Superwoman

My mother was a wonder.  She cooked, cleaned, and raised seven children. I really believe she could do anything she set her mind to. Not to mention she was the smartest person I ever knew.

My grandparents used to play for barn dances. Grandpa played fiddle, bajo, and guitar. Grandma played the piano. Unfortunately they did not teach their children to play.

Mom decided to learn to play the piano. She got some 'how-to' books from the library. After studying them she bought some simple sheet music. Mom was playing music. Not just with one hand but both. 

My mother was a published author. When I was around 6 or 7 she sold several articles to women's magazines. I do not know which ones . I was never privileged enough to read any of the articles. I do remember well that she was excited about them.

Mom grew up on farms. She only faced one problem about eating. She was allergic to milk. As she got older she could manage small amounts of milk. She loved ice cream. Two of my granddaughters inherited her allergy. One is severe.

On television and in movies glamorous people drank martinis all the time. Mom was not a drinker. One time Mom and Daddy were invited to a function for Christmas. She told me before they went that she was going to have a martini. And she did. She said it tasted terrible.

Mom could not stand to have her face covered. My oldest son is the same way. Because of that she never learned to swim. As I told you in an earlier post she saved my sister from drowning in spite of not being able to swim.

Because she grew up on the farm Mom rode horses. They did not even own a bicycle. So she never learned to ride a bike. She wanted to know how. She bought herself a bicycle. 

She practiced and practiced. It could not have been easy when her grandchildren rode circles around her and laughed. But she learned.

One day my sister came to show off her new car. Mom wanted to show her that she could ride the bicycle. My sister patiently watched her as she leaned against her new car. Mom rode to the end of the block and came back. As she got close to my sister and began to stop Mom lost control of the bike.

She began to fall and the bike got away from her. The handlebars went right through the windshield of my sister's new car. Thank goodness for insurance.

 Mom decided to collect the discarded bottles and cans that everyone was throwing to the side of the road. She wanted her own car that she bought and paid for herself. She would turn the bottles in for the refund every week. In little time she had the money for her car and for the license plates and insurance. Of course she was proud and we were proud of her.

It was an older car and the paint was mottled. Mom set about painting it. She had several cans of fluorescent blue paint from crafts she had done. That would be a nice color. When she was finished with it the car looked nice.

Mom and Daddy were sound asleep one night. They were awakened by a huge commotion in front of their house. Apparently someone had reported an eerie blue glow. First a police helicopter was dispatched. It flew as low as it could toward the glow but the trees kept them from being able to identify it. 

Several police cars then appeared. When it was discovered that it was a little car glowing they tried to find out why. As Mom explained why it looked like that and there was no nefarious reason they left laughing. 

It's A Date

 Remember dates? 

A young man would notice a young woman and wish to know her better. When he built up the courage he would approach her and ask her out. Maybe to a movie. Maybe to the stock car races. Maybe to a dance.

He hoped she would say yes. She usually did.

Fridays were considered to be date night. I suppose it was because there was no school the next day. Also there was no church in the morning.

The young man would go to the young woman's house and knock on the door. He always picked her up and met her parents. The parents would remind them what time she had to be home.

She would dress up to be pretty but to be dressed appropriately for the activity. He would be dressed appropriately too. Off they went. Sometimes he had a car and sometimes they walked.

After the date the young man would see her home. He would take her to her door and see her safely inside before he went home. 

One date did not necessarily mean that there would be another. If they really enjoyed it there might be. They were not looking for exclusivity. But perhaps there would be more dates. 

Now these youngsters 'hang out". They meet a group of friends and maybe do something maybe not. Sometimes a couple would form and 'hang out' together with all the rest.

The innocence of dating is lost. They do not know what they are missing.