Category Archives: Real Life

Building a fire

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My resume does not include fire building as a high priority or emphasized line item. It is a good thing and bad thing, to know it takes some effort to create fire in a fireplace or wood burning stove.

If I didn’t want something to burn, it would catch in a second. Intentionally creating fire is an art to behold when needed. I have learned the equipment list and supplies are as important as the task.

Keep all junk newspaper items received from the United States Postal Service. If you have a newspaper subscription, keep them handy. You are going to use them. This is integral to getting an inferno blaring. Unless you are handy with a hatchet, chain saw, DeWalt saw, or are willing to walk your legs through the woods to pick up kindling that won’t infiltrate your chimney with scum – talk nice to your cousin-in-law who is kind enough to share his kindling with you.Those long handled butane lighters are important for spark so as not to burn your hands, arms, sleeves, eye lashes and hair. Those incidental necessities will catch fire immediately. It is a good idea to have a working fire extinguisher nearby. Knowing where it is and being able to see it could be a life saving measure.

A rack to stack tons of wood on will keep it off the ground outside. You still need easy access when it is snowing, pouring down rain or the outside temps are freezing. The backyard neighbors have seen it all when I engage in obtaining a new wood supply for inside by going outside in my leopard slippers, exotic night wear, knee length red and blue striped sweater, rust color ski jacket and wrapped in the blanket with the coffee latte’ motif on it. Try carrying a fourth of an oak tree while the wind is whipping your butt and the chill factor is filling your orifices.

Different size logs will determine the internal temperature of the inside the house environment! One skinny log, half a ton of kindling and the Sunday Houston Chronicle will maintain a temperature of approximately 62 degrees for a short period of time. That is, if the fire catches on. A split medium log, a skinny log and a weekday newspaper will get the ponderosa up to 70 degrees. A bunch of piping hot coals, left over from the initial fire starting attempts, a split medium log and 2 fat logs may get the temp up to a toasty 80 degrees. If you intend to keep warm throughout the night, as my friend Frances refers to it, a huge “night” log is necessary. Depending on the size of your stove or fireplace, you still may be getting your cold tired ass out of bed around 4:00 am to throw more logs on the fire. Important Note: make sure the log fits into the wood burning stove BEFORE shoving it into the fire storm. You certainly don’t want a burning log hanging outside of the stove door!Building a fire 01-2014 a

Designate tons of time to this activity unless you have a house boy named Sven to assist in taking care of your every comfort. Building a fire will lead to contentment and a coziness few electric heating units are able to replicate. Practice and patience will accomplish the task.

A life changing event

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Apology is extended for the lapse in time in posting to this blog.

Your normal self walks around with striking confidence, a cocky attitude, omnipotent disposition and wham – the earth falls out from under you. A life changing event is truly a “life changing” event. You are shocked. You are afraid. You have now become someone else. The crazy cloud surrounding you makes everything a daze. It is unkind but oddly protective.

Through my walks in life, I hear or know someone who has lost their partner or spouse. If it has never happened to you, and it will, you extend sympathy, condolences and prayers. Your expectation is for the person with affluent loss to bounce back into their own true selves. Everyone else is in their comfortable routine of work, kids, family, hobbies, activities and even the mundane of watching Lockdown at 1:00 am. It is understandable they do not grasp the internal panic the grief-stricken party is experiencing. We are not them or in their moment.

So we walk on eggshells and try to be sensitive to selective subjects. We don’t mention the precious conversational tidbit recently shared with our own spouse. Conscientious effort is made not to even mention a squabble. The lone surviving wife or husband views someone else’s fight as a cherished event they wish they could have had – always wishing for those “few more minutes”.

Extreme turnabout is the oblivious asses asking what you’re going to do with the partner’s personal possessions. It isn’t small talk or an extension to assist. They want the cowboy boots they saw on the back porch or the lace tablecloth that is on the table. It is self-serving and greedy. It is usually someone not in the inner circle with no ties to sentimental journey.  Concrete comparison is required to know the genuinely good from the classless bad.

When any of this, from either side, happens to you – keep in mind we are each human. There is no right or wrong. Unless someone has lost multiple spouses to death, they have no experience with what is happening to them. Losing a partner in your twenties may be very different from losing one when they are fifty. Life plans for the survivor instantaneously evaporate. A solitary passage of doing everything for one instead of two.

Please understand a smiling face, a gracious greeting and a brave face may be veiling extreme sadness and grief. Fill their lives with new experiences, fanciful flashes and be open to share a memory or two down the lane when that special door is open.

 

Why are you entitled?

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As old as I am, it is still a shocker to hear someone verbalize their entitlement. It can be as small as a cosmetic customer asking for a mascara sample because she simply doesn’t want to pay the ticket to purchase the item. Samples are provided for “paying” customers to use a new product. If they like the new product, they return to “purchase” it. Sample whores never want to “pay” for anything. They feel entitled to receive.

One of our teenage daughters brought home a parasite for a date one evening. He was about 8 years younger than I was, at the time. We asked him what his ambition in life was. He stated emphatically that he was waiting for his parents to die so he could inherit their printing business. I asked him what position he presently held and he looked at me as if he’d been shot with a stun gun. He didn’t really do anything there. My husband promptly escorted him to the front door for his “do nothing” exit. Needless to say, the daughter thought we were the nut cases until we informed her of the values of work ethic, responsibility, compassion and you don’t work – you don’t eat.

When Hurricane Ike hit Bolivar Peninsula and Crystal Beach, Texas, an acquaintance, we checked on told us she was waiting for government assistance because she didn’t evacuate when required to and lost her car. Needless to say, she lost her home and her minimum wage, part time job, also. Tragic as this was, she was given a new furnished, two bedroom apartment so her unemployed boyfriend could stay with her. She was also given a check for new clothing and transportation. She told me she was going to take 5 or 6 months off before looking for a job because she had money to live off of. While she was on vacation, our neighbors were fighting with insurance companies for 2 years to settle claims for homes wiped off the face of the earth from a tidal surge. They worked hard to pay for those homes and the expensive insurance. I had to watch them shovel their personal belongings and busted pieces of their homes from their lots as they were piecing their lives back together while the entitled collected checks.

I volunteer at a food pantry. The majority of recipients are extremely appreciative for the help. The ones which irk my ire are the ones with the expensive smart phones, new cars, and smell like dope and cigarettes with their mouths going. They complain about checking in. They want you to hurry up because they have to be somewhere else. They are agitated if they have to wait. The biggest bam is they complain about the food items they are receiving. They want steak and pastries.

You should live your life with the rewards earned. No one owes you anything. You are not entitled to receive something simply because you exist. If you didn’t pay in – there should be no proceeds available for you. The world would work better. I draw the line for the elderly and children. Never condemn the innocent and those needing true assistance. Education is the key to correction.

 

Happy Birthday, Lover

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My precious, dear lover is the very best God created. He certainly is the most handsome human being walking the earth. This is evident when I find beer cans on the porch table and his power tools laying in the middle of the living room floor. Who can get mad at a face like he has? This benefit certainly works to his advantage.

Lover is the foundation of what is good in the world. He had already raised a family and took on the young children accompanying me on the blissful journey we created. He not only raised my sons – he made them his sons by adoption. Lover taught them to be pick-up truck driving, walk with a Texas swagger, swing a hammer, load the dishwasher, hold the door open, tell the truth – “honest real men”. We are so proud of all of our children.

We got married 21 years ago. I didn’t see the need to get married but it was very important to Lover. His faith is not worn on his sleeve or exclaimed on a bumper sticker. It is the keystone of his character. I knew I was going to live with him and by his side for the rest of my life. He was 42 years old on our wedding day and I was 36. We thought we were half way over the hill at that point in time. It was actually a new spin which accomplished more than most dream of in an entire lifetime. I told him the only way I would marry him is if he would let me go the day we turn 89 and a half – on the same day. He will be held to that promise.

We moved recently and I found photos of our new life together. It was a testament of the magic he innovated into our lives. I remember thinking it was going to be so phenomenal making memories together – it has been more than phenomenal.

Today, my wonderful husband is sixty-four years old. He is the air I breathe and the sun on my face. He has given me the ocean, family and the reason to live on this earth. Don’t forget the Camaro Z, too! Lover is tenacious, persistent and let’s add stubborn. He built the confidence in us to always climb higher. When I think it can’t get any better, he makes it happen. My heart still beats madly when I see his truck in the driveway when I arrive home. He is my home.

Happy Birthday, Lover

I Love you xxx

 “ When I get older losing my hair,

Many years from now,

Will you still be sending me a valentine Birthday greetings bottle of wine?

If I’d been out till quarter to three Would you lock the door, Will you still need me, will you still feed me, When I’m sixty-four?

You’ll be older too, (ah ah ah ah ah)
And if you say the word,
I could stay with you.

I could be handy mending a fuse
When your lights have gone.
You can knit a sweater by the fireside
Sunday mornings go for a ride.

Doing the garden, digging the weeds,
Who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I’m sixty-four?…”

“yes”

 

 

 

Technologically illiterate

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There is a general assumption sitting out there conveying the idea people over 40 are technologically illiterate. I thought this was extreme bias until I moved to a small Northeast Texas town. It appears to be rampant in major metropolises as well as rural areas.

My sister is, let me think how old my sister is, 55 years old. She is an event planner in a small suburbia outside of Pittsburgh. This family owned company still writes all appointments down on a large wall calendar and manually maintains all accounting in a ledger book. She does not utilize email, text or electronic communication with any vendors. She still calls and visits the local bakeries for cakes and pastries, often carrying photos of what the customer wants. She is unable to switch employers because she is technologically illiterate. Her boss is a control freak and wants no changes to the system. My lovely sister does not want to learn how to access the internet, nor does she have any interest in doing so. For her occupation and stage of life, it is socially acceptable for her bliss to continue. Keeping staff uneducated and in the dark seems to work for entrepreneurs.

The few people I have met in Paris, Texas seem to have the same lack of communication skills. I still have a Houston area code telephone number. When sharing my phone number, I am often informed, they are unable to place a long distance call to me from home or work. Either their employer does not allow (control and being cheap) long distance calls or their mobile phones have extremely limited regional service. It is more often than not, they inform me they do not know how to text nor do they have the capability. These are not retired or stay at home housewives. These are “business people”.

I interviewed for a professional position, a few years back, with a snot nosed twenty something. During the interview, he held up a Blackberry and informed me everyone employed there is required to keep their appointments electronically. He also went on to say the learning curve for programs they used, MS Office Suite, would take time to learn. When he finished making his assumptions and was arrogantly quiet, I told him to hand me his laptop so I could take it apart, reprogram the hard drive and put it back together. He seemed kind of shocked. He went on to explain his mother didn’t know anything about computers. While he was blabbering, my Blackberry was vibrating. I took it out of my purse, checked it and put it back – in the middle of an interview. I never would have done this if I wanted the position. I told him his mother never taught 60 people how to convert manual files to an electronic system in the 70’s either. His mother didn’t convert a financial institution from a manual accounting system to a zero paper system in 4 days, which included placing a PC on every desk and personally training everyone the fabulous benefits of every MS Office program available, including PowerPoint presentations. I am quite sure his mother had “other” talents. By the way, the interviewer and his company went bankrupt within the year. One of my friends got the job I interviewed for and she is still unemployed to this day.

Back off with embracing the idea, old people don’t know what to do with a PC, tablet or any other “hand-held device”. My father was in his 70’s and was more PC savvy than most people I have done business with. After he died, and I figured out his password, I brought his PC up to see eagles flying, flags waving and hearing the Marine Corps hymn playing full blast on his computer. He thrived on researching ship manifests for immigrant relatives, replaced drives in his CPU and conducted all business electronically on the PC. I still miss his emails and humor and most especially him-very dearly.

People do not like change. It is easier to be oblivious. Their world will remain ever so small without the advantages of world-wide access. It also cost a few bucks to be connected to cyber space. I view it as a necessary utility fee, like electricity!  Don’t get me started with how we are all being gouged for fees. I remember paying $.25/minute cell phone service. My boss would imitate how fast we would convey information when calling him. When the cost changed to the plans we have now, everyone relaxed and spoke in full sentences.

I am too nebby not to know what is going on out there. I am so afraid of missing something. The sad thing is – a lot of people still don’t know – they don’t know.

 

 

 

Uptown girl

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“…and in the streets the children screamed, the lovers cried and the poets dreamed

But not a word was spoken

The church bells all were broken

And the three men I admire most, the Father, Son and Holy Ghost –

they took the last train for the coast

The day the music died…”

Our perception of “free” is truly askew

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We were fortunate enough to be able to purchase a beach house when our kids were still fairly young. The previous owners left furniture, kitchen stuff and lots of junk (Easter baskets, dead flower arrangements,sand buckets-with sand,lobster forks,and a plaid sleeper sofa and yellow velvet loveseat) with the premises. Included with the newly acquired possessions was a television which resembled a relic from the 70’s. It was a massive box with a little screen which weighed a ton. After numerous ferry rides to the mainland Walmart, we stuck some rabbit ears on it, connected a VCR and Nintendo to it and a huge piece of tin foil for family entertainment. Being at the beach, meant “being at the beach”. I saw no sense in putting a satellite on the roof of a house which couldn’t sustain a storm door for more than a few hours, due to the high winds. The TV did pick up 54 channels, some in Vietnamese, which thrilled our youngest son. He bragged to everyone that we got a free TV.  Our estimation of cost for the television was about $47,000.00!

It is New Years Eve, today. We recently made a move to Northeast Texas from Sugar Land, Texas. The city of Sugar Land always mailed a beautiful calendar, with expressive scenes of the city. It was exquisitely executed with photos suitable for framing. I always wondered which photographer, printer and shipper was the brother in law of which politician to receive that gig. The arrival of the calendar was timely and expected. The Sugar Land calendar was “free”. There was no ordering, sitting on hold after 10 ringy dingys, or delays to making a request on an inept website. Our estimation of cost for the calendar was approximately $2,800.00 per year. Powderly, Texas doesn’t create such masterpieces. We are going to have to cough up $10.00 for 2013.

Department stores and grocery stores are famous for making you think you have received “value” in every purchase. The coupons have extreme exclusions and never include brands from vendors who don’t want to be associated with sale, low cost, or door-buster prices. Every item in the store has an exorbitant marked up original price. The item is then marked down with a red pen and put on a rack with a sign exclaiming everything is 50% of the “marked” price. The coupon, which brought you into the store is not applicable for any of the items your heart has yearned for. When the patron has their chosen items brought to the cashier, they are proudly told they have saved $247.00 for the items they have just paid $67.00 for. The truth of the matter is, you have just paid 50% more due to bingo price jumble confusion reality.

Our perception of “free” is truly askew. I worked for a home builder, selling homes to people who could hardly afford them. To “clinch” or close a sale, I always gave them a “free” refrigerator. The glee in their eyes, seeing the stainless steel majestic Whirlpool refrigerator in their new kitchen was “priceless”. Somewhere in the sales contract, an additional $2,000.00 was added, usually before I even was employed there, to accommodate the usual and customary sales technique of giving the new home owner a refrigerator, costing the company a couple hundred dollars.The spanking brand new home, no one had ever walked on the wall to wall carpet with dirty feet,  cost the buyer $345,000.00, on sale from $365,000.00, with a true value of $285,000.00. Nothing like waiting months for the home to be built, every material possession you own is in a U-Haul with all of the kids, to find out the appraisal is a helluva lot lower than what you paid – but you did get a free refrigerator! The estimated cost of the shiny new refrigerator, $60,000.00.

Think about what is “free” the next time you purchase a vehicle, get a “free” hotel room for gambling or sitting through an excruciating sales pitch for a timeshare or “buy one, get one free” Ritz crackers at Publix! Next week the crackers will be on sale for half the price and won’t be stale because you can’t eat two boxes of crackers at once. Free- WriteInSpace

 

 

 

 

 

Snow in Paris

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Yes, I’ve seen snow in Paris, France, but this blog entry is about Paris, Texas. After living south of Houston for a long, long time, seeing snow on the ground was an extremely rare event. Except for an occasional dusting, which usually melted within minutes, snow was non-existent.

I would see snow when traveling. My boss would get mad and ship my skinny butt to Chicago in January. A relative would pass away, always in the winter, in Pennsylvania, during a white out blizzard. Christmas in years past with my brother would always yield some of the white stuff. At home in Sugar Land, TX or Crystal Beach, TX, it was almost a guarantee that snow would not be an issue. This is the reason we have no snow boots, scarves, gallashes, snow tires, mittens, muck-a-lucks, or slickers.

After attending a lovely Christmas party in nearby Oklahoma on Christmas day, flurries began to fly. It was novel and fun to watch them out the window like tiny butterflies. Then the flurries started sticking to the bushes and accumulated on the ground. The ride back to Paris was much like gliding through wonderland. Move slow and steady to avoid any hydroplaning or sliding into a ditch. Folks with bald tires and no common sense don’t ever seem to get it. 2012 055They become constant entertainment during your over the road journey.

My ultimate favorite driver is the one buzzing by at 70 mph and attempting to pass in a lane literally covered with snow and ice. The center median almost instantly becomes their landing strip – if you are lucky and they don’t roll over your vehicle. Just as dangerous, is the driver who can not see out any of their snow or ice-covered windows, the defroster never did function properly and they are crawling at 15 mph. You have angels on your shoulders if you see their white mini Cooper in the white out before driving up their trunk.

Inexperienced drivers either never watch the news, don’t comprehend what they hear on the news or are just plain stupid when they are informed of the dangers with black ice. The sky can be blue with cotton fluffy clouds and the temps have improved to where the inside of your nose does not instantly freeze. These drivers now think they are exempt from black ice syndrome. The Chevy truck I saw yesterday, with his engine in the front seat, may benefit from listening the next time.

This weather is brutal. I am not a fan. It may be time to invest in some electric gutchies because I am worn out from being cold already.

 

Cosmetic counter encounters

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I am working a temporary/seasonal position which encounters a multitude of characters each day. It has become a game to size them up and figure out their personalities within a few seconds. I have been around quite a few blocks in my life and am proud to say my feelings are getting confirmed with a few minutes of conversation with each counter encounter.

There are a lot of lonely souls in the world. Either that or I appear to be shrink like, mother like or generic enough for people to “really tell me how they really feel”. An elderly gentleman, one who has fought in the Korean conflict, very patiently explained to me the entire world was headed for disaster because the Democrats were in power and the rich were now going to lose everything they ever worked for. His concerns were real. His purchase was Estee Lauder bath powder for his wife’s Christmas present. He’s afraid of the “fiscal cliff”, has a few bucks and certainly doesn’t spend if on his wife.

The next contestant for story of the hour was Mary. She, too, remembers when bread was a few pennies a loaf. Her day job is caring for an “elderly” person. She takes extreme pride in her position and speaks softly and lovingly of her charge. Mary’s demeanor is so compassionate, I’d swear she was a saint in her previous life. She is the epitome of proper corporate etiquette. She introduced herself and her daughter to me and continually called me by my name during our appointment. Either that or she was pounded with Emily Post since childhood, as was I. Subsequent visits were repeated with the same familiarity and she never missed a beat of our previous conversations. Mary always purchases hundreds of dollars of high ticket fragrances for gift giving. Mary will be standing on the right hand side of St. Peter on judgment day. I wish she lived next door to me.

Then there is the shim who tells me all products are overpriced and stink. Shim is an old term, most definitely politically incorrect, which refers to a person whom you can not immediately identify which sex they are. It becomes difficult in addressing them so as not to offend. If you call them “sir” and they are a “ma’am”, it becomes awkward to say the least. I then try to differentiate by behavior. They act like a rude man by speaking really loud in a lowered voice, slamming all products in order to get a lower price or to exclaim the disdain for the product in general, or they girly pantywaist with the decision making. “Can I smell this one and this one and this one and this one?” For what I get an hour, the last thing I want to do is incite a riot at the cosmetic counter of a small town department store. I always save my instigation for larger and more prominent forums – like Point State Park in downtown Pittsburgh! This she-he person will show no satisfaction for anything shown to them because they are unhappy with themselves.

Next up, is the family unit. This can include multiple generations. An infirm grandma, needing assistance to walk and a reminder of where she is. The husband, getting constant reprimand because he keeps saying they can’t afford whatever it is the wife wants. Of course, we can’t forget the very little children, some who have been trained to professionally lick the glass of the display counters. The six year old to 12 year old siblings are busy spraying each other with fragrance testers containing offensively overpriced “parfum” on each other or dropping the bottles on the tile floor below. This crew always falls for the “instant credit” so they can purchase more stuff to put in their too small of a home because it is crowded with things they don’t need. I can bet the Ponderosa the credit line will be very small because they are so overextended, they have to take the last two dollars from Grandma’s purse, for gas to get home. God forbid, they would use the money set aside for Fat and Greasy Fried Chicken on the return journey back to the homestead. If they are approved for a credit line of $200.00, it is guaranteed they will spend $199.99 on shimmer eye shadow, florescent pink nail polish and a manly scented “stink no more” for the husband. This family appears to be typical in the local culture.

My ultimate favorite cosmetic counter encounter is the pair of bitches who speak to me as if I just stole their booze money. They have absolutely no intention of purchasing anything. They want free fragrance samples. They insist on having me bend over thirty to forty times to spritz cards of every bottle in the display cases – because I don’t give them the free fragrance samples. Then, they want a make over so they can complain I didn’t make them look like Julia Roberts. Sorry, but I can’t correct the “rode hard and put up wet” appearance with a sit down. Both of them are trying to outdo each other slamming every product and actually accusing me of having a bad attitude when I inform them of the prices. One such duo even insulted one of my patiently waiting customers because she politely asked if she should shop first and when should she return to be assisted. The bitch duo told her to wait her turn because they were there first. I knew they would not cough up a dime for anything. Their appearances told me it was the first time they had seen sober daylight in months. I didn’t have a cosmetic in the place for low light dive enhancement.

Cosmetic counter encounter 12-27-2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Crying Christmas trees

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Christmas trees hold a great deal of emotion. They are magical reminders of all the good things life offers us. They are the epitome of sparkle, lights and even our own creativity. We are proud of them. We show them off. They are a true reflection of status and the lives of our families.

Christmas trees hold a lot of secrets and tradition. We attach memories to them because they encompasses the theme of the season as a whole. We don’t always share how these trees were created or the baggage hanging from the branches. There’s a lot of crying Christmas trees standing staunch and steadfast in front windows, living rooms and family rooms in our neighborhoods.

Charlie Brown made it socially acceptable to have a tiny sapling of a tree with a few needles hanging on for dear life. Trees are a luxury when your funds are low or non-existent. It becomes important to give up food, make the car payment late or scrape quarters together from under the couch to get a tree.

Being a brand new bride with two little girls, a broken sewer line, debts out the ass and a money pit house didn’t leave much money in the budget for a Christmas tree bedazzled in light and covered with Nieman Marcus ornaments. My brother in law was laid off from US Steel and his funds were zero’d out also. He and my then husband came up with a plan to have real Christmas trees in our homes by purchasing them at the eleventh hour on Christmas eve. He went to numerous tree lots and asked when they would be closing and asked if the real pines would be discounted. At eight o’clock on Christmas eve, he and my spouse drove our little Pontiac Sunbird to the lot across from Continental Can in West Mifflin, PA and bought two live trees for pennies on the dollar. Strapped them to the roof of the car, overhanging the windshield and drove them to our respective homes.

I had faith this plan would work because I had purchased a couple of bucks worth the craft felt and some sequins and hand sewed ornaments for the promised Christmas tree. Our little girls assisted in gluing sparkles and glitter on the little figurines which resembled the symbols of the season. Of course the paper chains and photo ornaments made in pre-school were proudly hung on the branches they could reach. That tree resembled hope and dreams for all blessed and miraculous events.

The next year, we didn’t get any smarter knowing Christmas was coming, again. The finances were tight and my precious grandmother suggested we cut the top off of one of her giant pine trees to use for our “have to have a live tree for Christmas” engagement. It was comical watching my white collar, overweight, non-mechanical, non-outdoors-man, husband tackle that fiasco. Thank God he was highly insured which took the edge off of my extreme anxiety. Again, the handmade ornaments were proudly and lovingly placed on the branches our little daughters could reach. The tin foil star was propped on the top and magic was again, created. This was the year my grandfather died on Christmas Day.

During the holiday season a few years later, one of our little girls was killed in a horrific car accident. Because we still had a very young daughter who deserved a happy life, a tree with tradition had to be put up each of the following holidays. The ornaments with glitter and puffy paint so gingerly applied by tiny hands had to be taken out of the Joseph Horne Company cardboard box and ever so gently placed on the Christmas tree. My heart could hear the Christmas tree cry.

Two more children and years of adding their special ornaments followed. Kids need to know what they create is cherished and special. As they each grew, so did the number of treasures for the Christmas tree.  I have to admit, it was excruciatingly difficult to re-create the magic without missing our daughter, hearing her sing Jingle Bells in my head and oh, so missing the feeling of her little arms hold on to me. The helpless void never diminishes. It can never go away because we loved them so much and miss them more than words can describe. They are not forgotten by any means or ways.

There are 20 Christmas trees in Newtown, Connecticut crying. Some of them will be standing till February with no needles on the branches but little ballerina slippers and cowboy rocking horses will proudly stand guard. The school photos glued to construction paper with the glitter borders and the green and red paper chains will still have their arms wrapped around those trees. Little siblings and cousins and friends don’t understand the enormous burdens and crosses being carried right now.

The parents of the 20 Newtown angels are now members of a club no one deserves to join. These little children now belong to all of us. Hold them close in your heart. The crying Christmas trees hold their cherished memories and the signature of their important lives and love.