Under the spell.....

I went shopping the other day.  First I visited a big store that had a special sale going on for senior citizens.  I was very good.  I brought a list and a copy of the sale bill so I could get JUST what I needed.  As I was filling my basket I had a thought.  I wondered if a nearby discount store could do better on the price of some of the things I usually get at the store I was in.

I needed no other excuse than that.  Off I went...merrily, merrily heading toward my ultimate Waterloo.  Yes, that is a bag from the discount store.  As you see, I have blocked out the name so I will not be accused of infringing on anyone's rights to free enterprise and making a quick buck.

I should have known better.  As soon as I entered the door, my mind left me.  I had no list.  I had no goal.  Of course, my reason for going there was to do a little comparison shopping.  Now that is a joke.

I wandered the aisles with my shopping cart gradually filling with all sorts of things.  Everything was something I really,  really needed and could not live without.  The more I had, the more I wanted.  I was Under The Spell.

What spell, you might ask.  I firmly believe that this huge discount store has a special machine that is installed near its entrance.  When shoppers walk in, they are sprayed with an invisible and odorless substance that enters their blood stream, blocking out all common sense, replacing it with the overwhelming desire to buy, Buy, BUY.

How do I know this?  When I went to check out I looked at my basket.  Where in the world did those cookies come from?  And three T-shirts with sayings such as "I'm with him because he appreciates the finer things in Life"?  How about ten copies of the latest TV magazines?   And I don't even watch TV.  Yarn for projects I will never do.  Shoes I can't even get on my feet.  Socks, underwear, swim suits?  When was the last time I wore a swim suit?  I couldn't remember.

And so I contend that this super seller of a store has a secret weapon that they use each and every day.  Regardless of how determined you are to only  get what you need, you will not emerge unscathed.

Oh no.  Because you are under the spell....... 

Emancipated

Freedom.  That is a wonderful word.  I know it doesn't seem like much to those of you who are not technologically challenged.  I bought a laptop a few years ago....I knew I would be moving to smaller quarters eventually and decided I needed to ditch the desktop and its cumbersome entourage.  Besides...it was really out of date.

I admired people in public places, people even my age and older, who were merrily tap-tap-tapping on their tablets and laptops and other devices..wireless.  What a dream!

But since I am basically a coward when it comes to change, I resisted even thinking about undoing my link to the trusty phoneline that brings my internet to town.

The moment of truth came, as it so often does, with the sneaking suspicion that my phone company would not send DSL to the further reaches of the county where I live.  Even though the beautiful lady in Georgia who was in charge of changing my phone service to the new house, assured me that Oh yes....I see several people in your neighborhood have our DSL......

Our phone guy, Chris just stood there and laughed when I told him that story.  He knows better.

Enter my local computer guru Jerry.  He had just signed on with a new/old company that provides DSL out in the sticks.  I did some research and called him right away.  I was his third installation.  And when I said I wanted to go wireless, he said No problem. 

Anxious moments yesterday when I couldn't get it to work.  Jerry and Butch's solution: Don't follow the directions.  Now that was a biggy for me.  I am basically a "follow-the-book" kind of person.  Sometimes I wing it, but that is when I feel confident that I can figure things out.

So here I am.  Wireless.  Great feeling.  A feeling of freedom.  I can be typing on my computer and then pause and look out over the green fields and hollows of my much-loved new home. 

Bliss.  Emancipation.

Change

After the ample rains and cooler temperatures of the last week or so, I have noticed a definite change in the air.  While I was walking in the pasture today, the light seemed to be more golden, bringing out the green blades of grass in bolder relief.  The breeze felt some cooler than the days a month ago, when July was blazing over the field and the ground was crying out in dusty dismay, Send us some rain!

 

Are we going to have an early fall?  The cicadas and katydids are still chirping loudly, not at all in their early fall mode.  Birds that migrate are gathering together in flocks, but seem in no hurry to travel to their winter homes.  No leaves are turning and the only ones that have fallen are from trees that could no longer support them during the weeks of drought.  Perhaps we will have one of those times of changing season when the best of both summer and fall prevail.
Cool nights warming into sun-kissed days.  Gardens continuing to grow well into mid-fall and later without the threat of early frost.  Rivers flowing full and clear below sapphire skies. 
Oh yes, such promises this golden day brings with it.  And we can hold on to that hope.  Change.....and welcome it will be.

Reunion 2

If memories are a flowing stream, I took a trip down that river a few days ago.

Sitting peacefully as the water ripples past me, my fingers trail through the coolness of yesterday.

Here I am walking down my childhood avenue.  Each little step I take moves me back in time.

Trees arch over the sidewalk.  People greet me with smiles and affectionate glances.  Do they know me?  Do I look familiar to them?

My homeplace is different, but the same.  The road that passes by is different but the same.  I can hear the echoes of  games played in the field across the street.  There are my childhood friends in dim array waiting in the green and summery yard.  I reach out and they hold me in their warm embrace.  I breathe the sweet smell of summer and recollection.

It is a warm and lovely feeling to be in my hometown.  Houses where I spent happy times with friends and family still call to me.  Peace covers the evening scape.  Flowers of all sorts are blooming in colorful array in gardens.  Neighbors sitting on porches wave as I pass.

And now I move to another part of my past.  This is more difficult.  These are faces I should know. I look into the eyes of my childhood friends, grownup and far from young.  And, joy of joys, I know who they are.  We have been separated for many years.  But we know each other.  Years fall away and we are young again.  We visit and spend our time in happy recollection.  For a time we live in the past. 

And when we part, my heart is glad that I came to spend some time with them. The river of memory has been kind to me.  I don't recall the hard times.  Pain doesn't mar my pleasure.

A wonderful time.  A time of reunion.  A time of renewal.  I wish I could go back and trail my hand through that stream one more time.

Life goes on.  But I am truly molded by my past.  I see the distant faces again.  And I smile.   

Reunion

Next weekend will be a trip down memory lane.  I am returning to my Illinois hometown for my 50th high school reunion.

Since I technically did not graduate from this high school, I will be seeing many people whom I haven't laid eyes on in over 53 years.  That is a long time.

This is my sixth grade picture.  We were top of the heap at F.U. White Elementary that year.  You will notice the stylish skirts and neck scarves that we girls were wearing.  And the boys were looking very grown-up with shirt sleeves rolled up and biceps(?) showing. 

I sent my old yearbooks to the local historical society last year so I can't do any last minute cramming.  But I do have one or two class pictures which will give me some names to go with faces.

But, and it is a big one, ......how do you recognize a face after 53 years?  Teenaged freshness becomes refined as we grow older.  In my mind, my girlfriends are all still 14 and glowing.  Will I know them when I see them?  Will they know me?

I remember going  to Andy's 20th High School reunion in Kirkwood, MO.  He wore a badge with his senior picture on it so people would know who he was.  And I thought back then, "Gee, how old everyone looks!"  Guess I hadn't looked in the mirror that day!

I think it is an exercise in courage to go back and meet your classmates from the past.  I truly do not remember a lot about those early years.  Some people have total recall.  Thankfully, as the years have gone by, only the happy memories stand out.  I don't think I will be the one who stands up and recites all the 'better left in the past' incidents that we all want to forget. 

It will be fun.  It will be informative.  Who will I know without looking at their nametag?  Who will smile at me as soon as I come in the door?

Check back here next week and I will give you the report on how it went.  It should  be interesting.

(By the way, I am in the second row, fourth from the left)