Sorry

Sorry! That is how my grandmother used to describe men that had families, but did not take care of them. As the owner of an establishment that served adult beverages, she saw her share of sorry men. She was a hopeless romantic and an optimist; only an optimist could marry six times and still hope to find lasting true love. Many people have compared me to my grandmother, her friends thought it a compliment, but when family does the comparing it is not meant to flatter.

I recently had a male friend tell me he really liked me, but would never marry me because the odds were not good. I did have to laugh about that. I have been married five times (twice to the same husband) and only the first one still breathes. To be clear, only one died while married to me, the others just were products of their lifestyles.

Today being Father's Day, I thought I might reminisce a bit on the way my dad handled child rearing. My dad was from the school of corporal punishment. He was very consistent with his expectations and with the punishment for not meeting those expectations. "Do it my way" he explained. I got spankings every day of the world until I was at least six years old, because I always wanted to do things my way. In the late spring after turning six in March, I made the mistake of letting my baby brother get hurt. The punishment was swift and painful ... my dad boxed my ears. I got a terrible earache and had it until right before going to first grade. I did not get to swim but once that summer, because of my ear. I spent lots of time in my room, so the spankings were substantially less frequent.
My dad was a good dad. He never threw anything at me. The belt was only swatted on my backside. And best of all he talked to me before spanking me. He wanted to be sure I knew why I was getting a spanking.

My grandmother would cry if my dad spanked any of us kids while she was around. My dad said she gave him plenty of grief when he was still at home. He said she would hit him with whatever was closest  to her.  Dad joined the Air Force to have a job and housing and three squares a day. I think dad might have had dreams of being a drill instructor. When my sister and I were three and four years old he would have us march in to the kitchen and stand at attention. We would be instructed to suck in our gut, level our chin and answer his inquiries as to whether we had brushed our teeth, washed our faces and combed our hair.

As I got older dad was the one that taught me how to clean the kitchen and scour the bathroom and sweep the floor. He taught me to make scrambled eggs and pancakes. Dad taught me many things, but one thing I wish he would have taught me was how to pick a husband. Well even that worked out when I married his best friend.

Bill was the best husband for me. I guess because he had been my dad's friend so long that he could put up with me. He would joke sometimes and call me Joan (meaning it as the female version of John.) He loved me more than I deserved and treated my children from the other marriages very kindly. He worked hard and supported us better and better as the years went by. Then last September he got a bad head ache and was gone before I could even tell him how much he meant to me.

So today, Father's Day 2014  I have cried and cried because I am sorry that I  took for granted that we would have more time together. People,  do not put off spending time with those you love. No one ever says on their death bed that they wish they would have worked more or watched more TV. Pick up the phone and tell him or her how much joy you have when you are together.

Until Later~ Rita Darlene



 

For the LOVE of God

Yesterday was Pentecost, one of the few times each year that I attend worship services on the first day of the week. For anyone new to this blog, I remember the Sabbath, the seventh day of the week, and try not to defile it. Sometimes that is difficult, because I am me, a rather bold and blunt, (by nature or nurture, I am not sure which) person. Anyway, yesterday the minister said some things that moved me to tears. Some of the tears were from remorse and some were from the joy of memories brought to the forefront of my mind.

This passage of scripture was not covered yesterday, but John 15:9-14 has been playing over and over in my head, like a cd on auto-play. "As the Father loved Me, I also have loved you: abide in My love. If you keep My commandments, you will abide in My love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in His love. These things I have spoken to you that My joy may remain in you, and that your joy may be full. This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one's life for one's friends. You are My friends if you do whatever I command you."

In this moment, as I write this, I want more than anything to make the transformation from selfish to selfless. The key is for me to relinquish my vanity and self-will and to give up all pretense, and actually be a Christian.

Until Later ~ Rita Darlene 

Moving Melancholy

When I am sizing up a place that may potentially be my home, the first spaces that I want to see are the kitchen and then the bathrooms. I have rejected many well priced apartments and houses because the kitchen was not "me." I need (yes, I am a spoiled American) a stove with more than one large burner and a fridge that has space enough to open the door completely. Deep double sinks and a goose neck faucet are also very pleasing to me. I have not had a garbage disposal since 1981; my plumber husband forbade the food grinding, drainage blocking, pieces of engineering in our homes.

One of the sad things about my current move is that I will miss my kitchen. Though we have only been in this house since October 2011, it has been well used. It is where I have made many meals for some of the best friends of my lifetime. The tile floor has been hard on my back and some of my crystal, but I have enjoyed the layout and size. I personalized this great space so much that I will sorely miss it. Some of the best memories of happy family dinners and giggling grandchildren began here. It is the last place I watched my husband do the dishes, (his gift to me for well enjoyed meal) while I had a medicinal scotch.

My youngest daughter wants to have a big party before we completely move to the other house a hundred miles away. Though all would be welcome, our friends probably will not visit with the frequency that they do here. I think her idea has merit, so I will try to get it planned in the next week and executed by June 26th. I visualize roasted chicken, potato salad, baked beans, coleslaw, corn salsa, fried okra, pumpkin bread and a fresh cut, ice cold watermelon.  Until Later ~Rita Darlene

Who am I?

This is the day that I will make a meal for two friends that I love, but probably will not see again for a long while. I want to make a meal that will be wholesome, tasty and appreciated. These friends are very important to me. One loves food of every kind and the other is rather bland about food, self proclaiming to NEVER be a foodie. The latter friend bases the food ingested by the effect on the breath; neither onions or garlic are requested ingredients in the food this individual eats. 

I am a foodie. Preparing meals for others to enjoy is, for me, a labor of love. Trying to duplicate exquisite meals has taken up a lot of my adult life. When serving wine, pairing the right wines for the menu is paramount. My "foodie" friend and my "non-foodie" friend come as a pair, one drinks wine, the other does not.  The love and time that goes in to the planning of a meal we share is wasted on the one and cherished by the other. Well, wasted may be too strong a term. This friend eats the food quickly and then shares anecdotal observations about life, while the rest of us relish the meal and the stories. Perhaps during these meals, an education of  my friend's palate may be taking place, and the appreciation will come later.

I wonder how my Savior looks on me. Do I relish the time and effort He put in to my calling and the subsequent nourishing of it? Every day I have the opportunity to partake of a spiritual meal prepared by Him/Them ( really as many meals or snacks as I choose.) Do I pick and choose what I want have on the menu or will I allow the Creator to feed me, regardless of the taste left in my mouth? Do I appreciate the gift of life I have been given, or have I greedily taken it without properly digesting and contemplating what was given for me? Do I reflect on the planning that went in to me existing, especially before I eat the bread and drink the wine?


Passover season is over for this year and we are forty-six days in to the count toward Pentecost. Season after season there is much to be observed and learned. I hope you will join me in finding a meaningful way of internalizing the great sacrifice and planning that each human being represents. We are all made in the image of God. The Eternal's plan covers each and every one. Could it be that the way we conduct our lives, is an example, an education, as it were, for our "non- spiritual" friends, family and fellow humans?

Until Later ~ Rita Darlene