Webster's Dictionary defines the noun "memorial" as anything meant to help people to remember a person or event.
We have all attended memorial services for someone who has died, whether that someone is a family member, friend, neighbor, family member of a friend, or even a pet or a jack-o-lantern than has fallen from the porch (or been nudged over the edge by an older brother). It is a time when we come together and share one another's sorrow and lift one another's spirits with stories and anecdotes about the departed's lifetime with us and pay tribute to the deceased.
Memorial Day is a time that we also come together, but how often do we remember the reason that we Americans set the day aside? How often do we take even a moment to honor the memory of those who have given so much of themselves for our freedom and liberty that we are so fortunate to enjoy in these United States? Do we pause for just a minute to salute our flag and cherish what it stands for? Do we thank a soldier or veteran when we meet one? Do we give a thought to those men and women who fight for us right this very moment so that we are able to come together in freedom?
This Memorial Day, let us enjoy our freedoms by coming together and doing something to help us to remember those exceptional men and women who have sacrificed so much for us. Were it not for them, we might not have the opportunity to come together at all. Let us raise a glass to their honor, say a prayer for their safety, and shout a loud thank you for their selflessness.
Happy Memorial Day!
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
One More Month
One more month until the big day arrives, the day my "little boy" takes a wife. When the date was picked such a long time ago and the wedding Website went live last July, I knew the time would go by quickly but I don't think I honestly knew just how quickly it really would go by. I set some lofty goals for this wedding, you know, wearing a size 6 dress, having a six-figure savings account set aside for the young couple, not crying and blubbering like a fool on the big day. Well, the first two didn't happen and you can rest assured that the third one won't either.
I cry at everything. I cry when I'm happy, when I'm sad, when something is beautiful, when I see newborn babies, when someone shares good news, when someone shares bad news, when I watch Hallmark commercials. Business as usual for me. With elements of happiness, beauty, and good news, this wedding should have me bawling for days. I'm going to have to start meditating or something so I can make it through the wedding day without sobbing the entire time, for if I do I'll look back for years to come at my puffy eyes and red nose in all of those wedding photos and that will make me cry some more.
I've read some tips on how to prevent yourself from crying, such as taking deep breaths or pinching yourself on the arm as a distraction, but I have a feeling if I'm not the one in the wedding photos with the puffy eyes and red nose, I'll be the one hyperventilating with the bruises all over her arms.
Oh, well, as my sister always says, I am a tenacious optimist. I'm sure I can do it. I'm going to peruse some self-help books starting tonight. I'll figure it out. And if I lose two pounds a day, I'll bet I can have my dress altered to a size 6. And there's absolutely no reason why I can't win the lottery and stuff a nice chunk of that money into their savings account for them. I can do it, I know I can. After all, I've got one more month.
I cry at everything. I cry when I'm happy, when I'm sad, when something is beautiful, when I see newborn babies, when someone shares good news, when someone shares bad news, when I watch Hallmark commercials. Business as usual for me. With elements of happiness, beauty, and good news, this wedding should have me bawling for days. I'm going to have to start meditating or something so I can make it through the wedding day without sobbing the entire time, for if I do I'll look back for years to come at my puffy eyes and red nose in all of those wedding photos and that will make me cry some more.
I've read some tips on how to prevent yourself from crying, such as taking deep breaths or pinching yourself on the arm as a distraction, but I have a feeling if I'm not the one in the wedding photos with the puffy eyes and red nose, I'll be the one hyperventilating with the bruises all over her arms.
Oh, well, as my sister always says, I am a tenacious optimist. I'm sure I can do it. I'm going to peruse some self-help books starting tonight. I'll figure it out. And if I lose two pounds a day, I'll bet I can have my dress altered to a size 6. And there's absolutely no reason why I can't win the lottery and stuff a nice chunk of that money into their savings account for them. I can do it, I know I can. After all, I've got one more month.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Rock on, White Lies
I am a middle-aged woman with an addiction problem...I am addicted to Rock Band. I love to sing, although I am a very poor singer. I'm great on getting the tempo just right and sing the words the way they're meant to be sung, but the finished product is really quite awful. But it's fun, and I think that's supposed to be the main objective of the game.
I love the thought of playing Rock Band. I love rushing to my sister's house just down the street from my own at 10:00 o'clock at night for a "quick hour", which turns into three. I love to sing my little heart out, squirming around in my chair as if I'm dancing while I sing, and behaving like I'm a teenager. I love my sister looking at me with her quizzical look asking, "HOW old are you?" I love our Rock Band 2 and 3 song choices, I love our Beatles edition, and I love our AC/DC live tracks. I love it all.
But what I really love most about playing is the precious time that it gives me with family and the fact that it is our special little treasure. That's the real addiction in it. We (I think Emily is responsible) have dubbed ourselves "The White Lies". That's as good a rock band name as any. Justin is awesome on guitar and vocals (I do loan him the microphone from time to time to sing a song or two). Emily is an excellent drummer (and I let her sing a little too). Tory can do it all; she is simply amazing on all of the instruments and since she happens to be a professional singer it's pretty wonderful of her that she does not once cringe while I'm sounding like a wounded cat. Kathy is great on the laptop. She uses her laptop while we usurp her living room for our nights of merriment, and eventually she caves. If she happens to know the song, she'll belt it out without a mic and drown out the lead singer of The White Lies, which happens to be me, of course. And we love it. And we love that we can get her to take over guitar when Justin takes over the mic. She says she's not competitive, but just hear her roar when she's had a great performance. Her initial efforts to ignore us are futile for she suffers from the same addiction as I do.
Our schedule may have to vary a little once the wedding of the year takes place. Next thing you know, Emily will bring a guy home to meet us, who, if he knows what's good for him, will like Rock Band. Then, in a few more years, it may change again once we add some little tykes to the mix. We'll just get some Fisher-Price add-ons. Change may cause us to adjust a little, but this family thing we've got going on is too good and too strong not to survive. Some people go to a lot of expense and trouble to find entertainment. We find it on Friday evenings right there in the living room, just the five of us, and an occasional "guest star" only adds to the memories we get to share.
This kind of fun can't be purchased, and this kind of love can't be diluted by distance. May we forever rock on, White Lies.
I love the thought of playing Rock Band. I love rushing to my sister's house just down the street from my own at 10:00 o'clock at night for a "quick hour", which turns into three. I love to sing my little heart out, squirming around in my chair as if I'm dancing while I sing, and behaving like I'm a teenager. I love my sister looking at me with her quizzical look asking, "HOW old are you?" I love our Rock Band 2 and 3 song choices, I love our Beatles edition, and I love our AC/DC live tracks. I love it all.
But what I really love most about playing is the precious time that it gives me with family and the fact that it is our special little treasure. That's the real addiction in it. We (I think Emily is responsible) have dubbed ourselves "The White Lies". That's as good a rock band name as any. Justin is awesome on guitar and vocals (I do loan him the microphone from time to time to sing a song or two). Emily is an excellent drummer (and I let her sing a little too). Tory can do it all; she is simply amazing on all of the instruments and since she happens to be a professional singer it's pretty wonderful of her that she does not once cringe while I'm sounding like a wounded cat. Kathy is great on the laptop. She uses her laptop while we usurp her living room for our nights of merriment, and eventually she caves. If she happens to know the song, she'll belt it out without a mic and drown out the lead singer of The White Lies, which happens to be me, of course. And we love it. And we love that we can get her to take over guitar when Justin takes over the mic. She says she's not competitive, but just hear her roar when she's had a great performance. Her initial efforts to ignore us are futile for she suffers from the same addiction as I do.
Our schedule may have to vary a little once the wedding of the year takes place. Next thing you know, Emily will bring a guy home to meet us, who, if he knows what's good for him, will like Rock Band. Then, in a few more years, it may change again once we add some little tykes to the mix. We'll just get some Fisher-Price add-ons. Change may cause us to adjust a little, but this family thing we've got going on is too good and too strong not to survive. Some people go to a lot of expense and trouble to find entertainment. We find it on Friday evenings right there in the living room, just the five of us, and an occasional "guest star" only adds to the memories we get to share.
This kind of fun can't be purchased, and this kind of love can't be diluted by distance. May we forever rock on, White Lies.
Copyright Priscilla Garamella 2011
Monday, May 2, 2011
Five More Mondays
Do you go to bed on Sunday nights and think to yourself, "oh, no, Monday morning already tomorrow and I have to get up for work again?" My sister Kathy who taught school for 37 years used to get to some point in May and start to count how many Mondays she had left before the end of the school year. It made it easier to deal with the kids getting antsy with the good weather and summer vacation just around the corner, and counted down her own time to relaxation and fun in the swimming pool at last.
My husband is not typically home for dinner on Monday evenings and so I enjoy dinner at Kathy's with her and with my son Justin. Going to Kathy's isalways mostly often a relaxing experience (just kidding, Kath; it's "always") and time spent with Justin is always (no strikethrough needed) entertaining. Justin has been a character from day one and has more funny things roll off his tongue in two minutes than most of us can even think in two months. Spending those few hours together is a highlight of my week.
Justin is getting married next month, and tonight I was suddenly struck with a sobering thought: five more Mondays. I have only five more Mondays before the wedding and before life will drastically change for us. Justin will no longer be there for our Monday evening meals. He will no longer be my little boy (not that he's been that for a very long time) but he'll soon be someone's husband. That's a massive concept to grasp. The four-year-old strategically maneuvering just enough of his chicken pot pie into the garbage when our backs were turned to make it "look good" starts to become smaller and smaller in the rear view mirror when I try to wrap my head around his being a responsible husband. Not that he isn't a responsible adult, because he absolutely is, but it is he who will now be the head of the family and he who will one day (hopefully) be a father having the "almost clean plate sleight of hand" done to himself.
I am very much looking forward to the wedding and to having a new daughter-in-law to love, but it's hard to absorb all that will necessarily change. Life must change, and change is good, but that doesn't mean it doesn't take a lot of adjustment on the part of a lot of people. We will all be changed by not having him near us on a daily basis, but I dare say he will miss being near us on a daily basis too. He won't be here to change the water bottle on the water cooler or take out the garbage or shovel the snow. He won't be here to be the calm in the storm or the comic relief on a difficult day. It's a little bit scary for me to think of all this change, but exciting too because I'll have a beautiful daughter figure in my life now, and, if the good Lord blesses us, one day grandchildren too.
So I'll savor my five more Mondays, and then once I've settled in after the wedding, I think I'll change my focus to the thought of a little grandson entering my life who can be a chip off the old block and carry on the shenanigans his father sired in him. It certainly makes having only five more Mondays a lot more palatable when I consider what kind of pot pie prestidigitation the next generation will conjure up.
My husband is not typically home for dinner on Monday evenings and so I enjoy dinner at Kathy's with her and with my son Justin. Going to Kathy's is
Justin is getting married next month, and tonight I was suddenly struck with a sobering thought: five more Mondays. I have only five more Mondays before the wedding and before life will drastically change for us. Justin will no longer be there for our Monday evening meals. He will no longer be my little boy (not that he's been that for a very long time) but he'll soon be someone's husband. That's a massive concept to grasp. The four-year-old strategically maneuvering just enough of his chicken pot pie into the garbage when our backs were turned to make it "look good" starts to become smaller and smaller in the rear view mirror when I try to wrap my head around his being a responsible husband. Not that he isn't a responsible adult, because he absolutely is, but it is he who will now be the head of the family and he who will one day (hopefully) be a father having the "almost clean plate sleight of hand" done to himself.
I am very much looking forward to the wedding and to having a new daughter-in-law to love, but it's hard to absorb all that will necessarily change. Life must change, and change is good, but that doesn't mean it doesn't take a lot of adjustment on the part of a lot of people. We will all be changed by not having him near us on a daily basis, but I dare say he will miss being near us on a daily basis too. He won't be here to change the water bottle on the water cooler or take out the garbage or shovel the snow. He won't be here to be the calm in the storm or the comic relief on a difficult day. It's a little bit scary for me to think of all this change, but exciting too because I'll have a beautiful daughter figure in my life now, and, if the good Lord blesses us, one day grandchildren too.
So I'll savor my five more Mondays, and then once I've settled in after the wedding, I think I'll change my focus to the thought of a little grandson entering my life who can be a chip off the old block and carry on the shenanigans his father sired in him. It certainly makes having only five more Mondays a lot more palatable when I consider what kind of pot pie prestidigitation the next generation will conjure up.
Copyright Priscilla Garamella 2011
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