An interesting article was e-mailed to me some nights ago. The title was “The Ice Cream Cone.” It was the last thing I needed to read, since I love ice cream too much anyway, but it did remind me about the things that are still left to be done. Time grows short. The sun is setting.
There are many more walks to be taken, words to be spoken, songs to be sung, and yes, even flavors of ice cream yet to be tasted. Baskin-Robbins had 31 the last time I looked. But it really isn’t about ice cream, is it? I am happy to discover that I am not alone in the rush to savor it all.
Truly there are so many items still to tick off my bucket list. Ice cream was not one of them, but heck, who cares. I have tacked it on. Have you noticed the sudden craze to add salt to both savory and sweet, and, yes, even to ice cream? That gives me more reason to stay away. But maybe just one scoop on a sugar cone every now and then?
Speaking of calories, I finally visited my favorite deli in Atlanta. Wrights Gourmet Sandwich Shoppe is in a quaint area of Dunwoody. My favorite is their Reuben: paper-thin slices of corned beef, tangy and tart sauerkraut and provolone between two slices of sourdough, grilled to perfection. With iced Southern sweet tea, it is heavenly.
I picked up discouraging news from home online. How about that pork barrel scam! Isn’t this a case of same old, same old? The list of suspects reads like a who’s who. I am dismally disappointed. One part of my heart hopes it isn’t true. But like they say, where there’s smoke…! And this may be a five-alarm fire.
Happy tidings! My first grandson is getting married this year. All my other apo weddings, four so far, have been granddaughters. I just received a “save the date” notice.
I am thrilled, of course, although it still startles me that the little scrawny baby born almost 33 years ago in Walnut Creek, California, is now taking such a big grown-up step. Why, it seems like only yesterday that he learned how to walk! I panic: Is he ready? Is anyone ever? His future wife was born in Australia, grew up in London, is an only child and has lived with her parents in Hong Kong many years. Lalita is lovely. She captured my heart the day I met her.
Now I have a problem. I am debating whether to embark on yet another frustrating diet or literally let it all hang out. How many pounds can I lose until November? There goes that scoop of Häagen–Dazs Dulce de Leche.
I just got a book in the mail: “If Life is a Game… These are the Rules” by Cherie Carter-Scott, PhD. On the cover, it also says, “10 Rules for Being Human.”
Rule One is, “You will receive a body.” It goes on to say that all our hopes and dreams and the beliefs that make us unique human beings are stored in that body. It continues by reminding me there is a no-refund, no-exchange policy on my body. My task, the author says, is to accept and make peace with it.
Not a very nice way to start a book, don’t you think? Seriously though, the author makes a lot of sense.
I’ve been skimming through the pages pretending to be a speed reader.
Here is Rule Three: There are no mistakes, only lessons. She says that “the failed experiments are not less valuable than the experiments that ultimately prove successful; in fact, you usually learn more from your perceived failures.” I agree. Good thing to keep in mind.
Rule Eight, the book points out, is the key to the quality of your life. “What you make of your life is up to you.” Oh, I can think of several people who need to memorize these words and engrave them in their hearts. In this chapter, there is a saying by American-Swiss psychiatrist and author Elisabeth Kubler-Ross: “We have to accept the consequences of every deed, word and thought throughout our lifetime.”
How many of us live our life frantically trying to erase, ignore or justify past deeds and choices, never once accepting responsibility or being accountable for the damage we have caused. Someone else always gets the blame.
There’s a lot of wisdom in this little book. It makes for good reading. It could be a nice present under the Christmas tree.
The day before I left on this long sabbatical, I had lunch with my Honolulu/NY gang. I almost begged off because I had not finished packing. But I didn’t want to miss it. Roger had made sure he got the group together. We met at the Intercon. As usual, we told the same stories, laughed at the same old jokes. It was a noisy and happy reunion, as it has been for more than 20 years.
When I return in September it will not be the same. Nothing will ever be. Truly, life is short. Two weeks ago, when no one was looking, Roger sneaked out and went home to be with Jesus. Just like him not wanting to make a fuss.
Roger was young, full of life and the joy of living. He was funny, talented, a gifted tenor, witty, generous and compassionate; a true friend, a sweet and thoughtful human being.
Go in peace and sing with the angels, Roger. I will always miss you.