|As I Was Saying
By Opal Toney
Spring is coming...
I can hardly believe we just had a visit from Santa Claus, and then he left
for a year.
The birds and squirrels seem to be having a good time in and out under the
tall trees outside.
All the leaves will soon come back for spring and they will be green and the
birds will return too, but they won’t be green.
I see one of the cats washing itself with its tongue. I’m sure glad I don’t
use mine for that, even if some folks do say I use it for talking too much.
So, I decided not to talk and do more writing.
I’m looking out the window and the ground is covered with birds eatin’
I’m always happy when spring comes and I can sit outside and wave at folks.
And, maybe, some will have time to stop and stay a while.
The Last Word: I’m always happy when spring gets here. – O.T.
View From Here
By Katherine Veno
I have heard...
Each person has something very valuable that can only be discovered if they
let it out within their own personality. There is a single spark within each
of us that makes us different from every other living creature.
Actually, I have a polite regard for authority and for the opinions of
others, but I feel I have never afforded myself the space to be pathetic or
let what “they say” govern my life or prevent me from doing what has to be
done. Maybe for a moment or an hour I have worried about what I have heard,
but then I realize that I am a proven commodity. I can live successfully
because I have learned to balance two opposite ideas in a tense line at the
same time. Being a woman I am a natural at making long term plans as if I
was going to live forever, but living daily as if I were going to die
It is a hopeless way to live to keep listening to what “they say” today
because it will not be what “they said” yesterday, nor will it be what “they
will say” tomorrow.
I like a man who perseveres. It is a great element of success. This type of
man never “finds” time, he makes it. He lives, not to exist, nor to make his
days longer on this earth, but to use his time wisely and to cherish the
things that really matter. As a young man, he gathered materials to build a
staircase to the stars, and as a middle-aged man he toiled still building
his dreams or the dreams of others who had needs. As an old man he is wise,
and gathers the same materials and builds a woodshed to shield himself from
the sun and rain.
The world is as big as we choose to make it. I used to live in a narrow
cupboard with my butterfly wings pulled in tight to my side for safety. Life
was meant to be lived, and curiosity must be kept alive along with our
spirit of wonder. Each day gives us a new opportunity to love and be loved.
It is a human tragedy to put off living our life. I have dreamed of some
magical garden just out of reach, and now I have learned to enjoy the
sunflowers blooming right now outside my door.
I have heard there are certain things we all must do each day to be happy. I
have heard we must be of a certain age to enjoy the wine of winter against a
snowy bank in a forest. What I have heard is not always true, but I have
learned that I can actually get where I am going by just beginning to walk
from where I am.
Letting our past shape our future is one way to live, but we cannot blame
everything on the past. As for me, I remember, but I am no longer there.
By Emily Gail Lundy
Last night some television announcer said the average woman’s weight has
gone from 140 pounds in 1980 to 160 pounds in 2012. I’ll take either weight
gratefully. And if anyone wants to know, I have enrolled in a pay- now
program using powerful machinery to whip me into shape one way or another.
In 1991, I “paid my dues” with back surgery for a three-type rupture on the
bottom of my spine. I thought I had given enough at the office of the Bones.
Then in 2011-12, the old lady’s back finds me with vengeance on the mind and
this is one ailment people doubt the most of anyone having, unless structure
of the body almost meets the ground or magnetic items stick to the back of
one’s garment because the spine has a metal pipe in it to let the back
I should not tell this secret of the hefty and harmless, but I’m talking and
can’t shut up. Most of us at the head of the scale class are professional
rationalizers, able to lie (no tall tale) to ourselves about how we can rest
on the couch with a sack full of pretzels beside us or two over-sized peanut
brittle patties which run a close, close second to pralines and actually
convince ourselves we do no harm unless a normal person happens to see or
catch us pigging out.
Then the shame and guilt are overwhelming. I usually drink a gallon of water
afterward somehow to appease my nutrition madness. Once I ate an entire
frozen Mrs. Fields’ pecan pie. I halved it, not placing the entire
concoction in front of me at one time. I made the walk to the kitchen to get
the second half. In my bloated reasoning, perhaps I thought the little trip
to the room of goodies and surprises might help. No, I did not get ill and
probably enjoyed the evening meal. Help. Age and internal wearing of
digestive power have slowed me. Thankfully.
But as I was putting on pounds, so was my spouse. Both skinny Minnie and Moe
in our twenties, we had found stress, fast-food places, owned a microwave,
about the healthiest food item going down us was milk. My two sons could
chug a lug to clinch thirst. Everyone in the family liked milk which came
only in full percent then (that I knew about). And these children around our
table were skinny. Therefore, mashed potatoes with butter sat on the table
once a day along with a variety of others things to make healthy kids. Why
Dad and I could wipe away our excess at any time. Everybody knows a man
looks better with weight, anyway.
My husband’s mother enjoyed making preserves and jellies in the summer.
There was a favorite, her peach preserves.
My husband would say, “Please don’t give us this jar. Your daughter-in-law
will have the entire jar secretly eaten by the time we get home.” The loving
woman would give us two jars.
Secretly, so far back in my mind, I remembered a few aunts who lost poundage
as they aged. Maybe if I were lucky, this could happen to me. My parents
were always the right weight, but Dad still weighed less as he approached
his 70th birthday. One day my middle daughter brought up this weight-loss
factor to me, her mother. How would I know why it was not happening to me?
Possible answers: I never really grew up. Some who do lose older don’t want
to. Some are passed up and get bigger. Sickness can take it right off. Did
my daughter wish that on me?
I’m not saying it aloud, but I think our three natural borns are going to
take after me and have to fight the weight problem. One already leaves no
In closing (hoping this fits) I read that diet drinks had something in them
dangerous to our internal organs.
I called a friend to whine. “I’ve been on diet-drinks for more years than I
can count,” I said, “one a day, and they are said to be dangerous for us.”
“Friend,” my advisor said, “You are well into that geezer grouping. You’ve
been drinking these colas since you turned against the taste of another one.
Shut up already.” (I’ve heard it’s ridiculous when adults try to use slang;
is it our fault it’s out of date when we finally realize what it means and
how to use it?”)
If you see me walking by the side of a road with my dog club, please don’t
tempt me by asking if I need a lift. Besides, the lifts I need have to be
done in a medical environment.