Valentine Views

Yesterday was one of my very favorite days. I know a lot of people think Valentine’s Day is just a created holiday to sell things, but I like celebrating love. It is easy to get so busy in the day to day things of life that you don’t take time to tell people how you feel. Having a day set aside forces you, or should, to take that time.

Valentine’s Day has always been pivotal in my life. In elementary school, we made presents for our parents, then had to give out Valentine’s to every other kid in our class, whether we liked them or not.

We got rewarded by parties back then, in the olden days, with cupcakes and cookies our moms made and brought for the party. I know, hard to believe in this modern, home-made goodies are evil day.

As a teen-ager, I held my breath wondering if "that" guy knew I existed, and would prove it on Valentine’s Day. I still remember the time in junior high school when I got brave and sent the object of my affections something to let him know he was the object of my affections.

Unfortunately, he had no clue that I even existed, and wasn’t too impressed that I did exist once he discovered who I was. He and his friends had a good laugh at my expense to my undying and never-ending humiliation. Which lasted about three days until I got mad instead, and decided he wasn’t worth undying and never-ending. Perspective is a marvelous thing.

As I got older and my affections were returned, the day got more fun. Not only between me and whoever happened to be the significant other in my life at the time, but with family and friends also. By nature, I want people important to me to know that. A day that has stores filled with hearts, balloons, stuffed animals, silly things, serious things, flowers, candy, and anything else you can imagine helps me get my point across.

The most important Valentine’s Day was the one sixteen years ago. Gary proposed that day. We had been dating two weeks. It sounds outrageous, but it didn’t feel that way. It felt absolutely normal, and right, and good.

After 16 years, I look back and wonder at the fact that when we married, I loved him. But it was nothing compared to what there is now. I didn’t think it could be any deeper, or richer, or sweeter than what it was then. But it was only a small fraction of what we have now. Sort of like wading in the kiddy pool as compared to having the entire ocean to swim in.

It humbles me. I am so blessed in so many ways. Gary is beyond description as a husband and a father. I had no doubt he would be, but he goes even further than I expected. There is love, there is honor, there is respect, there is admiration. There’s not a whole lot of obedience, on either side. Since we are adults, neither one expects it. But mainly, we have so much fun together.

Most of that fun comes from trying to get Logan to adulthood. It’s a challenge. He is a unique person, this son that is so much his father, yet so much an individual. There are very few dull moments in our house. Crazy, mixed up, and bizarre, yes. Dull, no.

I wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s a good chance no one else would have it either, which is fine with me. It doesn’t have to work for anyone else, it just has to work for us.
Since it does, I celebrated this Valentine’s Day with my very best friend. As an added bonus, we got to watch Logan’s eyes roll and hear him make gagging and choking noises while we exchanged gifts, kisses, hugs, and other things. Part of the fun is making the kid run to his room in disgust. In our house, you get extra points for grossing out the teen-ager.

Now we just have to figure out how to top ourselves for next year. Seventeen years for us, and Logan will be 14. He may be harder to make run next year. Gary and I are a team though, and we are committed to winning. My money is on us.


*****
There are volunteers from the Presbyterian Church in my neighborhood, cleaning up the absolute mess left behind. They are doing a terrific job. They are friendly, professional, and working just as hard as they can from morning to late afternoon. They are cutting trees, hauling limbs out to the curb, and probably doing a lot of other things I don’t know about. I do know they are most appreciated. Thanks, guys!

In Praise Of Power

Power. Beautiful, wonderful, gorgeous, lovely power. We have it. After seven days, we got it back, and I will never take it for granted again.

We cheered the utility trucks as they moved closer and closer to us, and applauded the morning they were directly in front of our home. I did a happy dance and there was a great deal of rejoicing when we got power, then a bit of booing when it went back off a few hours later.

Every time I see a lineman or a utility truck, I want to pull over and say "thank you, thank you, thank you." I know better than to distract them, but I am so glad for the job they are doing for us in our time of need.

Speaking of doing jobs for us; I can’t say enough about the local emergency and volunteer workers in my particular area. The night of the ice storm, a giant tree in my yard just kept losing large parts of itself. Another tree came down on my carport.

I don’t know who all of them were. Some of them were Gosnell police officers, some were volunteer firefighters, some were utility workers with spotlights, some were Westminster Village security. All of them ran up and down the streets in this area, repeatedly, with their big lights on checking for damage.

My gigantic tree fell close to the corner of my home, and looks like, from the road, that it is on my home. I noticed a spotlight shining through my backyard from the road. Several minutes later, there were men in my yard, checking to make sure we were okay, not trapped, and the tree was not in fact on my house.

An hour or so later, I got a call. Security was letting me know that lines and poles were down in my yard, tangled up with the tree, and I needed to careful if I went outside.

Since we didn’t have power, the only show to watch was the one outside the window, and it was something to see. They made a continuous circuit with their bright lights and flashlights and spotlights, stopping to check out anything that looked dangerous. They stayed on the roads all night, up and down and around, over and over and over again. They had to be cold and exhausted. They probably wished they were in their own homes.

Added to that, what they were doing was dangerous. Trees and power lines and poles were snapping constantly, falling into the very roads they were driving. I knew it was bad that night. With the light of day, it was worse. It made what those officials were out there doing all night even more heroic.

For the guys that spotlighted my house, thank you. For the guys that checked to make sure we weren’t trapped; thank you so much. We weren’t, but if we had been I would have appreciated knowing you were there to rescue me. For the guy who called me and told me to watch out for the lines in my yard, thank you. I take my dog out at night, and may not have noticed amid all the rubble.

For every officer, every fireman, every lineman and utility worker and volunteer and official that is working to get us through this, thank you. We were in a mess, and because of you all, we are getting through it. This particular citizen appreciates it, more than I can say.

View From The Top

I had a birthday recently. They seem to be coming more quickly the older I get. I’m not over the hill. However, I’m afraid I can see the top of that hill from here. I don’t feel older, and don’t think like someone who is older. Except for all the kids are starting to annoy me more. And those kids? That’s anyone under 25 or so.

Babies that were born after I graduated from high school are having babies. People born in the nineties are becoming legal adults. You know, I changed my mind. I do feel old, after all.
When I was a teenager and in my twenties, I didn’t think anyone over 35 was capable of making wise decisions. They were out of touch with reality. Now I don’t think anyone under 25 is capable of making wise decisions. They haven’t experienced enough reality.

When I was in school, my parents didn’t get it because they were too old. Now my son doesn’t get it because he is too young. It’s funny how our perception of others changes as we change.
Logan wants to be an adult so he can have total and absolute freedom to do anything he wants. I laugh at that, and wonder where all my total and absolute freedom is. We tell him being an adult just means you have more people to boss you around. You have to pay bills and go to work and pay taxes and be responsible to all kinds of people for all kinds of things.

I’m not sure there is a perfect age, where it all comes together in harmony. Where you are old enough but not too old, independent enough but not burdened with too many responsibilities.
I do know that with age comes appreciation. I took a lot of things for granted when I was younger. I didn’t realize the food that magically appeared every week on the shelves took time and effort to get there, the house that was always in order didn’t happen because the good housekeeping fairy sprinkled her magic dust on it. Laundry didn’t wash and fold itself, bills didn’t get paid from money that invented itself.

The work that goes into having a family and raising children and holding down a job and having it all come together and making a success of it never crossed my mind. It just...was. How it happened and the worry over it all was never thought about.

Logan is taking a class this semester. In my day, it would have been called Home Economics. Now it has a longer name, something like Family and Consumer Science. I like that better. Successfully raising a family and running a home and sticking to a budget and surviving as an adult is a science, and needs to be taught. It doesn’t just happen, at least not if you want to do it well.

I’ve never minded getting older. My life has progressively gotten better with age. I made some whoppers of wrong decisions when I was young, paid for them in my twenties, got over them in my thirties, and now in my second decade of being in my thirties, I am the happiest I have ever been.

In another decade or two, I will cross over that crest and be over the hill. But that’s okay, because I bet the view is fantastic from the top.

New Year, New Fear

The new year is here, bringing new fear to my heart. Not about the incoming president or the economy or any other of those things everyone keeps telling us we should be watching.
No, my fear is of a much more personal and frightening kind. My son will start driving this year. If that doesn’t give you the same chill bumps and shudders it gives me, you must not know my son.

What were the lawmakers thinking, letting 14 year-old’s drive? Particularly 14 year-old boys? Fourteen. Think about it. And if it has been a while since you have known a 14 year-old boy; trust me, they shouldn’t be driving.

Logan is 13 now, but counting the minutes until August, when that blessed moment comes and the clock ticks down until he can finally, legally, drive. Of course, he can only get a learner’s permit, but that is just fine with him.

He doesn’t care about all the fine print. He just sees the big picture, in bold, large swipes. He can drive. Nothing else matters. Except, it does.

He may be tall enough to drive. Lord knows at the rate he is growing, he may be over six feet by the time August gets here. He is pushing 5'8 now. He may look old enough and big enough and every other "enough" there is.

But there should be some exception in the law. It could be called the "Mom exception." It would go something like this. Fourteen year old boys can drive, if and only if the mom of the 14-year-old boy is ready for him to drive.

Learner’s permits and driving privileges will be awarded based on an in-depth interview with Mom, including a psychological profile determining the damage that may be done to Mom by knowing her child is out on the road somewhere.

This would have to be a "mom exception" because Dads don’t count. That sounds kind of harsh. What I mean is Dads don’t understand. Okay, that sounds bad, too. Dads just, well, don’t think like Moms do. That’s it.

Dad not only is excited about Logan driving, Dad is helping. Dad is coaching. Dad is encouraging. Daddy is giving Mom a headache. He is supposed to be on my side. That’s what couples do. They unite in front of the kids. They are a team. One voice.

However, in this particular instance, being of the male species, Dad thinks 14 year-old boys are perfectly capable of driving. Dad thinks Logan needs to start learning now, so he will be prepared when that fateful day comes in August.

Mom thinks Dad is nuts. Logan thinks Dad is great. Dad thinks Mom is over-reacting just the teeniest tiniest bit. Maybe the law will change between now and August. I think allowing a learner’s permit at about the same time they graduate from high school would be good. There’s always hope.

Lights Of The Delta

If you’ve not been out to Lights of the Delta this year, you are missing a treat. We were one of about a dozen hardy souls who went the night after the sleet and snow, when the roads were the worst. We weren’t sure they would be open, but they were.

There are enough new displays, and familiar displays with new features added, to make it worth a trip even if you have been before. I think it is better this year than ever.
The route has been changed a little, and though the expression is overused, the display "pops" this year.

Seeing it with a blanket of ice on the ground, encased in a foggy night, was fun. We were the only ones on the route when we went through, so it truly was like we were in a winter wonderland.
It’s worth supporting just because it is here, and it is ours. Even if it were the same, it would still be a fun tradition. Take a drive out to the lights. You won’t regret it.