Life’s Biggest High . . .

Life’s Biggest High. . . .

Because of the pandemic, we get to see an aspect of newscasters working from home and giving home tours  inadvertently.    

When the sober and serious doctor was commenting on the President’s health, the doctor’s grandson played hide and seek behind the awesome doctor with a  laugh breaking out all over the place.

And Elizabeth Warren’s dog rounding about her living room . . .  I love these very vital live insertions of real life into what appear to be sober realities of existence.  Besides, I marvel at such neat freaks who show no clutter or signs of coffee spilled.

I watched as Olivia Troye (resigned) who was the vice president’s aide speak of her experience in this White House, and I noted her wall  hanging.  (If I paraphrase, forgive me)

Always find time for things that make you glad to be alive.

It made an impression because I  have lived my life like that.  With three babies coming in 4 years there was no time other than care for them.  But I was parent on premises and became proud; my joys were soon wrapped in their accomplishments.

Heady stuffs teaching when classrooms are the fields, libraries, books, and hands on.  As a girl I learned to knit and sew and manipulate my environment on the farm because we were a large family needing sustenance and no money for frolicking.

Marriage found a fledgling family with professional standing but poverty status.  My upbringing allowed me to recycle and make do as we all learned during WWII. 

Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without. . . . .

 I learned well;  money did not go out for services.  Nor was there money for entertainment, or for what was  taken as truth to spend freely. . . because you’re worth it. . . Aren’t we all?    Of course, of course.  And some feel so impoverished, every cent goes for their shoring up. 

So the wall hanging took my attention and reminded me without anyone saying this was to be held tightly.  To find that learning, loves, learning something every day, was going to be the biggest high of my life even in my terminus.  

My mother in law  said to me in her endtimes that ‘you do so many things so well that most of us would like to do just one’ . . . she also wished I’d been her teacher. 

Even now when I perfect something even commendable,  I shine with pride.  Spastic hands, no hand and eye coordination,  wobbly on foot,  but would you like a  piece of my addictive taffy?

I only learned to make it in these last two months.  But I learned. . . . . . . . and it’s a keeper.

artwork by Claudia Hallissey

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