Sweet Dogs I Love!

The first day of the month I'll share some pictures I've taken of the dogs that come to visit 'The Divine Canine'. My friend Taylor owns the shop and I get to see some of the sweetest dogs!

Each and every dog steals my heart! 💗

Pixie  

           

 Luna

 Roxy 

Hazel  

       

Ernie

Wally

               

Dabo 

Bacardi

                 

Lucy

Scooter

Breezy

JJ

     

Lily 
 

Coconut 

                  

Dinner with the Fox's

We had dinner last night with our good friends, Pam and Tom Fox.  Tom works with Bill at Enterprise.  Although Bill sees Tom almost every week, it's rare that the four of us get together.  

Tom and Pam have a new home on 7 acres of land.  The last time we were there, the home was still in the process of being built.  It was almost done, but it would be another week or two before they moved in.  

Last night we saw the home finished and decorated, and it's beautiful.  We sat in the great room, drank wine and got caught up.  At one point I looked over at Bill and Tom talking.  Tom said something and Bill gave a big laugh. A big, throw-his-head-back-laugh and I thought how much I love this man!  And how happy I am that he has found such a good friend like Tom.  

It's always been easier for me to make friends and I worried that when we moved to South Carolina, it would be difficult for Bill.  Apparently, I didn't need to worry!  Bill is retired and works part-time at Enterprise.  This allows him to work a few days a week and hang out with guys who are just like him, and he gets to drive.  He literally gets to drive for work.  And this is a man who LOVES to drive.  

On work days, he lets me know where they are off to for the day; sometimes they go to Charleston, sometimes Atlanta and sometimes it's Savannah. He really likes when he gets the long trips. When I ask him who he's with that day and he tells me "Tom", I know it's going to be a good day for him.  For them both.  Those two knuckleheads will talk, laugh and play pranks on each other all day.  I imagine that there will be a lot of 'throw-his-head-back' laughs that day!

Tom prepared a fabulous dinner, especially for me I'm told, and it was heavenly.  Pam told me that he spent the whole day chopping, cutting and preparing all the ingredients for the Shrimp Spaghetti dinner, Roma bread and Ratatouille. Pam set the table and paid attention to the smallest little detail.  It was an tremendous amount of work and time extended into making us feel welcome.  

As we sat around the table afterwards drinking coffee, eating cookies and cake, I realized how comfortable and awesome our life had become.  How extremely blessed we are to have friends like Pam and Tom in our lives.  Moving more than 800 miles away from family and friends has not always been easy, but we have created a good and happy life here.  

As we got ready to leave, Pam and Tom walking us out to our car, the moon was almost full, the evening air was a bit cooler and the sky was full of stars.  We said "good-bye" and "thank you" and got in our car.  I got into the passenger seat; my belly full of good food, my heart full of grateful love and I slipped into a peaceful and content sleep.  

Michele Cushatt - Strength

I’d like to blame it on my radio business exposure, 11 years as the Office Coordinator at ESPN Radio, but I know that would be a lie. The fact and the truth is that I was quick to judge.  I was quick to judge someone based solely on hearing her speak.

About two weeks ago, I got into my car and heard the end of a radio interview.  The woman speaking did not have a “radio voice” - it was full of wisps and slurred words.  I was interested in the topic, fostering three children with special needs, but I had to admit, I had a hard time getting past her speaking flaws.  After all my time at ESPN, I had grown accustomed to voices like the smooth baritone of Dan “The Duke” Davis and the lilted and easy cadence of Mike (Greenberg) and Mike (Golic).  When the interview ended and her name was given, I wrote it down - Michele Cushatt.

Michele Cushatt, as I came to discover, is a three-time head and neck cancer survivor.  At the age of 39 she had her tongue removed and reconstructed with muscle and skin from her left arm. She then had muscle and skin from her left leg removed to reconstruct her left arm.

As I read her amazing biography, I felt deeply ashamed.  Ashamed that I was so quick to judge without knowing all the facts.  This woman had a thriving career as a speaker, author and frequent guest on "Focus on the Family" (where I heard her speak) both before and after her cancer.

Why was I so quick to judge her without knowing a thing about her?  I’m better than that. Aren’t I?  I thought so, I certainly hope so. But I wasn’t.  Not this time, and if I am honest, truly honest, not in the many other times in my past. How many times was I quick to judge people because they weren’t like the others?

But as so often the case, by the grace of God, this was a teachable moment.  I read more about her struggle and I learned of her amazing strength, courage and determination.  I thought my lesson was not to judge so quickly.  Got it, lesson learned.  

Wait a minute, not so fast.  As so often the case, I had more to learn from a gentle God who always, always, always knows what I need and when I need it.

As I listened to two of her books on audio in my studio,  “Undone: A Story of Making Peace with an Unexpected Life, and “Relentless: The Unshakeable Presence of a God Who Never Leaves” I found my real lesson.  I found the real reason why I heard the interview in my car that day. 

Michele Cushatt is not a quitter.  She never ever gave up. Oh, no doubt, she felt like giving up a hundred thousand times.  She cried and doubted and questioned, but she stayed the course. She kept her eye on the final prize and carried on.  Carried on through surgery after surgery, challenges with three foster children, and the diagnosis and death of her father during her recovery.  Her strength amazed me.  And her strength strengthened me.  

This was the lesson.  This is what I needed to hear.  As I was going through my own rough time, I needed to learn about strength.  I needed to learn about determination and patience. I needed to learn about staying the course and doing the right thing, even when it was so very hard.

 Her words gave me strength.  I hope, if you are in need, they give you strength too.

 “Where is my faith? In myself, more often than not. Which is why an unexpected squall — every last one of them over the span of two years — unraveled me. A boat anchored to itself is not anchored at all.”

“There is strength in empty. Not the kind of strength we wish for. We want polished strength, the kind that wears a cape and leaps tall buildings with a single bound. I couldn’t leap or fly or save anyone from catastrophe. In fact, I could barely show up. But I did. Show up. And that ended up being a strength all of its own.”

― Michele Cushatt, Undone: A Story of Making Peace With an Unexpected Life

https://michelecushatt.com/

Encounter on a Monday

On Monday afternoons, the library I go to brings in adults from a group home nearby.  Today on my way out, I stopped in the ladies room. At the sink there was a woman who was standing and staring at herself in the mirror. I think that she was in her early 70's, and her disability was not one that was visible to me. 

She didn't move or stop when I came in, but our eyes met in the mirror. I told her she looked lovely, and she did, she was very pretty in purple. She didn't say a word and her eyes never left mine in the mirror, but she smiled one of the the biggest smiles that I have ever seen.

I've found myself thinking about her all day. I wonder what she was thinking as she looked at herself in the mirror. It wasn't sadness that I read in her eyes, but when I think of her now, I feel a sadness for her and it makes my heart ache. I do know that I'm going to look for her next week and see if I can make her smile again.

Emil, Missy and "Will-Power"

After teaching Missy how to give her two front paws, my friend Emil thought that he would teach Missy some "will power". 

In the beginning of August we went down to visit with Emil in the afternoon and Missy got her first lesson. Um, so Missy is not really a "will-power" kind of dog. She tried really hard to stay when Emil put the treat on the ground, but she couldn't stand it. We agreed that this may take some work and we both laughed. 

Two days later, Emil was in ICU and 17 days later he finally came home.

I brought a picture of Missy for Emil to keep in his room, and I gave him daily updates on her. He wanted to make sure that she wasn't forgetting her training. I told him that she remembers her paws, but the will-power....well, he's got work to do there when he gets home.

I always updated Emil on Missy, and shared pictures of her; Missy getting a bath, Missy smiling with her bow-tie on, Missy with her pile of toys. All the nurses and staff who came into the room, knew about Missy. They knew that Emil was training my 7 year old dog some tricks and they were all very impressed. Emil smiled, very pleased and deservedly very proud with himself.

One day Emil said that he talked to one of the nurses about Missy.  He told me that if we claimed that Missy was a Therapy Dog, then I could bring her to visit him. It would have been awesome for Emil to see Missy.  I know how much he is missing Missy, but I thought that given the fact that Missy gets a bit 'over-stimulated', maybe bringing her into the hospital wasn't a good idea. Honestly, we wouldn't even get past the lobby, Missy would be wanting belly rubs from every single person she saw. It would have to wait.

Emil came home from the hospital yesterday, Tuesday, afternoon. Richard told me that he was sleeping, but glad to be home. Without talking to Emil, somehow I just knew that he would be outside waiting for us this morning. And he was. As weak as Emil was, he set his alarm for 5:30, got fully dressed, got Missy's treats and sat outside waiting for us.

At 6am, our usual time, I started walking Missy.  As soon as we got down to his street, I couldn't contain her. Missy started pulling me and squealing. I had to let her go, I do believe she would have pulled me right across the lawn if I didn't.  She saw Emil and ran right up to him sitting on the porch. Seeing the two of them together after almost three weeks was truly one of the best things I've ever seen in a long time.

It was just one of those moments. One of those moments when you sit back, observing how good our God is and how truly blessed you are to be right where you are here and now.

After catching up with Emil, we agreed that Missy can start her will-power training... tomorrow.

    

                                                                                       Originally posted to Facebook August 2019

Choices

I went into a QT yesterday to get gas and coffee. There was a young father with two children; a boy, around nine, and a girl, about five. They were standing in front of the glass case that holds pastries. I gathered that their father told them they could each have one.

The little girl made her decision quickly. She chose the donut with the pink frosting and white sprinkles. But the little boy...ahhh the little boy was having more difficulties. He had narrowed it down to the Bear Claw shelf, but there was a problem. This bear claw appeared to be a little bit bigger than the others. But this one had more nuts. And this one had the most glaze. He was debating the merits of each and didn't seem to be anywhere near making his decision when I was done making my coffee. I lingered to see how this was going to end.

The little girl was anxious to get going, having made her decision quickly. She was trying to get her brother to hurry up, but he was not moving. This apparently was not a situation that presented itself often and the young lad was not going to waste his pick on a Bear Claw that was not "The Best".

I caught the young father's eye and we smiled. In that instant I knew that this was a kind father. This was a father who appreciated children being children. This was a big decision for his son, and he was going to allow him to make it.

Moments like this are my life's treasures. Simple and sweet treasures that make up a good and happy life.

Originally posted to Facebook in 2017

Missy & Abby

Missy had to go to the Vet on Friday.  Nothing serious, allergies were making her lick and chew at her paws and I wanted to get her looked at. It certainly wasn't an emergency but they were kind enough to squeeze us in. We checked in at the front desk and turned around to go into the waiting room.  We entered the room and there was an audible 'awwwww'. 

Yup! Missy was now 'in da house'. 

People say that "Missy brings the party" and well, it's true, Missy does bring the party.  This little gal just loves being the center of attention. She radiates sunshine and walked into the room with all the sass of a movie star. She was squirming her butt, wagging her tail and going up to all the dogs as if to say "Hi! I'm Missy! Do you wanna be my friend?"  

Missy lives her life to be everyone's friend. Big dogs, small dogs, men, women, young or old, it doesn't matter to her.  Missy loves everyone and I have yet to meet anyone who doesn't love Missy back. She's a pip.

Missy has a large scar on her back.  It's about 6 inches long and there is no fur growing there. The Greenville Humane Society said that Jade (that was her name then) was brought to them like that and they didn't know how it happened. The scar doesn't bother Missy at all but people always comment on it.  The scar is such a contrast to her playfulness and it definitely makes her unique and even more memorable. 


We found a seat next to a stunning chocolate mixed lab and her owner.  The dog's name was Abby and she was a beauty.  I was smitten with Abby and Abby was smitten with Missy.  They were nose to nose and Abby was giving Missy kisses and plenty of lovin'. They had the whole room captivated and entertained and it was very sweet to watch.

At one point Abby gave Missy a big sloppy kiss on her forehead. Missy just stood there with this big ole lick mark on her head and it was okay.  Missy is that kind of friend.  

About 20 minutes later, Abby got called into the office.  She walked by Missy with one final glance and then she was gone.  Missy watched Abby go, waited a moment, and then looked back around the room.  Missy was searching out her next friend.  
 
 
  

Miles Robert

Four-thirty in the morning and I am outside with Missy.  I love the morning sky and find comfort and peace in the start of each day.  For the past two weeks, the light in my neighbor's house has been on.  It's the window on the second floor and it's Miles' room.  Miles is Adrian and Kevin's son and he is two weeks old.

Miles was born two weeks early and is just a little bit of a fella.  He's been steadily gaining weight, but it's been exhausting for Adrian and Kevin.  First time parenting is hard work, even more so when the baby is having a hard time feeding.  He has been slowly gaining weight, it's only ounces, but when you are less than 6 pounds, those ounces add up and are celebrated.

They are not overly cautious parents.  You know the ones; you are expected to scrub like surgeons before you handle their child.  Of course they are cautious about germs while his little body gets stronger, but they are also giving and sharing with their son.

Everyone should be so lucky to have friends and neighbors like Kevin and Adrian.  They are good and solid people. They are the neighbor who will watch your house while you are gone, bring in your mail and give your dog plenty of lovin' and belly rubs.

When it's a good time for the family, I go next door to check in.  A good time is between feedings when Miles is sleeping content with his little belly full. Yesterday, we gathered in the kitchen and the baby was placed in my arms. 

With Miles snuggled in, I talk with Adrian and Kevin.  Kevin is at the sink washing baby bottles and Adrian shares with me some of the pictures the photographer took a few days earlier.  Miles sleeps in my arms with just an occasional stir and sigh and it's one of those moments. One of those moments that make up your day-to-day life. One of those moments that so very often get overlooked because they are just so simple.

So many mornings, over the last few weeks, I have seen the light in the upstairs window.  I know that Adrian and Kevin have worked out a schedule to allow the other one to get the needed rest and it's probably Kevin that is up with Miles. I look up at the light and I feel and know it in my heart that they are good parents. Miles is one lucky little fella.

I look at the lit window and think about what is happening in their home and in their world. Kevin is gently picking Miles up out of his crib, soothing him while he changes his diaper and then brings him downstairs to fix the bottle. 

In one arm Kevin has Miles; gently rocking and cradling him while the milk heats.  Finally, the bottle is ready and father and son go into the living room.  They settle down onto the couch and Miles gets his bottle.

After the feeding and the burping, they will head back upstairs, Kevin will gently place Miles in his crib, get back into bed and the light will go out.

 

 

Plastic Wrap

How were we to know that when we walked into that Costco nine years ago, we would be coming home with a new addition to the Alden family? We simply went in for laundry detergent, sliced cheese and peanut butter.  We were so young.  So naïve. So unprepared.

I don't know whose idea it was, perhaps it was mine.  A question so casually asked; "Do we need plastic wrap?" And we did. Yes, we did in fact need plastic wrap. So, we bought plastic wrap. Seven hundred and fifty feet of plastic wrap

Within three months, the detergent was gone, the cheese and peanut butter too.  But the plastic wrap? Why, we barely scratched the surface - a mere three feet at best. 

The years passed.  We moved from Bristol to Bristol and brought the wrap with us.  A few more years passed, we moved from Bristol to South Carolina - Bill, Janet, Ginger and the plastic wrap.... we all moved 800 miles to South Carolina.  We had become so attached, so fond of our plastic wrap, it was hard to imagine a time when it was not a part of the Alden family. We were planning another move soon and of course the wrap would come with us. 

A few months ago, I noticed that the roll was getting smaller.  I needed to tell Bill. We needed to prepare ourselves. Plus, he had a right to know. The thought of not having plastic wrap in our life, why it never occurred to me.  Oh, when I think of my plans about taking the wrap to our new home - I was so sure that we would always have the plastic wrap in our life. 

I was home alone yesterday, and as I feared, I came to the end of the wrap. I am not ashamed to admit that I wasn't strong enough and I waited for Bill to come home. I couldn't do it without him. Besides, he had a right to be here. We would say goodbye together. 

With Bill's steady hand on my shoulder, I used the last of the plastic wrap to cover my oatmeal cookie dough. It was done. I wiped a tear and Bill got his keys.  We were going to Costco.

Ruth

I went to go see Ruth this morning. She has been in Magnolia Place since May of last year and I visit her every three or four days. She is my 91 year old friend and I love her dearly.

I go in the morning to help her with breakfast.  Sometimes when I get there, she is still sleeping and I sit by her bed until breakfast comes.  She will tell you that she never sleeps here, but as I sit by her bed, she is sleeping soundly and I let her sleep. 

When she is woken up by the nurse, she is almost always cheerful and says "Heeeyyyyy!" and she gives them a sweet little wave using her fingers on her right hand.  And then I come into her line of vision and say "Good morning sweetie".  She reaches out to me to give me a hug and says "Heeeyyyyyy! I've been missing you".

When I went to visit Ruth at her house (across the street from us) she would always say the same things to me:  "I've been missing you" when she sees me, and "Come back" when I leave.  She always said these two sentiments to me, even if the last time I saw her was that morning when I brought her the newspaper. I always felt welcome, wanted and loved.

One day, we were sitting outside in her yard and she told me that my name should have been "Jewel".  Because that is what I am.  I am a "Jewel" to her*.  It's a name she calls me often and she will always tell me exactly why she calls me Jewel.

Ruth was my very first friend here in South Carolina.  Our house was built on her property. Ginger was with us when we moved here and I was taking her for a walk when I first met Ruth.  She was in her front yard with her granddaughter Katelyn and I went over and introduced myself. 

I told Ruth that I am out every morning with Ginger and if she liked, I could bring her newspaper to her door. It was January and it was cold and dark in the morning and I was concerned about her walking on the gravel driveway to get her paper.  She said to me, "Well, I suppose that would be alright".   It wasn't long after that I started to bring her cookies and the afternoon mail. Soon, I would be taking her to the library, doctors and store.  She has been my best friend ever since.

I like to visit Ruth in the morning, at first it was because I was concerned she wasn't eating.  The staff at Magnolia Place are all very hard working health care aides and they have a lot of patients to attend to.  I wanted to be there so I could help Ruth and I wanted to be sure that she ate. She is doing better and can feed herself, but now it has become something that we both look forward to. Our early morning visits. 

I am at Magnolia Place most mornings before the administrative staff arrives.  Most of the patients are still in bed, although some are up and in the dining room and hallway.  They are in their wheelchairs, put into place and rarely do they move beyond where they are placed.

As I walk the two hallways to Ruth's room, I see a lot of the same residents. I always look them in the eye and smile and say "good morning".  Some just stare as I walk by and some smile and return the greeting. 

I have been coming to visit Ruth a couple times a week for just about a year. I look forward to my visits with her, but the walk down the first hallway always fills me with sadness.  I think about the people I pass and I think about the health care aides that work so hard for our elderly community.  I think about my own future, and I think about my past. My heart breaks to know that there are residents that do not have any visitors or family.  And I am ashamed to admit that at one time, both my grandmothers were in convalescent homes and I very rarely visited them.  They could very easily have been any one of these residents longing for companionship.

During my 20's and 30's, I was working both full and part time, taking night classes and I was a member of the CT Army National Guard.  It sounds like a lot, but now, to me as I walk these halls past the residents, it just sounds like a bunch of excuses. I was not a very good granddaughter and it shames me to I admit that.  As I walk the second hallway, I vow to be a better person and give Ruth, my family and my friends my whole heart.     

If it is ready, I pick up Ruth's tray off the cart as I'm walking by. I know how Ruth likes her grits, with just a little bit of butter and salt, and that she really, really likes orange juice. The first thing I do when I get her tray is unwrap her juice, put the straw in the glass and hand the glass to her.  She doesn't put the glass down until it is empty.  The second glass she savors and drinks as she eats her breakfast.  She's not a big eater and soon I am taking her tray away. 

When I return, I lower her bed, turn off the overhead light and turn on "The Golden Girls".  Ruth can't hear the TV, but the characters are always very animated and Ruth follows along by watching their facial expressions.  Soon, Ruth will fall asleep, but before she does, I tell her I am going. I don't want her to wake up and see an empty chair.  She reaches out to give me a hug and a kiss.  She tells me she loves me and to "Come back". 

I leave and walk back down the two hallways saying goodbye to the staff and residents I see on my way out.  I get in my car, and before I start it, I always take a moment to thank God for this wonderful friendship I have with Ruth.  And I thank God for Toni who so kindly shares her mother with me. 

I can not change the person I was in my younger years, but I can try to be a better person today.  And yes Ruth, I will "Come back".  Most definitely.

* Jewel has become a special word for me and it shows up as little angel lights in my life.  ('Jewel' blog 12/22/14)

Jewel

I was upstairs in my studio working.  It was late in the afternoon and it was that time of day, not long before the sun sets. I didn't need a light, but I would need one soon. 

I was taking apart the seams on a white eyelet jacket. It was well made and the seams were double stitched. The material was going to be used to make pendant necklaces and ornaments and I needed to be careful as I worked. 

A few days earlier I was given the jacket along with three more tops by Beth. The clothing belonged to her mother, Jewel, who had passed away about four weeks earlier. 

Beth saw my crafts using old quilts.  She contacted me and we arranged to meet.  She wanted Jewel's siblings, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and close friends to have something to treasure and hold dear this first Christmas. The moment I met Beth, I felt the kindness in her. She is a lovely woman and I knew this was going to be a special project.   

As Beth was bringing out the clothing, she shared her mother with me.  She told me how it was for her mother growing up and what it was like for her to be the wife of a career military man.  She told me that Jewel loved to knit, read and travel.  She said her mother was small in size, but just full of spunk. As I listened to Beth, I could see the love in her eyes. Her mother was clearly a woman who loved and was loved in great measure. 

I felt it then and I feel it now as I work in the waning light. I appreciate the softness of the clothing and the faint, gentle scent of Jewel. I think about the woman who wore these tops and how I have been invited to be part of her memory. 

I create because it fills me with joy and it truly nurtures my heart and my soul.  To be asked to create and be a part of someone else's life is gift I will treasure forever.  

Hope

As long as church bells ring on a Sunday morning, young children say "please" and "thank you", and families wait outside the Humane Society to adopt a family pet, I will have hope.

As long as men and women place their hand over their heart when they hear our National Anthem, young people continue to enlist to fight for our right to live free, children sell lemonade in their front yard, and people go out of their way to buy it, I will have hope.


As long as little girls make fairies, little boys play fetch and children still desire to grow up to be teachers or nurses or police officers, I will have hope.  

As long as families bow their head at meals, strangers hold the door, families dress up for church and children play with grandma's button jar, I will have hope.

Hope, by definition, is "an optimistic attitude of mind based on an expectation of positive outcomes related to events and circumstances in one's life or the world at large"  When used as a verb, hope means to "expect with confidence" and "to cherish a desire with anticipation".  
 

As long as people send hand written "thank you" notes, libraries have patrons on a Saturday afternoon, people buy products made in the USA, and laundry is hung on a back yard clothes line, I will have hope. 
 
As long as older couples hold hands, people continue to pay respect at funerals, leave flowers at grave sites and close their eyes to make a wish when blowing out their birthday candles, I will have hope.  
 
As long as people still laugh at corny jokes, bake apple pie from scratch and sell tomatoes from farm stands, I will have hope. 
 
Hope.  What a lovely word. Hope. "The feeling of desire for something, and confidence in the possibility of its fulfillment".  That is hope.
 
I still have hope. Somewhere along my journey, I lost my way. I hurt those I love deeply and I have been hurt deeply by others. But I have hope. I have hope in people and I have hope in myself.  Hope.  I still have hope.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Phyllis Goodman

Wednesday evening I attended a memorial service for a woman I never met, but who has touched my heart and stayed on my mind since. The service was for Phyllis Goodman and she was the 85 year old mother of our friend Jeff.
 
I didn't know Phyllis, but I know Jeff and I know you can not raise such a fine man as Jeff without being pretty spectacular yourself.  I knew I needed to pay my respects.
 
I was late because I couldn't find a parking spot, and as soon as I walked into the facility, I understood why. The seats were all full and people were lined up along the walls and outside the room.

As I looked up at the front of room, I saw tables filled with scrapbooks, crocheted hangers, necklaces, party hats, framed pictures and paintings.  Sherry (Jeff's wife) was speaking about Phyllis and at that point was explaining what the items in the front of the room represented. These were just some of the things that Phyllis loved and held dear.  These were some of the things that made Phyllis "Phyllis". 
 
As I was looking at the treasures on the front tables I felt tears come to my eyes. I was not fortunate enough to meet Phyllis, and yet, my heart was filled with such love and kindness for her.  I truly felt honored to meet Phyllis and get to know her in this special and lovely way.

After the service I was driving home still teary thinking about the evening. We live in a very different and fast paced time. I know that I am guilty of getting caught up in my own life and sometimes forgetting to pay attention.  I don't like it and I try hard to stop it before it gets away from me.

Knowing that there are people like Jeff and Sherry in the world gives me hope.  It gives me hope that we really are connecting and making a difference. We will not be forgotten. 

Thank you Jeff and Sherry for sharing Phyllis with us and showing us how special she was. 

Ft. Jackson - Victory Tower - Pride

A few weeks back, Ft. Jackson was open for the public to take a tour. 

Ft. Jackson in Columbia, SC was where I did my Army Basic Training and AIT (Advanced Individual Training) in 1984* and I was thrilled to have the chance to be able to see it again.  (*I will save you the trouble of calculating my age:  I was 9 at the time and the youngest trainee they ever processed)

I arrived at Ft. Jackson 9 days after the start of 1984. When I left there on August 23, I believed that I would never see that base again.  Here it is 2014 and I'm living in South Carolina going back to Ft. Jackson. Thirty years is a long time and I was curious to learn how much, or in some cases, how little I've changed. 

What I did not expect was how much Ft. Jackson changed. The military base is undergoing a 100 million dollar renovation and it looks absolutely nothing like it did when I was there. The only thing I recognized was one of the original wooden chapels.  Everything else has been torn down and rebuilt, in some cases multiple times.   

I started out thinking I would write my blog about the day as a whole, however I find that my mind keeps coming back to one portion of the day, and back to one female soldier in particular. 

One of our first stops was "Victory Tower". Soldiers are brought to Victory Tower within the first week of their arrival at Ft. Jackson. The rope bridges, ladders and rappelling exercises are designed to instill confidence and build teamwork in new recruits. It also gives the Drill Sergeants an opportunity to observe and recognize potential leaders and non-leaders.   

Soldiers go through various exercises and drills designed to build up their strength and confidence before they finish with rappelling down the 70-foot tall wall that is "Victory Tower".


One of the stations is an exercise to get you comfortable with gripping the rope and jumping off and swinging. 

It is a fairly easy exercise and most of the soldiers did it with ease.  Except this young female soldier.

I don't know if you can see it in her face, but she is terrified.  Absolutely terrified and it was only about a 6 inch drop.  She stood there with the Drill Sergeant telling her to "Jump Private Jump".  She was scared and frozen in place and she wasn't jumping. 

She started to cry and the soldiers behind her were shouting encouragement and cheering her on.  And she still wasn't moving.

And neither was I.  I was drawn to what was going on in front of me.  First of all, it was a very peculiar situation.  Here we were, 40+ adults standing there watching them, and in my case, taking their picture, and they had to act like we weren't there.  Very few of the soldiers looked at us and absolutely none of them talked to us, as I'm sure they were instructed. It felt very much like watching people behind a two way glass.

My heart went out to this young soldier and I couldn't stop from watching her.    

After a lot more tears and a great deal of encouragement, she finally did jump. And she fell.  Actually, it was clear that she didn't even try.  She had convinced herself she was going to fail before she even began and she did.

The Drill Sergeant told her to get back in line and she was going to do it again.  Our group was already moving onto the next station, but I stayed behind because I wanted to see what happened next.

Would she get to the rope and allow her fear to paralyze her again?  Or would she get to the rope and stand proud and strong and say "I can do this.  I am going to do this." and then jump off with confidence?

The group was moving towards the bus getting ready to go to the next destination and I had to leave.  I didn't get to see what happened next.

Since I didn't get to see the ending, I get to write my own. I choose to believe she did it. I believe she walked up to the rope with her sassy self, grabbed hold of that rope and showed them how it's done. And then she looked over at ole "Victory Tower" and said "Bring. It. On." 

   

 

 

 

"A Chance Encounter"

I went to the library this morning, as I usually do every few days. I love it there—not just for the books, but for the whole atmosphere. As I was leaving, I noticed a woman sitting in the sunroom by the entrance. It’s a beautiful day here in South Carolina, though the wind makes it feel colder despite the sunshine. The sunroom seemed like the perfect spot to be. 

It’s not unusual to see homeless people at the library, and I take comfort in knowing it’s a safe place for them to gather. This woman wore dirty clothes and had a large canvas bag at her feet. As I got closer, I noticed she held a small hand mirror, carefully applying lipstick. My heart melted. I don’t know anything about her, but in that moment, I saw her pride. There may be many things she can’t control, but she was doing what she could, and I felt that deeply.

I’ve been thinking about this woman all morning, about that fleeting moment when our eyes met and the feeling that passed between us. Meeting her in the library made me realize I should pay more attention to the little things in life.  Sometimes I get caught up in the big things that I need to fix, when sometimes, fixing a little thing is good enough.