‘Twas the Night Before Covid Christmas

It’s about perspective! Let’s be thankful we haven’t lost – and will never lose – the love of our family and friends!

commonsensiblyspeaking

~~~

‘Twas the night before Christmas, 2020 the year,

The days were blurring with pandemic fear;

The face masks were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that gifted vaccine soon would be there;

~~~

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

Thoughts of missing friends danced in their heads;

And mamma in her sweats and I in my briefs,

Had just settled down for some needed relief,

~~~

The year had been one like none could expect,

And holidays came with family to protect;

So, Nana and Pop wouldn’t be here this year,

But a video call would let them feel near;

~~~

Santa drove the smiling van instead of a sleigh,

And lucky we are to have gifts Christmas day;

The best gift from one generation to another,

When missing you meant we loved each other,

~~~

Dawn will still hold the wonder of little…

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Practice Self Care (Ann Campbell)

I recently read this article in a small community booklet I receive once-a-month, and I thought the material was important enough that I wanted to spread the word. So thank you to Ann Campbell, who wrote these words:

“One of the current buzzwords is ‘self care’. We see it everywhere these days, on every platform. It is a relatively new term, and it might lead one to wonder just what it means. The online definition reads “the practice of taking an active role in protecting one’s own well-being and happiness, in particular during periods of stress”. Well, since 2020 has basically been one big ball of stress, I guess it makes sense why the word is being used more and more often these days. However, just a definition isn’t enough to express what it really means, and how we can apply it every day to ourselves.

“Self-care applies across many facets of one’s life. In the most basic terms, it means seeing a doctor and being proactive about one’s bodily health and well-being. It also applies to one’s mental health as well and here is where it gets nuanced. Yes, it means seeking professional help if your mental state is one that has deteriorated to a point where you need help and support, but it also means finding joy in your daily life. It’s not just spa trips and massage appointments, it is thinking hard about what you like and making that be a part of your daily experiences.

“There are some simple ways to add small joys to your daily life, little things that build your self-care regimen to improve your world. Get a candle or a melter in a scent that makes you happy. Get rid of any clothes in your closet that make you feel unattractive. Play that song that always makes you want to dance. Buy yourself a sparkly piece of costume jewelry and watch the light play on it. Spend that extra three minutes in the shower with the water pounding on your back. Call that person that always makes you laugh. Find out what time the sun rises or sets tomorrow and take a minute to stop and look at it.

“Small acts of self-care seem simple, but they help in large ways. At the end of the day, you need to be important to you, so take a minute to treat yourself well.”

P.S. You’ve heard me use this quote before, but it always bears repeating: “Fill your own cup first and nourish others with the overflow.”

Do You Remember?

Let’s face it. The pandemic has been a part of our lives for at least nine months now, President Trump not having declared the Corona virus a national emergency until March 12th. Here in the US, the political turmoil that should have ended with Election Day in November continues to plague us and I suspect will do so until at least January 20th, if Inauguration Day goes off without a hitch. These two things have taken all of our focus and are why we all agree that the year 2020 pretty much sucks! Well those, and the toilet paper shortage due to hoarding!

But the year didn’t start in March with the announcement that the virus had become a pandemic! In January, these events made national and international news: the Australian Wildfires, the Iran-US Conflict, the Ukrainian Plane Crash, the Taal Eruption, the plane crash that killed NBA legend Kobe Bryant.

And February had its share of note-worthy and unpleasant news: a gunman attacked a Greyhound bus and, on the same day, a shooting occurred at Texas A&M University, a ruptured gas line in Corpus Christi, Texas caused massive destruction with flames reaching over 150 feet, the Boy Scouts of America filed bankruptcy as hundreds of sexual abuse claims made their way into court, an over 206 million gallons of sewage that made its way into Fort Lauderdale’s water supply was discovered, a mass shooting occurred in Milwaukee, as well as a shooting outside of a popular Atlanta restaurant.

Other shootings, and fires, and riots and so many other things happened in 2020 besides the pandemic! But we seem to be so caught up in the anxiety of the pandemic that we’ve forgotten all of the lives and property lost because of other terrors that have ripped through the world this year.

2020 was yet another year that we lost many beloved celebrities. And, as usual, California had to deal with massive brush fires. Joe Exotic, who found instant fame as the “Tiger King”, was convicted on two counts of murder-for-hire. Megxit, when Prince Harry and his wife Meghan, chose to leave the Royal Family and the country, happened effective March 31st, 2020. These are some other things that made national and international news in 2020.

But we’re so fixated on the pandemic of COVID-19! Yea, it’s still really scary for each and every one of us. This virus knows no gender, no race, no age, the health of the person it affects. We can be very proactive about protecting ourselves from contracting COVID, but the only 100% guarantee is to live alone in a bubble and have simply no contact with anyone! One person I know has completely barricaded herself inside her home, only venturing outside to walk around her front yard if no one else is nearby or to relax in her back yard if no neighbors nearby are out. But her husband goes off to work every day, and he could bring the virus home to her without knowing. Her son played some sports early in the school year, and while she masked and distanced herself from the crowd of parents also there to cheer their sons on, the boys played without masks, and the game requires physical closeness and some possible physical contact, so….

Again, we simply cannot guarantee ourselves 100% prevention without that bubble. And yes, we’re all anxious about the second spike happening, and yes, we want it to be over. I’m simply suggesting that we remember that there are trials and tribulations that affect someone in the world every day. Let’s not forget to care about those things and those people, too. There will be car accidents, and house fires, and sadly, shootings that will occur every day in some part of the world. People will lose their loved ones, not even necessarily from the COVID virus, and will be dealing with pain and grief. We need to remember that the world will keep spinning on its axis and the calendar pages will keep turning as days and months go by.

Be proactively careful. Mask up. Use social distancing steps. Avoid being in a mass of people, including your loved ones. Limit your exposure, but don’t let the precautions limit you. There is still hope for this world, and hope in each of us. Let’s quit obsessing about something over which we have no guaranteed control. More than ever, reach out to the needy in any way that is safe to do so. Be kind to everyone, and especially the ‘essential workers’ who risk their lives by going to work every day so that we have and/or able to get what we need. And pray for those who experience loss in any way during this pandemic. Let’s all work together!!!!!

Back in MY day…

If you were lucky enough to get to know your grandparents, then you surely have heard at least a few “Back in MY day” stories. My grandparents lived through the Great Depression, my mother and her siblings were infants or young children during that time. They faced, what in their time, were serious shortages of the most basic of needs – sugar, flour, milk, etc. There was no money to buy these things even if they had been available! And my favorite of all – “Back in MY day, we walked five miles each to and from school, and it was uphill both ways!”

Of course, we as children couldn’t begin to comprehend what they had been through, and tended to invisibly roll our eyes when subjected to another “back in my day” story.

Here it is, 2020. By far the worst year most living people have ever experienced. And let’s face it, there will be “back in MY day” stories told in the future that talk of a toilet paper shortage and a pandemic that closed down all but the essential businesses and forced us all to be in isolation and to practice extreme precaution when we did have to venture outside. Corporate businesses had to quickly adapt to having access for their employees to work at home. Many small businesses faced lack of income for several months that ended up requiring them to close their doors forever. Schools were closed, forcing children to learn from home, and forcing many parents to adapt their schedules to make time to, in essence, home-school their children. People fought over the requirement to wear a mask, beds in hospitals became sparse, available medical equipment became insufficient, and some people had to watch their loved ones die alone through a plate-glass window so that the infection wasn’t spread.

The Great Depression taught the people affected how to be better prepared for their futures. Plans B and C were designed to keep them from ever having to face that kind of depression again. Money was saved, not spent frivolously.

While I wouldn’t have wished that we would have this pandemic occur, at the onset, I did look forward to the possibility of some of the required changes as good things. Parents learned to appreciate how difficult a teacher’s job really is when it was them trying to corral their hoodlums into doing their lessons. Adults learned how to cook because there was no other option for meals. In some homes, actual family dinners started occurring.

Now, all of these months later, everyone is cranky and just tired of it! I get that – oh, trust me, I get that! And the second wave that we were forewarned of has started. The number of cases and deaths because of this virus continues to climb. And yes, it seems justifiable to blame those who are ignoring the strongly suggested regulations and gathering in large crowds, appearing in places without a mask, all the while bemoaning their distorted belief that masks don’t protect anyone.

Of course, we weren’t alive then, so most of us know very little about the (Spanish) influenza pandemic of 1918, which also affected the entire world. Not much is written about it – certainly no personal studies of how it affected humanity in general. And ten years later, the Great Depression hit.

I think the point I’m trying to make with this post is that, yea, it’s been a vicious year and, here in the USA, we had to deal with a crapload (we still are, to some extent) of political drama and unrest. We’ve got it bad and 2020 sucks, right?

But we are not the first to live through a pandemic. We are not the first who are trying to find a way financially to make up for our perhaps frivolous spending now that income is more limited. We are not the first to have a shortage of products in our stores that are what we consider essential items. We are not the first American people who have lived through a segregation, albeit blue and red verses black and white.

What has this taught us? Has it even taught us anything? Are any of us willing to stop complaining and start looking for the positives that can come out of this horror?

Because, you see, back in MY day…..

Judgmental or Not?

The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines the word “judgmental” as: 1. of, relating to, or involving judgment; 2. characterized by a tendency to judge harshly. Obviously, then, being non-judgmental would be the opposite, that is, someone who does not choose judgement or tend to judge harshly.

I’ve always tended to believe – and to say – that I have been non-judgmental for most of my life. Perhaps having empathic abilities and being able to feel what others are feeling makes me less apt to judge them, because I am able to have those feelings for them. Also, growing up with a dad who was very judgmental about other people and two parents who were always worried about how other people judged them, led me to wanting to become the antithesis of all of that.

But recently, I’ve become aware that, while not spoken or shared, I do instinctively make judgments about people, usually first impression ones. And I’m going to challenge you here by daring to say that, in fact, we are all judgmental!

It’s taken me a few days to process, absorb and accept that about myself. I only now realize that how I considered myself to be non-judgmental is really more truly away of stating that I’m a liberal. I am open to accepting various sexual preferences, women’s rights to control their own bodies, different religions, and even different political beliefs.

Here is what the Bible says about casting judgment: Matthew 7:1-5 1 says, “Do not judge, or you too will be judged. 2 For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. 3 “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? 4 How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? 5 You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye. Luke 6:37 37 says, “Do not judge , and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.

But, although we do not share or truly feel judgment against anyone, we all still make instant judgments based on first impressions, most often visual ones. See someone in layers of tattered, dirty clothing and we immediately think ‘homeless’. See a woman in provocative clothing, high heels and heavy makeup walking on the city streets after dark and we immediately think ‘prostitute’. These types of instant judgment are made based on our environment and what we were taught by our elders and people of authority. A young child being raised by two moms or two dads doesn’t see ‘gay’ because they have not been taught that ‘gay’ is a thing! If it was branded into your brain that a couple must consist of a man and a women, you’re likely to be very much less tolerant of their family structure.

I’ve made enough revolutions around the sun to remember when an interracial couple was seriously seen as disgusting and wrong. Dating anyone from a different race was seen as even worse than dating someone from a different religion! Now…. now it’s a common thing and most people don’t even think about it anymore (except for the true racists). Now, people of different races all over the world aren’t shunned or looked down on anymore for choosing a partner from a race different than their own.

But still, still, we make our instantaneous judgments of people every day of our lives! A grumpy cashier is judged to be mean, a person of a different political persuasion is seen as an idiot, pretty much anybody who does or chooses anything different from us is judged in one way or another. What’s truly important, for humanity now and in the future, is that we keep our judgments to ourselves and not let them be reflected to or on anyone else. I think that’s why I’ve always disliked gossipers (though a little part of me likes knowing the latest scoop!), because gossip is closely whispered negativity about some one else. Two neighbors don’t gossip about the fact that the gal across the street who was just elected as a member of the town’s council, because that’s great news that can be shared with anyone! But let that same gal make a mistake of any kind, and the gossipers will be out in droves to talk about it!

Now, I dare each of you who has read this far to take a moment and really ponder where you measure on the judgmental versus non-judgmental scale. I’m going to continue to say that I consider myself non-judgmental because I don’t act or react on my judgments. But yea, sometimes I make them, and I bet you do, too….

Hacks from my Happy Place – XIX

Well, I’m almost done with my yearly ‘nesting’ of filling my freezer with yummy soups and stews that will bring comfort during the cold weather of winter. I still need to make a batch of vegetable soup, but that’s by far one of the easiest to make.

I got a new recipe to add to my repertoire for nesting, and I wanted to share it. There’s a cute story behind it. My bestie, Joanne, doesn’t really like to cook. She’s always taking the easy way out, for example, a jar of spaghetti sauce with frozen meatballs added over cooked spaghetti was enough work for her. With her husband being diagnosed with celiac disease and ordered onto a low sodium diet in the past year, and with a son who is a somewhat picky eater, she’s had to make some major adjustments in her cooking.

When I cook, which I love to do, I often take her a serving for her lunch at work. This year, with my bad shoulder and upper arm, I did make a small batch of my cabbage soup, which she loves and shared with her. Well, recently, she told me she had a new recipe for cabbage soup, and my ears perked right up! She saved a serving to share with me, and I was excited!

Opening the lid to the container, I could see it was tomato-based and had some meat in it (I assumed it was browned hamburger meat). My first spoonful procured me some meat and also some white beans of some kind. My first taste led me to thinking about Italian sausage, and I thought she’d did a good job with her spicing (this is a serious weakness for me). Eventually, I did see a little curl or two of cabbage and a few thin carrot strips. It was good, thoroughly enjoyed. I wrote an email to thank her and to describe my experience trying the soup. I teased her about calling it “cabbage soup” because, if she hadn’t told me it had cabbage in it, I’m not sure I’d have known it was in there

She then admitted that it was called “Italian Sausage and Bean Soup’ and then shared the recipe with me. It’s really easy! One pound of loose Italian sausage (the recipe called for hot Italian, but she swapped it for sweet Italian and I concurred), browned and drained. Add a jar of spaghetti sauce, two cans of drained and rinsed Northern beans (she only used one can), a package of coleslaw and 3 cups water. Bring to a boil and then turn heat down to simmer, stirring occasionally, for about 20 minutes.

Of course, I had to adapt this recipe and make it my own! I had a jar of spaghetti sauce that was about 2/3 full (I needed a little bit of it as a topping for another recipe), so I decided I’d treat the recipe accordingly to make 1-1/2 batches. However, being the cabbage lover that I am, I added a large bag (16 oz.) plus a small bag (8 oz.) of coleslaw. Trust me, there’s no questioning that there is cabbage in my soup! I had to cook it longer to get that much cabbage tender, and add some extra water as it evaporated in steam, but in the end, it’s worthy of being called “Italian sausage with beans and cabbage soup”! And, of course, I’ve saved her a serving to try!

I also saw a post on social media from a high-school peer that I wanted to share with you, something I’m going to try. The post suggested that, instead of pouring grease from browning/cooking meat down the drain, save it until it’s slightly solid and add some rolled oats to it, making a bar or patty out of the mixture and put it out for the winter birds. My next door neighbor has a pine tree in his yard that is taller than his three-story house and he has feeders out all year long. I figured I’d try to make some of these and attach them to the fence that separates our properties. I don’t think he’ll object!

I don’t know if that’s actually a “kitchen hack” but it involves two things you find in a kitchen, so I thought I’d share it!

I hope, with COVID on the upsurge again all across the world, that you’ll consider doing some ‘nesting’ of your own in case of tighter lock-downs where you are. This soup recipe is a hearty meal to make and freeze!

No means No – Or Does It?

I’d like to tell you a hypothetical story based on facts from what I’ve seen and heard countless times in the last 20 or so years of my life.

Suburban family – mom, dad, three children. Kelsey as 13, Billy is 7, and Maddie is 5. Mom and Dad both work outside the home, with mom being able to arrange her work schedule to be home when Maddie is not in morning kindergarten. Four bedroom house, so each child has his/her own bedroom. Rules are that each child is responsible for keeping their bedroom neat; Mom is helping Billy and Maddie learn how to dust and vacuum their rooms and change their bed linens while Kelsey is self-sufficient. The kids also help with chores around the house, such as clearing the table after dinner, taking their pile of clean clothes to their room and putting them away, etc.

Kelsey is content to spend time quietly in her room, doing homework or reading. Maddie is mommy’s little helper and likes to follow mommy around whatever she’s doing. Billy, however, is a rather sulking and sometimes aggressive child – people would say he’s “all boy”. He has no respect for his sisters’ belongings, taking things from their rooms and often breaking them in the process of playing with them. He is quick to stomp and slam doors when he doesn’t get his way. He sasses and talks back to his parents, who have adopted the decision to just ignore him when he does.

I’ll stop the story there, hoping you’ve gotten my intent. I’m sure you’ve seen it happen in public places – stores and restaurants – with other children. At some point, parents get frustrated and/or embarrassed and end up acquiescing to their child’s demands, regardless of how many times they have said “No!”.

Now, ‘little’ Billy is 19 years old and is on trial for rape of a minor girl. The facts unfold between the prosecution and the defense’s witnesses, and Billy is called to the stand. When it is the opposing prosecution’s turn to cross-examine the witness, Billy is asked if the girl said “No” to what he was doing to her. She has already testified that she’d said “No” multiple times but he didn’t stop. He agrees that she had said “No” more than once. When asked why he didn’t stop when she said “No” because, after all, “No” means “No”, Billy tries to explain but is cut off by the prosecution’s attorney. The defense attorney asks to again question his witness, and his attorney then asks him why he didn’t stop when the girl kept saying, “No”. Billy then explained that he knew that “No” didn’t always mean “No”, that sometimes it meant you needed to work harder to get a “Yes”, so he kept going, past every “No”, believing she’d eventually give in and say, “Yes”.

But no means no, doesn’t it? Where would he have gotten that belief from????

The Old Homestead

My apartment building is separated by a tenant parking lot from the garage at the other end of the parking lot. It’s a small garage, one bay. There is no advertising or signage posted signifying that it is a business. Whomever is renting that space, however, works on antique and classic cars, and you often see one or more of them parked in front or beside it. Because it is a garage, there are often loud revs of an engine throughout the day, and it sounds like it’s coming from a vehicle having no muffler. Like living near a firehouse or an airport, you eventually get used to the occasional sound that breaks the silence.

For some reason, there has been a car they’ve been working on for the last week or so, and it must be a bugger to fix. Every day, at least twice a day, the quiet is broken by the multiple revs of the engine, a knocking sound as soon as they stop, some additional revs and again the knocking, then either the car stalls out or they turn off the engine. It is beyond loud and last long enough to be unable to ignore it. It’s really been bothering me the past few days, and it got me to thinking about how my ideal home would be set somewhere where it’s quiet, back away from the road and with no businesses directly nearby. I saw one recently, set back off the street, surrounded by trees on three sides and immediately thought to myself, “Yes, like that!” The house, however, had a very dark exterior, and on the gray and gloomy day that I drove by it, a little bit of imagination could make one wonder if the place was haunted.

Well, that got me thinking about the house I grew up in, which had a much brighter exterior. It was brick, the brick color a kind of light mustard sand look, a big window that was framed with shutters and a window box underneath. There is a fond memory of my mother choosing the shade she wanted on the shutters and window box to change it from a kind of olive green it was originally painted in, came back, because she chose the color elderberry. Oh, how many times, when she was giving new visitors directions to our house, she would say, ‘Look for the one with the purple shutters and window box!”

The house was brand new when it was purchased in 1966, a big investment back in those days of over $20,000. At the time, it had the most modern appliances available, and hardwood floors and even a driveway. It was the first time I’d ever seen a bathtub that didn’t have claw feet (and to be honest, I was a little afraid of it at first!). Then my mind took me on a virtual tour of the old homestead, with all of the improvements that had been made over the 30 years my parents owned it. Visually, I entered the front door (seldom used except by “special” visitors and to check for mail). Room by room, my mind visited each square foot of the place I called home. Some rooms had even served different purposes throughout those years – for example, my dad’s office in the lowest level became my bedroom when my grandmother moved in with us, and later became the first room my mom used when she started teaching ceramics. I can still vividly recall the dark paneling that covered our family room walls, with windows at ground level. I thought about each room first from a memorable place, and then went back and looked at it as an interior designer or new home seeker would see it. By today’s standards, it would qualify as a “starter home” for a first-time buyer, but it served our family of five for 30+ years. Today, I can see how small each of the three bedrooms actually was, how I might design the kitchen differently, etc. I can see how small the second bathroom my dad installed in a small room off the family room really was. Even when the driveway first had a carport installed and much later, was turned into an interior room, large and full of windows, where my mom’s growing ceramic business moved into. While, in the many years we lived there, we never had need to use the bomb shelter that was built into the lowest part of the house for what it was intended, it became a useful place for my mom to fire her ceramic pieces in the kiln.

My mind took a trip outside to the back of the house. At the end of our property, the ground had a bit of a slope, and was turned into what we called “Mom’s Rock Garden”. It stretched side-to-side of the property and covered the entire slope. There were some large rocks strategically placed throughout the area, and mostly mountain laurel grew and spread slowly throughout the dirt. To this day, it still surprises me that my mom actually enjoyed going out there to weed, which she did in sections, which means the by the time she got to the other end, the beginning needed weeding again. If you knew my mom, you’d understand why it would surprise me that she would want to go out and get her hands dirty like that…. but she did!

And the three lilac bushes that bordered the bottom side of the garden. One in white, one in lavender, one in dark purple. Oh, how I miss those – miss sticking my face up against them and inhaling deeply while the blossoms covered the stems. To this very day, and because of those bushes, my favorite scent is lilac…

Of course, dad’s shed was up against the back of the house, and we gave it its own address by adding 1/2 to our house number and having that address carved into a wooden sign that he hung on the door. My dad could fix and repair a lot of things, and he enjoyed the opportunity to tinker in his shop.

Once I’d covered all of the area, I imagined myself going back to my vehicle, climbing in and just sitting there looking at the front. I chose to ignore that the front wasn’t as pristine as when we lived there and that my mother’s holly bush, the only greenery besides the grass and the shrubbery planted against the house, was gone. That made me sad.

My mind then processed that, although this house will always represent “home” to me in my memories, it can never be home again. Whomever has lived in the house since my parents sold it has changed the vibes inside the walls of that house, and they can never be duplicated or replaced.

Finally getting that for the first time has brought me some peace in finally being okay with letting go. I don’t want to drive by it ever again out of a need to see it, to feel close to it somehow. I understand now that I may never be able to physically go home again, but I can feel what “home” was to me in my heart.

And no, I am not going to give the people revving engines a thank you for the insight!

Dear Mr. President

I heard this song for the first time on Election Day . It was a “live learn” request in one of my favorite music streams. There is no specific president’s name mentioned, though there is a line or two that hints to things that have happened in very recent years. I’m not sharing this to start political drama or turmoil. I’m sharing this because, in my soul, this accurately expresses how I see our nation right now. I’m sharing it to say that all of the things alluded to in the lyrics make my heart sad. Again, I’m sharing it NOT to cause more political turmoil in our world. I’m sharing it as a way of reaching out to others who feel that same sadness and don’t know how to express it, much less how to begin to change it. This song was recorded by Pink and released in 2017.

Dear Mr. President,
Come take a walk with me.
Let’s pretend we’re just two people and
You’re not better than me.
I’d like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly.

What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street?
Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep?
What do you feel when you look in the mirror?
Are you proud?

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Can you even look me in the eye
And tell me why?

Dear Mr. President,
Were you a lonely boy?
Are you a lonely boy?
Are you a lonely boy?
How can you say
No child is left behind?
We’re not dumb and we’re not blind.
They’re all sitting in your cells
While you pave the road to hell.

What kind of father would take his own daughter’s rights away?
And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay?
I can only imagine what the first lady has to say
You’ve come a long way from whiskey and cocaine.

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Can you even look me in the eye?

Let me tell you ’bout hard work
Minimum wage with a baby on the way
Let me tell you ’bout hard work
Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away
Let me tell you ’bout hard work
Building a bed out of a cardboard box
Let me tell you ’bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
You don’t know nothing ’bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
Oh

How do you sleep at night?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Dear Mr. President,
You’d never take a walk with me.
Would you?

Songwriters: Billy Mann, Alecia Moore

Reflection

I mentioned a little bit ago that I’ve been spending more time in the music world. Having been around music in various forms all of my life, I’ve recently been a little shocked to discover how many songs I’ve missed hearing until now that I wish I’d have heard before. As always, lyrics that speak to ME always become powerful, whether they are happy or sad. This song relates to an article I wrote and gave to my parents on my 40th birthday, as well as a ‘birthday card’ to them to announce that, that year, I was, in a sense, being born again and was going to start living my life as it was meant to be lived. Once you read the lyrics, you’ll get the point I was hoping to make. The song is called “Reflection” and it’s from the Disney animated movie Mulan.

Look at me
I will never pass for a perfect bride, or a perfect daughter
Can it be
I’m not meant to play this part
Now I see, that if I were truly to be myself
I would break my family’s heart

Who is that girl I see
Staring straight back at me
Why is my reflection someone I don’t know
Somehow I cannot hide
Who I am, though I’ve tried
When will my reflection show, who I am, inside

How I pray, that a time will come
I can free myself and meet their expectations
On that day, I’ll discover someway to be myself
And to make my family proud

They want a docile lamb
No-one knows who I am
Must there be a secret me
I’m forced to hide
Must I pretend that I am someone else for all time
When will my reflection show, who I am inside
When will my reflection show, who I am inside