Opinions

When we moved to our small corner of the country, for which I am grateful, we were greeted by the aboriginals: creatures great and small who lived in the dense woods and had never been disturbed by man.

I just spent a wonderful long weekend with my sister and her son, Beau, “up north” at my parents’ cabin. Stubby the red squirrel is doing well. Since the tragic loss of the end of his tail (and his subsequent unofficial adoption by my mother), he has flourished. The end of his tail, while still cut off at a sharp angle, has sprouted an impressive line of dark fur, and he looks dapper, sitting on the railing, shaking his tail and showing off his new plumage. Mom still dutifully feeds him every day, usually bird food, although he recently had some leftover pasta shells, which he seemed to enjoy very much. Even without my mother’s offerings, he is kept busy this time of year with pine cones and acorns and the many other good things there are to be found in the forest. My mother is an intrepid gardener, braving the cold temperatures, lack of sun and marauding forest wildlife to keep the flowers in her many flowerpots growing and beautiful for much of the year. It is a neverending job, as the deer and, more recently, the wild turkeys love the tasty treats she has cultivated and placed around the house like a free salad bar. A pack of turkeys decimated her begonias earlier in the fall. She sent me a photo of her begonias, pre- and postturkey invasion, and it was not a pretty sight. My sister brought the family dog, Mabel, who gets along well with my parents’ cat, Katie, and Mabel kept the turkeys and deer at bay. But that didn’t mean we were free of animal drama. My nephew and my dad went down to haul in the dock before the lake froze. My sister and mother and I followed them down to the water’s edge, where we discovered the site of a recent raccoon feast. “They must have been eating crayfish,” my father guessed when he saw the enormous pile of fragrant poop at the end of the dock. “Oh, no!” I yelled, because -- at that moment -- Mabel discovered the pile of poop and was eating it as quickly as she could.

After Hurricane Idalia chewed up half the trees in Taylor County, and before Georgia-Pacific spit out the other half, I took myself to the doctor. As always, I told him what was wrong…just to be helpful. “It’s sinus and allergies,” said I. “I have no fever, no sore throat…yada, yada, yada…” “Did you test for Covid?” is the predictable question.

Living on Purpose

Quite reluctantly, I made my way to the cruise spa and salon. Took me three score and six to actually yield to getting my first pedicure. Left my man-card at the door and sunk my dogs in the warm water. Thirty-minutes later it was done. Now here I go, chancing my defiance again, but this time it’s at sea. Shouldn’t be as difficult to bare, and besides, there is no one among the 4,100 passengers who are friends of mine. But as I was about to learn, pride would still come undone on this floating oasis.

It seemed easy enough. I was to find a place for the husband and I to stay when we returned to our college alma mater for Homecoming.

Have you considered that worry and anxiety is an issue we can control? Many within the medical world agree that stress is not a lurking monster that forces us to be afraid, but rather our negative thoughts are a nurtured response to what we see and hear. In other words, our assumptions become empowered when our emotions embrace them. Thus, if we can learn how to re-wire or renew the way we think, we can begin to walk in victory over fear which we blame for ruining our happiness. We’ve heard about going to our “happy place” a seemingly magical location where we can take refuge from whatever is threatening our security. But what is this about? It can mean different things to different people, but for those who have a relationship with God, it’s a secret place in the deepest part of our soul where we can commune with God and embrace the safety and joy of His presence.

I’m writing this while I am waiting in the airport to board my final flight home. And let me tell you, I can’t wait to get back to the great state of Texas. I’ve spent the last two weeks traveling to three different countries in Southeast Asia on a mission trip.

Recently did a first in my threescore-and-seven. Doubt if it’ll take that long to go on another cruise. Some friends talk in detail of their record of voyages, and it is as impressive as the number of my years of not taking vacations. Tamera and I loved it, and found the food and the service as great as advertised. A balcony on the second floor never tempted a leap nor to drop a line from my cane pole. Tam seemed to enjoy a cup of joe and a book every morning out on the porch where the tranquil sunrise and double-handing a warm mug were sweet and soothing.

I have always loved Halloween, and I love it now more than ever. I love to get in costume and have fun with other people in costume. People seem freer when they are dressed in different clothes. They seem to have a little more fun. I like the challenge of making or putting together elaborate costumes but, as the years passed, I’ve done less and less of it. Costume parties seem to be less common, and I don’t spend time in bars, so the opportunity to celebrate the holiday has diminished.