Monthly Archives: January 2011


Out of the blue came a conversation; and then as we chatted, as ladies will do, this woman began to tell me the story of her 25th wedding anniversary celebration. The children of this couple had planned a big “to-do” and it was the day of the event. Vows were going to be renewed, as well as the usual food, gifts, and friends in attendance… She said she was sitting on the bed dressed and ready to go; she was deep in thought. Her husband had come in several times to roust her to the car; but she continued to sit and, in his mind, procrastinate. Finally he said, “What’s the matter with you? We’re going to be late!” She turned to her husband and this is what she said. “I’m not sure I want to go and exchanged vows again.”

He was shocked to hear this. They’d been, in his mind, a happy couple for years. He sat down next to his wife and asked her, “Why?” And, she continued… “When I took those vows the first time, I had no idea of the habits you had, the things you

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Number Please

When I was a little girl, our home phone sat in a hallway in a special little alcove built just for the phone. There was no chair to sit down and chat because the phone wasn’t meant for long conversation… It was meant to offer another venue for exchanging information without leaving your home. (Actually it was in many ways the beginning of doing business and living, without leaving one’s home.) It looked nothing like any phone we use today. It was only a receiver and a base unit with no dial on it to call anyone. (An operator would come on line and ask for the number… Then she would place the call for you.) The phone was free standing… not like today where they often hang from the wall. And, all the phones were black… whether it was in my home hallway, or someone else’s home or even in a business office. Black black black.

The phone for my family was not the center of our lives, but it had a very clear and obvious place. My grandparents (who told me about the party line system that was first

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In my house are three very old clocks. One stands in the library… a grandfather clock that Hubby and I purchased to commemorate our tenth wedding anniversary. Another is a grandmother mantel clock which graces Hubby’s office; it belonged to his maternal grandfather. And, then there is the clock that sits in one of the hallways of the house, which my mother bequeathed to me; my great-grandfather built it. They all run, tick away the hours of the day twenty-four/seven because I wind them so they can continue to do so. By this act, “their lives” continue.

I love(d) to hear them all tick-tock… To live. I notice that each of them has a different meter; and when I sit in a certain part of the house, I can hear them all make this concert of sound together. It is peaceful. Soothing to me. They’re like old friends, and they comfort me when I’m troubled and/or I don’t know what to do. These clocks of mine park me in one place. I have no chance to err, just sit and be comforted.

That said, many men and women wear a timepiece

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