Old Tangled Weeds

She strained in the hazy, hot afternoon,

   bending over the backyard garden.

She toiled for a time so long--

   tending to its beauty,

   bestowing love and song.

Pulling weeds that were so thick, so many,

   they almost smothered out the stems

and stalks that tried to reach the skies--

   but for her hands, the plants

   would have never risen so high.

Rich and hewn with healthy delight

   she created a garden of heart-warming sight.

But years of this work weakened her body

   forcing her back to stay bent;

   cramped hands that oft bled.

“All worth it,” she said,

“After the years spent lost

   in old tangled weeds.

I had help from those

   who planted seeds--

only it was I who could take

   the action to go,

by pulling the weeds

   so my garden could grow.”

And tend it each day she does,

with her nurturing hands,

and a heart full of love.

Theresa M

Tell Me About It

   I enjoy watching movies and tv series with historical settings, anything that is beyond the past 75 years. Long before computers and cell phones. There is just something about the ways people used to communicate that appeals to me.

   In the early 1900’s telephones were not in everyone’s household. If there was urgency to contact someone, you would go to a neighbor’s house to borrow their phone. Of course, you’d have to offer to pay to cover the cost, especially for long-distance calls (they were expensive). But I wonder how many instead opted to climb a telephone pole like Oliver did on “Green Acres?”*

   Another choice was the pay phone. They were numerous in neighborhoods and businesses until their phase-outs when cell phones became commonplace. Although these pay-phones were in open areas, many were popularized as rectangle, wooden cases with a folding door for privacy. The glass ones got popular in the 1950’s. But alas, with pay-phones you had to make sure you carried the correct change for your call. And operators were always standing by 24/7 to assist in finding a number, or reminding you to deposit more dimes.

photo by michaelgoodin flickr.com

   But if no one was at the receiving end of the phone call, well too bad! There were no answering machines to take your call, at least not family-affordable ones. That started gaining ground around the 1960’s.

   Writing letters was also an important part of communication. Thank goodness for the postal service. People may have complained for years about how slow they were, even nowadays calling it a dinosaur, but it really was a blessing and still is, to have and hold a tangible message or greeting card.

photo by mozlase on pixabaycom

   I like reading about old letters kept by families, some are stored in museums. And postcards echo past pleasures of paradise. People may have waited for months to hear from others due to Pony Express and transatlantic mail via ship.

   Years ago when my mom died, I was given the last two letters that I wrote her. It’s hard to express in words the feelings that washed over me. I had written a poem about it back then. Here’s an excerpt:

      The letters that I wrote to her came back to me
      after she’d read them and kept them in a drawer
      by the bed where she’d lain…
      for all time she held them close to her
      till time for her was gone.

      No more letters to write or read now
      for her hands to hold and eyes to see.
      Now I pour out my sorrows in letters not sent,
      nor can they return to me.

   What we talk about matters. What we write about has meaning. We have numerous ways to share our message with others. You may never have to climb a telephone pole to transmit the message (Oliver!!*). But just ask yourself: Who holds on to your words? Will the means of your communication stand the test of time?                (No RSVP required!)            Theresa M.

* Green Acres tv comedy series (1965-1971) - Oliver, one of the main characters

Weather - It Is Summer

   Hot, hazy summer days are here. Some people revel in them, swimming, beaching, cookouts, just being outside. Some dread them, sweating, difficulty breathing, lack of energy. Hard to control that climate!

   As a kid I belonged to the first group. Maybe I liked it mostly because school was out. To be outdoors was pleasant. But without shoes or only sandals, ouch! Those sticker burrs were everywhere! I must have removed thousands from my feet.  Ah, but the simple pleasures of childhood!

   We moved around a lot when I was young. Some places did have big backyards (or maybe they seemed big to little me!) One place had different fruit trees - I remember apple, peach, and what I didn’t know then but do now as pomegranate. (Didn’t like it then, and don’t like it now). There was also a small stretch of trees which I called a jungle. I’d pretend I was on an expedition of sorts. Near there was a rotted-out tree trunk. I dug and dug and made a pit to hide in. Actually the dirt was cool - nice break on a hot summer day.

   Another place we lived had a shed with an evergreen tree next to it. I loved climbing the tree to get on top of the shed. I felt like I could see so much around me. But alas, too hot!

   Then there was the duplex house across the street from a local park. This backyard had huge trees and we got to have a swing - wow! The simple joys of life - I loved that swing. But going across the street to the park was great fun too. My sisters and I would venture all over the park. There were fountains everywhere. We weren’t supposed to but of course we did splash around in them to cool off. I didn’t like going to the pool, as a bully once dunked me in water - I thought I would drown.  Water hoses were more fun!

   The park was a respite from life. But not near as wonderful as being out in the country (I wrote about this in “That Tiny Texas Town.”) Freedom to run in the fields, bluebonnets everywhere, tanks (small ponds) to explore, endless gravel roads. And quiet, except for nature - birds, frogs, cicadas, crickets.  And beautiful fireflies at night!  I find those sounds and sights soothing, unlike the city life noise.

   Now I dream. Today the hot, humid days of summer are to be endured. I could turn on the air-conditioner (I do if above 90+) but it’s costly. I do feel fatigued. Plenty of water, fans of course. There were places I worked before that were so dreadfully hot - never did understand why those companies couldn’t get their climate under control.

   But at least we can appreciate that seasons change. Fall is my favorite, so there is something to look forward to. All through life we need to have this: Hope, Anticipation.  Things change, we adjust our behaviors to accept life as it happens.

   At least I can still hear the birds singing, and soon the night will bring the crickets and tree frogs chirping, and fireflies glowing, leaving me feeling peaceful. No matter what the weather.            Theresa M