PUBLIC SERVICE

PUBLIC SERVICE

I volunteer as a public service. This past year I volunteered to judge a school competition for the Family, Career, and Community Leaders of America (FCCLA). I judged one of their speaking contests. Everyone should take time out of their busy schedules to encourage young people in their pursuits. We were encouraged when we were younger and we should do likewise.

God Bless the Volunteers who pass on the things they believe the next generation should know. There should be more of them around. I know I volunteered when my children were in school, but now that I have grandchildren, I occasionally get pressed into service on some new endeavor. I try to be a cheerful volunteer. I have been around people who have not made that commitment to cheer, and they will make everyone miserable.

I want the next generation to be better than mine was. As a boomer, I have done my best to pave the way for new ways of questioning the status quo. There is nothing sacred about the past. There were not good ol’ days. There were days of my youth and mini skirts, fuzzy hairstyles and rusty cars. Those were not the good ol’ days. Days of confusion, belief testing, long conversations searching for values and learning to become the citizen I am today.

Let’s go forth as volunteers and shed light on our pasts. The young people are not going to the dogs. They are survivors and searching as we once searched for their truths and their place. I want to do what I can to show them the way.

 

THE PERFECT CUP OF COFFEE

THE PERFECT CUP OF COFFEE

My husband has a new coffee pot. It is beautiful, red and black, shiny, the carafe has a little silver hat to wear when it is perking coffee. In the middle of its gleaming redness is a small clock that tells the time and shines out like a lighthouse beacon. It is just the most splendid thing we have ever had that made coffee. The last coffee pot we purchased did not turn itself off. We were such fire hazards that there should be a law that prevents retailers from taking money from us for a pot that won’t shut itself off.

The only thing I have ever seen bigger and shinier than this pot belonged to my son-in-law, the commander. He has a regular shrine to the coffee gods in his kitchen. It warms milk and whistles Dixie, mine doesn’t. If you don’t drink a lot of coffee, not a regular addict, then you are particular about how yours tastes. I didn’t drink it for years because I thought it smelled better than it tasted. So now I have become a convert. I have two cups a day. The coffee has so much stuff added to it, it becomes dessert. It has to be as light as a tan crayola, it has to be sweet not bitter, and it should have a robust interesting flavor.

A two cup a day drinker is not actually an addict. We are more hobbyists and very critical if perfection is not achieved in our individual cups. I may never be an addict, but my day is better when I have a couple of jolts of tan crayola.

 

NEW TECHNOLOGY

NEW TECHNOLOGY

I just finished watching the youtube video about Twitter. I am learning how to tweet. Those of you who know how, should be warned that I am coming into a news feed near you, maybe today. I have resolved to tweet this morning so stand back.

In an attempt to learn about the new arena of social media, I have set up two blogs, one a website using wordpress and one using blogspot. I am moving onto a google+ account, and have to confess my ignorance about it, but won’t be dumb long. Getting more familiar with Facebook every day. The social network that will eventually win me is the one that will combine all of the social possibilities into one big linked center that hopefully will not be self-aware and take over.

So here is the question. What are we going to do with all of this linkedness and friendly following? Are we going to change the world now that we can talk to one another? We are at the tentative beginning stages and I am wondering. There are parts of my life that are so boring that someone would come and unplug my keyboard if I were to tweet, like, or share them. I promise. Come change me please.

When we get fully connected, I will wait for the moment when we link our electronic bits together and sing Cum Ba Ya in front of our bond fire screen savers.

FORCING PAPERWHITES

FORCING PAPERWHITES

One February I received a kit for bulb forcing. It was such a gray February that I immediately filled the little container with water and put it in my kitchen window. The green container showed so much promise. It was a lovely crackled glass. It sparkled brightly in the afternoon sun. The bulb sat there like royalty on a throne. It was thirsty and I watered it everyday. First thing in the morning right after coffee, water the green throne and inspect the bulb for a green shoot.

It wasn’t long, on the grayest of days, a green tip appeared on the end of the bulb. The tiny promise of something alive was growing during February, not the easiest of months to survive, much less show real life in my kitchen. This apparition of green made me so happy. I could hold out until spring, maybe February is just a state of mind, and something over the counter will help me get past it. There is after all a green tip in my window. I could hardly wait. Hurrah! Hurrah!

The tip grew bigger. Finally leaves appeared. Then miracles of miracles a bloom appeared. It was white a pure color, really promising, things were looking up. The day the bloom opened, I had to wait days for the bloom to open, it revealed itself. It was a paperwhite. Every gardener will tell you about paperwhites. They will bloom in water and they will encourage a beginner bulb forcer to explore the world of bulb forcing. But what they don’t bother to mention, is the paperwhite in full bloom smells like something has died in your kitchen, and no amount of beauty will compensate for the smell they generate. It was just a botanical trick, something dead in February.

BULB FORCING VASE