THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING

Meg couldn't believe her eyes !

There was a Christmas stocking

hanging from the mantel !

She hadn't had one of those since

she was a child .

Where did it come from ?

Who had put it there ?

If her husband were alive, he

might have done it, but he'd died

two years ago .

She'd been looking for her wedding

ring ever since the day of the funeral .

Somehow, it had gotten lost, and

she'd been heartbroken. It was so

very special to her...all she had left

of Jim.

She shook her head and dried her tears,

and thought, 'Well, whoever had left

that stocking, I might as well

accept it'. She took it to her bedroom,

and sat cross-legged on her bed,

like she did when she was a little girl

and started emptying it...methodically,

the same way she did back then, one

item at a time.

A pretty bottle of perfume was at

the top...Obsession, her favorite !

then a package of Seashell stationery

she'd always liked . Next, a pair of

pearl-encrusted combs for her

long, dark hair that Jim used to remark

about . How he loved her shining,

luxurious hair !

Meg laughed, when she reached in

and pulled out a box of animal crackers.

That was one of her favorite stocking

treats when she was a child . There were

the other treats she remembered

receiving in her Christmas stockings ;

the box of filled Christmas candy, the

mixed nuts, the apple and orange...

oh ! it felt so good ; brought back such

happy childhood memories !

Near the bottom, she found an elegant

golden pair of dancing slippers, and

a tiny golden purse to match !

She and Jim had always danced

so well together. She was nearing

the bottom of the stocking now, and

she reached in for the expected coin,

like Santa had always given her, but

there, in the bottom, in the very

tippity- tip of the toe, was her

wedding ring !! She turned it around,

and found the inscription, 'For Meg,

I'll always be with you'... Jim .

I wrote this on November 30, 1997

I know it's a bit predictable, but I

enjoyed writing it. There's a little

of myself in there, with the food items

in the stocking. Every christmas my

sibs and I had those items in our

stockings, and we had a nickel in the

toe...pretty good money for a kid

back then. And, yes, we took our

stockings to our rooms and sat

like Meg, in the story, eating some

of our goodies.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the

story, juvenile though it seems now.

D

BLESSINGS OF OLD AGE

To those who, like me, have reached

a ripe, old age :

May you have good physical health

May you always be able to move

May you always be able to taste your food

May all your senses remain intact

May your brain continue to function

May you always know who and what you are

May you always be able to reason

May you always think young

May you always be able to see your children

and all your loved ones

May you always enjoy children's laughter

May you always hear your loved ones' voices

May you always retain the capacity to laugh

and enjoy a good joke

May you continue to enjoy the melodious

songs of the birds

May you enjoy many more sunrises

and sunsets

May you always feel and be

surrounded by love

May you always be forever young

D

I wrote this about a year ago, March, 2010,

and I wish this for not only myself, but all

us, as we grow older.

Time is passing so quickly now, seems like

even the young ones are growing old

right before our eyes !

So, it behooves everyone to enjoy life,

squeeze every bit of happiness into

every second, push the negative stuff

aside as quickly as possible, because

before you know it, you'll be where

I'm at now, saying, 'What the heck

happened ? Where did everything go,

and how did I get so old, so fast ?

Enjoy your lives, keep those you love

close to you, and invent ways to

be happy, not bored. don't waste time,

it's a precious commodity.

And share your love, be overly

generous with hugs and kisses, and

shower praise on all your loved ones,

for even their littlest efforts.

Be loving, kind, and compassionate ;

the same qualities you want extended to you.

Thank you for taking the time to read

my 'ramblings'.

I love you all.

THE JOY IN LIVING

Each day we awaken is another gift from God.

What we do with each day is up to us.

Do we want to improve ourselves and

our relations with others ?

Or, do we sit and dream of what

Could have been, Should have been,

What wasn't done

What others did or said, or

What they didn't do or say.

Do we smile and say, let's see,

What can I do today, to

make my life worthwhile ?

Do we wish someone

would have done this for us,

or that for us ?

Or do we Seize each day, and

make the most of it ?

Do things for ourselves...

go out and buy a new purse, or

some other little luxury,

Go get our hair done,

go visit a friend,

Call, or write or E-mail ;

Send a card to someone,

letting them know you're

thinking of them.

What can I do with this day

the Lord has given me ?

I will try to be happy, to

make others smile,

to be glad, that they, too,

have another day to use

to help themselves, their

Families, friends and neighbors.

Even little things can

make a difference...

Make new friends ;

find the Joy in life.

We have but to open our eyes,

hearts and minds

to find it.

Grab onto it, share, and

spread it around.

Joy is contagious !

Rejoice in the fact that

You are Alive !!!

D

I wrote this on May 12, 2008

Don't recall what prompted it, perhaps

some of the very things that are contained herein.

Maybe I'd been sitting around, feeling something

was missing in my life ; that others should

somehow have helped to give my life

meaning. Or, perhaps, I was just waking up to

the fact that I am the one who can do

something to give myself a feeling of

fulfillment, no one else.

It's up to me to find ways to make

myself happy.

Well, whatever it was,

I'm glad I wrote this. Hope, after

reading it, you, too, can find meaning

in it for your own life.

THE ARTIST

Sometimes, great art emerges from

the hearts of tortured souls .

It comes in many forms...singing,

dancing, painting, sculpting,

writing, composing, playing music...

The troubled soul reaches out,

hoping for relief, to be able to escape

his inner torment ;

expressing his pain and fears

through his art.

The comic laughs at much, makes

jokes about many things, often about

his own life, his own misery,

putting it out there

in the form of jokes,

laughing on the outside

but crying on the inside.

He often uses expletives, from

the frustration of not knowing

just how to put into words,

to purge himself of all the anger,

hurt, resentment, sadness.

He vomits out

his misunderstood feelings,

to try to free himself

from the prison in which

his own heart and mind

keep him incarcerated.

WHY CAN'T I ?

Sometimes, when I hear or read great works

of beauty, love, or poignancy, I wonder,

Why can't I write like that ?

Why can't I write something so profound,

that those who read it might say,

'What depth ! What insight ! What wisdom !

What love and beauty this woman possesses !'

Why can't I write something so magnificent

with my usage of words, that it would evoke

passionate tears in the eyes of those who read it ?

That hearts would be filled with love,

understanding , compassion and gratitude

for their families, this country, and the rights

we all have, to worship (or not) as we please,

the privilege to vote for whomever we choose,

the right to love whomever we wish, to bring children

into this world (or not), and to teach them to

be good, kind and considerate of others, to

do well in school, and to become decent,

productive citizens.

Why can't I write of these things, of the joy

of a little baby taking his first steps,

uttering his first words, and watching him,

as he gazes in wonder at a tiny ant, struggling

to carry a heavy load, or a butterfly emerging

from its cocoon, or the look on his face, as

he touches, for the first time, the velvet

softness of a kitten ?

Why can't I convey my inner feelings

in what I write ; my innermost thoughts,

fears and aspirations...

Why can't I ?

This was written on Election Day,

November 2, 2004.

When I first started writing, years ago,

I thought it would be easy, and that

fame and fortune would come my way

some day. Well, I've since revised

my thinking, and realize that I'm not

a great writer, and, most likely will

never have the acclaim I thought

would come so easily .

So, I write for my own pleasure, and

that of my family. They seem to like

my meanderings, and give me lots of

pats on the back, and words of praise,

and now...for me, that's enough.

I have the love of some pretty

darned nice people...my kids,

grandkids and great-grandkids.

A few friends, also.

What more could I ask ?

I love you, my darlins' .

D

IS IT BEAUTY... OR UGLINESS ?

If one looks at an 'ugly' person, and turns away,

He might be missing a great opportunity

To make a real friend.

Some people just cannot think of an 'ugly' person

As a 'friend' .

They only befriend people who, in their eyes, are

Beautiful, and only the beautiful people

Deserve to have friends.

How sad, and how shallow, to turn down

What could be a wonderful friendship,

because of 'looks' .

Some of the handsomest people are just

Mean... nasty inside, where it really matters.

If only folks would look beyond

Outer beauty, and into the heart and soul

Of the 'not so pretty' people.

They might find the truest friend

They'll ever have.

Look at Quasimoto... hard to look at,

A hunchback, who lumbered

Rather than walked, yet he had

A loving, beautiful, pure heart.

And didn't he win the heart of lovely

Esmerelda ?

Why can't people see that 'Pretty'

On the outside, means nothing, unless

They're Beautiful on the inside,

Possessing a kind and loving heart ?

One who has compassion for

Those not blessed with a 'pretty' face.

That would make them truly 'Beautiful !

I've seen this happen over and over

again, and it's sad to think there are

people who really think like this, that

a person isn't 'worthy' of their time

and friendship, just because they aren't

'pretty'.

Well, it's their loss not to take the

opportunity to get to know someone

who may well have turned out to be

their best friend .

Something to think about.

D