Just Thinking

“Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.”
― George Bernard Shaw 

I'm sitting outside the poolside in the back yard. The weather is sunny, the birds are noisily singing, and there is a slight, pleasant breeze blowing. It is too cool to actually take a dip right at the moment but I haven't quite ruled it out. It's Friday and anything is possible. I have been following the Conrad Murray trial with an intensity this week. He is the physician who is accused of killing the King of Pop, Michael Jackson. The whole affair is so sad and it touches my spirit so deeply. I have only been living a little over 50 years and yet so much has occurred in so short a time. It is very thought-provoking when you look at it in this manner, don't you agree? All the more reason to cherish every moment of every day.  I asked myself "Where were Michael's family throughout all of this madness"?  A friend reminded me that Michael had chosen to seclude himself from certain people. I was immediately reminded how I had done the same at times in my life for various reasons; especially if someone close to me had hurt me badly and I felt I did not deserve such hostility from them. Even now I still choose to remain apart from certain people who have proven to be intentionally, (or mentally), malicious, but I never desire to be separated from my siblings ever again.  I do not believe anyone could love me more than my family.
 As I watch the hummingbirds feed out of the nectar feeder I have hung in the corner of the yard I am feeling serene, at peace, and in control. I glance around my empty yard and envision people playing horseshoes and badminton and that soon my pool will be filled with splashing, swimming children and adults. My grill will be fully assembled and billowing out smoke from ribs, burgers, and chicken. The wicker bar near the wall will be surrounded by laughing friends and I will be smiling. 
Enjoy life to the fullest.
I love you all.
Dennis

Stan's Visit

 It was raining that day and I decided to take a break from my errands an get myself some much needed lunch.  Later, as I was standing in line in the fast food restaurant, a small, scruffy gentleman in front of me with unkempt hair wearing a dirty green Army trench coat, plaid brown paints and a pair of old work boots had just ordered his lunch and apparently was a bit short on the cost.  "You can just add it to my order", I said to the clearly agitated cashier.  The man snatched his bag off the counter, barely looked my way as he hurried off and said "'pre shate dat, man".  "No problem", I replied, and proceeded with my own order.  The meal was good and as I sat and ate I utilized my time to reflect on some things that were worthwhile and wholesome.  As I stepped outside to go to my car I noticed the same fellow from inside the restaurant line standing on the corner. It was still raining, and more heavier than earlier. I pulled up beside him and asked him if he needed a ride someplace.  He stated that he was desiring to go to see his son about a couple of miles down the road.  I told him to hop in and I would be glad to give him a lift. "I ain't got no gas money" he blurted out. (Apparently he had forgotten that I was the man who paid the balance on his lunch).  "That's not a problem. I have enough gas", I said.  Without further hesitation he climbed in my car.  I introduced myself to him and he told me his name was Stan and that he had lived here all his life.  He did not seem to want to talk about too much else and I did not push him.  He just stayed wrapped up in his Army green trench coat and looked out the passenger window.  "Just tell me when we get to your son's house", I said.  We listened to music in silence along the way. 
 I'm not the best judge of distance, but I was certain we had driven further than a couple of miles. In fact, it was more like 5 miles.  I was just about to ask Stan if he was perhaps lost when he suddenly said "You can let me off right here".  I quickly, but safely, pulled my car off to the side of the road.  Although I was not familiar with the area I could easily see that it was basically an abandoned district. We had stopped in front of an old rotted out structure that seemed to have been a corner store at one time.  Similar deserted structures were to the left and right of it.  "Stan", I said softly, "Your son lives here?"  Stan had opened the passenger door and was standing out in the pouring rain.  He leaned over and said "I didn't tell you my son lived here. I told you I wanted to go see my son."  And with that he shut the car door.  I was perplexed, but curious as to what exactly was going on at this moment in my life so I kept my car in park and watched Stan.  I watched him as he walked around the back of my car and continued across the road to another torn down structure.  I could now see that at one time it was a church.  Stan walked to the left of the structure to a sparsely wooded area where at least a dozen headstones protruded from the ground in various shapes and sizes.  He walked until he stopped in front of one particular headstone.  Instantly I understood what my mysterious new companion would not, (or could not), convey in words and tears streamed down my face as if I had lost one of my own loved ones all over again.  I opened my car door and went to the trunk of my car and retrieved my umbrella.  I opened it and walked over to where Stan stood. "Here Stan. Take this", I said quietly.  "I'll be waiting in the car to take you home when you're ready."  Stan took the umbrella and halfway looked at me and said, "Pre shate dat, man".
I love you all,
Dennis

      

Bye-Bye School

 Today has been an uneventful, albeit productive, day.  I had much more energy than the previous day and was able to get going with my duties far earlier, as well.  When I have it in mind for specific things to get accomplished I do not truly rest until they are done and such was the case with my list today.  Thankfully, all parties involved showed up as planned and the anticipated tasks were completed in a timely and satisfied manner.  I have not exactly exhaled, but I am near chill status; if there is one for me.
 My son, David, (whom I have mentioned on various occasions), is my weekly calendar; among other things.  Each morning he lets me know what day of the week it is without fail.  It's as if he is performing a count-down to Friday, the day he loves so much.  As I have mentioned before, David is an unbelievably obedient child.  He never complains, he tells me that he loves me randomly throughout the day, he will go to bed when told without so much as a whine, and he loves us unconditionally.  Those who have had the pleasure of meeting our son have found these attributes to be most true.   
 David also acknowledges when he has completed a certain phase.  When he has eaten his dinner he says "All done". When we have been out shopping for long hours and are headed home he will bow down and say "The end". And when he has finished going to a medical appointment such as the dentist or the doctor he will say "bye-bye dentist" or "bye-bye doctor", respectfully.  Today, after being released from his school bus he came into the house and looked at me with a big smile and wide eyes and said "Bye-bye school. Change clothes now."
 Isn't it amazing how a child is able to sum up the end of a work week in a ways an adult cannot?  In this simple, yet profoundly impactful manner, David informed me that he was finished with the toils of the week and was now ready to release himself from it; both mentally and physically, and enter into another phase of his life which consisted of leisure, enjoyment, lounging and a purposeful remission of strictness.  David has successfully mastered the art of separating work from play.  He has, and still is, teaching me to let go of stressors that will be here on Monday and to allow myself to lay down my ever-vigilant shield and enjoy my life, if but for a little while.  I have been admonished by more than one to take time to relax and become less rigid, but for me rigid is good. For when I am this way I am doing something worthwhile and constructive; and I often find enjoyment in my own way.  Perhaps many of us are similar in this manner.
 But I've said enough on this overcast Friday. Have a great weekend. Bye-bye work and bye-bye school.
 Love you all,
 Dennis  

Speaking From A New Place

 The new journey has begun.   I sit outside of my new abode waiting for my little man to come home from school. David gets off his school bus with such a great big smile and I am so happy he has matriculated into his new environment so well.  I try to communicate with him along the way so as to keep him from any surprises.  I am enjoying feeling the refreshing, cool breeze blow all around me. I am so relaxed that I nearly feel sedated.  I am somewhat proud of myself for having gone for so long without access to my computer.  I often wondered how I would fare if I were not able to read my email or blog or check in on Facebook on a daily basis.  It's not as bad as I thought, and besides, people who are busier than I am do not get on that much anyway.
 The new surroundings are nice; but then again, isn't that just like God?  There are several things I had forseen prior to arriving here that are already coming to pass. This is a very exciting time for us all.
 Fortunately I was not on-line during the 9/11 anniversary. It wasn't until recently that I even allowed myself to venture away from the house each year on that day. I've gotten much better about it now but it was a crazy time for me back then. I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when the towers fell.  I had retired from the Army and was working as an administrator at a juvenile detention facility in Cincinnati, Ohio. I recall how angry I had become as I watched the planes collide into, and later bring down, the Twin Towers on television. The next day I was prompted to write a letter to the editorial department of the Cincinnati Herald newspaper. The letter was printed and largely read on the campus.  I remember becoming angry again when some of my "fellow" co-workers criticized me for selling out to "this country", as they put it.  I served 24 hard years in the military and served alongside of some of the best men one could ever meet and call "brother". We defended our way of life on soil, both foreign and domestic, so that Americans could travel freely, eat ice cream at night, walk the streets, shop at Wal Mart, have BBQ dinners with friends, watch Sunday Night Football; and a host of things other countries can only dream about. I am proud to have done my part. Yes, I have scars from my service, but those scars made me a better man in so many ways.  So to those who laugh at my patriotism I say "Ignorance isn't bliss, its just plain old stupid".  
It's good to talk with you again.
Dennis 

Waiting to Belong Again

It's just a matter of time now.  I am at the airport in Charleston, S.C. waiting to complete my final leg of my trip. I drove the Stang down and am returning to get the family.  As I await this newest change in my life to take hold I can't help but to think of how much I miss my "environment".  I am not a fan of transition; especially if it involves my being forced to exist in a neutral situation.  You see, I'm not one to go out, except to a movie or two or a restaurant for dinner, and I don't particularly care for large crowds.  Over the years I have made certain that I furnish my home with any and every thing I need in order to be comfortable, entertained, and self-sufficient. And I'm not just that way when it comes to creature comforts.  If I need to borrow an item from a neighbor that simply lets me know that I need to get my own.  What's wrong with that? Nothing as far as I can see.  I'm the type of person who would rather not regularly loan out my yard tools or my movies or anything else I consider of importance or value, because if the borrower happens to break a tool or loan out my item to a third party or even slightly damage the item, I could not bring myself to having them replace it.  I'm just that way.   It's not that I value things over people, (those of you who know me can atttest to that), but not everyone takes care of your things as if they were their own.  (Or perhaps they do and that's why they break, damage or lose them).   Be honest, have you ever had a neighbor who "borrowed" everything from a cup of sugar, a bar of soap, or even a roll of toilet paper and never returned anything?  Why do they always say, "can I borrow"?  They should just be honest and say "Give me such-and-such because you know I'm not bringing a darn thing back".  I could respect that as opposed to a lie. How do you return a slice of bread anyway? And after they borrow all of your goods they soon get paid and throw a cook-out with friends and music and drinking and some of everything and they don't even invite you; let alone pay you back.  I can hear some of your overly benevolent hearts saying, "We must care for the poor and the more unfortunate".  Yes, I am all for that, but most of these folks are neither poor nor unfortunate, just lazy. To be brutally honest they are users; takers.  They ride around poor all the day long looking for a way to get what you have worked so hard to acquire. .   And it's really pitiful when they call themselves a child of God and never show any kind of fruit.  If you are in a relationship with God your tree will bear fruit, and in turn you will bless others.  I sincerely believe aliens from another world have come to planet earth and these type people are they!  
 You are probably wondering what has caused me to be in such a mood. I told you that I didn't like displacement and you are getting a first hand feel as to what I am like when I don't have my stuff.  But am I telling the truth or what?  I rest my case.
Lord, save me from this limbo.
Have a great day.
Dennis   

Janice's Tribute

My sister-in-law, Janice Franklin-Spain, who is married to my brother, Victor, wrote the following letter to our mother, Helen Spain, in celebration of her birthday on August 31. Although my mother has been with the Lord for quite some time I still miss her. We all do. Janice has only met her through the faces of all seven of Helen's children and I thought I would share her amazing love she has grown to have for her. Happy Birthday, mom. 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO GOD’S GIFT TO ME

Today the Angels in Heaven are celebrating because it is the day 77 years ago GOD presented one of his best creations born on earth. Mrs. Helen May Virginia Freeman.

Although I never met her, I often pray that she can hear me saying thank you for allowing to the honor of being her daughter- in-law. I feel she is my gift from GOD.

During her short wonderful life she and Mr. Wilbert Spain was gifted with seven of the most beautiful loving children who all grew up to be wonderful adults which keep GOD first and foremost in their life. GOD saw fit to call her back to him only after 33 years of life she left her children at the ages of 3 – 16.

Mrs. Helen, I know that you were a gift of LOVE from Heaven, because I only see nothing but the love of GOD showing thru all of your seven children at which I know you are very proud of. I love and cherish all seven as well.

Mrs. Helen I know you are looking after us from Heaven and my life won’t be as wonderful as it is. Because GOD and you chose your son to be my husband and I would not be myself without him.

Thank you Heavenly Father for the gift of life to Mrs. Helen Spain.

Mrs. Helen May Virginia Freeman Spain,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY we Love and miss you.

Janice

                                                             Helen Mae Virginia Spain

Thank you, Janice, and God bless.

Dennis