This Reminds Me

Archive for the ‘ViewPoint’ Category

Keith, Lois and Hannah bugged me for years to read the “Harry Potter” series. They always devoured the latest edition within a day of its release. Me?   I perpetually stalled.   My reading time is limited, and there always seemed a more enticing book at the ready. Keith finally goaded me into reading the seven-book series over three weeks this summer, and I loved it. (Thank you, Brother Bob, for preaching such an excellent sermon in 1998 about the first book’s popularity. I’ll never forget your saying, “Your children will not become Satanists by reading this book. If they’re old enough to read it, they’re old enough to understand the difference between fiction and fact. Give them some credit.”)

Our girls are in Houston visiting family this week, so Keith couldn’t bundle us all off to the midnight show of the newest movie opening, as is his custom. He was stuck with just me – a somewhat reluctant partner, I will confess, until he reasoned, “Look, you don’t want me going by myself at midnight with all those kids and looking like a creeper, do you?”

So I couldn’t let him look like a creeper! I had to go, too.  Along with  9+ completely sold-out theaters full of fellow fans at the Quarry.

Quiddich, anyone? I think decades served in corporate America have prepared me for a career as a Beater.

Rachel and Lois borrowed Sarah’s car to go see it in Pearland.  The texts were flying between the four of us.  In fact – the theater auditorium sported scores of cell phone lights before the movie started.  Keith said, “Can you imagine the data streams going out of here?”

I loved those books, and now better appreciate the movies. In fact – like all great books I’ve read – I’ve even learned something from them.

10 Things I’ve Learned or Had Reinforced by Reading “Harry Potter”:

1. Not all witches ride brooms.
2. If you poke a dragon – expect to get burned.
3. What’s accurate is not always what’s true.
4. Home is the place you’re safest. Or should be.
5. Howlers are to be avoided.
6. It’s our choices that define us.
7. You might die for your friends, but the only thing worth living for is an ideal.
8. The past is always part of the present.
9. “Good” is eventually going to win. The last book was a Revelation.

And finally….
10. Nobody loves you like your mother.

Hope you enjoyed this blog.  After all…….”Nothing like a nighttime stroll to give you ideas.” Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Summarizing your life in six words.

Can you do it?

Lois read this book last week, then insisted I read it.  Hannah quickly snatched it.   We alternated reading our favorite six-word memoirs aloud before deciding to compose our own.  Drum roll, please – here are our original creations:

I didn’t let you depress me. Keith,  a Ronald Reagan conservative who insists on working hard and being happy

People think they know.  They don’t. Rachel, mysteriously collegiate

And she played like never before. Lois, who treats play like work and work like play

Family.  Friends.  There to the end. Hannah, always 9 oz. in an 8-oz. cup

Asked my sister and niece, too:

Never what I plan or expect. Judy, my Houstonian sister who knows we only think we know what we’re doing tomorrow

Aimlessly wandering.  Deepening faith.  Boundless joy. Sarah, my brilliant niece who’s a stay-at-home mom and Junior League volunteer

And a few friends:

Laughed lots.  Licked Cancer.  Loved Always. Shelley, a healthy San Antonio business professional and devoted wife/mom/grandma/(great)friend

Excited to see through her eyes. Kate, a blogging buddy in St. Petersburg and mom-wanna-be who’s just been matched with a six-year-old girl

Procrastination, silly jokes overwhelming good intentions. Konen,  an AT&T survivor, wife/mom/grandma/(great)friend and generous volunteer extraordinaire

Living to be worthy of life. Brooke, a friend of Lois’ and president of her sophomore high school class

Molded by parents.  Loved by God. Mike, a Christian community Service Center volunteer in Houston

Self:  How did I get here? Eileen, a Chicago MD, wife, mom, and Sarah’s friend of forever

The greatest thing about aging?  Grandchildren! Johnnie, the face/voice heart of our church

Life imitates art.  Mine is finger-painted. Rachael, a Michigan blogging buddy MD, wife and mom of three bios and one from St. Pete

And finally – mine.

Got the write stuff.  Thanks, Mom.

More about the book here.

And now – please write your own!  Click the blue comments link below.  Then come back and let’s read each other’s six-word memoirs.

Just in case you were wondering what Ted Nugent sounds like when he’s playing the National Anthem at the home of Texas liberty – the Alamo.

Keith was one of the 16,000 at the San Antonio Tea Party last night.  I would have loved to have gone, but someone had to manage the home front.

Keith’s video reminded me of when I talked my way into a press pass at 1986 San Jacinto Day festivities because I really wanted to to hear – and be near – Jerry Jeff Walker.

Read my lips:  #41 (to be) was there, too.

But Jerry Jeff was da man of the hour.

That was then.  This is now.  And now it’s time.  Really – it’s time.

Add hot water.  And stir.

My bedside book now is The Lost:  A Search for Six of Six Million, the account of a Jewish writer’s search for the final fates of six relatives fallen victim to Nazi brutality.  The author can really tell a story.  I’m not Jewish, lost no family in WWII and yet I am captivated by this book.

I think his gnawing desire to know the details of what happened to his family strikes a widely-vibrating chord being hummed in social networking now.  Why are so many people like me enmeshed in user boards, blogs, bulletin board sites, Facebook, etc?

Just last week, I discovered both a long-lost first cousin and neighbor girl on Facebook.  I’ve had no contact with either for 40+ years – yet now, I’ve emailed each of them and they’ve responded.  I am particularly delighted to have heard back from my eight-years-older cousin Clyde, whom I remember as looking a lot like Judy, and having him say the childhood me was “just darling.”  It’s been decades since my name and “darling” were used in the same paragraph.

My good friend Chris (from elementary school) showed me a letter he compiles annually for his extended family, where each household contributes a page about itself, then he emails it out.  I was so impressed – and so interested reading it! – that I started a user board for my mom’s extended family and plan to do the same thing for us later this year.

Thanks for the family letter idea, Chris.  And really – I’m all over your beating me for class president.  By one vote.  When I’d actually worked on my campaign speech and you just winged it.  Truly – all forgotten now, buddy.

But why?  Why try to re-establish relationships, keep up with cousins, find old friends on Facebook or Myspace or user boards or whatever?

For me – it’s because I hate losing people.   I like most people, and love a lot of them.  Losing contact seems like such a pale imitation of how we’re supposed to live, especially with the tools we have available now.  The second greatest commandment is “Love your neighbor as yourself.” How do you do that if you don’t know anything about your neighbor, whether he lived across the street 20 years ago, or is slurping Diet Coke over the cubby wall right now?

I think the desire to find what’s lost in our lives is hard-wired into us.  The lost sheep, the lost coin, the lost cousin, the lost friend, the lost days – we want them back.  I think that’s why people go to class reunions, and church anniversaries.  I think that’s why we sign yearbooks, and squint at photo albums.  And why many of us drag out dusty boxes of mementos when the blues overshadow any living color.

I imagine one day Julia will start her quest to find what’s lost to her, too.  There’s not much we can tell her – though every scrap of information we have and everything we’ve been able to surmise will be hers.  She’ll be googling and posting and mining with other adoptees on her own search for The Lost.

As the author I’m reading now illustrates so well – she’ll eventually have to acknowledge what she’s lost, however painful and time-consuming that might be.

Because then – and only then – will she be able to acknowledge what’s she found.