The Best Things in Life...

A great memory I have centers around an unusual party one of my best buddies threw for our fun-loving friends when I lived in Southern California. We were all the overworked and underpaid parents of young children, and there was nothing we liked better than a kid-free evening with our crew. No wonder we were so delighted with Rayetta's invitation to make ourselves at home, her home, for a sit-down dinner (a pretty extravagant plan given that we were all on tight budgets). Needless to say, the whole gang signed on wholeheartedly as eager dinner guests. Why not? She was a terrific cook and one of the most enjoyable people you could ever meet, always ready for a good time. I, for one, was counting the days.

The highly anticipated evening rolled around, and we all showed up at our friend's door. She led us to an elegantly appointed table, including flowers, candles, and place cards...the whole nine yards. As if that weren't enough, beside each place setting was a beautifully wrapped gift for every one of us, each package a different size and shape. My first instinct was guilt that she had spent the money, but my second one was curiosity...closely followed by excitement. As I mentioned, none of us had a lot of extra cash, and presents were hard to come by. What's more, Rayetta was a great shopper, and I couldn't help wondering what she had given me.

I wish I could remember what she served, but I don't. All I can say is that she served up a warm, happy atmosphere for good friends to listen to each other, laugh together, and wax philosophical. What a close-knit group we were, bonded by our enthusiastic involvement in church, community, and family life.

Finally, when the conversation over dessert was nearing its natural end, we were invited to open our gifts. With a chorus of "awwww, you shouldn't haves," we ripped off the lovely paper like little kids on Christmas morning, only to find that the presents we had looked forward to so eagerly were items already belonging to us. Yep, my good buddy had cased our homes in the previous month, swiped something unique, and wrapped it up. Even funnier, it took most of us several seconds of effusive thank-yous to notice that what we had opened was, in actuality, our own property! (I was one of these lame brains, disappointed to find that she had somehow purchased a piece of decor identical to one I already had. Duh.) Of course, we all had a good laugh at ourselves, not just because we had been duped, but because the majority of us had never even noticed the item was missing from our homes.

We had a lot of crazy, creative parties at Rayetta's (including one where the wives were blindfolded and had to identify their own husbands by feeling all the mens' legs from the knee down), but I remember none more clearly than the purloined present dinner. I don't think I have to tell you that a good time was had by all!

=)

Middle of In Between

©1994 by Susan Noyes Anderson, Lollipops Magazine

I am stuck

in the middle

of in between.

My eyes are not blue,

but they’re not really green.

If you’re short, I look tall.

If you’re tall, I look short.

I am neither the best nor

the worst at my sport.

I’m much more than a baby,

much less than a teen…

Smack dab

in the middle

of in between.

(Note: These are not my grandchildren but just

Flicker photos selected to illustrate the poem.)

=)

click below for more M posts

Must They Die in Vain?

Life is precious, and I can't let my thoughts about the sad demise of Whitney Houston go by unmentioned. There are no definitive reports as to her cause of death, but I think the assumption that drugs were involved, whether directly or indirectly, would not be amiss. At the very least, years of substance abuse likely damaged her health to the point where she was susceptible to losing her life so early.

As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, using drugs or alcohol to alter my perception of reality goes against my beliefs. In fact, drinking and drugging are out of the question for observant Mormons, which protects many of us and our children from the ravages of that particular addiction. However, it does not protect all, because the freedom of choice which is our birthright still allows every individual to make his or her own personal decision.

In the interest of respecting and protecting privacy, I will not mention names or details in sharing with you that my family has been touched by the destructive forces of drug/alcohol addiction. I have seen the consequences with my own eyes, and the definition of devastating is to watch mood-altering substances take over a person's body and soul, changing a loving, honorable person into a mere shadow of his or her former self. This unspeakable horror, the epitome of evil in this world, is a tragedy for everyone concerned, and I hate it beyond my power to express.

In June of 1971, Richard Nixon officially declared a "war on drugs," citing drug abuse as "public enemy number one." I think he identified the aggressor correctly, but it's plain to see that a war on drugs conducted by the government has not been able to get the job done. What is essentially a moral battle cannot be fought with laws only. Rather, individuals and families must wage this war...and it must be fought in the hearts and in the minds of every man and woman, every parent and child. Vulnerability to drugs begins in the spirit, and the best defense is having a healthy one.

Love and example are powerful teachers, and while they cannot alter personal choice, they can certainly influence it. A strong family (where freedom is encouraged within the limits of reasonable and firmly enforced parental boundaries) is a bonus...as is allowing a child to assume the natural and/or justly applied consequences of behavior whenever possible. Refusing to "fix" everything that goes wrong in a young person's life creates numerous opportunities for him to realize that certain behavior brings certain results. It also allows ample room to develop much-needed coping skills and engenders the self esteem that comes from acting upon the world independently. In addition, children should be taught to understand, accept, and express their feelings, while being encouraged to channel them in non-destructive ways. All of these things, offered in an atmosphere of love and personal responsibility, increase resilience and even forge some armor.

I also believe it is essential to gift our children with a strong spiritual foundation and practice, whatever form that might take. Of course, there is no guarantee that this will keep them off the path of substance abuse, but it does place an anchor in the soul that can help a person find his way back from the abyss that is addiction, just as his family can provide the necessary tether.

In more general terms, we can all fight the moral war on drugs by speaking up, reaching out, and chipping in. Our society is sick, and we really do have to be the change we wish to see in the world. We can use our voices by avoiding media that glorifies drug use, refusing to laugh at jokes that minimize that behavior, talking turkey with other parents who seem to view experimentation as just another phase of adolescence, and forming alliances with those who agree that drugs are a scourge on our society. What's more, if we really want to see our culture's attitude toward substance abuse change, we need to walk the walk by using moderation ourselves. I'm not saying everyone has to become a teetotaler, not even close, but I can't count the times I have attended parties in the workplace where grown, professional men and women have behaved like frat kids, drinking their way to stumbling steps, slurred speech, and sick stomachs. What can possibly be the point of placing oneself beyond having fun...especially when you can't even remember anything the next day...or if you do remember, you're not proud of the memory?

The thing is, it matters. What we do matters. A society is defined by the way people behave...and yesterday's taboo can easily become today's tradition. Has the use of substances become a tradition in our country? Yes. Has the abuse of substances become a tradition? I fear that it has, and I fear the results as well. Families are destroyed, people forfeit their lives, and our nation is weakened. We are losing too much and too many...with too little resistance.

So, my friends. Here comes the thought question. Are we fighting the good fight...doing everything we can to make a difference? Or are we being complacent...onlookers only? Or worse, enablers?

One thing is certain. To do nothing at all is a choice in itself.

You Rock Me Solid

You Rock Me Solid

©2012 Susan Noyes Anderson

Not only do you rock, you are one––

That’s the honest truth.

I oughta know; you’ve had my back

since we were in our youth.

You’ve stood by me through thick and thin…

up, down, and sideways, too.

I’ve never known a day alone

since I hooked up with you.

You hold me tight when late at night

my courage turns to fear.

You check on silly, scary sounds

that only I can hear.

You always seem to smooth the way

when my road gets too bumpy.

You love me for myself: the good and bad,

the glad and grumpy.

You’re solid and I know it, and

that knowledge sets me free

to know that I can trust your heart

with every part of me.

Not only do you rock, you are one––

firm as any boulder.

And yet, the softest spot in all my world

is on your shoulder.

♥♥♥

Happy Valentine's Day, Dave.

I love you.

=)

{u rock me solid}

Wildfire

Okay, better late than never, right? I've had kind of a crazy weekend, so I'm turning the Saturday Centus into a Monday one. Hope Jenny doesn't mind! This time around we get to use 100 words plus the prompt, in red. The couple in this poem are soon to be wed, and they are enjoying a blazing romance... ;)

∞§∞

Wildfire

©2012 Susan Noyes Anderson

Baby, your love is hot, hot, hot.

My heart’s a forest fire.

You’re so incendiary that

I’m burning with desire.

Your flame licks deep inside my soul

with tongues of torrid heat.

Your kisses crackle, snap, and pop.

They make my life complete.

You sizzle when I touch you, and

your handprint scorches me.

Spontaneous combustion is

a possibility.

That’s why I think it’s safer if

we change our wedding venue.

Baked Alaska, fine; baked wedding guest?

Not on our menu!

If the wedding was at the firehouse,

we’d all be safe, no doubt.

But is it worth it? Geez, what if

they put our wildfire out?

∞§∞

The Greatest Generation

Because so many people have requested it, today's walk down memory lane is going to be the poetic one I took with those senior citizens who attended the A Night to Remember activity put on by the members of my husband's singles ward last weekend. The poem served as an introduction to the vintage entertainment that evening. Hope you enjoy the nostalgia...

The Greatest Generation

©2012 Susan Noyes Anderson

The Greatest Generation!

Thanks for all you’ve done and do.

We’re really glad to have you here,

so we can honor you.

No matter what year you were born,

the 30s, 20s, teens…

Tonight we’re gonna treat you right,

just like kings and queens.

And if we have some 1940

babies in our midst,

we welcome you as well…

That’s why we put you on the list!

We hope you like nostalgia, ‘cause

this night is all about it.

(If we’ve forgotten anything,

feel free to stand and shout it.)

From Ellington to Elvis and

from Satchmo to Sinatra,

we’re strolling right back through the years,

with all the joy they brought ya.

So come you dandies, flappers, swing kids,

hipsters, beatniks, boppers…

We’re hailing back to bobby sox,

and poodle skirts, and toppers…

You may have worn a zoot suit, with

a derby or a bowler.

Perhaps your hair was finger-waved

or curled around a roller…

No matter what your heyday was,

you’re all among the greats.

So buckle up your seat belts, friends,

‘cause memory lane awaits.

We’re off to see the wizard; shall

we take that old A train?

Judy Garland and The Duke knew

how to entertain.

The music still remains with us;

it stands the test of time.

Count Basie, Dizzy, Calloway…

Cole Porter was sublime.

Gershwin, Rodgers, and Berlin…

Benny Goodman, Ella…

She sang. She scatted. She had pipes!

Like…Stanley…yelling, “Stellaaaaa.”

(Or not.) ‘Cause Ella didn’t yell.

It’s Ethel that was loud.

Ethel Merman could have done

a screaming banshee proud.

Bing Crosby’s croon could make you swoon.

Sinatra’s did the job.

But Nat King Cole still stole the show,

while Frankie ducked the mob.

(He later formed the Rat Pack with

his pals, Deano and Sammy.

They hung out in Las Vegas, making

dealers’ hands get clammy.)

But I digress; that’s 60s stuff…

(Frank had a long career.)

Let’s get on back to WWII.

Is that Blue Moon I hear?

Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree,

the Andrews Sisters said.

Does Mairzy Doats and Dozy Doats

still bounce around your head?

If so, this Sentimental Journey’s

got you In the Mood.

But that could change…If I said “Spam,”

would I get soundly booed?

What if I said, “Spam soup?” Would you

be eating yours right now?

I wouldn’t, but you might. (My dad

got used to nasty chow.)

Yep, rationing and war bonds:

sacrifices, left and right.

Rosie the Riveter…no men

and no nylons in sight!

Pearl Harbor changed the way you lived,

just like the Great Depression.

And once again, this country pulled

together; what a lesson!

(We need to learn that lesson now;

I hope we can retain it.)

Democracy takes sacrifice

and honor to sustain it.

It also takes community

and unity of heart.

You had that. And it showed up

in your culture…in your art.

Glenn Miller made the people dance.

Jack Benny made them chuckle.

Bob Hope and Jerry Lewis helped.

Those two made quite the couple.

And so did Burns and Allen...

George and Gracie, what a pair!

They all toured with the USO,

and brought cheer “over there.”

Composers brought it too, with music:

pop and patriotic.

God Bless America was born,

stirring but not quixotic.

You shared a goal, a common cause,

then worked to get it done.

And when the war was over, you

knew all of you had won.

D-Day, VE-Day, VJ-Day…

*Sailor Kisses Girl*…

Your vict’ry celebration had

the nation in a whirl.

Now I’ll Be Home for Christmas could

be more than just a song.

And I’ll Be Seeing You came true…

for many who’d been strong.

But not for all; some gave their lives

to keep our country free.

Those soldiers freed the world and changed

the course of history.

Each one of you was part of that,

at home or far abroad.

Americans united, conquered

evil, and thanked God.

And It's a Wonderful Life became

more than a Capra movie…

ENTER suburbs, Studebakers,

soaps, and Slinkies…Groovy!

Silly putty, Scrabble, green stamps,

Sullivan on Sundays.

Soda shops and cute car hops

and drive-in movies. Fun days!

You watched old films and new ones…

Ginger Rogers, Fred Astaire.

Gene Kelly and Olivier,

BOTH Hepburns (glamour, squared)…

Clark Gable, David Niven,

Jimmy Stewart, Cary Grant.

Errol Flynn and Charles Boyer

made the ladies pant.

Their movies made you laugh and cry…

Bogart and Bacall…

Laurel, Hardy, Shirley Temple…

(Wasn’t she a doll?)

Casablanca, Ingrid Bergman,

Grable, Princess Grace.

(She always seemed like so much more

than just a pretty face.)

Doris, Rock, and Pillow Talk.

Joan Crawford (not my fave).

Debby Reynolds, Mickey Rooney…

What great times they gave!

And radio was quite adept

at entertaining you.

Fibber McGee and Molly,

Life with Riley, Topper, too.

Amos and Andy, Abbot and Costello,

Our Miss Brooks…

Dick Tracy and Flash Gordon from

those Action Comic books.

But TV soon took over…

Shows left radio behind.

Jackie Gleason and The Honeymooners

comes to mind.

Howdy Doody, I Love Lucy,

Dragnet, and Lone Ranger.

The Beaver was a favorite, too, and

Lassie was no stranger.

A culture was created that

was based on wholesome things.

(I wish we could reclaim it, and

the happiness it brings.)

Maybe we can; remembering

like this might be a start.

Sometimes, nostalgia is a way

to open up the heart.

So Que Sera, Sera. Play marbles,

jacks, and kick a can!

Remember Bosco, Ovaltine,

and Postum? I sure can.

Roll out the hokey-pokey

(and the barrel), while you’re at it.

Buy bubble gum and yo-yos, but

you can’t stuff phone booths, drat it!

Or eavesdrop on your party line...

Nope. Can’t do that no more.

And you won’t find Ipana toothpaste

at today’s drugstore.

You won’t find Brylcreem, either,

though a little dab would do ya.

But Alka-Seltzer still does send

that plop plop fizz fizz through ya.

What happened to those Jujubes

that stuck right to your teeth?

Don’t tell me that you miss them…

They gave dentists too much grief!

No Beeman’s gum, no Beechnut gum,

No Edsel, that’s for sure.

But that’s okay, that crazy car

was not meant to endure.

Remember Kilroy? (SO not here)…

Red Skelton? Coonskin caps?...

Cootie? Clue? Okay, I’m through!

I’m done now; that’s a wrap.

You see, I’ve gone on far too long.

It’s not this stuff; it’s you.

You held on, and you stood strong.

You did what you had to do.

War raised its ugly head again;

contention never ceases.

May opposition always teach us

just how precious peace is.

May this new generation seize

your torch and hold it high.

The light of your example shines

like stars across the sky.

That’s why they brought you here tonight,

to honor you and learn.

We need great generations, and

it’s time they take their turn.

These young adults who are your hosts

desire to understand

and live up to your legacy:

preserving this great land.

Of course, they’ll do it their own way,

and that’s as it should be.

No one could do it like you’ve done.

Thanks for the memory!

L.O.V.E.

Be sure to turn up your volume and listen to L.O.V.E.

L is for the way you look at me.

O is for the only one I see.

V is very, very extraordinary.

E is even more than anyone that you adore can.

Love is all that I can give to you.

Love is more than just a game for two.

Two in love can make it.

Take my heart and please don't break it.

Love was made for me and you.

♥ ♥ ♥

lyrics by Milt Gabler and Bert Kaempfert

made popular by Nat King Cole

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From Suffering to Selfless

"Sometimes, when things aren't going right, we think we need to get away from a place or a person. Sometimes that helps, but most of the time what we need is to get away from our old self and our selfish feelings. We can leave a place behind, or we can stay in that place and leave our selfishness (often expressed in feeling sorry for ourselves) behind. If we leave a place and take our selfishness with us, the cycle of problems starts all over again, no matter where we go. But if we leave our selfishness behind, no matter who we are, things start to improve" (John H. Groberg).

At first glance, this quote doesn't seem to apply to me. I rarely get the yen to go someplace else for more than a vacation, and I love the people in my life far too much to want to escape them, but maybe I'm being too literal. What struck me as I read these words from John A. Groberg's magnificent book, In the Eye of the Storm, was his take on selfishness as frequently being expressed in the form of feeling sorry for ourselves. This characterization resonated with me, and I wanted to spend a moment today figuring out what it means in my life.

Blessed as I am (and I know that I am), there are a number of chronic health problems I deal with on a daily basis. I've generally experienced self pity as a destructive, sort of self-limiting exercise, one that rarely makes me feel better and has a tendency to bring me down every time I indulge in it. For this reason, I do my best not to indulge in it (sometimes more successfully than others), but my reasons for that effort have been practical more than spiritual. In fact, my reasons have been somewhat selfish in origin. It just doesn't make me feel good. Feeling sorry for myself puts me in victim mode, and I feel a lot happier when I can avoid that mentality. I'd like to avoid it more often.

Elder Groberg's words (above) made me realize that I've been coming at my health problems from the wrong angle. My approach has been reactive, struggling not to wallow because it feels bad. Instead, I could take a proactive stance, striving for selflessness (and the spiritual gifts, healing, and lack of wallowing that must always accompany any Christ-centered trait). Let's face it; striving trumps struggling every time. It just feels better. Which is why I think I will do better with a mindset of actively pursuing selflessness as the cure for what ails me rather than reactively flailing against the quagmire of sinking feelings that all too often accompanies chronic health problems. Reframing is a good thing!

A spiritual perspective is always better than a worldly one, and when I feel myself wanting to run away from a place (the one my health problems puts me in) or a person (myself, reacting to those health problems), I am going to take Elder Groberg's advice and leave my selfishness behind.

{point of view is everything}

=)

A Night to Remember

A Night to Remember

A Valentine's gift to a group of men and women born in 1941 and before.

The decorators went all out for A Night to Remember.

Seniors started arriving at 5 pm, and their hosts were ready.

The kitchen was so calm and organized that I was in awe.

I was also in awe of this hipster couple's coooool rags!

To say nothing of this dishy duo, who did lots more than dish out salad.

(They did dish more than a few platefuls of the crisp, green stuff, tho.)

A bunch of the young adults brought soup...delicious soup, too!

It wasn't exactly a soup kitchen, but it was definitely a soup cultural hall!

And it didn't take long for the joint to fill up.

In fact, the joint was pretty much hoppin'...

And so was the show, beginning with the violinist.

(rapt audience)

(highly humorous master of ceremonies to the left)

Gotta love a sultry siren singing "Willow, Weep for Me."

This chanteuse wrote a love poem to the folks and sang it a cappella.

(exquisite)

While this young woman sang "Fly Me to the Moon."

(We landed safely.)

Remember "Cockeyed Optmist" from South Pacific?

We sure do, thanks to this sweet and sassy singer.

Another lovely lady sang "Love, You Didn't Do Right by Me."

(She killed it.)

(Even though love is doing pretty well by her just now...) heehee

This pair put Dancing with the Stars to shame with their Lindy Hop.

(Whoa, Daddy-O!)

While our oh-so-sultry siren came back with "The Look of Love."

Ahhhhh...like buttah.

The barbershop quartet belted out "Heart of My Heart"...

(with so much panache we made 'em do an encore).

I guess there's no respite when you're this good!

My hubby, Bishop Dave, got up at the end to say a few words.

(Sweet,funny, and more than a little inspirational.)

Then he called up the two great gals who spearheaded this effort.

(Needless to say, the audience gave 'em some love.)

Boy, did they ever pull off a wonderful evening!

(With a little help from their friends, of course...)

Actually, they had lots of help...and lots and lots of friends, too. Rumor has it that the gym was chock full of young adults the night before this event, and they didn't go home until 12:00 AM. It takes a lot of effort to make a big hall like this look magical, and the dropped ceiling was only part of the world-class decorating they did. That place looked ready for a wedding! Honestly, we are so proud of them all that we can't even express it, from the way the place looked to the way the food tasted to the amazing show they put on for one very appreciative audience. Perhaps a 90-year-old guest (who looked about 70, by the way) said it best of all when she came up and tearfully expressed her gratitude to arguably one of the greatest young single adult wards ever... She said that it was a wonderful evening, just wonderful, and that our young people's hearts were clearly filled with love.

I think she got it right. They gave their audience last night the loveliest of gifts, and every single person in attendance was so, so happy to receive it.

Great job, Monta Vista ward!

♥♥♥

=)

PS. And yes, for those who are wondering, my introductory poem went off just fine. I'll post it (or at least, excerpts of it, because it's pretty dang long) later this week.

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