Family

My Child Within

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

Carl Jung called it the “Divine Child” and Emmet Fox called it the “Wonder Child.” Some psychotherapists call it the “True Self” and Charles Whitfield called it the “Child Within”.  My Inner Child is my emotional self. It is where my feelings live. When I experience joy, sadness, anger, fear, or affection my Child Within is coming out. When I am being playful, spontaneous, creative, intuitive and surrendering to the spiritual self, my Genuine Authentic Self, my Devine Child, is being welcomed and encouraged to be present. 

There is abounding joy in my heart to know you, my Inner Child, are able to come out into the light more often these days from where you hid in the dark for so many, many years.  Much regret that things were as they were for so very long has turned into tenderness I joyfully embrace you with. 

Dear Little One,
The parents who barely noticed you are not around.  You do not have to fear hearing “go get my belt”.  There’s no need for a little boy to wonder what the adults are doing in the dark with their clothes off.  Begging to go to the dentist because a tooth hurts and not getting to go no longer needs to make you sad.  There are no more welts on your legs from a willow “switch” you were whipped with. The Father who never came to see you is gone now.  Sacking coal outside in the rain is no longer your chore to do in the winter cold after school.  The bruises are gone.  You can walk through a room without the man your mother married exploding into a rage over the least little thing.  Seeing your little brother sad and lost while crying where his “Daddy is” has faded.  

Gone are the days of wondering why your mother won’t protect you.  “He” can’t hurt you any longer.  Why your father got another woman pregnant and left you, your brother and mother behind is not a haunting riddle any longer.  Feeling in the way and unwanted is something you don’t have to bear any longer.  Being embarrassed about where you live and the clothes you had is behind you.  You can have friends over now without the stepfather being mean to them or saying things that shame you in front of them.  Gone are the days when you wet the bed.  The wounds on your leg from the barbed wire you ran into while running from “him” in the dark are healed.  No longer do you have to work every day after school and on Saturday in “his” store without getting even a little praise for what you do.  

You don’t have to steal any more to have money for your school lunch.  Gone is being made to feel guilty about the cost when you got hurt and had to go to the doctor.  Who your parents are no longer affects if a girl is allowed to go out with you.  Feeling like an outcast is no longer necessary.  The grades of an honor student, the science fairs you won and other awards at school really did matter even if those at home did not care.  No longer do you have to swallow bad “food” that almost made you throw up every time you were made to eat it.  Those who always made you feel never good enough are no longer around.  I’m glad you don’t bite your fingernails now.  No longer are you “slave labor” for a mentally sick man. You don’t have to be afraid any more.

* You can be a child now.
* It’s OK to make mistakes.
* Laughing and having fun is a good thing.
* You can have friends.
* There is love you are allowed to feel.
* I love you, I care about you and I accept you just the way you are.
* I am so proud of you and all that you are.
* You are so beautiful and attractive.
* You are so bright and talented.
* You are so artistic and creative.
* You are “perfectly imperfect”.
* You are such a good worker.
* I am sorry I let you get hurt.
* I am sorry I neglected you.
* I am sorry I forgot you.
* I am sorry I ignored you.
* I am sorry I took you for granted.
* I am sorry I made you grow up so fast.
* I am sorry I had to rely on you so much.
* You can trust me to take care of you.
* You can trust me to be there for you.
* You can trust me to do my best to protect you from hurt or pain.
I love you,
James

 I found my child within today,
For many years so locked away,
Loving, embracing, needing so much,
If only I could reach in and touch.
I did not know this child of mine,
We were never acquainted at three or nine,
But today I felt the crying inside,
I’m here I shouted, come reside.
We hugged each other ever so tight,
As feelings emerged of hurt and fright.
It’s okay, I sobbed, I love you so!
You are precious to me, I want you to know.
My child, my child, you are safe today,
You will not be abandoned, I’m here to stay.
We laughed, we cried, it was a discovery,
This warm, loving child is my recovery.
“My Child Within” by Kathleen Algoe

My Prayers for Thanksgiving

/ James Browning / 4 Comments

Tomorrow is the nationally sanctioned American holiday for thanks; for gratitude.  Beyond the Thanksgiving holiday, the family gathering, the food and the plenty it is thankfulness for all the goodness in my life I want to express my humble gratefulness for.  I have so much to be thankful for, especially this year.  I have health, love, friends, family, good work and hope.  I am humbly and deeply grateful.

Gratitude:  To recognize the quality, significance, or magnitude of life; a warm and friendly feeling awakened by thankfulness.

During the Civil War in 1863  Abraham Lincoln set the official U.S.holiday of “Thanksgiving”.  At the time he said: 

We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of heaven; we have been preserved these many years in peace and prosperity; we have grown in numbers, wealth and power as no other nation has ever grown. But we have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious hand which preserved us in peace and multiplied and enriched and strengthened us, and we have vainly imagined, in the deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these blessings were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own. Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God that made us.

It has seemed to me fit and proper that [the gifts of God] should be solemnly, reverently, and gratefully acknowledged with one heart and one voice by the whole American people. I do, therefore, invite my fellow citizens… to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next as a day of thanksgiving and praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the heavens.” 

Taken from “We Thank Thee” by Ralph Waldo Emerson
For tender grass so fresh, so sweet,
For the song of bird and hum of bee,
For all things fair we hear or see.
For blue of stream and blue of sky,
For pleasant shade of branches high,
For fragrant air and cooling breeze,
For beauty of the blooming trees.
For this new morning with its light,
For rest and shelter of the night,
For health and food, for love and friends,
For everything Thy goodness sends,
Father in heaven, we thank Thee.

“Help Me” by Samuel F. Pugh
O God, when I have food,
help me to remember the hungry;
When I have work,
help me to remember the jobless;
When I have a home,
help me to remember those who have no home at all;
When I am without pain,
help me to remember those who suffer,
And remembering,
help me to destroy my complacency;
bestir my compassion,
and be concerned enough to help;
By word and deed,
those who cry out for what we take for granted.
Amen.

Taken from “MY THANKSGIVING PRAYER TO YOU”  by Judy N. Marquart
My Thanksgiving prayer
to you from me;
Is for love strong and true
that you hold within thee.
A house filled with love
and the light how it shines;
Showing all of its beauty
till the end of time.

Kindness towards others
for all of your days;
To be returned I pray
in many a way.
A good job to keep you
and pay all your bills;
That you spend it all wisely
and not on the frills.

A family around you
that is loving and true;
That you all stand together
for there are so few.
Dreams of pure beauty
as you lay there and sleep;

Through the peaceful night
when darkness is deep.
An angel to guide you
through morning and night;
To protect you and love you
till the end of your plight.

“Iroquois Thanksgiving Prayer” adapted by St Joseph of Peace
We return thanks to our Mother, the Earth, which sustains us.
We return thanks to the rivers and streams, which supply us with water.
We return thanks to all herbs,
Which furnish medicines for the cure of our diseases.
We return thanks to the moon and stars,
Which have given to us their light when the sun was gone.
We return thanks to the sun,
That has looked upon the earth with a beneficent eye.
Lastly, we return thanks to the Great Spirit, in Whom is embodied all goodness,
And Who directs all things for the good of Her children.”

We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures. 
Thornton Wilder

Pursuit of Fun

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

Early this week I ran across the quote just below that has deep meaning, especially considering it comes from a TV show (Sex and the City). 

When you’re young, your whole life is about the pursuit of fun. Then you grow up and learn to be cautious, you could break a bone or a heart. You look before you leap and sometimes don’t leap at all because there’s not always someone there to catch you and in life there’s no safety net. When did it stop being fun and start being scary? 

Having slept long and rested well last night, my mind is bright and fresh today so probing into the past is clearer than most days.  The past of the quote that has simmered in my mind this week is the opening line “When you’re young, your whole life is about the pursuit of fun”.  It has been rewarding to think back about what I thought was fun when I was a kid, before the uncertain clouds of my teen years moved in followed by adulthood.  Since most over 40 can probably remember a time before computers, cell phones, movie rentals and video games, I don’t feel like a fossil making a little list of a few things that come from my growing up years. 

If you never got to play ‘kick the can’, you missed out.  It seemed the time we played it usually was late afternoon and the game usually ended with being called in for dinner.  All that running and laughing sure created an appetite. 

“Red Rover, Red Rover…” was a game the teachers had us play in elementary school.  I suppose it has been mostly outlawed now because it was a physical game.  Once in a while someone got a little banged up in a minor way.  It was one of the few playground games where being big or wide or both was an advantage. 

Does dodge ball still get played in schools?  I wonder.  While it was not my favorite game by far, I do remember it well.  In this activity being big or wide or both was a definite disadvantage.  

What happened to merry go rounds on the playgrounds?  I bet insurance companies and school liability concerns did away with the kind I remember.

It was considered normal where I went to school for a boy to carry a pocket knife.  No one ever got stabbed or cut.  It was just a handy tool to have and was essential to play a game called Mumblety-peg.  The game had a series of knife trick moves one had to practice to be good.  The loser had to pull a peg out of the ground with his teeth.  We played it at recess, but the activity would get you suspended or arrested today.

While I was always terrible at it I remember kids playing jump rope of the kind where two people swing a rope at each end.   Then a third person (or more) popped in the middle and jumped the rope as it came around.  It’s been decades since I have seen kids doing it.  I hope somewhere this kind of jump rope is still alive!

Having seen some in a store not too long ago, I know “pickup sticks” are still around.  Do any kids today still play that game or is it available for those with grandkids to buy?  What about chinese checkers? Or just plain old checkers?

I had an electric race track set, my brother had Lincoln logs and we shared an Erector set.  We burned our fingers making creepy crawlers in our Mattel “Thing Maker” but we don’t think we are any worse for it today.   Our time was when GI Joe was new and the girls started getting Barbie’s.  Just about every one wanted or had a Slinky and Etch-a-Sketch.  Hula Hoop and Twister competitions were not uncommon.  There were “Dammit dolls” and stroking their long hair was supposed to give good luck (they were not named for a curse word and instead got their moniker from their inventor, Thomas Dam).  Skateboards were new and so were three speed bicycles from Schwinn.

What a pleasant little journey down memory lane it is to sit here, write and remember those times long ago.  The simpler years of childhood contain some fond memories where some the biggest issues were the girl or boy you “liked” (if you admitted liking the opposite sex at all!) or if one had done their homework.  Those years occupy a much broader stripe in my memory than the quantity of the time they cover.  While not all was good in my childhood, there are many wonderful experiences I will treasure and will have much gratitude for all my days. 

Now where is my old BB gun?

Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old, and when you do you’ll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders. Unknown

The Point is… They Lived

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

Generally speaking, most of us work about eight hours per day, commute for an average of an hour each day, eat for about two hours, watch television for about five hours and about two hours goes to the computer for leisure such as online games, research or social media according to 2010 U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.  All total that’s about seventeen hours and does not include sleep. 

How important is my time?  A simple illustration is a modern fable that has floated around the internet for years: 

With a soft voice and loving eyes, a little boy greeted his father as he returned from work, “Daddy, how much do you make an hour?”  Greatly surprised, but giving his boy a displeased look, the father said, “Look, son, I don’t tell anyone how much I make, so don’t bother me now, I’m tired.”

“But Daddy please tell me! How much do you get paid for an hour,” the boy insisted.  The father, finally giving up, replied: “Twenty dollars per hour.”  “Thank you, Daddy? Could you loan me ten dollars?” the boy asked.  Showing his displeasure, the father sternly said, “So that’s why you asked how much I make.  It’s your bedtime.  Go to bed and go to sleep.  I’m too tired for this right now.”  It was already dark when the father arrived home.

A short while later the Dad was thinking about how he had reacted and was feeling a bit guilty? He felt bad he had responded to his son the way he did.  Trying to relieve a little of his guilt, the father went to his son’s room and asked “are you asleep, son?”  “No, Daddy. Why?” said the sleepy boy.  “Here’s the ten bucks you asked me for when I got home,” the father said.

“Thanks, Daddy!”  joyfully said the son, while putting his hand under his pillow and removing a sandwich bag full of change he had stashed there. “Now I have the whole twenty dollars!  I finally have enough” the little boy said to his Dad, who was now looking down at his son with a confused expression.   It was then the little boy made it clear why he wanted the money “Daddy, could you sell me an hour of your time?”

Sometimes it occurs to me I have been so busy trying to move forward in some aspect of my life I forgot to live the life I had at the present moment.  That is absolutely true in my 20’s, 30’s and 40’s.  There certainly were times I was guilty of being too busy for my son like the fable above illustrates.  The same can be said about me for friends, family and even time for myself. 

Always I was aiming toward something, headed somewhere and my efforts were in majority for would or could be.  Other time was wasted looking over my shoulder trying to solve some riddle about my past.  There was a big deficiency in the amount of time I spent on the present moment at any given point.  I am not bitter or beating myself up over it (well not  much), because that realization now in my 50’s has brought me a whole new perspective.  I am much more “present” in my life than ever before.

Every day I do my best to live well centered in the “now” and I succeed quite a bit at it.  When I forget I am acutely reminded frequently that our days are limited by the loss of friends, family, favorite musicians, movie stars and people, famous and not famous, I look up to.  Each of us has no idea when the “off” switch will be thrown on our life.  

A method I use to center myself and gain perspective when I need to, is to think of each day as being a deposit of 86,400 made to my account.   It’s up to me how I withdraw from that balance, how much of it I actually use and how I spend it.  The bad news is that any unused or leftover part of the deposit is taken away every midnight.  The good news is another 86,400 seconds are deposited in my account with the beginning of a new day.  It is with much gratitude I realize whether my daily deposit is used well or how much is left “unlived” at the end of the day is largely up to me.   

…And while Cinderella and her prince did live happily ever after, the point is, gentlemen that they lived.  Grand Dame in the movie “Ever After”

Children See, Children Do

/ James Browning / 3 Comments

Even though I remember feeling emotions deeply as a child, no grownup nearby was interested in what I felt.  If I did express myself it usually got me into trouble of the sort that included a belt or willow switch.  In the house I grew up in no adult cared much about what a kid felt or thought.   So I learned to hide my feelings and emotions by stuffing them deeply down inside.  

Where I grew up to need medical attention brought grumbling about how much it cost the adults responsible for me.  Seeing a doctor or dentist was considered unnecessary unless something very serious was going on like when I broke my arm. Even then I was reminded repeatedly about the charges at the town clinic.  

When I was in 6th grade I got some sort of infection down inside my left hand.  My fingers and palm to my wrist turned deep red and blew up like a balloon to be at twice their normal size.  I was scared about it but did not dare tell anyone.  Hiding my infected hand in my jacket pocket kept others from noticing.  It hurt badly.  Paying attention and sitting still in class was very difficult during the worst of it.  I was afraid for the teacher to find out what was going on because there was no doubt she would tell my parents.  I was lucky and my hand started healing on its own in less than a week. 

Growing up in the country, there was no fluoride in the water and I don’t recall being taught oral hygiene.  Brushing was an inconsistent practice and at twelve years-old I ended up with a huge hole in one of my back bottom teeth that resulted in a massive tooth ache.  I begged to go to the dentist for several weeks but the adults around basically ignored me.  

Every day after school and all day long in the summer my brother and I were made to work at my stepfather’s store.  We were free labor and made to stock shelves, run the register, pump gas, sweep floors, clean windows, sack coal and a hundred other tasks we were responsible for.  We rarely got to play, never got visit friends or have them over and our only time off was Sunday afternoon after church.   

My brother and I were literally worked like beasts of burden six days a week from the time I was ten until I was sixteen.  To our stepfather we were unnecessary baggage that came with our Mother when he married her.  There is no purpose to me writing about the punishment we often endured as his hand, often for very minor infractions, except to say adults go to prison today for such treatment of kids.  My evil stepfather threw me into the street the day before my 17th birthday.  With no other place to go, I called my Father who I hardly knew that lived several hundred miles away.  He took me in.      

I remember vividly while I had the bad tooth when an old woman I was hand pumping some kerosene for noticed I had a toothache.  She said “boy, get you some cotton and put a drop or two of this kerosene on it.  Then stuff that cotton down in the hole in your tooth.  It will stop the pain”.  I’m sure it was toxic, but she was correct about it stopping the pain.  Every day for a couple of weeks I carried a little bottle of kerosene to school with some cotton in my pocket and became accustomed to the taste.  Eventually the tooth abscessed and my jaw became swollen.  Only then did I get to go to the dentist to have the tooth extracted.  I was 12 years old.  

None of what I have shared is a plea for pity or sympathy.  Rather I wrote it to openly express why for decades I could not let anyone know what I was truly feeling most of the time, especially any sort of pain or emotional hurt.  

Having worked my way past the majority of the uncaring nature of my upbringing, I now find I am ultra sensitive emotionally.  Mostly this is a blessing and I find richness in the abundance of my feelings.  Joy is greatly enhanced, but so is pain.  This is especially true of anything having to do with children.  I can become inwardly very emotional when I see kids not being cared for or being mistreated.  I feel what I imagine they are feeling.  The most difficult part at such times is remembering the hopeless fear I felt as a child and the aching desire inside to be loved and wanted.  

I have written this sordid and sad tale to be able to point a reader toward two videos on YouTube.com that move me deeply when I watch them.  The first video reminds me how inseparable my little brother and I were growing up and the care I took of him.  Things were bad, but at least we did not have to beg on the street.  The location and narration are foreign, but I doubt you will have any trouble understanding it. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kHt0NkZT6LM

The second video is presented here as a reminder of how children emulate what they see.  There is much regret for me in knowing in some ways I did end up just like my parents, but thankfully I dearly love my son and never abused him.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7d4gmdl3zNQ 

I am grateful for so much this morning!  For my recovery and growth the last five years, I am very thankful.  For my younger brother and my son, whom I love dearly, and to my dear friends who have been there when I needed them, I have bountiful grateful.  And up near the top of my gratitude list is my ability to feel and express my emotions openly.  It took about 50 years, but emotionally I am almost grown up now. 

Don’t worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you.  Robert Fulghum

“Superb Disputer”

/ James Browning / 3 Comments

Late last week a friend made a negative comment about how I was handling something at work.  Initially the feeling was he was right and I was not managing properly.  What I heard irritated me and I cut short the phone conversation.   From the spark of a though I got from him my mind began adding more non-flattering commenting of its own.  This continued until I was feeling pretty rotten.  I doubted myself and my ability. 

After having my friend’s thought kick around in my head for several days, I concluded he had an incorrect view of things.  Yet, for at least two days I was beating myself up and coming around to his way of thinking although I really did not agree.  To make it worse, I was piling on a bunch of my own negative thinking to what was said.  Combined, it all left me feeling lousy.  

While not always well-practiced, I learned a while ago that my world without is but a reflection of my world within.    My thoughts create the conditions my mind imagines.  Had I continued to accept what was said to me, I would have been misleading myself down a false path.  Realizing I had started doing just that walk was a wakeup call to remember to use something I know about call “superb disputing”.     

“Superb disputing” is a skill that everyone has, but is more apt to use when OTHERS accuse us wrongly.  Like any other skill, it is keenest when used regularly.  When not well-practiced, the skill can take a while to kick in as it just recently did with me.  

“Supurb Disputing “is an effective tool for inwardly sorting out my own thinking.  All I need to do is remind myself that I have a lot of control over what I think.  From experience I know I can sort my thoughts into ones worthy of further attention and the ones that are garbage and proceed accordingly. I just have to not forget I know how to do this. 

For example, I know if a friend tells me I am a lousy employee or bad father I can marshal evidence against the accusation and fire it back at him or her if I choose.  What is most important is that I know, even if I never speak a word of that knowledge to anyone else.  

How well I remember the days when I was almost completely lost in my thinking.  I believed my thoughts were “me”.  It was not that long ago when I made all sorts of negative accusations to myself, about myself many times a day.  Things were common like being headed into a party thinking “I have nothing to say.  Now one is going to like me.  Or I look terrible”…and so on.   

When negative accusations came from inside me, once upon a time I treated them mostly as if they were absolute truth.  It took a long time and consist work to realize the automatic pessimistic thoughts I had about myself were just as irrational as the ravings of a jealous rival or a well intended, but mistaken friend. 

I had to learn that unconstructive thoughts about my self do not necessarily originate in hard fact and often come from criticisms from my past.  Sometime from ones made by a parent in anger, abuse from others, a mean teacher, mocking from other kids and all sorts of life experiences, all absorbed passively.  My thoughts are frequently only my conditioned responses learned previously, mostly while growing up.   

With just a little discipline I can be a “superb disputer” of these untrue thoughts about myself.  When I look closely I often realize much of what I think about myself is utter BS and nonsense.  The process of “disputing”  helps me to stop paying attention to that type of thought.  I know I can not completely stop my mind from thinking what it will, but whether I pay lots of attention or little attention to those mental ramblings is my choice.  

Frequently I do get good and accurate input from friends and appreciate their caring very much.  However, they are not always right.  Right or wrong, today I am thankful for what my friend said.  It was a catalyst for a reawakening of a life skill .  This morning there is much gratitude for the wake-up call and being reminded to dust off my ability as a “superb disputer”.  

Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.  William Shakespeare

The House with Cardboard Walls

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

Once upon a time in the deep South there was an old four-room clapboard house that sat on the side of a paved two-lane country road.  This house had four rooms:  living room, kitchen, bedroom and storeroom.   The toilet was a small building about fifty feet out the back door.   

This was an old house that had never been painted on the outside nor finished off on the inside.  The floors were uneven and sagged in places due to the foundation only being stacks of rocks underneath.  In the three rooms used as living space the walls and ceiling were covered with flattened out cardboard boxes that had been tacked to the rough-hewn wall studs.  In most cases the printed side of the cardboard was on the reverse side of what could be seen.  Here and there a few exceptions existed where printing for the products the boxes once contained was obvious. 

Each of the four rooms had one window with two panels of four panes of glass.  In two of the rooms a bottom panel would still raise for air a fan pulled in during the summer.  Lack of use in the two other rooms had caused the wood of the window frames to swell into the window casings making them immoveable.  

The heat for the house was supplied by a long, squatty cast iron wood stove with stove-pipe for smoke at one end that went up and out through the living room wall.   Doors were always left open into the other rooms so heat could reach there.  

One modern convenience the home did have was electricity.  The “juice” powered a single light bulb in each room that hung naked on a wire from the ceiling.  The light was turned on and off by a string that hung down from a switch on the light socket.  There was one wall outlet per room but there was little to plug into them except a B&W TV in the living room and tree lights at Christmas.   Sometimes in the winter when it got really cold the electric stove oven in the kitchen would be turned on and the door left open to add extra heat to the little old house.

The other modern comfort that had been added was running water that came from a well a few hundred yards away that was shared with two other houses.  Water was available only at the sink in the kitchen and there was very little water pressure.  What came out of the faucet was actually more like a good-sized trickle than a stream.  There was no hot water heater.

One bathed in this house by heating water on the stove then pouring it into an aluminum wash basin with a flat bottom and rounded-up sides with a half-inch lip around the top.  With small dents all over from use over a long period of time, the basin was about eighteen inches across and five inches deep in the middle.  With a bar of soap and a bath clothe one washed up.  In the winter this was usually done by the wood store which also served to heat the water in cold months. 

There were no door locks on the front and back door.  What kept each door shut was a rough “old-timey” door  latch made of unfinished bare wood with carving marks still clear on them from their making decades before. From the inside you lifted the latch from its catch to open the door.  On the outside a string was threaded through a hole in the door that one pulled to lift the latch on the inside.  A wooden spool that sewing thread had come on was nailed to the outside as a handle to pull the door shut. 

This old house was roofed with tin which caused the eves of the roof to echo with any sound that hit it. Especially noticeable was when it rained and the drops pelted the tin making a relaxing and gentle rumble.  One accustomed to the sound was eased into sleep by its calming effect. 

The front of the house had a wood porch onto which the front door opened and the living room and bedroom window looked out upon.  I know a story about how two boys, seven and five years old, got into trouble from being out on that porch.  Their mother left very early weekdays for her job in a factory making baby clothes.  The boys were awakened just as she was about to leave for work and were left to get up, get ready for school, make breakfast for themselves and catch the school bus.  The outhouse was way out back and with their Mother gone; the boys got out of bed and avoided the journey out back.  Instead the two boys proceeded out to the front porch and relieved their bladders off the side of it. 

One day a car drove by as the boys were peeing off the porch standing there in their “tidy-whities” and undershirts they slept in.  What they were doing seemed so normal to them they kept doing what they were doing and waved to the passer-by they knew.  Their Mother was NOT happy about what the boys had been doing when she was told later by the neighbor driving by who thought what the boys were doing was cute. 

How do I know all this?  I lived in this house with my Brother and my Mother for close to two years.  Vivid in my memory is how much trouble we got into for using the front porch as our bathroom.  That old house has been my reference point for all places I have lived in since all were an improvement.  However, I do have vivid gratefulness to that ancient house that still stands today although no one has lived there in a long, long while.  For a time, the old house with cardboard walls kept us dry and warm.  As humble as it was, that place sheltered us from the world and kept us safe.  For what once was a great embarrassment I now find sweet memories and much gratitude.  

Home is home, be it ever so humble.
Proverb

Photo:  Taken in 2007 of the backdoor at the actual “house with cardboard walls”

An Old Storm in the Rear View

/ James Browning / 4 Comments

For over two months I have contemplated expressing my gratitude here for my first wife, but just was not ready to write about it publicly.  Even now I am not fully prepared, but do believe it is time. 

B. and I were married and made a home together for 22 years.  We were wedded for another four years, but resided in different states and lived individual lives.  When we separated her comment was she “did not intend to be a divorced woman” and while I considered moving forward with a divorce against her wishes, I didn’t do it.  A portion of the reason had to do with investments being adversely affected if assets were split within the first few years after we separated.  Also there was hesitation about moving forward with the divorce because I was the one who wanted out of the marriage and had caused her great pain.  Feeling remorse for not being able to see my son daily was a further hindrance.  In the end,  after three years she filled for a divorce that took yet another year.  

B. was probably the first “normal” woman I ever dated having previously attracted or been attracted to troubled and “crazy women”.  What I can look back and see now is I was just as nuts in my own way as the women I gave the “crazy” label to.  What we had in common with our “crazy” dysfunctions was a good deal of our appeal to each other.  

B. was 22 and I was 23 when we became husband and wife.  Her family accepted me openly and her Father treated me truly like a son.  Her mother was kind and thoughtful.  In the early years of being married their support was invaluable.  They gave us things we needed but did not have the money to buy.  They took us on vacations we could not have afforded ourselves.  They expressed openly their affection for both of us and their pleasure in us as a couple.  I will always love her parents and be grateful to them. 

Having had no healthy examples of what a good marriage or relationship looked like growing up, my coloring outside the marital lines was a predictable behavior.  My growing up made me like a blind man trying to find his way in a place he had never been to or known about.  In many ways B. did far better as a wife than my performance as a husband.  I was a good provider and responsible financially.  I was a pretty good father who loved his son deeply.  B. did everything else from paying the bills, to cutting the grass to hauling our boy to hockey practice.  As a partner I did have some good husband years before our son was born, but followed that up with a lot of years when I was at best only partially in the marriage.  I yearned to be single for many years before the strength arrived to say so.  There will always be some remorse within for not doing the right thing sooner when I should have. 

What in youth looked like a straight and level road of living, turned out to be life filled with crooked turns, bumps, obstacles, steep hills and detours.  That is normal.  We just did not know it long ago.   It took years, but B. can speak with civility to me now.  We can even enjoy an occasional meal with our son when I visit the area they live in.  I am grateful.  “Once upon a time” is no more.  Past is past.  However, it is good that remnants of what once was still remain.  

My lessons have been learned the hard way, but they have been learned.  The trials and heartache served well in their ability to teach.  I am at peace but will always bear a scar of remorse for the pain I caused B..  I will be eternally grateful for the wonderful son she gave birth to.  He was our greatest creation together.   

Written by Regina Brett, The Plain Dealer newspaper, Cleveland, Ohio
 “To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life taught me. It is the most-requested column I’ve ever written. My odometer rolled over to 90 in August, so here is the column once more”

1. Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good.
2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.
3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.
4. Your job won’t take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch.
5. Pay off your credit cards every month.
6. You don’t have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
7. Cry with someone. It’s more healing than crying alone.
8. It’s OK to get angry with God. (He can take it)
9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.
10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.
11. Make peace with your past so it won’t screw up the present.
12. It’s OK to let your children see you cry.
13. Don’t compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn’t be in it.
15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don’t worry; God never blinks.
16. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.
17. Get rid of anything that isn’t useful, beautiful or joyful.
18. Whatever doesn’t kill you really does make you stronger.
19. It’s never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.
20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don’t take no for an answer.
21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don’t save it for a special occasion. Today is special.
22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.
23. Be eccentric now. Don’t wait for old age to wear purple.
24. The most important sex organ is the brain.
25. No one is in charge of your happiness but YOU.
26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words ‘In five years, will this matter?’
27. Always choose life.
28. Forgive everyone everything.
29. What other people think of you is none of your business.
30. Time heals almost everything. Give time, time.
31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
32. Don’t take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
33. Believe in miracles.
34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn’t do.
35. Don’t audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.
36. Growing old beats the alternative – dying young.
37. Your children get only one childhood.
38. All that truly matters in the end is that you are loved.
39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.
40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else’s we’d grab ours back.
41. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
42. The best is yet to come …
43. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
44. Yield.
45. Life isn’t tied with a bow, but it’s still a gift.

Birthdays, Peace, Love and Happiness

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

Yesterday was a wonderfully heartwarming day.  Many friends and those dear remembered the anniversary of my birth.  Today I am still aglow with the love expressed to me.  I started making a list of everyone who emailed, texted, called, sent a card through the mail or on line or otherwise wished me a happy birthday.  My intention was to thank each and every one by name here this morning.  However, the list got so long that somewhere in the afternoon I lost track and gave up.  The length of the partial list I did make was humbling and a cue to remember always how loved I am especially in whatever dark moments that may come. 

Accepting that others care about me has always been challenging.  Make no mistake I yearn for the love and affection of those dear to me.  Intellectually I know feeling “less than”, “not good enough” and at best only partially loveable are false emotions and echoes of events and happenings long ago.  Thankfully the resonance of “then” becomes less and less with the passage of time.   I was closed off for many years and that lack I carried serves now to open my heart wider than it could have otherwise.  My immense ability today to feel with greater depth and magnitude is a silver lining discovered within where once was only a big dark cloud.  Thankfulness for that awakening is greater than I can possibly express. 

This morning I want to avoid hiding what I intend to say in a quantity of words that could easily mask my intent.  With that thought in mind, I modestly endeavor here this morning to express my deepest gratitude for the goodness I received from my friends and loved ones yesterday on my birthday.  From those at work who got the birthday cake for me to the old friend who texted from her trip in Israel, from the two dear friends who took me to dinner last night to the other two who invited me, from the simple “happy birthday” words to the cards and gifts I received, “thank you, thank you very much”.  

The time for me to express my feelings to those I care about only exists in the present.  Someday what I mean to say will be no longer possible.  So here below are my thoughts expressed through another’s words.  I place these lines here with thankfulness for the words being lent to me and with deep gratitude for every thread of love shown me.    

If I be the first of us to die,
Let grief not blacken long your sky.
Be bold yet modest in your grieving.
There is a change but not a leaving.
For just as death is part of life,
The dead live on forever in the living.
And all the gathered riches of our journey,
The moments shared, the mysteries explored,
The steady layering of intimacy stored,
The things that made us laugh or weep or sing,
The joy of sunlit snow or first unfurling of the spring,
The wordless language of look and touch,
The knowing,
Each giving and each taking,
These are not flowers that fade,
Nor trees that fall and crumble,
Nor are they stone,
For even stone cannot the wind and rain withstand
And mighty mountain peaks in time reduce to sand.
What we were, we are.
What we had, we have.
A conjoined past imperishably present.
So when you walk the wood where once we walked together
And scan in vain the dappled bank beside you for my shadow,
Or pause where we always did upon the hill to gaze across the land,
And spotting something, reach by habit for my hand,
And finding none, feel sorrow start to steal upon you,
Be still.
Close your eyes.
Breathe.
Listen for my footfall in your heart.
I am not gone but merely walk within you.

Taken from The Smoke Jumper by Nicholas Evans 2001 

If you’re alone, I’ll be your shadow. If you want to cry, I’ll be your shoulder. If you want a hug, I’ll be your pillow. If you need to be happy, I’ll be your smile… But anytime you need a friend, I’ll just be me.  Unknown

Making Peace with the Past

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

Gratitude is not easy to separate out when it is swirled with shame and bitterness without the wisdom of years.  Such is the case when I think of my Mother. 

My coming into the world happened she was only eighteen years old.  From a perspective today, I can look back and realize she was basically a child herself.  The first time she left home was when she married my Father.  

My parent’s marriage never seemed to be harmonious even when I was little.  They were not affectionate to each other and spent most of their time doing separate things even at home.  There were frequent arguments. Both had relationships outside the marriage by the time I was aware enough to remember. 

The weekend of my seventh birthday my Father dropped my Mother, Brother and I off at my Grandfather’s so I could go fishing at his lake.  My Father told us he was headed to the central office of the insurance company that he worked for.  Its location was about 40 miles away and he had to go there every few weeks to turn in paperwork and contracts.  We thought nothing of it.   

By the next day we still had not heard from my Father and there was much concern for him.  By afternoon an uncle came with a note he had discovered from my Dad saying he was gone forever and to not try to find him.  In time I came to know he had a pregnant girlfriend he chose to spend his life with instead of the family he already had. 

I did not understand what was going on.  Looking back now I do not understand why my Mother just told my Father to “got to hell” and said she wanted no financial support of any kind.  That was just anger and pride for we lived in poverty because of her temper and quick choices.  

For the next several years the parade of boyfriends began with my Mother.  The ones my Brother and I liked she seemed to run off given a short amount of time.  The ones we didn’t like never seemed to go away.  Between working, dating and living a single we did not see much of our Mother.  My Brother and I either fended for ourselves or were in the care of her parents.  As young boys we were exposed to adult things at far too young of an age.  There was the shame and confusion at eight years old waking up in the single bedroom we all slept in and seeing her having sex with a married man whose son was in my class at school.  There was plenty more, but this example points to her self-absorbed and immature nature as well as any example I can reveal.  

Within a few years she brought a stepfather into our lives, one my Brother and I did not like (OK, we hated him!).  Looking back today I think he was likely bi-polar at the very least.  To use he was simply nuts.  My Brother and I worked like dogs in his little grocery store and were frequently mentally abused.  Here and there the abuse was physical as well.  He threw me out on the street when I was 16.  Through it all our Mother never lifted a finger to protect us from the “evil stepfather”. 

The last year of high school my Father took me in and I moved 200 miles away to Jackson, Mississippi.  During those 10 months he and I found peace.  He did all that he could to apologize for what had happened between him and my Mother.  That was the only year of school when I had nice clothes, a decent car and I would willingly bring friends over.  Pure fear caused me to not have visitors around my Mother and Stepfather as I never knew if she’d be drinking or he’d be having one of his anger episodes.  

All of this was so long ago and in many ways my feelings have mellowed from the anger I once felt to almost pity for my parents.  I do have peace with my Father even though he died 19 years ago.  He made lots of effort to mend fence with me.  In my adult years he always hugged me and told me he loved me whenever I visited him.  He loved being a grandfather to my son.  My Father had many faults and weaknesses.  He hurt a lot of people, but in my adult life he never directed anything but good toward me. 

 My Mother gave birth to five children and only one or two even speak to her, then only occasionally. I have not spoken to her in 19 years and know it is not in my best interest to do so even now.  Her self-absorbed nature and denial of how things were creates a chasm that is impossible to get across.  Yet, I do end up at the bottom of these paragraphs wanting to express gratitude for her bringing me into the world.  If I were not her son, genetically I would not be who I am.  Had my life experience been different I believe I could have found some sort of peace and contentment sooner than I have.  Yet, I would not be the person I am without that trouble and heartache.  I am grateful to have been born to who I was born to and am thankful for my life, rocks and all. I know the troubles simply smoothed me like river water does a rock.  

We have no right to ask when sorrow comes, “Why did this happen to me?” unless we ask the same question for every moment of happiness that comes our way.  Author Unknown