Life

I Can See!

/ James Browning

When I first came to the computer this morning I had intentions of writing about a different subject.  However, as I sat down I realized my glasses were in another room (without which I can not focus well on the monitor screen or on anything inside of about 30 inches).  I had to go find a pair to even be here writing this.  From a few feet away to infinity I am blessed with good vision, but up close my age is showing.  So with a reminder of how much I depend on my glasses my original subject was  tossed aside.  Today from the keyboard I want to express my gratefulness for my dear “spectacles”. 

Around the age of 40 the first pair of drug store reading glasses came into my life with me thinking they were actually kind of cool to wear.  Having them on did make things slightly clearer, but they were not necessary… at least not yet.  Ten years later when I celebrated living 5 decades, reading glasses were my constant companion.  Now there are pairs scattered around the house, extra’s in my car, spare’s in my desk at work and in travel bags there are always backup glasses just in case.  At this point I am pleased to be able to buy what is needed at the local drug store for $10 or so.  So having multiple pairs is not particularly expensive (another piece of good fortune). 

Have you noticed that most of the American printed landscape must be designed by 20 something’s whose vision has not deteriorated yet? 

–         The instructions on just about any over the counter medication is so terribly small that I have to often use a magnifying glass while wearting glasses to accurately see what is printed.  I wonder what unique ailments or conditions I might have one day due to taking inaccurate amounts picked when my glasses were not nearby.

–         Are there books I am not supposed to read?  Is there knowledge the young ones don’t want me to have?  The small sized printing in some give me the idea that might be true.   What are those young “whipper-snappers” up to? (smile)

And more….       

–         Ever tried to tighten those little screws on glasses?  I solved the issue by using a head band type magnifier with the little screwdriver.  You should see me then.  I look like a questionable jeweler in a Quentin Tarantino movie.

–         I need my glasses to use my mobile phone (without them I have accidently talked to some very interesting people), to use the nav system in my car (more than once I have ended quite a ways from where I intended), to see the button labels on my TV remote (or else find the correct channel through trial and error or the up/down channel selector) and these days to even eat I need my glasses (I have this thing about knowing exactly what and how much I put in my mouth!).

I say those things tongue in cheek and have been smiling the whole time I was typing them.  I don’t mind at all and take my need for glasses as a prized trophy for living life and trading my years for wisdom gained.  Those who have worn glasses since childhood probably won’t feel the same as I do.  If I were them I probably would not either.

So as I look at the photo at the top, I am reminded again of my imperfect eyes that see pretty well overall and my glasses that take care of the rest of my up-close seeing.  I absolutely do not feel the need to complain or wish things to be different for me.  I will always be thankful for my glasses that make reading, a favorite pastime, easy.  Without them I would not be able to begin the new book you see in the photo above that arrived from Amazon.com just a few days ago.  I can’t wait to start it.

Gratitude is riches. Complaint is poverty.  Doris Day

Loving the Rain

/ James Browning

The ivy on my patio has been loving the rain of the last couple of weeks.  So have I!  For me there is no greater pleasure than a rainy day with a window open so I can hear the rain, then sitting down close by with a good book and spending the hours richly soaking up the minutes.  I absorb more from what is printed on each page and the mental images the writer’s words put in my mind are more vivid and alive than when reading on a sunny day.

I really do love the rain and the misty, overcast days when the hours are drizzled away.  I feel safer on such days as even the robbers and burglars are not as likely to be active on a day when it is raining.  There is such comfort for me from the constant drizzle and ocassional thunder. I feel closer to life, softer inside and memories flow easier for me with a sweeter taste on such a day.

I believe my thoughts and feelings are rooted in my childhood and being on my grandparent’s front porch in the rural south on damp, wet days.  When a couch became too worn for the inside, it became a fixture on the front porch until the outside exposure did it in.  Usually about the time a new couch appeared inside and another old one was ready for the porch.  There on the couch and and under a quilt or two I borrowed from inside the house I sat, watched, sometimes read and often took a nap.  The porch was one of these BIG Southern front porches long and wide enough that the rain rarely reached anywhere near me on the couch.  Watching a good thunderstorm from that vantage point was extra special!  I always felt safe.  I never thought much about the fact that sometimes the dogs slept on the couch too.  I don’t remember ever getting fleas!

My top of mind gratitude this Sunday morning is for the rain… the beautiful showery drizzle that I enjoy beyond my ability to express it.  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s loving description of the rain is far better than any I could ever write:

How beautiful is the rain!
After the dust and heat,
In the broad and fiery street,
In the narrow lane,
How beautiful is the rain!
How it clatters along the roofs
Like the tramp of hoofs!
How it gushes and struggles out
From the throat of the overflowing spout!
Across the window-pane
It pours and pours;
And swift and wide,
With a muddy tide,
Like a river down the gutter roars
The rain, the welcome rain!

There are only two ways to live your life.
One is as though nothing is a miracle.
The other is as if everything is.

Albert Einstein

April 27, 2011 Alabama Tornados

/ James Browning

Clay County, Alabama is in the most southern Appalachian Mountains and where I grew up.  The majority of my family still lives within 100 miles of there.  Earlier this week I had great concern due to the historical storms and tornados in North Central Alabama, especially for my brother who lives between Birmingham and Tuscaloosa (hardest hit by the storm).  My brother said they spent several hours in his basement and were genuinely concerned.   I am relieved and grateful today to know that all are OK.  When things scare me like that it brings feeling and emotion to the top and I wrote what follows in about 15 minutes to express my morning gratitude today.

 

My Little Brother

 

I remember well those childhood days,

In Shinebone Valley where we romped and played.

“Catch-ah-ma-doggie” Creek and Gray Hill,

Clear, vivid and strong in my memory still. 

 

Playing soldier and building forts in the July heat

Using haybales in the loft  to make ’em was quite a feat.

Catching little crawfish and darting minnows too,

And tying to a thread June bugs of green-blue.

Evening’s early summer lightning bugs blinking in a jar,

Steam rising after rain from the road’s black tar.

 

Riding our bikes on pulp wood roads

With Willis teaching us about the woods,

Catching snakes and sometimes toads,

And turtles and all the fish we could.

 

Stepping on rusty nails and telling no one,

Kick the can in the yard till the sun was done

That time with V. & C. and mud to our knees with them.

Sweet memories strong within of those childhood whims.

 

Then we did not see how the days just flew.

Through the all pain and difficulty we knew.

Coping with a self-absorbed and distant mother

In our lives no choice and no chance for another.

We know it’s true as a parent she was unfit,

And without each other we’d not have made it.

 

We have our scars, but we are alive and well,

And it’s only on the good of childhood days I dwell.

You’ve always made me proud like no other.

Always you will be my cherished little brother.

There is a calmness to a life lived in Gratitude, a quiet joy.   Ralph H. Blum