Happy Thanksgiving!

Today, as I am thinking of all the blessings I have to be thankful for, I count each and every one of you, my dear readers.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, and may you be richly blessed today, and always.

Love, Valerie

Arriving in Style

Back when I was still a college student, I decided, one year, to have an adventure and take the train home for Thanksgiving.  With romantic visions of club cars, and steamy railroad station platforms in my head,  I laid out the clothes I intended to pack.  I set aside my travel outfit.  A skirt and sweater, sensible heels, and my long wool peacock green coat.

Valerie!  My friend Heidi said.  No one dresses up to ride the train anymore!

But I still did.  And yes, I was in the minority.  As for the actual trip, well-I got to Tacoma just fine, but not in the manner I would like to have been accustomed to.

I often feel like I was born into the wrong era.  And the way train travel has changed over the decades is just one more reason why.  Sure, it is still wonderful to travel, by any means, to see family and celebrate a holiday as wonderful as Thanksgiving.

But just imagine what it would have been like to get to your destination like this…

Champagne cocktail, anyone?

After Dinner Wisdom

Two fortune cookies.  Two possibilities. 

Amy told me to choose first.  I debated for a second, and made my decision.  Wow, I thought.  What a meaningful and timely fortune!  I’m going to hang this little piece of paper up where I can see it every day.  Have it become my mantra of sorts, because it’s true.  To be able to follow your heart is the key to happiness, in my humble opinion.

I was distracted from these inspiring thoughts by the crack of the second cookie.

And then I read Amy’s fortune…

Hmm. 

I could have  lived with that.

A Writing Lesson

A few evenings ago, I was sitting at my computer, ostensibly working on my NaNoWriMo work in progress, but I was really watching the stiff breeze outside scatter thousands of leaves in every direction.  Kind of like words.  Lots of possibilities, but I could not seem to choose the right ones.

I feel like baking something,  I announced to Amy. Something like pumpkin bread.

Since Stuart was already headed out to the store, to roam the aisles in search of a dinner idea, Amy offered to go along and get the necessary ingredients for the pumpkin bread. 

You stay, mama, she told me. Try to get your writing done.

I continued to stare at the leaves, thousands of them, and I realized that I needed to embrace  the luxury of NaNoWriMo:  That all words are good words. The goal is quantity, and not quality, so much.  This is an uncomfortable concept for me.  Normally when I write, I tend to choose words carefully, and use them very sparingly.

It wasn't long before Stuart and Amy were home, and I was actually writing away.  Amy called to me from the kitchen.

Come here mama, I have a surprise for you!

A reward?  For working so hard?  I imagined the possibilities.  Chocolate perhaps, or some flowers?

And then Amy handed me a butternut squash.

I know how much you wanted to grow these in the garden this year, and how disappointed you were when you had actually planted acorn squash instead, so I thought you would really like to have this.

Her face was beaming.

A lot of sentiments were running through my mind just then.  That I love my daughter with all my heart, and any kid who picks out a squash as a surprise present is pretty darn special.  I am already imagining how good that beautiful butternut will be, cooked with a little brown sugar and butter, and I realize something else.  That finding the right words isn’t really so hard, after all. 

Now when you have a butternut squash to inspire you.

Guest Blogger: My Daughter Amy

This is an essay Amy wrote for her Sophomore Honors English class.  It makes me more than a little proud.

Veterans: For Sale?

Each year on the 11^th day of the 11^th month, people across America observe a day of remembrance. Veterans Day is supposed to be a day of remembrance; a day to remember all those men and women who have served or are serving in the armed forces. It was never intended to be a day for people to flock to the stores in search of good deals, or a day for businesses to make a few extra dollars. The real meaning is being lost—obscured by the “Veterans Day Sale!” posters plastered all over store windows. If they aren’t torn down soon, the idea of remembering veterans will be replaced by the idea of buying and selling.

Originally called “Armistice Day”, November 11 was a day to celebrate the end of the First World War and commemorate those who fought in it. It was later renamed “Veterans Day” and the commemoration extended to all veterans—past, present, and future. Unfortunately, there was another, bigger change. Businesses began to see this day as a time to advertise sales, attract customers, and make more money. People started associating this noble occasion with terms akin to “Veterans Day Sale! 50% Off” and “Big Savings This Veterans Day!” However, the commercialization didn’t stop there. Several years ago I was at Fred Meyer’s around the 11^th, and there was a rack stuffed with American flags, some spilling onto the floor. There was a sign on this rack which proclaimed “Clearance-Flags 50% Off.” Is this right? Are American flags, the symbol of our country, so insignificant that they can be crammed onto shelves and dropped on the floor for the purpose of putting a few extra dollars in someone’s pocket? This was not the idea in mind when the 11^th day of November was christened Armistice Day, nor even when it was renamed Veterans Day. It was not meant to be a day of making and saving money, or a day to sell flags at half price. It was a day to remember.

Veterans Day is a day set aside to honor the men and women who have served or are serving in our armed forces. These veterans have given us the freedom to live our lives, even at the cost of their own. This day was set aside to remember these brave people and pay tribute to the sacrifices they have made for their fellow countrymen, and yet they have made it into a day of big deals and big savings. We are forgetting that the real purpose of Veterans Day is not the sales in the stores, but the salute to our veterans who defend this piece of land we call home. My great uncle fought in WWII and was killed while imprisoned by the Japanese. He fought for his country alongside millions of other men and women. For the sake of all veterans and their memories, we cannot forget that the reason for Veterans Day, is the veterans. The name “Veterans Day” helps to remind us that this is a day belonging to veterans, as well as a day to show them that they are not forgotten. Let’s hope that in years to come the name of the 11^th day of the 11^th month is not changed again, or that if it is, it does not become “Sale’s Day.”

We cannot afford to forget the true meaning of Veterans Day. It holds too much importance to become a date of barely remembered significance. This holiday pays tribute to the very people who make it possible for us to live the lives we do and give us or freedom. Forgetting or dismissing the meaning of this day would be like saying “veterans aren’t as important as saving money,” but veterans are important. If there were no veterans, there would be no United States of America or, for those people who would rather observe the occasion with sales, Veterans Day sales.

The 11^th day of the 11^th month was designated a holiday as a way to remember the veterans of WWI. Now it is called Veterans Day, but the idea is still one of the remembrance of veterans. However, the shadow of commercialism is falling over this date as it has many others, and is threatening to obscure its true purpose. We must make sure that Veterans Day never loses its meaning, for that is one far too important to lose. As it stands, we are far too close to saying “don’t forget that sale” instead of “don’t forget that veteran."

Photo credit:  Alan Berner

No Sacrifice too Small

It will forever seem like a cruel twist of fate:  That my Uncle Pete missed the arrival of the American forces in Manila by just some 50 days.  When the Bilibid prison camp, where he had been interned for nearly 3 years, was liberated in those first few days of February 1945, my uncle was already gone.  He, along with over 16oo other men, had departed on the ill fated voyage to Japan, shipped out December 13, 1944.

50 days.  A length of time that might very well have made the difference between my uncle becoming a veteran of World War II, instead of the casualty that he was.

I’ve read about the guilt that returning veterans, of any war, often feel over the fact that they were lucky to survive and return home, when many of their buddies did not. They wonder, Why was I the lucky one? And, Why was the other guy asked to make the ultimate sacrifice, and not me? In reading the memoirs of men who knew my Uncle Pete, they asked themselves those same questions. 

But sacrifice comes in many forms.  I know that every man and woman who has served our country has paid some part of the price that has bought the freedoms we enjoy today. Our veterans need to know that just as they will never forget that they were the “lucky ones”, we will never forget what they have done for us.

To all of our veterans on this day, and forever-

Thank You!

When a Pet Dies

This past week has not been fun for Amy.  Usually healthy, she caught one of the  “bugs”  going around school and missed three days.  Yesterday, finally, she was able to go back to school.  She made it through the day, but was pretty tired yesterday afternoon and evening.

And then this morning, Amy really didn’t want to go to school again.  She woke up tired, and the thought of a full day of classes seemed overwhelming.  I gave her the option of staying home-and it helped her rally herself and make the decision to go to school anyway, and finish out the week.  I promised her a nice long and relaxing weekend to completely recuperate and catch up.

And then, as I was saying goodbye to Amy this morning, we noticed that Amy’s pet parakeet Coral was not looking too good.  She didn’t seem to be able to fly, but clumsily maneuvered around  her cage using her feet and beak.  The slightest exertion seemed to exhaust her, and she would pause, close her eyes and rest, all the while trembling.  Amy was visibly upset when she headed out the door to school, but I told her not to worry.  I promised I would take good care of Coral today.

But as I write this, Coral is sitting on the bottom of the cage, and I  know what is coming.  Coral is going to die.  And even though  Amy is a “big” girl now-she’ll be 16 in just under a month-she is going to be very, very sad when she gets home.  Because the loss of a pet, no matter how small that pet may be, is still a loss. 

It’s one of those things that happens in life.  I just wish it didn’t have to be this weekend.