Dear Readers, My friend, Mary Mike is the best!

My posts on Writing Life Stories sounds like a letter to a friend, I'm told. I guess that is what I am doing each week -- writing a letter to my readers, my friends.

Someone wrote to me and said it is too bad that more people don't read your blog. He doesn't know that I have many readers but only a few comment. I don't follow the guidelines for bloggers and I don't ask for comments, but am so happy that I have regular readers who do comment.

Those who subscribe by leaving their email address on the sidebar where I ask for followers, have my new posts pop up in their Inboxes. Often they email me rather than leave a comment on the blog page. No matter how they come, I always enjoy hearing from my readers.

Just like you, I have my share of challenges every week. No one's life is always easy and simple. I don't want to whine and complain, but my challenges seem to have grown completely out of control since last November. Last night was the latest one.

I was on the telephone with my dear friend, Mary Mike. We were talking about her latest find in genealogy. She is a whiz in locating ancestors and she knows all the online methods that would take me the rest of my life to learn. As we talked, I decided to walk downstairs to the studio and get to my main computer. At the bottom of the stairs, I saw that I had another crisis.

My small storage room where I keep office supplies, Christmas decorations, boxes of papers and other things I need to have close by, was completely soaked from a broken pipe where the water comes into my house. It was horrible that the entire floor was soggy, but the break in the pipe up on the wall was spewing water on the shelves and the walls.

I cried to Mary Mike, "I have to hang up. I have a water leak and flooding."
She said, "I'll be right there."

I managed to focus on cutting off the water and calling the man who had installed the filter earlier this week. By the time he arrived, my friend had come in and begun hauling out boxes that were soaked on the bottom and some all the way up the sides.

We had no place to put them except the studio. I put down towels and throws to protect my hardwood floors. She began soaking up water  with towels while Richard, the filter man, went to work on the broken pipe.

As you know, I just had a water leak and broken hot water heater a few months ago. That whole event cost me nearly two thousand dollars. I wanted to sit down and bawl like a baby.

Whoever said that you spend less money after you retire or you don't need as much money after you retire was full of bull! Barry and I went to financial counselors and thought we had planned so that we would be well set in retirement. We didn't know that all the costs of living would skyrocket and health insurance, medical insurance, car insurance and homeowners would become outrageous. Groceries have become ridiculous. I'm told that the tariffs that our president has put on everyone has caused that. I pay more for one person now than I did for two people ten years ago. But, I digress.

My major problem was my flooded storage room. The water had sneaked through a wall into the studio in one place. But Mary Mike said, "We can take care of this."

I sent Richard to find the old shop vac in my garage. I am so glad I had not given it away or sold it at a yard sale. I haven't used it in almost twenty years. He could not find all the pieces in the dark garage, but resourceful Mary Mike asked me for duck tape. She took a part of a leaf flower and taped it onto the hose of the shop vac and Richard went to work. When he finished, we gathered all the fans I could find and put them in the wet storage room. Mary Mike positioned them to where they would do the best job. Then we took my dehumidifier and put it into the room also. By the time we were through, my back was killing me, and she was very tired. Neither of us is a young sprout.

"Keep the fans going for about a week," Mike said, to be sure it is completely dry.
"A week? I have a class to teach here in two weeks," I said, looking at all the boxes, lugs and bags on the floor of the studio.

After icing my back, I crawled into bed and slept well. Today, I am doing my best to clean up and decide what to keep and what I can store in my garage for now. I will need someone with a good back to move all this stuff out, and I hope I can find someone soon.

Life is no picnic lately. I learned a good while ago that I don't own this house. My house owns me and it is shouting its needs almost every day it seems. It makes me think of a house on our farm that belongs to a family member who has neglected it for years. No one lives there now and the yard is like a jungle, but nothing is being done to take care of it. Perhaps that old house was crying out for too many repairs and too much upkeep that the homeowner just could no longer manage. I can imagine the couple running out the door with their hands up screaming, "I can't do it anymore. I am gone. I will not come back."

Too bad they didn't have a friend like Mary Mike. She is amazing with what she knows but she has learned much of it because she had to take care of her house all by herself. I often said she was being tested by God, like Job in the Bible. How she keeps going on and on is a wonder to me.

This is my letter this weekend, dear readers. I am not going to run away, but I will be making some hard decisions in the coming months. Please send your positive vibes my way. Negativity is doing its best to drag me down. But it won't succeed for long. I still have much to do and just have to find the best way to do it.

A Gift from a Dear Friend

I am very appreciative and happy tonight. This desktop computer I am using is one my brother-in-law bought for a great price when he retired and he is letting me have it now. I love it. It comes with monitor and keyboard as well.

My computers have been nothing but frustration for me the past summer and I was ready to toss them out. It all began when I installed Windows 10. This computer has Windows 7 and works great for me. I purchased a Netgear N300 WiFi USB adapter and immediately picked up wireless service.

The computer had been wiped clean so Stu had a friend install Windows 7, Chrome and Word for me. I will install a photo program later. I feel I have stepped back a few years into my comfort zone. I will keep this computer as "bare-bones" as possible. I am tempted to take my older computers and have them stripped. Then I will only add back the programs I like to use.

If only the makers of Microsoft understood that many of us want the less sophisticated machines, not the ones with all the bells and whistles. I'm sure many young techies love all the extra stuff, but folks I know prefer the less complicated and more user friendly computers we used a few years back, before Vista, Windows 8 and Windows 10. Who decided we needed all the extra options? I need Word, email, Google, Blogger and Facebook. That is it!

If you hear me singing and see me smiling, it is because I am very happy with this computer. Thanks, Stu. You are the best!

Stuart A. Moring

Christmas - now I can enjoy the season

Today I feel I can relax and enjoy the holidays. Until today, I have had something hanging over me that kept me from focusing on Christmas.

I hosted a panel discussion yesterday at our local library on publishing and marketing your writing. Thankfully, I had volunteers who helped me. We all learned from the three authors on the panel, each of whom wrote different kinds of books. Even the best authors, however, stew under the pressure of marketing their books. 

Photo by Joan Ellen Gage

I tried to shed some light on how poets can get prepared before they have the books in hand. With the glut of books on the market these days, it is very hard for a new author to get attention. 

But today I feel relieved it is over. I just wish it had gone perfectly. I am a perfectionist in many ways and when I am responsible, I want it as near perfect as it can be. 

I realize you can't control the behavior of others, but it irritates me that someone agrees to be on a panel discussion but stands up and does a presentation on himself instead of taking the questions and becoming part of a discussion. That is bad etiquette, and he will not likely be invited to take part in another program. This little quirk upset the schedule and made us run over our time so many people did not have a chance to question the other panelists. 

Readers, have you ever faced this situation? I felt my other two panelists were cheated out of their time to talk. I finally had to cut him off by going to the podium and preparing to speak. 

One thing I have learned in the past twenty years is that if you want to be successful in anything, don't be pompous, arrogant or demeaning of others. What one must do to be successful is think of others first. 

This author did have some good content to offer. I hope those attending took away all the information given and can use it in their own writing career.

I am now ready to finish my Christmas shopping, online, and wrap presents. This past week I attended a lovely afternoon party with good friends and had lunch with two of my dearest friends, Mary Mike and Estelle. So the holidays have crept in a bit already, but from now until December 26, I am all in. 

Estelle Rice and Mary Mike Keller

I hope all of you, my special friends of the blogosphere, will have a glorious holiday season. Stay well and love one another. 

“I am so glad you are my friend.”

Friendship is a spiritual practice – Barbara Brown Taylor   

  

Recently a friend said to me, sincerely and quietly, “I am so glad you are my friend.”

I was moved almost to tears by this simple sentence. She and I have been friends for a number of  years, more so since my husband died. She has other friends, old friends, from many years ago. She has certain friends she spends time with each week. I am not in that circle and it doesn’t matter. I have friends that don’t include her.

How many times have you stopped and counted the people you can really call friends, not acquaintances? Are they  good friends, best friends, or occasional friends?

In my life I have had only a few best friends. When I was a young teen, my best friend was Joyce. We rode horses together and told each other our deepest secrets. A couple of years older than I, she graduated high school and entered college before I did. But we always tried to stay in touch. She and her husband, her high school sweetheart, were our first visitors in our furnished apartment right after Barry and I married. What a surprise to find that she and Barry had known each other at the university. Like many women in the sixties, Joyce dropped out of college and got married. We  never would have imagined that mistake would haunt her to death.

Joyce and Barry going to a  Georgia-Florida football game. I miss both of them.

One reason I had few close friends when I was growing up is I had a built-in friend, my sister, Gay. While we both had occasional friends, neighbors, girls we met at school, I reflect now and realize that my two friends in high school drifted away after their marriages, where I served as bridesmaid. Neither of them pursued higher education. One was eventually divorced, but the other raised a family in her husband’s home town in Wisconsin. We visited them once, and she was still the funny adorable girl I had known at sixteen, faithful to her Catholic upbringing.

In college, a girl’s school in Georgia, I met some classmates I enjoyed. We had great times laughing and talking  late into the night, trading our stories. I was awed by one girl, Peggy, the sophisticate from Washington, D..C. Dark-eyes heavily lined and mascaraed, she was crowned with a  head of jet black hair. She was independent and courageous. I had grown up with a strict father and seldom broke any rules except when I was out with Joyce who sneaked cigarettes from her family’s store and impressed me with her ability to smoke and drink when she was still in high school. 

Peggy was similar but took even more risks. She could have been sent home for slipping out of the dorm after hours to meet her boyfriend and then slipping back in after curfew. She couldn’t have done that without my help, of course, and in return she let me be her friend. I was used, but it had its rewards. Through Peggy, I met Richard, the first real love of my life. I felt extremely grateful to travel in the same circles with Peggy, who was respected all over campus. She had street smarts, but she was super intelligent and earned top grades. Her goal was to become a doctor. I heard that she reached that goal.

When I left the girls’ school to attend the university, I lost touch with Peggy and all the girls I had known and liked for the past two years. Several moved on to other schools to complete their education. Some went home to get married. I entered a school where I knew no one but my younger sister. We lived in different dorms and she made friends right away. I did not weather the change too well and wished many times that I had stayed where I was to finish my education.

Coming from a large family that enjoyed each other, much of my social life involved my siblings. My sisters-in-law often turned to me as a friend and I loved them, warts and all, but was burned when my brothers cheated or divorced their partners. How could I make a choice between a friend and a loved brother? I hated the sin, but loved the sinner.

I like the metaphor that life is a sailboat and at times the winds come up strong. We have to navigate them carefully, even changing our course sometimes. Friendship is a large part of a healthy life. Having social ties has been proven to lengthen our days on this earth. But I also believe people come into our lives and go out of our lives when they are supposed to do so. For that reason, I have no desire to seek out old classmates on Facebook.

I am so very fortunate to have my sister who will always be a huge part of my life, and a small number of good friends in my life now that I know will never turn on me or hurt me. I am glad they are my friends. 

A Day in the Life

My day started off sour and got worse. I felt like going back to bed when the cleaning lady, a very nice teacher who works for a cleaning service in the summer, came in bubbly and talkative. She went right to work and I went back to bed, but in fifteen minutes I was back up and trying to make the day a little lighter.

I answered my e-mail and paid some bills online before I dressed to go out. My busy little teacher/maid dusted high and low and then tried to clean around some photo frames. That was when I heard the crash. She had bumped one of my favorite things and sent it flying to the floor. A very dear friend had given me a lovely porcelain bird that I admired and cherished. It is now broken into two parts. I knew it was an accident, but that didn't help the fact that it was ruined.

I left the house and headed for a local restaurant where I was going to meet some former students and  close friends. My whole body ached with fibromyalgia, and the world seemed darker than usual. I just wanted to go back to bed and pull the covers over my head. Several parts of my personal life have been out of sorts lately, some of it family worry, and I am embarrassed to say that I arrived feeling quite grumpy. 

Immediately, the waitress came out and wiped off the table with a Clorox-laden rag sending clouds of chemical into the air around me. I had to leave the table and move far enough away that I could breathe safely. I don't know why restaurants around here think that Clorox is the only way to sanitize anything. Clorox is dangerous to breathe and some of us can't take it at all. The woman at Chevelle's didn't seem to notice or care that I had to leave the table. I think the service there is one of the reasons I just don't like that place. 

On top of that, one of my friends had worn perfume. She knows that her perfume makes me ill. She forgot. I love her as well as the others, but I suffer after being with her. 

In spite of everything, I enjoyed seeing them and soon they had me pouring out my tale of woe. By the time we had finished a rather poor meal with even worse service, we were all laughing and talking about how good we are for each other. They gave me wonderful advice and I will take heed to what they said. We promised to meet again next month, and I hope we can. But life is filled to the brim for all of us. One is still working and with several new clients she has a full calendar. One is a full time caregiver for his wife, but continues with his own mission for WWII veterans. Another is filled with concern for her son who is not well and for her sister who has lung cancer. So much grief but still they all gave my problems their full attention and consideration.

I came home filled with love and bathed with compassion from my friends. How could anything hurt me when I have these dear people in my life? Do you have special people that lift you up when you feel low?

I love all you readers and appreciate your visiting my blog. Thanks for leaving your comments.

A Good Day

A few days ago I sent out an email to three friends. "Join me in a Girls Only Day."

I wanted to get together with old friends who made me laugh. And laugh we did. We met at a steak house a couple of hours drive away, but in a central location for all of us. The food was excellent. We laughed so much that others in the restaurant stared and smiled. Our waitress liked us and said we could stay as long as we wanted. She even made a photo of the four of us. One of those friends today, my best friend, was my sister Gay. The other women we have known for thirty years. Before the fun began it was imperative that the serious talk take place. Illness, failing loved ones - we had to discuss, but not for long.

The recent stress in our lives evaporated while we caught up on Linda's new puppy and her husband's venture into making Andy a therapy dog. We found out that Sue's grandson had been recruited by the University of Georgia football team. I learned from the three of them where to eat in Hawaii, the delight of the fragrant air I would breathe when I stepped off the plane, and I revealed that my doctor had a time share in the same place where I will vacation this fall on my first visit to Hawaii. She had told me how beautiful it was and that I would not want to leave there. 

We laughed at ourselves, at our need to organize our homes, but our unwillingness to let go. The dread of someone throwing away our most precious possessions sent shudders up our spines.

We all agreed it had been way too long since we had spent time like this, visiting and enjoying each other. When we finally left the restaurant (the staff was preparing for the dinner crowd) we huddled outside, unable to make the final move to leave, showing photos on cell phones and telling more stories about the funny things that happen at funerals. We hugged and then finally climbed into our cars and headed home in different directions. 

My spirits had sailed aloft like a helium balloon. I didn't want the day to end. I drove past the street to my house and headed for our little town which was built on a square surrounding the original courthouse that stands waiting to be updated and made safe for gatherings. I parked and walked around the square, stopped in several places searching for a brick with our names and another in memory of my brother, Ray.We bought the bricks to help with funding the refurbishing of the courthouse some years ago.

Downtown, at six o'clock, was quiet as a church. Stores were closed. Everyone had gone home. The big shade trees seemed to hover over me, keeping me safe in the town I now call home,  continuing the warm feeling of love I had experienced with my friends.

Mary Mike at Writers Night Out

Tonight, January 14, I attended Writers Night Out where my good friend, Mary Mike Keller, was featured reader. She did an excellent job and looked beautiful. She is one of my favorite poets, but you aren't likely to see any books coming out with all of her work. She seldom submits her poems but enjoys writing and sharing them with her friends at readings and with her family.

I call her Mike, and although we are distant cousins from our Posey lineage, sometimes I feel she is more like a sister. Don't you enjoy having a special friend to whom you can talk openly and pour out your heart to her and know she will keep it to herself? Mike is the kind of friend who lets you cry when you hurt and doesn't act like it makes her uncomfortable. She doesn't try to change the subject because she doesn't know what to say.

Mike has felt sorrow herself and seen pain in others. She doesn't shun feelings. She embraces them.
I have learned over the years to let myself feel all the emotions welling up in me, hurt, pain, sorrow, and happiness and joy. I give myself to my feelings and let them out. I'm told that makes for a healthier person and I truly believe that. Keeping pain, fear, guilt or anger pushed down inside for too long causes physical and mental illness.

We all need friends like Mike who have such empathy. And we need to be the same kind of friends to others.