Something From Nothing

Consider this if you would. I think I might be on to something. I’m thinking that nothing...might really be something. Really. It has a name right? And you just don’t go around naming things that aren’t...do you? So why would someone name something like nothing if it wasn’t anything. And here’s more proof. When you ask someone “Hey what are you doing” and they answer, “Nothing...just watching TV”...well?? I’m just sayin’. And now that I’m thinking about it, when someone does something really nice for you and you say, “Thanks” and they say, “Oh, it was nothing”...Wow. Nothing may not only be something, it may be something pretty special. And how many times have you heard someone say, “There’s nothing there” and sure enough, there it is right in front of them...nothing. It has been used in literature throughout the ages. In the written word it’s called a space. Nothing...sitting there between every word. There’s even a number for nothing. It’s called a zero. And it’s used all the time by whiz kid smart guys who obviously think nothing is something and have even given it its own number. So, I’m pretty sure nothing might really be something. And I think I need say nothing more.

I'll Bet They Had a Party...

I had the chance to go down that old country road again the other day. It's where I first saw what was left of the old barn I wrote about a few years ago. It's finally gone now. From the road no trace can be seen anymore. So, here's to an old barn...one last time.------You can hardly see it from the road. The old barn. Or rather what’s left of the old barn. A crumbling skeleton fading away in some forgotten field of someone’s long ago dreams. A year or two from now I’ll walk down this road again and it’ll be gone. I’ll bet they had a party when they raised her though. A lifetime or two or three ago it was some farmer’s pride and joy. Built by the hands of family, friends and neighbors. It was shelter from the storms of summer and the snows of winter. It was storage for the harvest. It knew the sound of a fiddle and the laughter of Saturday night barn dances. And it was probably a big, old playhouse for more than a few generations of children. I wonder how many guilty young boys waited in it for a dreaded appointment with Father’s hickory switch? I wonder how many young lovers secretly met behind it for a moonlight smooch? I wonder how many stories it could tell? Well, only a few beams and part of a sunken roof remain today. And it won’t be long before the old barn’s not even a memory. I’ll bet they had a party when they raised her though.

Christmas Past

A oldie, but I think still a goodie. Well…Christmas time is over this year. All the outside decorations are looking a little windblown and tattered. The bows along the fence are all a little crooked and the garland is sagging a bit. And a few of the twinkling lights don't seem to have any twinks left this year. As I walk past the tree I can hear the sound of dry needles tinkling as they dance on decorations while heading to the floor. It's time to once again wrap baby Jesus up in tissue paper along with Mary, Joseph, three sheep, two camels, a donkey and two of the three wise men we have left in this old nativity scene and put them in the box marked living room. All the Santas and Snowmen come off the mantle and the last of the pistachios is gone. I'll vacuum up the fallen needles and fill the house one last time the smell of Christmas tree. It's time to move into this New Year and see what it holds. It's time to put the magic away for a while…but only for a while. See, it's only 11 1/2 months until Christmas.

The Chances

Here they come. The chances. The chances every New Year brings. Those moments in time when we are given a choice to make…a chance to take. The chance to do something different or in some cases the chance to just do something. The chance to try…or try again. The chance to learn. The chance to love or to allow ourselves to be loved. The chance to say yes…the chance to say no. The chance to step in a new direction or just take a step…in any direction. The chance to try to mend some of the damage that we’ve done or forgive the damage done to us. The chance to believe in something or the chance to play it safe and take no chances. Every chance we are given comes with a price. We will all have to decide just how much we are willing to pay. So, here they come. The chances. The opportunities we will be given this New Year to take a chance, make a choice…make a difference. What are you going to do with yours? I guess that’s the chance you take.

God Bless the Christmas Sweaters

I wrote this last year, but if you don't mind I'd like to send it 'round again.----God bless the Christmas sweaters. All those Seasons Knittings displaying snowflakes and Christmas trees…cardinals on holly branches…snowmen and snowwomen and reindeer with red noses…even wise guys and mangers and good St. Nick himself. They start showing up around Thanksgiving and multiply through the season like little Holiday bunnies until just before Christmas…in any given church…in any given city…there comes a Sunday that explodes with a massive, magnificent display of wooly Christmas spirit that takes the breath away. A display that confirms to all mankind that despite this world’s greed and meanness… thoughtlessness and ego…selfishness and blindness…there are still good people. Good people who in their hearts, still hope that reindeer can fly and that angels really do talk to shepherds about wondrous things. Good people who still wish for Peace on Earth and Goodwill toward men. God bless the Christmas sweaters.

To Jack dog...as Amelia used to say

I want the world to know you were here Jack. I want the world to know you mattered. I want the world to know you counted. I want the world to know you loved us unconditionally and we loved you. I also want the world to know you could be a pain in the ass. You never did figure out that the buzz from the dryer was not an attack on your kingdom. Or that you didn’t really own the neighborhood and other people and critters were allowed to pass through without you giving them the what for…every single time. Or that someone ringing a door bell on TV was…on TV. I want the world to know you were a happy guy Jack. And that you charged through your life full speed right up to the end. I’m not quite ready to say good bye and move on yet buddy. I want the world to know you were here Jack…and that you were a good boy.

A Christmas Gift

This is one of my favorite Christmas stories. I hope you won't mind if I take a moment to share it with you again. -----Every year, just before the Holidays, the student government of my kids’ high school puts on a dinner for the residents of one of our local senior citizens centers and homeless shelters. It’s quite an affair with roast turkeys, mashed potatoes...lots of gifts, games and songs. My daughter, being Senior Class President, was very involved. She surprised me by showing up back at home about halfway through the party. As she rushed through the door I could tell she had been crying. She threw herself into my arms...shaking with tears. “Dad”, she sobbed... ”There’s an old man there with no coat and a different shoe on each foot. We have to do something”. So, we gathered up a couple of unused jackets and a pair of pretty decent tennis shoes and off she went. She came home after the party was over and stood quietly by herself in the kitchen. I put my arm around her and asked how everything went. She told me that when she gave the shoes to the old man he said, “Thank you honey. I know someone who can really use these”. She said, “But these are for you”. He smiled at her and said these words. “Thank you sweetie, but see here...I’m lucky. I already have a shoe for each foot”. Merry Christmas.