My Earliest Blessing

 

By G. E. Shuman

 

I don’t remember mentioning in another column what I’m about to share, but if I did, please forgive me. We’re all friends here, right? Lately, my ‘rememberer’ isn’t what it used to be, and what it used to be wasn’t all that good either.

Anyway, here goes. Almost exactly a year ago Lorna and I made a trip to Florida to celebrate my mom’s birthday. It was to be a very special birthday, and a big party had been planned for her. I happened to mention that this was going to happen to one of my high school English classes at the time and was met with several surprised looks. One girl in the front row, with eyes so wide it looked like she had swallowed her eraser or something, simply blurted out: “YOUR mother is still alive?” Now I know teenagers aren’t often known for their tact, but this seemed a bit rude to me; at least until I had given it more thought. Yes, she’s very much alive, I answered the girl. She actually still flies to Maine each summer to visit, and I continued, she still rides her Harley. (That Harley point was a lie. I just couldn’t resist.) I do have a great pic of her sitting on my brother’s bike not that many years ago, though.

That birthday, last February, was Mom’s one hundredth; yes, one hundredth, and in thinking about that, while looking at me, and in commenting, I guess it’s easy to see why that young girl’s eyes were so wide. What I had said in class that day must have seemed like an impossibility to her. It nearly does to me.

For about the past year, ever since the party, Mom has begun doing something new. Each evening at about seven o’clock, and I mean every single evening at about seven o’clock, she calls me from her Florida home, for just a few minutes. I told our eight-year-old granddaughter Nahla about this, and, with a sheepish look and a slight giggle, she said: “Papa, she’s tucking you in.”   Since telling Mom about Nahla’s comment, each evening when we’re done our chat, Mom says something like “I hope it’s okay to tuck you in this early.” 

An amazing thing to me is how much this small ritual with my elderly mother has blessed my life. After all, how many seventy-year-old men still get ‘tucked in’ by their mom each night? How many seventy-year-old men even still have their mom?

It has been said that a person’s blessings are where they find them. Be on the lookout for yours, or you might miss some of them.  I would add that you don’t always find your blessings, some blessings find you. Our new, handsome, smiley four-month-old grandson is a splendid example. Wow! Talk about getting wrapped around a tiny little finger in a hurry!

Still, one of my greatest and earliest blessings ‘found’ me over 70 years ago. She brought me into this world, she raised me, she took me to church since before I was born, (literally), and she still tucks me in at night.  How cool is that?

Thank you, Mom, and happy one hundred and first birthday.

Goodbye to an Old Friend

 

By G. E. Shuman

 

Over the years I have learned that friends can come, and can go, in all shapes, sizes, ages… and even species of life. We have all had and lost family members and other human friends, and those times are always sad. But who hasn’t also Iost a family pet or even a farm animal that has just become one of the family and is missed exactly as such when they are gone. Sometimes the old saying, “You don’t know what you’ve got, ‘til it’s gone.” is a true jolt of reality. It may seem strange, but I believe that life in any form can be missed, even if it is time for that life to go.

 

For the past one hundred or more years a huge sugar maple tree has stood, strong and silent, on the corner of our front lawn. The house was built a hundred and twenty years ago, and I have always assumed that this big tree was planted at the time of the construction of the house. It was one of three such maples that had been spaced fairly evenly across our front lawn and that of the home next to ours and was the last of the three that were once there.

 

Very unfortunately, the week before last was the tree’s last week on our lawn. We had known for a few years that the tree was dying and had finally come to the decision to have the huge old friend removed. The company that we hired was very professional; the workers were friendly and knowledgeable and knew exactly what to do. They arrived on time with more equipment than I could believe, but with exactly what was needed. Within the next five hours the three- to four-foot-thick tree was completely gone from our property, almost surgically removed from its spot, along with every single twig and branch it had once held high above our large old home.  (We highly recommend this company, Vt Arborists/SavATree.)

 

Since that day I have thought a lot about that old tree, and how it had, truly, been a part of our family’s experience here on Wellington Street. It is very conspicuous in its absence, and that absence has left a big tree-shaped hole in the appearance of our small front lawn. The squirrels and chipmunks can no longer use it as a lofty bridge to safely get from the wooded lot across the street to our side; the birds who once lived in the tree must, obviously, just be somewhere else now.

 

And we have lost a bit more than a beautiful, if dying old tree from the yard. The adage of a tree being ‘shade in the summer and warmth in the winter’ is a very real occurrence. The many thousands of leaves this one tree produced shaded the entire front of our home from the afternoon summer sun; and fell in the fall, just in time to let that sun into the front rooms the entire winter season.

 

Yes, to our family, the old sugar maple was important, appreciated, and will be missed. It is possible that its giant root system will produce another tree. If this happens, we intend to let it grow, although Lorna and I probably won’t be around to see it become what the old one was. That will be saved for the next generation to own this old home. I’m just glad I have the pictures I took last Thursday. Goodbye old friend.

 

 

The Things I ‘Love’ About Winter

 

By G. E. Shuman

 

Most people who enjoy winter in the North have a few things in common. They either love outdoor sports, like skiing, snowboarding, and snow machining, or they are into making snowmen, snow angels, and other strange snow things. They love awaiting the first snowfall, which normally hits our area before we get our pumpkins carved, and they get excited by that ‘winter wonderland’ feeling of a snowy Christmas. Well, I don’t do or feel much of that. I used to, but not anymore. 

I am pretty sure that aging is directly proportional to a lack of tolerance of cold weather. Either that or I’m just getting cranky in my elder years. I guess that’s why God makes snow birds and sends them off to Florida every winter.

I always ‘look forward’ (joking) to my first winter preparation ‘ritual’ which usually has something to do with fixing the snowblower and checking to see if it is gassed up and actually starts. (The only thing I dislike more than snow blowing is shoveling when there is no gas in the blower. I almost never let that happen.) Getting the thing ready for the first blizzard is just so satisfying. Sure.

I also have an exciting time, usually sometime in January, trying to unscrew the garden hose from the house after there is already ice in it. (I don’t have a garden… just a hose. I’m terrible at growing things.) I am reminded that I didn’t disconnect that hose when I notice it, still attached to the house, while driving into the yard. This is always on the coldest and windiest day of that month. I then go inside, remove my boots, go to the cellar, find the correct wrench, or one that will possibly work, go back up the cellar stairs, put my boots back on and go back outside to undo the hose. I then drag the stiff thing down into the cellar, again. It all seems so familiar. Now I’ll just have to see, again, in the spring, if the hose split and if I will get to buy a nice new one. Yea!

Another thing I love about winter is that I don’t have to mow the lawn. Having a ridiculously small lawn, I shouldn’t complain about taking care of it, but I do, anyway. It is always a joy to me when the lawn finally gives up the ghost sometime in August and just stops growing. I don’t water it with my new yearly garden hose, (I wonder if it will be a bright green one this year.) The hose is mostly just out there so that I can disconnect it when it’s really cold out. I also do, in the summer, wash the cars out there. I also would NEVER buy lawn food. That would not help my feeble lawn grow much, and even if it did help, that wouldn’t help.  A nice snow-covered lawn is smooth, and some people think, pretty. In any case, the snow covers that grass very uniformly and builds up as the frigid days linger. The difference between it and grass is, mostly, that it will get rid of itself after it gets to be a certain height. Sun doesn’t help it grow; it helps it go away, which is good. So, that’s another good thing about winter.

I also get to stay home more in the winter, and I don’t mind that at all. There’s nothing like hunkering down on a cold winter’s night and listening to the furnace run.

Eventually the snow will go, and I will head to the hardware store, peruse the seed display and outdoor tools, (for someone else’s garden,) and pick out my new garden hose. I wonder what color it will be this year.  Like I said, I don’t have a garden, just a hose. I’m terrible at growing things.

 

 

Replacement Resolutions (For men who have already forgotten theirs.)

 

By G. E. Shuman

 

New Year’s resolutions are quite easy to make. Somehow, right around New Year’s Day many of us make some bold decision or other, and also, somehow, many of us keep that ‘resolution’ exactly until the first time we forget to do it. Then it’s just all over.

My ‘resolution,’ although I did not say it was a resolution, was to walk more. I thought I could do that, because more than ‘not at all’ didn’t seem like a big task. Still, it is a week past the start of the year, and I haven’t walked more, yet. The road to the mall is paved with good intentions, or something like that. In any case, that’s where I intended, and still do intend to walk until the weather improves. Then I intend to walk the sidewalks of our town. Ya, okay.

You may have something else in mind, resolution’-wise.  You may intend to lose weight, or get a new job, or save money, or do all three of these or something entirely different than these, this year. Whatever your case may be, isn’t it great, at the very beginning of a new year, to have some brand-new goals too? I think so.

I am a man, and can only speak here for my own gender, but I do have a few suggestions for guys of my age and attitude. If you have not yet resolved to resolve something, how about starting with these things? Or, if you’re like me and have somehow resolved to procrastinate on committing to your resolutions, the following simple things might be just what your new year needs.

Firstly, be polite, have manners. Open doors for ladies, especially older ladies. You may get a few dirty looks in doing so, but I doubt it.  At my age, the older ones are getting harder to find but they are still there.

Use please and thank you. You learned how when you were a little boy, from a lady not unlike the older ones you’re attempting to open doors for now.

Next, do more things for yourself. If you shop at stores that deliver your items right out to your car, don’t use that service. Get your butt out of the car and do your own shopping. You know, if more of us did that we would get more exercise, there would be more parking spaces for all customers, and the stores could train those cart employees to cash people out, like they used to. And then there are the safety issues. A few weeks ago, I was nearly bowled over by three vested zealous employees as they pulled what first appeared to me to be a Smurf Christmas train across the store.

Also, as a man, when you enter a building, maybe a store, but especially a church or someone’s home, take off your danged hat. It isn’t that hard to do. Military men tuck their hats under their armpits without even thinking about it. The rest of us have armpits too… right? I think so.

And, not to put anyone down, but please watch your language? Do this around ladies, children, your mother, and your dog. Using the ‘f’ word, especially, three times in each sentence makes a person sound a bit language-challenged. Sorry.

Say I’m sorry if you’re sorry, like I did at the end of the last suggestion.

Lastly, and possibly most importantly, a great resolution would be to take the advice that the late Fred Rogers once offered when asked to tell the three most important things a person could do in life. His reply? “Be kind, be kind, be kind.”