A Paper Life

I have my paper trail all laid out. On the bed, on the card table, on the top of my desk and one or two things on the floor. Some of the files are in order. The telephone bills and the utility bills. I have found one or two more things that may be helpful, however I am coming close to making some long distance calls! What I have learned is that when you start looking for that proverbial needle in a haystack, you have much more hay than you bargained for! And in so many little cubbyholes! I have at least two places left to go through. Oh, I’m keeping everything spread out! I want to cull the duplicates - there’s a lot of them - and create a better order of my paper life.

A paper life. In the paperless world that has been talked about for so long, and has yet to come, we still need a paper trail. Like cookie crumbs we drop through the years to lead us back to a starting place when we need to find our way again. It has actually been quite fascinating to piece together, bit by bit, where I have been, how far I have travelled in life, and where I have arrived today. Certainly there are gaps, or I wouldn’t still be on the hunt, but my memory fills in many of the gaps with faces and names, struggles and joys. Have I found any regrets? A few, but without them I would not have gained important self knowledge. For that I am grateful! 

“Tossing away a piece of paper is clearly taboo.”

~ Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl

Supported

Supported

Simplicity was her middle name. Melodie hated the name she once loved. When everyone at school had found out, she had been called Simple, Simpering, and Simply Pimply. One of the guys, one of the cool guys that she was head over heels in love with, shouted at her one day in the hall filled with students - “Hey Simple-minded, don’t bother writing your exams!” Well she wasn’t in love with him any more and he was definitely not cool. What a jerk. The roving band of ‘popular girls’ always hung around him and his buddies. They picked up where the guys left off with their taunts and cruel jokes.

Melodie was fourteen. Not a pretty girl but definitely not ugly - except for the pimples that kept sprouting all over her face. They had earned her the horrible nickname ‘Simply Pimply’. Every time she looked in the mirror she cried and slathered on more concealer that really only made things worse. And got her worse names like Cake Face. So she had fixed her makeup so it didn’t look all cake-y. She brushed her auburn curls still they gleamed then pulled them neatly into a pony tail tied with a plain ribbon. Melodie was tall. Too tall for a fourteen year old according to the same bullies that called her names. She always wore flat shoes and tried to stay in the background, not always with success.

The bullying was almost more than she could bear. For a long time Melodie had kept silent, but her mom and dad finally butted in, like they always did and asked her what was wrong. It was at breakfast one morning. When they started asking her why she had been so quiet, she just looked down at her lap as though she had spilled something. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes and tried desperately to shut them off. They would make her makeup run and she’d be late for the bus and…..and…..

‘Oh, honey. What is the matter?’ Her mom got up out of her chair and came to her. Her dad’s coffee cup halted in mid air. ‘What’s going on?’

Their conversation went on for most of the morning. Once the truth had come out, Melodie’s father called the school and told them his daughter was sick. She wouldn’t be in today and he would call again tomorrow. Melodie was terrified. If anyone found out it would just be worse. What could her parents do? But she was trapped at school and now at home not knowing what to do. Then she heard her mother calling her boss. Her mom called in sick but asked to speak to the Employee Counsellor there. And then her dad called in to his office and said he wouldn’t be in.

Over the next two weeks, Melodie’s life changed….not in leaps and bounds…but she didn’t feel alone with her problem any more. She was not returning to the same school, but she knew that the school's principle, her old teachers and the school counsellor knew about her problem. The new school had an Anti-bullying Program. She joined it right away, partially on the advice of her parents and new teachers, but because she was so tired of feeling like the biggest victim ever. She had been introduced to others that had faced the same problem. And to people that just wanted to understand and help. She learned that all the make-up she’d been using was just making her pimples worse - just like her mom said it would.

Melodie returned to loving her beautiful name: Melodie Simplicity Jones. Her smile returned and she stood straight and tall. A happy ending, but not without a lot of work to find happiness again.

“Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim.”

~ Tim Field

The Groups of Wonderfulness

Ma    Mom    Mother    Momma    Step-mom    Auntie

A string of words that call up the names from The Groups of Wonderfulness

I know…..some  may have seemed not so wonderful for their own reasons

none of those names to be written here

The Groups of Wonderfulness accepted the challenge 

The challenge of motherhood without 

a written text book   an instruction manual   a policy and procedure manual

Such manuals are only in oral history passed down from

Great-great grandmothers   Great grandmothers   Grandmothers 

And all the Aunties and Stepmothers down the ancestral years.

The one principle common to all Groups of Wonderfulness

Love and protect the children until……………..

“People are wonderful one at a time. Each one of them has an 

entire hologram of the universe somewhere within them.”

~ George Carlin, Last Words

What's in a Name? ~ 2

What's in a Name?

‘Trust.’ Now why would any parent call a child ‘Trust’. Naming him a quality and not just a name. Something ordinary like Richard or Elliot. Something more distinguished. As a kid, Trust had been given all sorts of nicknames - Trusty Rusty, Truss, Russ, Trusteroony……..  Children, especially twelve year old boys, were not the nicest, but Trust’s posse was always posturing and joking with one another. One day, Trust looked up his name on the internet. He learned that trust means 'belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone’. As he was scrolling around he also checked out baby names to see if any of them meant Trust. It took a long time, but he really was curious. Rai, a Japanese boy's name, meant trust and it did sound almost ordinary.

From that moment, he called himself Raymond. He announced the change to his family and friends and when anyone called him Trust or any of the other nicknames, he corrected them. As he grew older, he met new people that did not know him by any other name. Now Trust/Raymond was eighty-five and reviewing his life.  A whole lot of living had carried him through the years. He finally felt quite grateful for being named Trust. As a young man, he had wrestled with his name as he did when trying to get a too tight jacket off his growing shoulders. When he took the new name, he felt like he had thrown that old jacket away and into the dustbin. But he hadn’t. In reality, he had folded that name up carefully, placing it in his front pocket. Unknown to him, it became a light for him. A light that glowed dimly but always shone through his eyes. The trust that he learned how to use was always wrapped in kindness. 

Later, Raymond had been doing some genealogy research online and in suitcases stored in the attic. He had come across old letters between his mother and her sister, his aunt that told the story of his parent's life before he was even a thought. His mother and father had tried to have children, had lived in an inhospitable land and had no reason to believe that either situation would change. No children had been conceived despite a ten year marriage and the land they lived in had grown completely and dangerously unsettled. His mother and father, now in their thirty’s put their trust in a move far away from their homeland. Some of the people they had to work with were completely untrustworthy, but there were more who could be counted on to honour their promises, large or small.

Once his parents were settled in their new home, far from the culture and beliefs they were raised with, his mother came to his father with the joyful news that she was pregnant. Once more they had to trust others. Trust in a new medical system, a doctor whose accent was foreign to them and new neighbours for advice about raising children in the midst of this great change.

The pregnancy, though not without it’s difficulties, was fairly uneventfall.  Emotional ups and downs rocked his mother’s carefully organized life. When he was born, a squalling, red-faced and energetic baby, Trust was the only name they felt they could give him. Trust they had placed in others, the God they had grown up with and in each other had steadied their lives. Now this child was born that would trust them without question to love and shelter him. They chose to honour that Trust.

And so, at eighty five, Raymond, who had been named Trust, began to tell this story. The story that his parents had kept hidden as part of a past they had left behind. There were those who listened with interest and there were who just thought it was the ravings of an old man. After all, who would ever name a child ‘Trust’?

“There are few things more powerful than a name. 

A single phrase that somehow becomes a symbol for an entire existence.”

~ Lance Conrad, The Prince of Creation

What's in a Name? ~ 1

Hi! 

Let me introduce myself. 

My name is Epilepsy

I live around the corner

down the street

across the city

throughout the province and the nation

with cousins around the planet!

Oh ~ no that’s wrong.

Epilepsy is not my name.

My name is Susan Marlene and

this is what I learned about my name:

From Writer’s Group March  7, 2014

‘Two given names which each sound rather bland, have history from Hebrew times. Susan, from Middle Egyptian means Lotus flower. It’s meaning continues with the definition ‘cheery, joyful and bright!’ (The ‘bright’ part has been excluded for today.)

Marlene, reminiscent of Marlene Dietrich, in my mind has always been smoky and bluesy. Marlene, also purports to be a combination name ~ ‘Mar’ from Mary or Maria; ‘lene’ from Magdalene. Marlene is also said to mean ‘star of the sea’ and in Hebrew ‘high tower’. My reference from www.sheknows.com also says that individuals with the name Marlene enjoy change, adventure and excitement. (Marlenes can also be untidy.)’

So all in all, my names are not at all bland!
Exotic, interesting and really quite grand.

Epilepsy is merely a diagnosis.

My name is Susan ~ what's yours?

Naming Noodles

Noodles wild cousin and his buddy.

Naming Noodles

“Oh no, we’ve lost the gold fish!”  

Not that I was especially perturbed.  It wasn’t my gold fish. I only went with my girlfriend, Melissa, who was really responsible for the gold fish, to look good. How big a job would it be to get a gold fish!?

Melissa had been sent to the pet store to pick up a gold fish for her little brother, Patrick. It was the little guy’s birthday and he said that  was what he wanted. No action figures, no ball glove, not even free movie tickets! Just a gold fish. Mrs. Finamer, their mom, already had the gold fish bowl at home hidden in a top cupboard in the kitchen.  And I thought taking her for lunch while we were out would help me score points.  

Anyway, Melissa and I stopped at the pet store first. Of course, we had to look at the ‘cute puppies’ and ‘adorable kittens’ before Melissa bought and paid for the fish. The clerk, a guy I knew from school, put it in a plastic bag that went in a box with a handle. I was supposed return Melissa straight home so we could set up the gold fish bowl with a gold fish in it before the birthday party. But, because we were in a mall, on a Saturday, we decided to look in a few stores. Ya' know CD’s n’ stuff. Then we went to the food court so I could buy Melissa lunch. We both got Chinese noodles, with shrimp and green onions, chow mein and fried rice. Talking and laughing while we ate, we forgot all about the gold fish and her brother’s birthday party. We were just carrying our trays over to the trash bins in the food court when my girlfriend started to cry.

“What’s wrong now?? You were happy and laughing two minutes ago?”

“Omigod!  Where’s the gold fish? What did you do with it?”

“What did I do with it? You had it last?” 

“Stop!  Don’t empty your tray! It’s a noodle box! They all look the same!”  

Even I panicked then! I had just about thrown the gold fish away.  So, I set the tray, loaded with crumpled napkins, chopsticks and noodle boxes, down on a table. Sure enough, we had five noodle boxes ~ we only got enough for four boxes. I looked carefully into each noodle box, throwing away the empties, until I was left with just one. The gold fish was still swimming about in his plastic bag - but did look as though he needed a better swimming pool.

Mrs. Finamer was not very happy with us when we finally got back.  She likes me though, so I got her smiling, almost, when I told her our story. “We even got a name for the little guy. He’s so darn cute.” I really had a hard time saying that, but I felt scared that I’d get kicked out of Melissa’s house.

Mrs. Finamer's arms folded, foot tapping, trying not to smile said “What is it? It had better be good, and something that’s appropriate for Patrick to hear.”

“Of course it is Mrs. Finamer. ‘Noodles’. Here, let me put Noodles in that fresh water. Look at him. He loves his new home, he’s gonna love Patrick and he loves his name.”

Saved. Mrs. Finamer couldn’t be serious any more. She burst out laughing “You know you really should have come right back. I’ll forgive this one......and ah, Noodles is a good name.”

“If you want a happy ending, that depends , 

of course, on where you stop your story.”

~ Orson Welles