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Showing posts with the label humanity

Reunited

If you were physically separated from your significant other, for whatever reason, would you still want to get back with him or her after a year? Five years? Thirty? About a month after the Only and Older Bionic Brother was born, the Daddy, a naturalized U.S. citizen, returned to the United States. He realized that there would be more and better opportunities for his children in America than in the Philippines. This was in the late 1940s. He worked hard and within a year, he made enough money to book ship passage for the Mama and their son. The Mama did not want to leave her home and family. The Mama's mother told her that once she married, her life was with her husband's. She, the Mama, no longer belonged to the Grandmother. Thirteen months after the Daddy left, he and the Mama were reunited in their new home in California. The stories of my two ninangs (godmothers) were different from the Mama.  They waited much, much longer to reunite with their spouses. The story of

Bra Time

Names have been changed because I just don't remember them anymore. "Need any help, Bea," a grey-haired woman said heartily, from the doorway of the Friends of the Library Bookstore. "Laurie, good to see you, darling," said the elderly Bea, turning from the bookshelves. "You're not scheduled for today." "I know," Laurie said, walking into the shop. "I had to come down town to pay bills and return books. Since I had to put on a bra, I thought I'd stop by and do a couple of hours if you could use me." Both women laughed. I laughed, too, from the side of the room. Yup. I could hardly wait to get home and take my bra off. I'm participating in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge this month. To check out other participants, click here . See you tomorrow. 

Teaching the Alphabet

"Sometimes it's a good idea to teach A, B, D, C rather than the usual A, B, C, D." That's what I said at a job interview for a youth counselor position in the late 1970s. I cannot recall what the interviewers had asked me, nor can I remember why I chose to give a "thinking out of the box" response.  This was my second interview for the position so perhaps I tried to sabotage myself. I was very good about things like that back then. I did not get the job. No surprise there. But, I figured it was more so because I didn't have the desired skill of being bilingual in Spanish. A month later, the group offered me a temporary position as one of the eligibility officers for its summer youth employment program. That job turned out to be more compatible with my personality. A few days on the job, I met the woman who was hired for the youth counselor position. Unlike me, she had a working relationship with the interviewers, having previously worked with th

One Dime. . .Two. . .Three. . .

"I think I have 86¢," I said, when the fish lady told us the lovely looking rockfish was $5.86. Pulling out a handful of change from my purse, the fish lady said, "Yes, I think you do." I plucked out two quarters, two dimes, a nickel, and a penny from the coins in my hand and put them on the counter. My mind when blank. "How much was it again?" "86¢," said the Husband. I fished out more coins. My mind went blank again. "What was it?" "86¢," he said. I looked down at the change. Total blankness. "What?" "86¢!" I gave up. "Okay, that ought to do it." The fish lady picked up the change, laughing with the Husband and me as we chattered on. "And, to think he has to deal with me everyday," I said while the Husband rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. I noticed the fish lady counting the change. "Did I give you enough?" "More than enough," she said, handing me back tw

www.su-sieeemac.com

I just love it when technical things come together. After all, I am a non-techie, regardless of what others may say. Early this morning, or late last night (depending on your point of view), I received an e-mail saying that my domain names had expired and if I wanted to keep them, I need to renew pronto. So, that I did. I decided to forgo the URL for the old blog and purchase a domain name for Don't Be a Hippie . Purchasing su-sieeemac.com was quite a cheap thrill, I tell you what.  su-sieeemac.com? Yep. I figure I can always use the URL for something else down the line, should I ever cease writing Don't Be a Hippie . For once, I'm looking ahead. Anyway, a few minutes ago, I keyed in the right combination of words and numbers to have Don't Be a Hippie appear in the browser when I plug su-sieeemac.com into the appropriate bar. Whooo-hooo! Another cheap thrill. I think I will count this feat as a Doing 60 . The little things count, too, in my book. So, as not

Closing Up

Update : May 20, 2013 Today, I decided to merge the old and new blogs. There are just too many posts from "This and That. Here and There. Now, Sometimes Then" that I want to keep alive.  ~Su- sieee ! Mac  It has been over two months since my last post. I have mumbled several times to the husband, "I'm going to stop blogging This and That . Each time, he replied, "I thought you already have." Yeah. Well. I finally am. This is it. My last post. For this blog, that is. I've decided to start another blog. The husband  will be surprised. The new blog is called Don't Be a Hippie. . . Now and Then . Its focus is more selfish. I shall be revealing as much as I dare about myself through my memories, stories of my elders, and everyday experiences. At least that's what I think. Thank you Dear Readers and fellow Bloggers for your kindly visits and generous support. I hope you'll stop by my new blog. ~ Su- sieee! Mac

The Wearing of Red

I do feel sspassazzy about wearing something red now that I'm a young "old" fogey. Nope, not a red hat. Though I did learn I could've joined the Red Hat Society several years ago. Yesterday, I bought myself a red lacy brassiere. Ooh la-la, indeed. First time, I've ever owned a red one. Wonder why I never got one before. I liked the way I felt free, invincible, and joyful when I tried it on, similar to how I feel after having cut my hair very short. Do I feel this same way when I wear a red frock, red shoes, or red earrings? Not that I can recall, but then I rarely wear red because it is such a visible color. Hello, stop sign. When I was in eighth grade, the mama made me a lovely red dress. She was disappointed that I didn't like to wear it. Ah, kids. I would definitely wear it today. How about you? How does wearing red make you feel? 

Hmmm. A Poem.

 

Xenophile, Xenophobe

Today's letter is X . For more X posts, please click here . Xenophile: A person who likes foreign people and things. Xenophobe: A person who is very afraid, for no sane reason, of anything foreign and, in particular, of people of foreign origin. These two words are right next to each other in the dictionary, at least in mine it is. Anybody else see the irony in that? Xenophobe coming after xenophile , that is. Seeing the two words together made me think of a few things: My uncle and aunt lived in California but they couldn't get married there. I don't remember what year it was, but, it was before the state anti-miscegenation law was repealed in 1948. They had to travel to another state to tie the knot. I wonder if going back home was their honeymoon. When I was in high school, 40 years ago, a friend told me that he didn't think he was going to like me because he had heard some ranchers talk about my brother and me. One of the ranchers had said something like: "Tho

The Vow

Today's letter is V . For more V posts, please click here . "When I'm gone, you take care of your mother," the daddy suddenly said to me one evening. He did not wait for my response. He knew I would promise. I was in my late 20s. At the time, the mama and I still clashed, mostly about what my life should be. At the time, I really didn't think I could ever live with her again. Several days was about all I could handle being around her. Thirty years later, the husband and I have been living with the Mama for over seven years now.  It took at least the first four years for each of us to get the hang of starting to live together. That's life.  Nothing wrong with that. The almost 90-year old Mama has slowed down. But only some. When she gets it in her head that she wants something done, she wants it done pronto, and she wants to do it by herself. Usually, she comes up with these projects while we're away.  For instance, one morning she asked that we help

United We Stand

Today's letter is U . For more U posts, please click here . This message is strong in my head and heart today. So, I shall leave it to Aesop and the Brotherhood of Man to deliver it.  The Four Oxen and the Lion by Aesop translated by George Fyler Townsend ( Public Domain Translation of Aesop's Fables Selections) A Lion used to prowl about a field in which Four Oxen used to dwell. Many a time he tried to attack them; but whenever he came near they turned their tails to one another, so that whichever way he approached them he was met by the horns of one of them. At last, however, they fell a-quarrelling among themselves, and each went off to pasture alone in a separate corner of the field. Then the Lion attacked them one by one and soon made an end of all four. United we stand, divided we fall.  

Random rambling

I've been feeling muddle-headed lately. Too many brain lapses. Quite a lot of pressing of the delete button. Sigh. So, bear with me, dear readers, as I ramble forward to clear my mind with random thoughts. Random thought number one. Big birds (maybe the doves) splatted big time on the side of the car and the driveway. Very rude! Especially since we leave bird seeds out every day. Random thought number two. The husband got a surprise check for $100 yesterday. It was part of a cash settlement in a class action law suit against a large drug distributor that was alleged to have set drug prices wrongfully high. The husband had no idea it was taking place. The company settled rather than go to court because it would be cheaper to pay $350 million today. In settling, the company does not formally admit to wrongdoing. That part is what always astounds me about corporations that get away with crime. Random thought number three. I have publishing deadlines over the next two years. I hope I

The Mystery of the Christmas Presents

Sitting on our doorstep are two Christmas bags that someone left on our doorstep. The husband and I found it when we came home yesterday evening. Somebody must've come by when the mama was sweeping leaves in her garden. We brought them in and looked for tags to identify the givers. One said "Delsa" and the other said "Happy Thanksgiving." Obviously, someone left the presents at the wrong house. So, of course the husband and I headed back outside and knocked on a few neighbors' doors. No luck at all.  Nobody was home at the house where we think the intended giftee lives. And, the other neighbors couldn't help us. All we can do is try again come morning. We set the presents on the doorstep in case the ones who left them finally realize they got the wrong house and come back for them. I surely hope they do.  The paranoid part of me wonders if the presents contain contraband or a bomb. But, I suppose if it was the latter, we would've heard something ti

Thank you, Senator Sanders!

Thank you, Senator Sanders for having the guts and balls to state so clearly how wrong it is to extend the tax cuts, as well as to cut the estate tax rate, for the very, very, very rich.  Thank God, we have someone in Congress who has the guts and balls to tell it as it is. Senator Bernie Sanders, the progressive Democrat from Vermont, spoke on the Senate floor for more than 8-1/2 hours yesterday. Click here to see a video of his speech. In my mind, Senator Sanders embodies what a politician is supposed to be—one who advocates for the American people. I also think Senator Sanders embodies the true meaning and spirit of Christmas. And that leads me to today's Christmas song. Here is a 1916 recording of "Oh, Holy Night" performed by Enrico Caruso.

The Unattended Little Boy

The little boy, maybe 2 and a half or so, stood on the edge of the lawn pointing happily at the red and orange leaves in the gutter. He wore no hat nor gloves. He had on no shoes or socks. He wore only a short-sleeved tee-shirt and thin shorts. The temperature was in the 50s. What the heck was he doing outside? As we pedaled by him on our bicycles, I did not see any adult keeping tabs on him. Odd. A few houses down the street, an elderly man was mucking about in his garage. "Excuse me," I called, hopefully, "Are you missing a boy?" "No," he said. "Is there one missing?" "There's a little boy on the corner. He isn't wearing any shoes or socks." "That's not good," said the man looking up the street.  "Do you know where he might live?" "No," said the old man. The husband and I turned back. The little boy couldn't or wouldn't answer any of our questions. "What's your name?" &q

The Ups and Downer of the Weekend

Because Veterans Day fell on a Thursday this year, the past weekend was a four-day one for some folks. A few of our friends think that the husband and I have a seven-day weekend because we work at home. I say they're just envious. But, I admit that if I ever had to do a 9 to 5 job again, it would be a very difficult adjustment. So, knock on wood that won't need to be. Anyway, back to the highlights of the weekend. Thursday The husband and I went downtown to watch the Veterans Day Parade. That was the first time I've been to one. Ever. It was a short, but fun, parade.  If you love a small town parade, come to Hollister, California.  A couple weeks ago was the high school homecoming parade. A couple of weeks from now will be the "Hey, it's time for Christmas!" parade. That's not the real name, but you know what I mean. Other annual parades that march through downtown include the Portuguese Festival Parade ,  the Horse Show and Rodeo Parade , and the Mexican

Sunday 160: A Change in Routine

The mama constantly works. She sows and maintains her gardens. She breaks to eat lunch and to read the daily news. Today she also napped.  Unusual. We both wondered. The Sunday 160 is hosted by the Monkey Man. A 160 is 160 characters, including spaces. To learn about it and to read other bloggers' Sunday 160, head over to this page .

A Special 23rd Date

Fourteen years ago, about the same time as I'm writing this, I'm getting food ready for the next day's festivity. Getting married to the husband, it was. Fourteen years ago, about an hour or so from now, I will have finally laid down beside a very anxious husband-to-be. He would be so anxious, he would not be able to sleep. And, that would mean I would not get to sleep. "We can still call it off," I will have said. "No, we can't," he will have replied. "Yes, we can." "No, we can't. People are coming." "We can call them up first thing in the morning." "No, we can't." "Yes, we can." "You've already made the food." "I can put it in the freezer." "We don't have to get married," I will have said. "We already got the license," he will have replied. "Do you want to marry me?" "Yes, I do." "What's the problem?" "You

Sunday 160: A Successful Turn

“Pretend that you are a car,” Lisa said to us three novices. “Show confidence.” We four pedaled onto the busy street. 100 feet later, we signaled and turned left. The Sunday 160 is hosted by the Monkey Man. To learn about it and to read other bloggers' Sunday 160, head over to this page .

Happy Labor Day, One and All!

To one and all, thank you! I raise up my glass of water to all the men, women, and children today and throughout our country's history who have toiled and boiled and troubled to build and maintain our public infrastructure; tend the fields and put food on our tables; create, produce, and sell the goods we use; make sure all business, administrative, and financial services are done; educate and inform us; and perform every other job under the sun. Without sweet willing labor, governments, small businesses, and multinational corporations could not prosper, and the rich could not become filthy rich! May we all have raises tomorrow.  A gal can dream. I am grateful for a national holiday that honors the American worker. And that's what we all are, whether or not we are employed at the moment and whether or not we are U.S. citizens, permanent residents, or immigrant workers.  I hope you're all having a nice break from your regular routine. Watching cartoons is a nice break. So, f