As if to lend just a little levity to all the doom and gloom we’ve heard on the news lately (COVID-19; incompetent governments; shortages of everyday things like toilet paper), I am watching the snow fall outside my office window, which looks out on Lake Lorene, back of our house. I know its’ not much, but it is just a little funny–especially since it’s March 13th (yes, a Friday) and we are planning a weekend getaway in our new RV.
And I realize you’re never supposed to start a sentence with “so” (as in this articles title), or “and” (as in this sentence),but I thought it a little odd that all of this is happening all at this moment. I’m thinking about my mom, who was born on the 13th (not sure it was Friday). She led an extremely lucky life, despite the birthday. Furthermore, it was her indefatigable, positive outlook that always seemed to put her (and all of us) through. As they say, she never had a mean word to say about anybody. Okay, there were those pesky neighbors that never seemed to be able to mind their own business (yes, my mom used the phrase “mind your own beeswax” frequently).
We grew up in the snow. Not the sissy sort of snow that’s falling on the lake right now. But real, big-flake snow that fell in below-zero temperatures, and stuck around for awhile.
What I usually do first thing in the morning, in my office, is meditate. I was just about to do that when I thought, “You know, it’s snowing. There’s not much else going on today. Why not ‘scribble’ a few words.” Not that we ever scribble anything anymore.
One last word about my mom. She was no Luddite. She had 286 computer (remember those?) and a dot-matrix printer, and she knew how to use both. A few days ago, I baked some pink New Years cookies. The recipe was care-of my mom, and her 286 computer, and her dot-matrix printer. Part of her legacy? A cookbook, with all the old family recipes, that she gave to each of her kids. I’ve still got mine.