Spreading the Cheer


Big Star Tree

 

Little tree thought of the gift
given by him,
then the big tree said with the
happiest grin,
“We’re not just trees,
but a reminder of that day,
there’s a much bigger part,
of a role that we play!”

 

Memory of a Sale


 

 

Memory of a Sale

 

 

 

by Melba Christie

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was a crisp and sunny day in October. Columbus Day to be exact and she had the day off because her boss was a native Italian from Genoa and he had made it a tradition to close the small men’s clothing factory where my mother worked for twenty years. I was off from school and mom wanted to get in on the Columbus Day sales at her favorite department stores Alexander’s and Hearn’s. This shopping spree of sorts had become a ritual and I looked forward to getting a new pleaded skirt and maybe a new pair of shoes. Barely a month shy from my birthday my mom would be able to afford an additional gift for me if the price was right.

 

 

 

We started out early in comfortable flats. We would arrive in time to actually stand in line for an hour along with a few hundred other shoppers ready to race into the store. Mom planned the trajectory for the stores we would visit and strategized for getting to the right store at the precise time. She scheduled the first store based upon how many bargains she could get in one stop. Factored into her plan was the original prices of items and how truly discounted they actually turned out to be. She was astute and knew that many times prices inflated a few days before the big sales day and then was suddenly reduced to 50 or 75 percent from the original price. Her shopping afforded no luxuries. The budget was slim and she was disciplined enough to buy only what was needed. Dad had passed away a year earlier so we needed to be careful not to go over. Mom always bragged about how she learned to be a great accountant without having stepped a foot into college. She had survived the Depression and knew that every penny counted. Widowed twice and left with very little resources taught her many lessons about managing her money and economics in general. I still cannot imagine how she ever survived those hard times. People complain about our economic woes today; well my mom could have been a consultant.

 

 

 

That one day though she had secretly planned to visit another store. I managed to talk her into getting me a new pocket book and I couldn’t wait to get home to stuff it with things. But as usual we stopped to eat at Nathan’s. She loved their fries. I loved their hot dogs. After lunch she detoured from our usual route and nonchalantly announced that she wanted to go into the furniture store and ask about the French provincial chair and sofa that was on display. As we walked into the fancy store I wanted to remind her that we could not afford any of the furniture. I thought she had lost her mind. But I remained quiet because I knew that once she had made up her mind about something there was no changing it.

 

 

 

She walked straight to the golden brocaded sofa. Her hand caressed the fabric and for the first time in many months I saw her smile again. A few minutes of silence ensued and she proceeded to sit on the edge of the sofa slowing sliding her body onto the back of the sofa. A soft sigh slipped out and she asked me if I liked the sofa. It really was not the type of thing I could fully appraise at the time. I was barely fourteen but I could tell she was in love with it. My brain did not realize that I had started talking and I heard myself saying, “I love it mom.” Another smile adorned her face and I say this because when my mom smiled (which was very rare) it seemed that the whole world was waiting for it.

 

 

 

The salesman walked over. I had caught him watching my mom’s every move from a few feet away. He was going for the kill. He knew that an affair had begun and that a sales pitch would not be required this time. My mom was smart. She had done her homework. She was determined to get the sofa and the chair for the lowest price possible. Little did the salesman realize he was up for a trading battle. I watched as she masterfully haggled down the manufacturer’s suggested retail price to two hundred dollars less. She filled out some forms and the next thing I know is that they were arranging the delivery date. It ended up being what would have been her wedding anniversary. The whole thing was bitter sweet. The day it arrived she did not sit on any of the pieces. She sat in my dad’s old raggedy arm chair and stared at it. Come to think of it she never sat on the sofa. However, she loved it when company sat comfortably on it. She sat on the green brocaded French provincial chair. She’d come home and sat on it like one of the women chosen queen on the daytime show. It was in that chair that my son was first introduced to famous children’s stories from her native Puerto Rico. I sat on it only a few times. Most times I just squeezed in beside her side during those very special mother daughter moments. I finally gave it away one day years after she died. It remains very vivid in my mind though. It was a chair most definitely fit for a queen.

 

 

 

 

 

Chair
This brocade pattern is very similar to the one on my mother’s French provincial chair.

 

 

 

 

 

Another Award to Cherish


loyal-reader-award

I was bestowed this award for simply following the stories of a mother who stood by her adult daughter with great courage and passion for life. Unfortunately the daughter lost her battle with the illness that debilitated her. Tersia Burger’s courage is not one to be measured but a measure to aspire. I applaud her unconditional love for her beautiful daughter. It must have been so difficult to write her pain. But I am sure she helped so many others in the process. So Tersia I am once again humbled by your award. http://tersiaburger.com/2013/07/01/the-loyal-reader-award/

She posed a question and here it is:

If you were on a deserted island, how would you survive?

I would survive simply because I can cope with solitude. However, I would suffer great grief if I would be separated from my family. Another few things that would disappoint me would be not having a Barnes and Noble close by and of course a Dunkin Donut shop.

 

Here are some of my loyal readers who read my blog and leave comments. I apologize if I left out anyone I should have acknowledged as a loyal reader.  The list is in no particular order:

 

http://en.gravatar.com/marlynsuarezexconde

http://en.gravatar.com/laikc1

http://en.gravatar.com/rheath40

http://en.gravatar.com/marlynsuarezexconde

http://en.gravatar.com/donscrooby

http://en.gravatar.com/tersiaburger

 https://iphoneographydaily.wordpress.com/

http://tooyoungtofeelold.wordpress.com/

 http://en.gravatar.com/kford2007

http://en.gravatar.com/lucywilliamspoetry

http://en.gravatar.com/lorrainemariereguly

http://en.gravatar.com/advocatemmmohan

http://en.gravatar.com/jenniferdavid6

 

Nothing Like An Old Love Song


“In life there are loves that cannot be forgotten.”

This is the first line of an old love song (almost considered

a solemn hymn for lovers) by a very popular Puerto Rican singer and bandleader named

Tito Rodriguez. The lyrics are in Spanish but

even if you did not know what he was saying you

felt the emotion coming through. My parents

danced to this song in our kitchen, of all places.

I found it so silly when I first saw them gazing into each other’s eyes and

singing along with the Puerto Rican crooner of all time. He was our

version of Frank Sinatra.

LP 33

He is known by many fans as “El Inolvidable” (The Unforgettable)

He died a few years after my dad did. My mother played his music all day that day.

I grew to love the songs and memorized many of the ballads. Today by chance one of

There is nothing like an old love song

those songs was playing on a local Spanish language radio station.

The images that flashed back into by brain and heart

brought a smile to my face and tears to my eyes. I imagined them dancing

in paradise now and close by was that old record player where they played the vinyl LPs.

And there is no doubt in my mind that Tito is serenading them.

There is nothing like an old love song to warm the heart.

Tito: thanks for the memories.

Please tell me about some love songs that bring back these kinds of memories

moments


 

I love this word. It implies an instant in time that may never repeat itself. Measurable only to the extent that it is memorable or special. Moments become timeless. Then there is the Aha! moment. I have had a few of those    change my life. Someone once said that there is no happiness only moments of happiness. Precious moments could be classified as moments of happiness. But some moments can be appraised as awkward. Can someone’s awkward moment be another’s precious moment? Van Goethe said, “every second is of infinite value.” So we may want to seize the moment to make sure that we stay in the present as much as possible. I want to make sure that the moments I may be able to produce for others are touching moments and become cherished by the receiver. I just wrote a poem about a poet who tries to describe the moments in his life that count. Here it is. Please take a moment and reply or comment.

 

The Poet in the Moment

The poet waited for a moment because it was all he could spare at the time.

He waited for the muse who had promised to visit him everyday to inspire a poem.

In the meantime, moments paraded in his head, This is what he saw:

A moment of glory when he won the race,

The moment he kissed his sweetheart for the first time,

The moment he discovered himself,

The moment faith was restored in his heart.

The proud moment his parents felt when he graduated from college.

The one moment he thought he had lost his mind.

The moment he prayed and asked God to save his mom.

The moment his first son was born.

The moment he remembered what he had forgotten.

Then, he looked up to the sky and saw a falling star

and thought to himself there goes my poem.

Melba Christie

 

 

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Clocks and Time


An illustration from the book "The Cuckoo...
An illustration from the book “The Cuckoo Clock” by Mrs. Molesworth. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Cuckoo Clock
Cuckoo Clock (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“Even the most expensive clock still shows sixty minutes in every hour.” Time makes me nervous lately. It makes me pay more attention to the clocks around me. I hate that. It must be I am getting older and that time has finally caught up with me. It may also be that I appreciate now more than ever the time I have to do the things I love to do and especially the precious moments employed in speaking to my grandson, children and others who are now so far away from the coup.

We have a cuckoo clock that would make me a little crazy when it wanted to inform me of the time. I found it annoying but now it seems to soothe me in a way. It reminds me that time is timeless and that it is so precious.

I never wear a watch because I was never worried about time. But now I am in the market for getting a good watch. But then I read somewhere the quote I copied at the beginning of my entry today. But is it really worth it for me to buy an expensive watch now. By the way, it is 4:34 AM. My eyes were wide open at 3:52 AM. This thought of time and clocks entered my brain and so I could not sleep another minute.

This morning, I looked at all the clocks around the house and of course none were in sync with each other. I always set the clock about ten minutes ahead in the bedroom, the rest simply fall back a few minutes and some I do not even bother changing when it is time to spring forward or fall back an hour. But I must have this internal clock because I seem to have a sixth sense about time. I verify if my time predictions are correct and they always are. So I think I will not get me the watch after all. I am my own timekeeper and I am at my best when I live in the present and do not worry about time at all.

Today is May


May Day Postcard
May Day Postcard (Photo credit: paukrus)

I visited a memory today

from many moons ago

This very first day of May

We sang and danced
around the maypole
that must have been
five stories tall
and my dear friend E—
chuckled as I looked up
in awe of swirling, winding ribbons

of crimson, fuchsia, and baby blue
and became a little dizzy as I always do
when I go round and round and round

I can hear the sounds
of flutes and shakers
announcing spring is here

a memory visited me today
this very first day of May
and one thing’s true
I still have you
my friend
to share this glance into yesteryear

 

  • May Day (recipeforabeautifullife.wordpress.com)

A Poem of Titles


On the Road 

to Amazing Grace

The Sunflower 

reminds me that

Life is a Miracle

Sometimes,

The Spirit Catches You

and You Fall Down

But we all have

Brothers and Keepers

to lift us back up.

* This names many of my Great Books for young people and anyone who loves to read.

What are your favorite books. Try Writing a Poem using the titles.

Tomorrow is Poem in Your Pocket Day. Check out the different activities that you can do at the office, school or simply at home.

To the true seekers of light


 True seeker of the Light

no matter whether it’s night

or day

the path is clear

and here to stay

and in your foresight

to really see

and to Be

you and me

all of us within

the Creator

of all that is Good.

The path is paved

with stardust

and seeds of

new generations.

Take this Path

for it is Right

That leads to the only One

that is the Light,

the Truth.