While gleaning old files, and shredding in front of the TV, I ran across this letter, attached to a policy that has been cashed in…….thought you would enjoy a little of the ‘old days’ of explanation.
I AM YOUR POLICY
You and I have purpose in this world, which,when broken down, are quite similar. It is YOUR job to provide food, clothing, shelter, schooling, medicine and sundry other things for your loved ones; you do this while I lie in your strong box.
I must have faith and trust in YOU, Mr. Policyholder, for out of your earnings will come the cost of MY upkeep. At times I may appear to be somewhat worthless to you–, but someday (and who knows when) you and I will change places.
When you are laid to rest, I will come alive and do YOUR job. I will provide the food, clothing, shelter, schooling, medicine and other things your family will continue to need — just as you are now doing. When YOUR work and toil is done, MINE will begin, through ME, your hands will carry on.
Whenever you feel the price you are paying for my upkeep is burdensome, remember, that I WILL DO MORE FOR YOU AND YOUR FAMILY THAN YOU CAN EVER DO FOR ME.
Mr. Policyholder, if you do your part, I will do mine.
Friends….they come in all sizes, shapes, colors, and years. I find in my case, most of my friends, didn’t start out day 1 being, what I call, a ‘friend’. I knew them in grade school. Their desk was beside mine. It didn’t matter if they were male or female. Either we clicked in second grade, or we didn’t. Maybe we shared recess and that was all…..never knowing anything else about each other. It wasn’t really important, was it? Maybe we played musical instruments together in the band….remember those ‘flute’ things we all started on…..before choosing the ‘instrument of choice’. Maybe we walked to school together and then went our separate ways to different classes. I remember how we would meet “at the corner’ and share our lives, as we knew them, til we got to school. Yes, we did walk to school, a mile one way, and we came home for lunch too. How wonderful it was, and still is, to grow up in a small town.
My grade school friends have become my life long friends……there were birthday parties, slumber parties, and chili suppers, and basketball games. We marched together in the band on the coldest of football Fridays, and sweat up a storm in the July 4th Parade.
In our neighborhood we had all ages of friends….some were 5 years younger and some were 5 years older. We all had come to the neighborhood at the same time when the little National Homes were being built in the early 50’s. Everyone had younger brothers and sisters, who were definitely in the way, so we girls had our private times sitting on the curb under the street light, taking walks around the block, sitting under the maple trees catching lightning bugs, and laying on a blanket underneath the stars before the dew fell.
From late spring til late fall we played ‘kick the can’ until our parents called us in…..or in my case, rang the bell. My mother had a school bell and we all knew that when the bell rang, that ment ‘come home and come home now!’ I think if someone would ring a school bell now, at age 68, I would suddenly become 12 again.
Later on the friendships seemed to solidify, and we all felt comfortable venturing outside our town to Girl Scout Camp for 2 weeks and then to church camp for a week where we met ‘boys’. I don’t know who was the most scared. Oh, thank goodness for friends.
As I continued on this journey, thru school, and jobs, and marriage, and kids, and divorce, etc, etc…..there are many acquaintances who have come and gone. The neighborhood I grew up in, transformed to the first apartment, and then house I shared with 4 other girls. My marriage brought me to a new town with our first home, and, as if in some large orderly plan, a friendly street, where my children would come to repeat the process. And so it goes.
My Christmas card list is full of friends. Even today there are those I meet who may become part of this precious list. As I address each card, thoughts of how we came to share our lives, some by mere coincidence, come to mind. Our babies are long gone, our work in the Jaycees, long forgotten, our church suppers and Sunday school teaching, turned over to the young adults, but our friendship, our memories, our defeats, and our successes, remain as bright and clear as if it were yesterday.
Friends…….I am so blessed they came to enrich my life….
came for a rainy weekend..to see his mom, that’s me. Movies, eating out, TV, computer questions, ideas, friendship, more food, barnes/noble, mall, questions and answers, so nice just being grown up together.
They file in, greet one another, and begin to survive another day. They are troopers, united by their fight and in the fight. Their spouses or friends come because they need help in getting there. Their medicine makes them die, just a little….Each day they die a little more, and when the treatments end, their will to live is that of the bravest on the fields of war. They wear kerchiefs, sit in wheelchairs, walk with a cane, or move in moble chairs. They are wonderous in their dedication to die a little to live. I bow, as a humble bystander, to their courage, their steadfastness, and their spirit.
a light rain is washing off the earth this morning, leaves are letting go of their life and fluttering to the ground, blanketing my yard in yellows atop the green carpet. It feels good.
The ‘protestors’ showing up in some major cities to complain, have used the word ‘occupy’…They’ve united in the word, but everything after that becomes a little messy in its interpretation.
The people protesting (for or against whatever or whoever) should take a good look at what occupy means……cause most of us think they should be protested upon for occupying. Those areas, sidewalk, parks, front steps, beaches, and street corners are owned by all and subject to fair use by all.
“To have, hold, or take as a separate space,possess, reside in or on, or claim”, part of the word definition occupy, is not what I have in mind as to what to do with my portion of the above. Now, they can use it for a little while, but I take a dim view of them camping on it, peeing on it, and trashing it, among other things.
The thing is, if I’m homeless, or loitering, or selling drugs, or drunk, on a normal, everyday day…….I am going to, sooner or later, get arrested. Even tho part of that open area is mine, I have to be good and ‘share’.
Another declaration of” “occupy’ is to be a resident of, a tenant of, or dwell in”. Now hold on…..I am a part of that description…..even tho I don’t use it 24/7. I don’t even monitor it. I don’t have a ‘list’ of people I allow….I pretty well say you can use it as long as you don’t abuse it! Aha!!!!
I bet there are homeless in Los Angeles that would take better care of my portion of the occupied territory, than some of those ‘occuppying’.
In fact I think the ‘occupiers’ are more in the description of “to take control and possession of, and to make one’s own”…..not nice, I repeat NOT NICE.
I understand your right to protest persons, places or things….(either proper or regular), however, do me a favor and do it 8 to 5. I’ve got places to go and things to do and I don’t want to walk in or amongst your signs, your dirt, or “f” words, or your dirty clothes, and your thrown together toilets.
Downtown business owners have bent over backwards to be good neighbors, and stewards. Local police have been patient in their actions, and regular people going about their daily activities, have tried to be understanding.
8AM to 5 PM please……and do so in an orderly fashion. Wear a suite and tie or, for women, a nice skirt and sweater. Check your spelling when preparing your signs. Bring water and a gallon jug to refill your 18 oz bottle. Take it home at the end of the day. Do background work on what you a speaking on….and don’t ask for Obama Money or something similar, just because you’ve heard it somewhere. Be prepared to debate without losing your temper. Be prepared to have proof in what you say. If you can’t do half of anything listed above……go back to school, live with mom, or watch Beavis.
seriouslyscorpio 