Love Locked Forever

When I heard the news that the "love locks" on the Pont de Arts bridge in Paris were being taken down, I suddenly got the old Salem cigarette jingle stuck in my head.

"You can take Salem out of the country but... you can't take the country out of Salem."

I haven't seen the ad in more than 40 years but the catchy tune still pops in my mind and  reminds of scenes of my youth.

I knew smoking was bad so I understood why they needed to stop airing the ads but I loved that commercial.

When it played, I used to dance around our small family room singing along, "You can take Salem out of the country... but," and on cue, a play on words, I would pop my hip out, freeze and wait for my family to laugh.

They never disappointed me.

My father was a Salem smoker and the memory of that commercial reminds me of him sitting in his chair having conversations with my grandfather on Sunday afternoons.

I can picture the way he sat with one leg crossed over the other with his elbow on the arm rest holding his Salem up in the air.

Just as the Salem ads disappeared, so now have the locks on the Paris bridge.

City officials realized the weight of the locks, a reported 45 tons, was endangering the integrity of the bridge.

And, just as I had understood the removal of the cigarette ads, I understand the Paris officials need to take down the locks for safety's sake.

However, like my special memories of that Salem jingle, they can never take away the memorable experiences I had on that bridge.

Two years ago, I visited Paris for the first time with my daughter. It was the mother-daughter trip of a lifetime.

After the grueling overnight flight and some difficulty getting out of the airport, we finally arrived in our hotel room.

She unpacked a yellow, padded envelope and handed it to me.

"Dad asked me to give this to you, " she said.

I reached inside and pulled out a beautiful hand-painted lock. Carefully written in red, were the words, "BT LOVES NT" and "SOULMATE" meticulously printed next to the key. It was a complete surprise.

He had decorated it with pink and purple heart stickers on one side and a red, dazzling heart on the other.

Along with the lock was a hand-written, heart-felt card. The kind of love note any girl would want to get from her fella.

My daughter and I both teared up.

We waited for the perfect sunny day to place the lock on the bridge.

We painstakingly searched for just the right spot for the lock. We admired it for a long time and took pictures from every angle.

On our last day in the city, we walked back to the Pont de Arts to visit the sweet lock one more time but just looking at it wasn't enough.

She insisted that I kiss the lock for a photo opportunity.

I felt ridiculous as I stooped to kiss the lock. I felt even more ridiculous when I lost my footing and toppled over.

We laughed until we cried at the embarrassing spectacle.

I feel incredibly fortunate that I returned to Paris with my husband later that year. I couldn't wait to visit the bridge.

As we slowly walked across the bridge searching for our lock, he surprisingly spotted it first.

The pretty, hand painted lock that he had made especially for me wasn't shiny and new anymore.

However, it looked solid and well-loved with at least five other smaller "love locks" attached to it.

Now, like the old Salem ads, my lock has disappeared forever but the memories of love, laughter and tears on the Pont de Arts bridge are forever mine.

You can take down my love lock on the Pont de Arts bridge but...
you can't take away all my memories!

Special Delivery on Mother's Day

To my dear mother in heaven,

Today is Mother's Day and as I go through the day, I am reminded of all the valuable lessons you taught me.

No matter how many years have passed, your presence is with me every day and your lessons have made me the mother that I am.  For all that you taught me, I am grateful.

Here's just a short list of what I am thankful for...

Thank you for putting up with my bizarre behavior when I tried on clothes in the dressing room at White's department store. I appreciate you searching for straight pins on the floor to pin the curtain closed so no one could see me trying on clothes.

Because of you, I learned to tolerate the little idiosyncrasies of my own children.

Thank you for not making me feel bad about the "D" I made in science on my report card in the fifth grade. I already felt bad enough. The teacher was right, I didn't like engines. And honestly, I was far more concerned with the bee that was buzzing around the classroom.

Because of you, I tried hard to take the pressure off of my children as they strived to make good grades.

Thank you for immediately calling the school when I told you the gym teacher had smacked me with a paddle because I didn't change into my gym suit fast enough.

Because of you, I had the courage to approach several teachers and a couple of principals in my day in support of my own children.

Thank you for teaching me that a look is worth a thousand words.

Because of you, I spared my voice while raising my children with that same simple stare.

Thank you for using the phrase, "This too shall pass."

Because of you, whenever I'm experiencing a difficult time, I repeat the phrase to myself and before I know it whatever I was worrying about has become a distant memory.  I've used the phrase countless times when my own children have gone through trying times.

Thank you for reminding my sister as you taught her to drive that when stopped at the stop sign to simply wait and be patient because "there's always a place."

Because of you, I've repeated that line over and over again to myself and to my children. The reminder comes in handy especially when some jerk is waiting impatiently behind us.

Thank you for not making me go to the final swim class that summer. I appreciate you noticing something was wrong and asking me about it. I was embarrassed that I was afraid of the deep water and would have to sit on the side of the shallow end of the pool while all the other kids showed off their diving skills to their parents.

Because of you, I recognized when my children were bothered by something and allowed them to skip things that were unimportant.

Thank you for not making me do household things before I had to.

You were right. I've had "plenty of time" to do laundry, cook and clean the house.

Thank you for your lessons, your sayings and your amazing heart and spirit.

Happy Mother's Day to the mother who in just eleven years made a mark that has lasted my entire life time.

Like mother, like daughter. I sure hope so.

Air mail to my mom!

Flying high

I never thought I'd smile at the sight of a fly.

A dragonfly, maybe. Definitely a butterfly. But, not at a common housefly.

That changed yesterday.

As I looked out my bathroom window, I saw the sun shining. I saw a yard full of grass with a only few remaining mounds of dirt-riddled snow.

And then I saw something even more exciting.

There upon the window pane sat a good, old-fashioned, dirty housefly.

The first fly of the season sitting on my window basking in the sun and warmer temperature.

I smiled. I actually smiled at a fly.

Oddly, I feel rather like the fly. I'm ready to emerge from the winter dull-drums and delight in the warmth of the sun.

Spring really is coming.

Surely, I will curse that same fly in a few weeks when he's buzzing around with his pesky, little friends welcoming the season.

But for now, I will smile at a fly and sing, hip hip hooray! Spring is actually headed our way.

Window is larger than it appears. The fly is actual size.

Upside-down Sundays

There's something about Sunday afternoons. For as long as I can remember, they have been a source of anxiousness for me.

As a kid, I remember hanging upside-down on the couch and yelling at my mother.

"I'm bor-r-r-red," I whined. "What's for din-n-n-ner," I belted out repeatedly. "What can I do-o-o-o?" I cried upside-down.

I'm not sure what caused this unusual, restless behavior. 

Maybe it was the fact that Sunday wasn't a big play day in the neighborhood.

Perhaps, it was the fact that the television blared one football game after another.

Or, it could have been the realization that the weekend was coming to an end and the anxiety of returning to school was setting in.

I'm simply not sure.

Interesting thing is, I still get that restless, unsettled feeling on Sunday afternoons. 

Much like my childhood days, Sundays still tend to be relaxed, unplanned days and football plays throughout the day.

At least school is a distant memory.

I should welcome the carefree, easy going feeling of Sunday afternoon. I should kick back and read a book or watch a movie. 

Of course, there are plenty of things I could do.  I should do. That I need to do. Clean out a closet, a cabinet, even a drawer. 

I just don't want to.

Honestly, I'd rather just hang upside-down on the couch... and whine.

Feeling Sunday upside-down

. 

Positivity challenge but not a chain

My heart pounded when I found a chain letter addressed to me in the mailbox when I was about 10 years old. A chain letter for me!

I excitedly ran to the house ready to do my part.

After reading it carefully, I was to copy it, in handwriting, and send it on, by US Postal Service, to seven of my closest friends instructing them to do the same.

I'll also never forget my mother's reaction to my exciting chain letter.

"Absolutely not," she said. Seemed chain letters were the work of the devil in her eyes.

I never knew why she felt so strongly about a chain letter but the horrific feeling she instilled in me was everlasting.

A few days ago, I received a chain letter of sorts from a dear friend on Facebook.

I was invited to take part in a Positivity Challenge. I was to post three positive things for five days on Facebook and ask three friends to participate each day of the process by tagging them on their page.

That fateful chain letter day resonated in my head along with my mother's voice.

"Absolutely not," I could hear my mother say.

To this day, her influence runs deep in my veins. The memory of my mother's reaction paired with my fear of commitment, made me decline the invitation.

However, I loved the idea of being positive and appreciate my friend for stirring up positive thoughts and images in my mind ever since.

After days of pondering what is positive in my life, I realized many of my good thoughts come from the people I love and care for and what they are experiencing in their own lives.

*  My friend and her husband taking their beautiful newborn, baby boy home from the hospital

*  My friend enjoying a weekend visit from her son who now lives across the country
   
*  My father-in-law spending a month near his beloved Chesapeake Bay

*  My young friend who is like a daughter to me setting up her new kindergarten classroom

*  My nephew pastoring at his own church

Positive thoughts also flood into my mind when I think of the major moments in the lives of my family and the important times I have with family and friends.

*  My son on his first business trip

*  My daughter moving into her very own apartment

*  My upcoming weekend with my family of four

*  My weekends filled with good friends and good times

*  My monthly Bunco group with 11 treasured women

And, thanks to the little things in life, I see positivity around me from morning to night.

*  My cup of coffee every morning that greets me like a warm friend

*  A delicious cucumber from my neighbor's abundant garden

*  Looking up at the starry sky when I take the dog out at night

*  My dog's fast-wagging tail every time I look his way

*  My bag of bite-sized Dove dark chocolate squares with little messages in the wrappers

Fortunately, my list goes on and on. My cup runneth over.

I know my mother would approve of me recognizing all the positive thoughts in my life...
as long as it's not in a chain letter.

I love real mail delivered by the mailman too!
But, please, no chain letters.

No more tears

On my birthday, I often find myself singing the 1963 pop song, "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to."

Interestingly or should I say oddly, as a child, I actually did cry every year on my birthday. It seemed the tears came after the candles were blown out and we were eating cake.

Don't misunderstand, I didn't have big overwhelming parties like the ones I threw for my children with lots of kids, Disney themes and guest performers.

My parties consisted of my parents, three siblings, two cousins and my best friend Alice. We simply gathered to eat cake.

But, even that seemed too much for me to handle.

When I was about four or five, I had an unexplainable fear of having my picture taken. Every time someone snapped a photo of me, I cried. A lot.

I have proof in a old, family photo album. In a small, square photograph, I'm sitting in front of my birthday cake holding my hand out in front of my angry, red, tear-stained face shielding it from the focus of the camera.

This unusual "fear of the camera" stage still amuses my brother to this day.

When I was seven, my aunt carefully brushed my hair and clipped it up into a fun party hair style. Wearing my favorite, blue jumper with white polka dots and sporting my cute up-do, I was feeling rather fancy as I blew out my candles.

Unfortunately, someone made a comment about my hair while I was eating cake. This sent me reeling and running to my room where I cried hysterically and viciously ripped the barrette from my hair. The memory remains oddly fresh in my mind.

I guess I just didn't like the attention.

All that has changed.

These days, I have to admit, I love my birthday. I happily accept all the well-wishes and attention that come my way.

I look forward to my dear friend making a lemon pound cake for me like my mother used to make.

I  can't wait to see how my husband will surprise me each year.

I anxiously await the arrival of the annual box filled with fun gifts from my sister.

I treasure the cards and emails I get from my family, friends and yes, even the stores I frequent.

I simply embrace everything about the day even though it means I'm getting older by the minute.

This year, as I blow out my candles on my homemade lemon pound cake, I will smile as I think of all the support and encouragement I have received this past year from my dear friends and family.

Although I won't be wearing my hair pulled up in a clip, I will allow my picture to be taken. And, I think I will switch up my tune, "It's my birthday and I'll smile cause I want to!"

Happy Birthday to me! And my blog!

Today, I share my birthday with my blog, Musings, Morals & Bees. It is one-year-old.

Thank you all who have supported and encouraged me as I've shared my musings on everything from Barbies to fireflies. Your support is an ongoing birthday gift!

Hard-headed in the right direction

When my daughter was born, she had a head full of dark hair and olive skin. She didn't look a thing like me. She looked exactly like my husband.

A few years later, on July 23, the baby I had always envisioned came into my life when my son was born. He was blond and fair ... and looked like me.

I'll admit. I liked it.

As he grew up, I saw more similarities between us. I found myself repeating the phrases I had heard when I was a child.

"You're so hard-headed," I would say just as my grandmother had said to me.

"You won't take no for an answer," which were words straight from my mother's mouth.

He frustrated me.

But, if truth be told, I liked it. He made me laugh with his undying determination. He impressed me when he figured out how to get just about everything he wanted.

Over the years, however, what has impressed me more is how he is determined to help others.

If you are in search of something, he won't rest until he finds it for you.

If you don't understand how to work something, he will figure out how to fix it for you or will help you understand how to do it yourself.

If you have a problem, like a wise owl he is ready to disperse a few short lines of wisdom.

I am proud to be like him but even more proud of the ways he is different from me.

As he celebrates his birthday today, I hope he feels as special as he makes others feel. I hope he laughs the way he, and only he, can make me laugh. And, I hope his determination keeps getting him where he wants to go and blessing the rest of us.

Happy Birthday to my wise son!

Your cake!