Summer!! Or Good Enough, At Least

FRIDAY FREE-FOR-ALL
I'll be honest.  I have no idea what I'm blogging about today.  I'm simply happy that school is out and summer vacation has officially begun today.

Taking a quick look out the window, it would be difficult to call it summer.  The sky is overcast, leftover from early morning storms, and the temperature, which reached into the low 90s yesterday, is just under 70.  I have no doubt that will quickly change by tomorrow.  But we need the rain here, and there's no reason not to welcome a cool day.  After all, we already passed 100 earlier this month.

Mallory, the youngest of my four, and I spent much of yesterday attending graduation ceremonies.  (Two of my grands, her nieces.)  The first was youngest granddaughter Payton's Pre-K.  The class presented parents and friends with songs they'd learned over this school year.  I especially liked the "Five Little Monkees Jumping On the Bed" song.  It reminded me of my own girls' days in Brownie and Girl Scouts.





The little guy on the left in the light blue shirt was a showman and such a cutie.  When one of the songs was over, he turned to his mom (blonde, in white shirt) and said, "Take a picture of me, Mom."  He was obviously proud, as well he should be.  They all should.  After all, they came away from the year with nifty songs, knowing their alphabet and able to count, and especially how to get along in a classroom of their peers.  A step in the right direction!







All the kids seemed to understand how special the day was for them and their families.  Smiles abounded, giggles and squeals filled the room.  These kids were excited!




A little over an hour later, we were back at the school for Payton's older sister's graduation from 5th grade.  While the Pre-Kers had been in a party mood, the older group understood what this day meant for them.  Grade school would be a memory, when the doors to middle school open in the fall.  Many of them had spent the past six years together, growing and learning.  A video presentation at the end of the ceremony of random shots of the students in classrooms and on the playground was followed by a beautiful rendition of Katie Perry's Roar filling the auditorium.  These kids understood that they're were stepping out of one stage of life into the next.

The last group of four to receive their diplomas stood patiently in line.  That's Allie, waiting her turn to get her Certificate of Promotion.

 It's hard to believe that it wasn't all that long ago that Allie was finishing Pre-K and then Kindergarten.  She's growing up into a fine young woman, and I hope she weathers middle school well.  From my own memories, it's the worst of all the stepping stones of education.

The graduates listened to a memorable speech by the Operations Division Director of the City schools, and he presented each one of them with a special gift:  A small, flat black stone, like the one he had carried throughout his own school years and still kept as a reminder of how far he'd come and the wonderful gifts in his life--his family.

And of course these are the years of giggling girls and selfies.  How lucky we are that technology has given us instant photos to keep that will remain as memories in our hearts for years.  Let's hope these girls all remember the good times they had in grade school as they walk, sail, and fly through their lives.

Then it was over.  Another year, another two graduations.  Last year it was oldest granddaughter Scarlett (our ice-skater) from 5th grade, and youngest grandson Jaxon's graduation from Kindergarten.  Next year will be another two.  Gavin from 5th and Payton from Kindergarten.  It's like stepping stones.  Before we know it, we'll have three 8th grade graduations in a row, and then will come high school.

The years go quickly.  Too quickly, most of us would say.  Each year brings new memories for us to treasure.  How lucky is that?

HAPPY SUMMER!

Life is all memory, except for the one present moment that goes by you so quickly you hardly catch it going. ~ Tennessee Williams

Another Step Back

1915 Library

I honestly can't remember a time when I didn't read.  I don't necessarily mean literally read.  My much younger days, even before learning the alphabet, included a large stack of Little Golden Books.  Although I only have a couple of them left, I remember the drawings in them, if not the words.

But it wasn't only those cardboard and colorful children's books I read.  There were trips to the library.

The other evening, a friend and I were talking about the big library downtown.  She never went as a child.  I went quite often.  I loved going to the library.  Not only for the books, but because of the atmosphere.  Walking up the stone steps to the door always gave me a flash of excitement.  Stepping through the door, the scent of books, the sound of footsteps on the marble floor, and the sight of the John Brown mural would come together to remind me that, once again, I'd be finding a story that would take me into another world or make me live as another person.

Library reference desk

In 1876, local business owners funded the establishment of the library. It became a Carnegie library in 1912.

Inside the doors and ahead was the main section of the library, with its hexagonal reference desk.  To the right, marble slab steps led up to my destination, the children's room.  As I climbed them,  my footsteps echoed in my ears.  "Whisper," my mother would remind me, as we reached the top.

Children's room

I don't remember all the tables and chairs in the children's room.  What I remember were the rows and rows of bookshelves that filled the room.  I knew exactly where to find the books I wanted to read.

My favorites.

In first grade, I read both of them, while sitting at home with the mumps at Christmas. 

 And let's not forget the Bookmobile that brought new books to our schools and offered us more to read than what our small, school libraries could contain.

To move the thousands and thousands of books from the original library, students formed a brigade, passing the books to the new library across the street..  Novel idea, isn't it?

In the summer, we take my grandkids to one of the branch libraries and participate in the summer reading program.  It's nice there and has a fairly large children's area. If only we could teach the four of them what QUIET means, we'd have it made!

I miss the old library.  It sat empty for several years, but is now occupied by a financial group.  I don't think I'll miss the current library nearly as much, if at all, when an even newer library is built on the river bank.  Although the opening date for that was in 2012, I'm not even sure ground has been broken.  That library promises to be even bigger and better.  For me, it own't have the memories the old one still does.  Isn't that the way it always is?

Take care of all your memories. For you cannot relive them. ~ Bob Dylan

Monday Blues, Rock, or Whatever

My parents were music lovers.  Married in the 1940s, they were fans of the Big Bands.  Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey and Jimmy Dorsey are among the bands I grew up listening to.  They also had collections of Classical music and Country/Western.  I even had a thing for Opera for a while in grade school.  I've never been to an opera. *grin*

I love music!

I've lost count of the number of songs on my playlist, probably because my taste in music is very eclectic and I listen to a lot of different types.  Of course I prefer some music over others, and I haven't been listening to very much of the current crop of hits.  I'm too busy enjoying what I know and already have.

Music, even the weepy songs, lift me up out of the doldrums and bad moods or helps with de-stressing during "one of those days."  It helps me relax and go to sleep at night.  I use it while writing and, yes, have made playlists for each book.  Those playlists sometimes have duplicate songs, here and there, but usually the music has something to do with the characters or the story.  An especially snappy tune will get me on my feet.  I love to dance, too, so the two go hand in hand.

A year-and-a-half ago, when I walked two miles each morning, I took my Mp3 player that included "walking" music.  Fast tempo stuff that forbade a leisurely stroll.  Was it the walking or the music that made me start my day on a better note than if I didn't walk?

I played piano, flute, and even taught myself to play a guitar (badly).  I sang in Glee Club and Mixed Chorus and have a 1st place gold medal from a music contest when I was part of an octet in high school.  I can't carry a tune in a bucket these days, but singing along with a little Simon and Garfunkel isn't out of the question for me.  Or the Beatles or Beach Boys or the Carpenters or...  It's impossible to keep from tapping my foot to bit of music...even a TV commercial that includes music with a good beat.

The speakers in my car are dying a painful death, so listening while I drive isn't done often.  But if I find myself feeling down, I'll turn it on, in spite of the crackling from one side or the other.  Music rarely intrudes on my thoughts.  It adds to them.  Makes them better, makes them clearer.  Whether the music has lyrics or is strictly instrumental doesn't really matter.  It makes the heart sing.

There's no such thing in my life as a favorite song.  There's far too many to choose from.  I'd have to pick 3 from column A, a dozen from B, and a few from C.  No, it can't be done.

Do you have a favorite song?  Or favorite type of music to listen to?  Or are you eclectic, like me?  Give a shout out!  But shout loud, because I'll probably be wearing my earphones. :)

Music in the soul can be heard by the universe. ~ Lao Tzu

Success - Writing Wednesdays

Yes, I know.  It's Thursday, not Wednesday.  My Writing Wednesday was consumed by websites and other people's needs.  But that won't stop me from sharing my thoughts, even though it is a day late.  So let's take a look at changing our thought process.

As a group, those of us who create, who are artists in the broad sense of the word, tend to have trouble believing in ourselves.  True, there are those who definitely don't appear to have a problem in that area, but overall, the majority of us want to succeed but don't expect we will.

Creators---artists/writers/musicians/actors/and all the other more cerebral types---are more apt to struggle with what others might see as small and inconsequential.  For us, nothing is trifling.  Everything is a big deal...at least as far as our "art" goes.  And fear of failure is at the top of the list.  It can grip a person so tightly for so long that people often give up before they give themselves the chance to prove that fear wrong.  Silly, isn't it?

But it isn't only those considered as creators who are frozen in fear.  Many people are unable to take a step in a new direction, no matter how much they wish to achieve or change something.  That's not only silly, it's sad.  For if we don't step outside of our comfort zones now and then, we never grow.  And it's not fun to stagnate.

If you were guaranteed not to fail, what would you do?  Finish writing that book you started fifteen years ago?  Paint your kitchen fuchsia?  Take a Zumba class?  Get married?  Be a parent?  Within each of us---even those who've never doubted themselves or their abilities---there's something we want, but are afraid we'll fail to achieve.

As amazing as it is, we're in the 21st century.  According to astrologists, we're moving into an age of enlightenment.  Personal growth is just around the corner, if we only give it a try.

It's time to change the self-talk.  "I could never do that" will now become "Of course I can do that!"  It's not a should do that, it's a will do that.  Don't just stick your toe in the water, jump in!

What are you ready to try?  What thing, small or large, will be your success?  Because trying is succeeding.

Action is the foundational key to all success. - Pablo Picasso

Put on Some Music and DANCE! - Motivation Monday

I have a tendency to let things get me down.  I don't know where it came from, because I wasn't this way as a child.  Some days, it doesn't take much for the gloom to set in.  An unpleasant word from someone I barely know, a look at my bank balance at the wrong time of the month, even nothing at all, just a down feeling when I get out of bed.

Now and then I'll wallow in the blues, but eventually I'll remind myself that I'm not doing myself any good.  That's when I look for something external to fix my internal.  And one of the best things I've found--and the quickest to work--is music.

Many writers listen to music while they work.  It's inspirational for a lot of us and helps us get in the mood to write.  Some even have specific playlists for each book that help them get in the mood for particular scenes, characters, or parts of the book.

I have several playlists.  One is for writing, and it happens to be playing right now.  Peter Cetera's Restless Heart.  Not only is it writing inspirational, but it has a great beat, and I swear it's hard to stay in my seat while listening to it.  That means it motivates me to get moving. ☺

But the playlist I listen to the most is my "walking" playlist--that I've never used for walking.  Instead, it's the one that can pull me out of the doldrums and get me on my feet.  And getting up and on my feet, making the blood pump faster, never fails to make me feel better.  It only takes one song to put a smile on my face.  When used in conjunction for writing motivation, it nearly always leads me to sit down, put my hands on the keyboard, and write.

One song that can literally drag me to my feet and get me moving is Springsteen's Dancing in the Dark---and I'm not a big Springsteen fan.  There's one problem.  As I'm getting up out of my chair, my groan fills the room.  Years ago--and I mean many years ago--I took an aerobics class that used the song for one of the routines.  It was painful.  But before my groan has run its course, I'm moving.  I can't help it, and that's what I need.  (Reminder to self:  Download that song and add to playlist.)

Even in the car I use music.  There's something about driving alone that can sometimes bring on the feelings that take me down.  Maybe it's the other drivers, who seem to think they're the only ones on the road?  I'm not sure.  It's quite possibly a very bad habit that began before and during my divorce.  The car was the one place where I could be alone.  Now that I've realized how therapeutic music has become for me, as soon as I feel myself slipping into the gloomies, I turn on the radio.  I must be blessed at times like these, because the song playing has inevitably been a perfect mood-lifter.  Or maybe the DJs are psychic?  Whatever, I'm grateful.

I listen mostly to Oldies, ranging mainly from the '50s to the '80s.  Throw in some Country, the occasional Classic, and even some old Show Tunes, and I'm a happy camper.

What gets your blood pumping?  What lifts your spirits?  Is it music?  Or something else?

Take a music bath once or twice a week for a few seasons.  You will find it is to the soul what a water bath is to the body. - Oliver Wendell Holmes