#Tuesday Motivation … Hope

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Flowers, that is all

“God Bless America,” land that I love

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Kate Smith…former house in the Adirondack…song: click here

In the Adirondacks, on Lake Placid,  a boat tour guide will tell you as you as he slows the engine and pauses in front of the house that was Kate Smith’s, that she would sing from the balcony.

In the stillness last summer, I heard her famous voice belting out God Bless America.  As if reverberating  through the decades to wrap me, and US, in soothing protection.

In the quiet with no cell phones buzzing, in my mind’s eye, I saw Kate Smith on her balcony. My mother’s mother, I am told, loved Smith’s famous “God Bless America,” she had three sons in World War II.  Perhaps that fact about my Grandmother made Kate Smith’s voice and spirit boom even louder for me that day.

They say your offspring will care about what you care about, and this, my grandmother’s love for Kate Smith and God Bless America is about the only thing I know about what rested in my grandmother’s soul. 

Today feels heavy, but I pray we keep Hope and our values alive…just as Kate Smith did during World War II.  

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President Obama believes in us…he proved his campaign slogan and he is not dying.  Obama has  led us, WE THE PEOPLE, to an inevitable tipping point.  That veiled line between justice and injustice, …   It is up to us now to keep dusting ourselves off  and hear his voice to participate, help each other out, and believe that YES WE CAN! 

Do you know how many…

that is how many a statistical revelation spues forth from my husband’s mouth.  We will be talking about some random topic and then, as the conversation ensues, Radames will hit me with it:  the statistic, the one to give me pause, think twice before I ever carry the laundry basket to the basement with my Birkenstocks on again.  Here is an example,
“Do you know how many people fall down the steps carrying laundry with Birkenstocks on?” I pause.  “Wow, I hadn’t thought about that, I better be careful.”

The nation’s number one worrier relieved as I proceed to replace my sandals with my sneakers, before proceeding to the basement.

About a year ago,  I realized data did not follow the inquiry. So I decided to start following up on all these random statistical innuendos that populate my dear husband’s head.

First, how was it that he knew so many statistics?  It is true that he could win: Who wants to be a millionaire without a lifeline BUT, did he really know that millions of people slip on banana peels that fall from the kitchen counter every year?

I began inquiries with every startling statistic reference as they rolled off his tongue with unquestionable authority.  I looked a lot of them up.  He is right about many of his statistical declarations but now, I am holding him a bit more, shall we say, accountable.

Saturday nights statistic was a doozy: mid way through a discussion of beavers, my dear Radames spewed out his best statistic ever.

At the end of a dinner party, he asked the guests:

” Do you know how many beavers are killed every year by the trees they cut down?

Just like me, the dinner guests paused and took note. I imagined them thinking, cause I used to do it, wow…hmm… this guys pretty smart, must be a large number. A kind of Colombo moment  settled over the dinner guests at that  moment.

But, aha, I piped in…”Now, really, are you sure this isn’t a Ramism…one of those stats you pull from the sky.” We all laughed.
Curious I looked it up tonight and a quick Goggle search revealed that one poor beaver did succumb to his own handiwork in 2015. One on record…leaving the billions and billions of other crushed beavers out there in never, never land…at the end of the question…do you know how many
?


After dinner

Pot roast in winter

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Doves on a wire many moons ago
jan 8 2017: It is the kind of day where you just want to make a pot roast and so you do…you buy the roast, you goggle a recipe and you decide to roast some vegetables too…but somehow, the recipe for the vegetables and the recipe for the roast, just don’t work together.

So about 1 hour after your designated dinner hour, you finally eat the pot roast and still the vegetables, which you have since put in a pot to boil, still aren’t soft.

You give up, you laugh, and you realize that all things in the new year, won’t be happy.  The pot roast is just one of them.