On Trust

Why is it that some people are so trustworthy and others not? And how does one judge? Is it a gut feeling? Is it experience that makes a person know the difference?

A man I know recently entrusted a “friend” with some valuable belongings. “I’ll take care of them. Don’t worry,” the friend said. “I’ll give them right back whenever you’re ready for them.”

He lied. Instead of making sure the belongings were safe, he squandered them or used them for his own profit. The man I know cannot be sure about that; all he knows is that when he attempted to retrieve his valuables, to possess them again, they were gone. Losing what he treasured was bad enough, but the betrayal of trust was worse. The man I know is heartsick, and I feel sad for him.

I understand that empty feeling and sense of despondency that comes with the realization that someone’s duplicitous behavior has been laid bare. It hurts. It is quite likely that every single one of us has experienced some semblance of betrayal whether it be stealing, infidelity, conniving, misrepresentation, or just plain lying. “That’s just life,” some would say, and I suppose they’d be correct. It’s a shame though that trust can be such an elusive notion. I’ve always wrangled with the issue. Reliable, dependable, honest folks exist, however. I’ve found a few and I don’t intend to let them go. I trust they feel the same. I hope the man I know has had the same experience.

 

Trusting may mean taking a chance.

Stop!

I live on I Street, thus the name of my blog, I Street Imaginings. I took a photo of this street sign the other day because I simply liked the look of it. I’ve walked by that sign countless times, but for some reason it caught my eye as never before. Maybe it’s the message below it. Stop!

What would I like to stop? I’d like to stop cancer. I’d like to stop the progressive destruction of the environment. I’d like to stop inequality. I’d like to stop bullying. I’d like to stop sexism, racism, ageism, and any number of other “isms” that cause folks to feel inferior. I would like to stop war, political standoffs, and the proliferation of half-truths, misinformation, and plain old lies that turn our society inside out with distrust, misunderstanding, and downright hate.

Sometimes I would simply like to stop listening. Perhaps it would be practical to take a break from all the chatter, the media hype, and ideas or opinions that muddy the profound issues that affect our world. Yet, I know that listening leads to thinking, to discovering, to deciphering, and to deciding. Listening helps one understand. I guess I simply cannot stop then. To stop would mean closing the door to choice and change. To stop would mean to acquiesce and lose my own voice. To stop would mean to give up, and that is just not an option.

Something On Thanks

“Thanks” is a small word. Some people say it often; others don’t seem to have it in their vocabulary. When November arrives, I always think about being thankful, not just on Thanksgiving Day, but all month. I don’t know why that happens, but it does. I guess that’s not a bad thing.

I cried and cried last night. It was one of those waves of grief that surprises me when I least expect it. I was thinking of my son, Alex, who died in May 2013. So, why include that in a passage about thanks? Because I am thankful to have been able to love another human being as much as I did him. He always was able to turn a negative into a positive, and he was a good teacher. I learned from him. So though I miss him terribly, I rejoice in the fact that I could love that much and it leads me to think of saying thanks for other people in my life, for the positives in my life.

I am thankful for many people: my incredibly wonderful son, Justin, his family – Amy, Alyssa, Cameron, Gracyn – all who hold a special place in my heart; for my loving husband, Rick, who is my friend and my support; for my closest friends – Corinna, Susan, Becky, Lisa, Hilda, Elena, Deb, Shirley, Louise; for old acquaintances who still come in and out of my life; and for newly acquired friends – Alicia, Tim, Pete, Kaaren, Melodie, Davina, Bob, Tina, Jesse and so many more I can’t name them all here, for Alex left his CAL Fire family behind and I’ve latched on to them. I’m thankful for my talented, caring brother, Jay, for Heather, his amazing wife, and for his children, Cherette, Jaleh, and Scott who still pop into my life from time to time though they live far away. I am thankful for my remarkable Dad, who is still active and cranky at 102 and for my dogs and cat, Hallie, Rudy, and Poncho, who fill my life with fuzzy love. I am blessed to have former students who still stay in touch; every one has contributed to my life.

I give thanks for good health, financial stability, time to pursue my passion for writing, and the determination to reach new goals. I am thankful for a sense of purpose, for tenacity, for compassion, for the ability to love, to think, and to be kind. I am thankful to be able to see the beauty in this world, and for that gift I remember my mother, Honey, who though gone now, lives on in sweet memories. Yes, I am thankful. I need not say more.

The view from my family room window.

   

Happy Halloween Everyone!

I’m not big on Halloween. Does that make me a monster? I’ve just never been one for dressing up in outrageous costumes, although in years gone by, when my sons were old enough to go out on their own or with their friends, I often became a witch on Halloween. (I suppose that a couple of folks in my past life may think that was not just a one-day transformation but that would be another story!)

When dressed as a witch, I donned a long, black dress and cloak, wrapped a spider-laden rope around my waist, and pulled a black, pointed, witch’s hat down over my forehead. My hair was long in those days, almost down to my butt, and I would tease it out into messy tangles. Other than drawing a nasty mole or two on my face, I was good to go. I sat on my porch next to a huge, black pot filled with morsels of candy, and cackled as best I could as children, big and small, hollered, “Trick or treat!” in loud voices, looked at me with trepidation, but inched forward anyway for an offering of sweets. It was fun.

When I was a high school teacher some years back, I dressed a few times as well. Besides the reusable witch’s outfit, I once wore a Roaring 20’s get-up: a very short, red dress complete with fringe and high, spikey heels. On another occasion I borrowed a cheerleading uniform from one of my students and taught all day as a Casa Grande High School cheerleader. No one paid much attention to my lesson that day. The last time I dressed up I attempted to mimic a modern teenager with flip-flops, ripped jeans, and lots of layers under a black hoodie. I spayed my hair blue, wore huge loop earrings, and plastered on tons of mascara. An IPod was plugged into my ears and my cell phone never left my hand all day.

So, in regard to Halloween attire or antics, I can do it, but I’d rather leave it to children, or to high-spirited adults who simply can’t get enough, and that’s perfectly fine with me, too.

My sons, Justin and Alex, more than a few years ago! 

A little bit about vacations . . .

My husband and I arrived home late Monday night from a very lovely vacation to Kauai and I am deep in the process of getting over it! That probably sounds a bit negative, but it’s not meant to be so.

I love walking from a stuffy airplane into the air-conditioned terminal at Lihue and then outside where the sweet, Hawaiian air caresses me like velvet. Kauai was beautiful, as always, although this year the warm, silk air was tainted a bit by sticky humidity. Not to worry! It was fun anyway. We snorkeled, hiked, shopped, sailed on a catamaran, and dined on scrumptious fare enough to get us by for another six months or so. We were able to relax too, on Poipu Beach, at the botanical garden, and in our condo. We took tons of photos, read books, and I had time to write, which is something of a must for me.

Now we’re home, and I must admit I’m a wee bit tired. We unpacked at midnight, slept sporadically for seven short hours, and were up for a new day. Such a vacation produces laundry, laundry, and more laundry. It brings folding and stacking and putting away. It means back to work and an overload of patients for my husband. It also gives us sweet gifts: a sleepy, meowing cat who wants nothing more than to be cuddled and cradled, and over-the-moon happy dogs who are given freedom from the “doggie ranch”, no matter how cool it is. The family is together again. What better gift is that!

So, this vacation is over. I am glad we went; I’m equally delighted to be home.

A view from our hike near Kappaa, Kauai. 10/2013