Archive for the ‘sex’ Category

Appointment with Love

December 23, 2012

I can still remember a Christmas eve , doesn’t seem that long ago…I was @ my grandparents, talking with my Uncle Bill.  I remember telling him I wished I had a girl friend…

There were absolutely no prospects on the horizon…none...nada…

He told me, you never know…that special someone might be just around the corner…

Would you believe I bumped into her less that two months later..

So my encouragement to you my fellow blog reader if that is your situation…

Don’t give up!~

The following story is for you ;-)

Sending you a Christmas Blessing.  DM

______________________________________________________

 

      Six minutes to six, said the great round clock over the information booth in Grand Central Station.  The tall young Army lieutenant who had just come from the direction of the tracks lifted his sunburned face, and his eyes narrowed to note the exact time.  His heart was pounding with a beat that shocked him because he could not control it.  In six minutes, he would see the woman who had filled such a special place in his life for the past 13 months, the woman he had never seen, yet whose written words had been with him and sustained him unfailingly.

     He placed himself as close as he could to the information booth, just beyond the ring of people besieging the clerks…

      Lieutenant Blanford remembered one night in particular, the worst of the fighting, when his plane had been caught in the midst of a pack of Zeros.  He had seen the grinning face of one of the enemy pilots.

     In one of his letters, he had confessed to her that he often felt fear, and only a few days before this battle, he had received her answer: “Of course you fear…all brave men do.  Didn’t King David know fear?  That’s why he wrote the 23rd Psalm.  Next time you doubt yourself, I want you to hear my voice reciting to you, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me.”  And he had remembered;  he had heard her imagined voice, and it had renewed his strength and skill.

     Now he was going to hear her real voice.  Four minutes to six.  His face grew sharp. 

       Under the immense, starred roof, people were walking fast, like threads of color being woven into a grey web.  A girl passed close to him,  and Lieutenant Blanford started.  She was wearing a red flower in her suit lapel, but it was a crimson sweet pea, not the little red rose they had agreed upon.  Besides this girl was too young, about 18, whereas Hollis Meynell had frankly told him she was 30.  “Well, what of it?” he had answered.  “I’m 32.  He was 29.

     His mind went back to that book- the book the Lord Himself must have put into his hands out of the hundreds of Army  library books sent to the Florida training camp.  Of Human Bondage, it was; and throughout the book were notes in a woman’s writing.  He had always hated that writing-in habit, but these remarks were different.  He had never believed that a woman could see into a man’s heart so tenderly, so understandingly.  Her name was on the book-plate  Hollis Meynell.  He had got hold of a New York City telephone book and found her address.  He had written, she had answered.  Next day he had been shipped out, but they had gone on writing.

     For 13 months, she had faithfully replied, and more than replied.  When his letters did not arrive, she wrote anyway, and now he believed he loved her, and she loved him.

     But she had refused all his pleas to sent him a photograph.  That seemed rather bad, of course.  But she had explained: “If your feeling for me has any reality, any honest basis, what I look like won’t matter.  Suppose I’m beautiful.  I’d always be haunted by the feeling that you had been taking a chance on just that, and that kind of love would disgust me.  Suppose I’m plain (and you must admit that this is more likely) Then I’d always fear that you were going on writing me only because you were lonely and had no one else.  No, don’t ask for my picture.  When you come to New York, you shall see me and they you shall make your decision.  Remember, both of us are free to stop or go on after that- whichever we choose…”

      One minute to six- he pulled hard on the cigarette.

     Then Lieutenant Blanford’s heard leaped higher than his plane had ever done.

     A young woman was coming toward him.  Her figure was long and slim; her blond hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears.  Her eyes were blue and flowers, her lips and chin had a gentle firmness.  In her pale green suit, she was like springtime come alive.

     He started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was wearing no rose, and as he moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips.

      Going my way soldier?” she murmured.

      Uncontrollably, he made one step closer to her.  Then he saw Hollis Meynell.

      She was standing almost directly behind the girl, a woman well past 40, her greying hair tucked under a worn hat.  She was more than plump; her thick-ankled feet were thrust into low-heeled shoes.  But she wore a red rose in a rumpled lapel of her brown coat.

     The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away.

     Blanford felt that though he were being split in two, so keen was his desire to follow the girl, yet so deep was his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companion-ed and upheld his own; and there she stood.  Her pale  plump face was gentle and sensible;  he could see that now.  Her gray eyes had a warm, kindly twinkle.

     Lieutenant Blanford did not hesitate.  His fingers gripped the small, worn, blue leather copy of Of Human Bondage, which was to identify him to her.  This would  not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even rarer than love- a friendship for which he had been and must ever be grateful.

     He squared his broad shoulders, saluted and held the book out toward the woman, although even while he spoke, he felt shocked by the bitterness of his disappointment.

      “I”m lieutenant John Blanford, and you- you are Miss Meynell.  I’m so glad you could meet me.  May…..may I take you to dinner?”

      The woman’s face broadened into a tolerant smile.  “I don’t know what this is all about, son,” she answered.  “That young lady in the green suit- the one who just went by- begged me to wear this rose on my coat.  And she said that if you asked me to go out with you, I should tell you that she’s waiting for you in that big restaurant across the street.  She said it was some kind of a test.  I’ve got two boys with Uncle Sam myself, so I didn’t mind to oblige you.”  Sulamith Ish-Kishor

from A  3rd serving of Chicken Soup for the Soul.

No more shame

December 23, 2012

“I’ve thought about every word you said,” Dan told me on Friday….and the shame is gone…completely gone. I haven’t felt this light and free in years.

___________________________________________

End of November I (Douglas)  spent an extended weekend high in the mountains of Colorado at a men’s retreat working through some issues.   I wasn’t sure quite what to expect as I got there, I told someone later, I felt like I was going to have a “spiritual colonoscopy” :-(

Colon cancer runs in our family, so I’ve had the “opportunity” to be scoped on more than one occasion. Once you hit 50, it’s recommended everyone get’s one of these, but if you’re like most chickens (I mean people)  we put it off and put it off…the thing is, if you catch the polyps early it is a very treatable cancer..the problem comes when you wait….

So too, in life,  personal  issues that are ignored usually don’t  just magically go away…they tend to grow and fester…so early on in our marriage, when  I found myself completely stuck and confused,  at a point of desperation, I reached out for help.  It taught me a valuable lesson.  Why  should I  spend months (or years)  struggling with the same old crap  when an answer may be forthcoming in  a 60 minute conversation if I have the gut’s and I’m humble enough to say “I’m stuck, I have a problem…can  you help?”

This stuff was never modeled for me growing up.  I’ve had to learn it the hard way.

So, over the years in our marriage, and through the turbulent teenage years, we’ve proactively sought out help, whenever it became obvious, we were over my heads…after the 2nd or 3rd issue, it isn’t really that much different from  making an appointment to see the dentist if you have a toothache….

I am not at liberty at the present to talk about specifics..there may come a day in the not too distant future where I will write about it but not yet…    Some long standing, buried, pain has been  coming to light this Summer and Fall, and I decided to step up to the plate and deal with it head on…hence my trip to Colorado.

Most of us have painful “stuff” in  our lives no one else knows about…I don’t have to list it here…if you have it, then you know what I’m talking about.  Well, stop for just a second and try to imagine the sting of that pain being gone…not just suppressed but gone…..

After my trip to Colorado,   I  happened to tell Dan about some of the radical  emotional freedom I was  experiencing…I wasn’t  even aware of the hurts in his life…he trusted me enough to tell me his story He told me he had been having flash backs and night mares…dark shameful memories had dogged him for years…. I listened, and encouraged him…and hadn’t thought any more about our conversation..then he told me on Friday,  “I’ve thought about every word you said,”….and the shame is gone…completely gone. I haven’t felt this light and free in years.

I have no idea who may stumble across this particular blog post at some point.  God has an amazing way of allowing people’s paths to cross in the most serendipitous fashions….anyway, if you’re reading this and are at a broken stuck place in your life and need someone to talk to…(or are not there currently but have something to add to this conversation, let me know)

Time to get moving.  Sincerely,   DM

 

If you looked into my eyes…

December 9, 2012

If you would have looked into my eyes two weeks ago,  and had the fortitude to lock eyes with me for more than a few seconds, you would have seen brokenness and pain.

Our eyes really are windows to our soul.

I discovered that truth on a whole new level last weekend.

I need to back up just a little…..

A few of you who know me personally, know that I have not been able to cry since  I was 16 . (I’m currently  54)

I can pinpoint the  day it happened.

My brother and I were  wrestling and it went from a good natured match to an all out fight.  He kicked my butt.  To make matters worse, he was a year younger  and it happened in the presence of my mom and dad.

I wept.

I can still remember the shame and humiliation.  I swore in my heart I would NEVER  Ever, experience that sort of thing again.

NEVER.

Well, unbeknownst to me, somehow, deep within the recesses of my soul, I flipped a switch and could no longer cry.  Only once in the 38 years since do I remember weeping…I won’t go into that now, just to say, it was in the midst of some intense emotional pain.

So last weekend during the course of a men’s conference, one of the things we covered was the fact that all of us have areas in our hearts of brokenness and shame. …

Things  people have said to us.  (or not)

Things we’ve intentionally done that nobody knows except us.

Broken relationships.

Abuse

Physical things about ourselves we are ashamed of.

it might even be your name….  the list is endless, but the results  are still the same.   We begin to  carry around this ever increasing load of hurt and shame.

I was able to identify 4 very specific hurts last weekend.

That situation with my brother.

Secondly, a vague but very real, dislike for how I looked as a youngster growing up:

scan0001

My name if you can believe that..

and finally, on a very personal note, the fact that I was a very late bloomer…didn’t physically mature into late into my senior year of high school.   The shame and embarrassment of those years in high school  really did a number on my self esteem.  Gym class was Hell.  Yep, I was a runt all through high school.  Not the last one picked when we chose teams.but one of the last.

All of it is  bull shit (that’s german for garbage) . ;-)

Another word picture…

Our hearts are full of  cracks. They leak like a sieve….and until those  hurts are brought into the open and addressed, we will  attempt to fill those cracks with anything that  gives  temporary relief.  Food, shopping, sex, alcohol, people,  $, our jobs, blogging, e-mail, face book, video games, hobbies taken to excess, etc.

None of it lasts.  Before long,  I’m  looking for another fix.

The food addict, is  no different than the shop-a-haulic or the sex addict.  All three of them are dealing with the same crap, just going about it in different ways.

If someone cared enough to look to look  deeply into our eyes…no sunglasses on ;-) …. they would see the pain.

To make a long story short, God touched all 4 of those hurts in a very specific way.

I no longer feel their weight.

I look @ that picture of my younger self and like what I see. I LOVE my given name,  (my real name isn’t Doug btw/ it’s Douglas) I am in touch with my emotions…(I wept at least 4 or 5 times last weekend) and finally, I’m OK with being a late bloomer. I suspect it  saved me from a lot of heartache.

I’m sure  there are  probably still  pockets of brokenness to discover, but for now,  I don’t have the same compulsions to check e-mail, face book , or even blog…all ways I think I was trying to connect with people in a way to satisfy the longings in my heart.

Thanks for checking in.    DM

House meetings

May 31, 2012

I sat there….amazed.

It was my first house meeting.

I was 29 yrs old.

We  had moved to New Jersey to  enable me to pursue a dream.

Return to college….  take some courses in counseling.

A local church had offered to help us out with housing.

They had an ongoing outreach to various groups…

Vietnamese boat people.

Missionaries on furlough.

Single young people wanting to deepen their relationship with God.

(Yea, he really exists – I talked to him this morning. ;-)

Young men trying to reclaim their lives/ just coming off the violent streets of Paterson …

And now…our family.  Recent transplants from the Midwest.

We had two little girls in tow…

And now that we were here, I ( at least)  was expected to participate in the “house meeting”.

I had no idea what to expect.

15 to 20 of us were sitting around  the conference room.

The tone was informal , relaxed yet moved @ a steady clip.

All of us had busy lives and this was not a time to just socialize.

“Was there anything anyone needed to talk about?”

Parking…parking had become an issue.

When Debbie came home from the grocery store with a trunk full of groceries, she  was not able to get anywhere close to the apartment..Wondering if there could be a way to keep that front spot open for those sort of things?

Use of the kitchen…

There were 3 different families sharing 1 commercial kitchen.  We each had our own living quarters, but shared a common kitchen area.  Different meal times,  different menu’s.. all three of our young families had children…

We lived in that setting  for about a year before moving to our own home.

The house meetings were only once a month as I remember them, but made an impact on me that exists to this day.

I experienced first hand the freedom of addressing issues with the people in my life  instead of walking around on egg shells .

I did not see this sort of communication role modeled growing up.

I did begin to implement it in our home from that point on especially as the kids got older.

“Kathy took my good shirt and got it a stain on it….”

“Angie won’t share the remote on the  TV…”

“John  comes into my room all the time without out permission and starts bothering me when I’m trying to get a nap”….

“but she shouldn’t be taking a nap @ that time…”
 

You get the idea…

Once I tasted the freedom of genuine communication, it came to the job site with me.

Not to mention any names, but some of the  people in my work circle, suck when it comes to communication.

They will take things without permission,  promise to be somewhere @ a certain time but have no intention of actually following through…

Give me awkward messages to give to the customer..

Recently my cell phone rang while I was on the job….

“Doug, could you tell so and so we had to pull out but promise to be back in a week?”

my response…”Just a second..you can tell him yourself, he’s standing right here :-)

   Yea, it doesn’t win me any brownie points by  refusing to play by the old rules of no communicating/ or being a door mat  but that’s OK ;-)

I would rather tell you the truth up front, I can’t make it when you’re asking me to rather than lie, get my foot in the door and have you upset with me for not showing up.

Mrs DM and I work at keeping this  level of straight forward  communication alive in our relationship….

It is not automatic.

And we don’t do it perfectly I’m sure.

She’s a little slower to bring stuff up…hates conflict even more than I ;-)

Over the years, I can’t think of any  volatile subject that hasn’t been  discussed/ some of them multiple times.

Sex, money, parenting.. you know..the stuff every couple has to sort through

We ‘ve probably had the “sex” conversation 50 times in the 30 plus years of marriage.

Sex is  like fire.  It is a gift, but it can also cause a lot damage and pain.

Money.  Money = control.

Really the issue isn’t money.

There are a half a dozen other issues under the surface that are the real issues if you’re having a conflict about money

personal space, trust, greed, fear, materialism, etc.  those are the real issues.

I told someone  yesterday,   we haven’t been able to do things financially for our kids as much as I wished…But from where I sit, all of them prefer to address issues in their personal lives rather than play “let’s pretend”, and to me that is priceless.

Thanks for reading along ! DM

Grandpa you were wrong

April 20, 2012

Don’t

Surrender

Your loneliness so quickly.

Let it cut more

Deep.

Let it ferment and season you

As few human

Or even divine ingredients can.

Something missing in my heart tonight

Has made my eyes so soft,

My voice so

Tender….

from the poem “My Eyes So Soft”  by Hafiz

_______________________________________________

For years I’ve  been intrigued by the issue of loneliness.

I’m very relational, and on those occasions where the winds of loneliness did  blow through my soul I HATED  it.

Yes, even when you’re in a great marriage, on occasion a person still can experience the angst of loneliness.

On the morning of my wedding I stopped by my grandpa’s house after I got my hair cut to say “Hi”

He’d been married for over 50 years by this time.

We talked about marriage.

 He told me : “After three months,  it’s all work”

He gave me the impression, the romantic feelings I was feeling were not going to last.

That was 33 years ago this weekend.

4 children later….

We still like to hold hands,

Read to each other

and  are very much in love

Mrs DM is taking off on a trip to help out with the grand kids tomorrow.

She’ll be gone for 5 days.

I miss her already.

If you’ve been a reader of my blog for very long, you know I’m a big U2 fan…

Some couples have a song that captures their relationship…

here’s ours….

The picture below was taken on our 25th anniversary.

We still look pretty much the same today.  Mrs. DM’s hair is a little more gray and mine,

well, I don’t have  as much.

Still rock’n after 33 years.

I’ve sometimes secretly wondered…..

February 26, 2011

I’ve sometimes secretly wondered if there wasn’t something a little “weird” in our marriage.

(Not to worry…I told my wife this on Thursday) :-) ….after reading the following article.

Here’s what weird:  we’re coming up on 32 years of marriage  this April and we  still experience  lots of romantic feelings for each other.

  I am not lying. 

 The “sizzle” is still there.

Not going to get all TMI  on you here.

But after reading this recent column by Andree Seu  I felt a lot better…

(I’ve reposted it below)

________________________________________

Superlative Song

Scripture has a powerful response for those who think God dislikes romance

The  Song of Songs stands through the centuries, as an immovable testimony of God’s intention for man and woman.  It is a rebuke to our tiny loves, a constant goad to our lackluster marriages.  It calls drifting and depleted couples back to the Creator’s ideal: Do not settle for less than joy.  It is far from a manual, and yet in its poetry it shows how the secrets of connubial bliss are found in the readily available commodities of openness, verbal affirmations, playfulness, occasional getaways, committed oneness, and working through trials.

      We thought we had made too much of love when we had made too little of it.  We thought our songs too charged with passion when they had fallen short.  Our honeymoons are a mere two weeks when God had suggested a year:  “When a man is newly married, he shall not go out with the army or be liable for any other public duty.  He shall be free at home one year to be happy with his wife who he has taken.”  Deut. 24:5

     The ancients, embarrassed by the Song, stripped it clean of scents and touches.  It is no shabby proof of divine inspiration that when the smoke cleared on the canon in the mid-third century, the Song was still there.  Cyril of Alexandria (376-444) made the two breasts of the Shulamite the Old and New Testaments.  The bearded ones were right that the Song is about Christ, but it is about Christ via the erotic love of husband and wife (“This mystery is profound”- Ephesians 5:32)

Painting by Domenico Morelli depicting the Song of Songs

     For some of us, the Song is not only helpful but essential.  It gives permission to be as in love as you want to be.   It destroys the notion that God grants romance as a concession but holds His nose.  It debunks the notion of love sickness as a brief biological agitation for the prosaic purpose of perpetuation of the species.  If your marriage passes from intoxication into humdrum cohabitation, it is not God’s idea.  Put away from you the fatalists who say, “Romance is a flame that dies but companionship is its consolation. ”  Put away those who believe that “letting yourself go” after the ring is on is normal.  Not from heaven does such counsel come.  “At your right hand are pleasures forevermore.” (Psalm 16:11)

      The Shulamite brings warning:  ”I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem….that you do not stir up or awaken love until it pleases. ”  (vs2:7, 3:5, 5:8 8:4)  She is so very much in love with this man that she doesn’t want her friends to forfeit this experience by forcing love prematurely, by taking matters into their own hands.  (also note the emotional price tag for love- 3:1-5; 5:2-8.)

     The “daughters of Jerusalem” are cheerleaders, for our sakes.  This love affair enjoys the approval of objective onlookers and is not some tawdry tryst that must keep a nervous lookout for men and from the light.

      Tend your marriage, even if you think it is too late.  There is wonder-working healing in a touch, a look, a word, an unexpected embrace.  Nor is it artificial to work on love.  C. S. Lewis reminds us that a garden is no less beautiful for needing to be weeded and fussed with (The Four Loves)

      “Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes that spoil the vineyards.”  (2:15)   What are the little foxes but our inconsiderateness, laziness, resistance, hard-heartedness, and above all unbelief?  Believe in love, for love is of God.  Everything in the universe is arrayed on its side.

     The world has had many songs since the world began, but this one is the Song of Songs.  The Hebrew construction in the superscript indicates the superlative.  Tell me what is more superlative , if you know.  Whatever you propose, the daughters of Jerusalem will spurn it and will say:  “Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm, for love is strong as death, jealousy is fierce as the grave.  Its flashes are flashes of fire, the very flame of the Lord.  Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it.  If a man offered for love all the wealth of his house, he would be utterly despised.” (8:6-7)

Andree Seu February 26, 2011 World Magazine

Making Love

April 18, 2010

      

 One of the wisest men I know, Alexander Papaderos, is the director of the Orthodox Academy of Crete.  Unfortunately for me, he lives ten time zones and thousands of miles away from Seattle.  Even when we are together, we are separated by the subtleties of language.  His English is far better than my Greek, but we are both seriously limited by lack of common cultural experience.  We get by in English on most mundane topics, but when we reach for deeper understandings, we must be careful, lest we assume we are communicating when in fact we are not.

      As 1992 became 1993, we spent the New Year holidays together.  For all the romantic images a summer trip to Greece may suggest, the island of Crete in winter is a cold, windy place.  A time to sit indoors by an olive-wood fire, drink raki and retsina, eat prok sausage with fresh bread soaked in new-pressed olive oil, and talk late into the night of weighty matters.

      One evening we spoke of marriage.

       In Crete the custom of arranged marriage continues.  Even when a marriage is not initiated by a family, the wisdom of family experience is brought to bear in a way Americans would find anachronistic.

     The Cretans think romance is nice enough when it happens, but it is not a particularly good basis for marriage.

      Papaderos had stumbled over a concept he had found in Western literature. “Making love.”  It confused him.  “What is this making love?”

       I explained it was a popular euphemism for having sex- going to bed…whether married or not.

    He replied that for Cretans, “making love,” is a serious notion summarizing the process of marriage and family.  When two families agree that a son and a daughter would suit one another, it is expected that over time the man and woman will work at becoming compatible partners in the same spirit one might work at achieving competence in a life’s vocation.  This is making love.

      Time and experience mistakes and difficulties- are all part of the equation whose sum is a lasting relationship.  Love is not something you fall into.  Love and marriage are “made.”

    Thus in Cretan terms, when a married couple have been overheard arguing or fighting, the Cretans smile knowingly and say, “Ah, they are making love.”

      During this same winter trip, Papaderos took my wife and me along as guests in the home of a Greek family on New Year’s Day.  Though I hate to admit it, I am a closet football fan, and this was the first time in memory I could not be spending the day watching representatives of American universities struggle to resolve the great human crisis of who is Number One.  Nor would I be in touch with the professional- football run-up to the Super Bowl.  I was vaguely anxious.

     My youth and early manhood were permanently affected by Vince Lombardi, the coach of the legendary Green Bay Packers football team.  Lombardi was about winning,  Fair and square and by the rules- but winning.  Winners worked harder and smarter.  Winners were never wimps- when knocked down, they got up again.  Winners played tough in the face of adversity, injury, and pain.  Winners played hurt.

     These thoughts floated in my mind as I coped with the unfamiliar traditions of a Cretan New Year meal.  The old customs of the mountain villages prevailed.  Instead of the Anglo-American whole roasted pig with an apple in its mouth, the Cretans celebrate with boiled sheeps’ heads.  Yes.

      Skinned, simmered, and served with eyeballs intact, the head is split, and the brains are scooped out with a spoon.  The tongues are sliced and eaten like Pate.  The delicacies are savored by the grandparents and other senior members of the family, but not by the younger generation of Greeks.

      I watched the grandmother as she ate.

      Eighy-eight years old.  Blind in one eye, deaf in one ear, and shriveled by time and a hard life.  She helped herself to each dish as it passed her way.  She ate carefully, thoughtfully, and with undisguised pleasure.

     I knew that she had survived mountain life, two world wars, the Greek civil war, and the repressions of the Dictatorship of the Colonels in the 1970′s.  Her husband was taken into the army.  She did not hear from him for almost seven years.  Her village was leveled by the Nazis, and she was imprisoned and beaten.  For two years she had lived in caves, eating roots and rabbits to stay alive.  No home, no job, no income, no medical care or insurance, no retirement plan or Social Security.  She had lived without electricity, running water, even without fire at times in her life.

      At the end of the meal, she challenged the “children” at the other end of the table to a singing contest.  The “children” were men and women of middle age- her nieces and nephews, cousins, and in-laws.  She and her equally ancient husband began the keening drone of a Cretan mountain song.  It worked like this:  The challenger makes up a four-line rhyming verse, then everyone sings the common chorus, then someone from the opposing team makes up a four-line verse responding to the verse of the challenger, and again the chorus, and so on.  It’s a can-you-top this contest in song.  Extemporaneously and fast, it ends when one team or another cannot come up with the verse without missing a beat.  Not easy.

      The old lady sang her opponents into exhaustion.  She literally left them speechless.  Her last verse contained a hope that this coming year would be even better than the last, and who knows, if the rest of them lived as well as she, they might be able to keep up with her in a singing contest, though she doubted it.  They doubted it too. And so did I.

      Never mind the bowl games.  This New Year’s Day I had seen a winner.

     If Lombardi had a backfield with her kind of stuff, the Green Bay Packers would still be winning. The lady was a champ.  A winner of a lifetime contest.  She had faithfully played her part despite injuries and sorrows. 

     She played hurt- every day of her life.

     Football is only a game.

      When the dinner was over, the old lady went into the kitchen insisting on helping with the dishes.  She came to the kitchen door with a bag of garbage and barked at her husband of sixty years.  He groaned up out of his chair to do his duty, and she barked at him some more and he groaned back some more.

      “What’s going on?” I asked Papaderos.

      “It seems her husband did not eat all of his salad and was singing off-key,” he explained.  “They are still making love- it takes forever.”

__________________________________________________________

That story is taken  from Robert Fulghum’s book  Maybe (Maybe Not)  If you would have stopped by our house tonight, you would have found us sitting in  our  cream colored comfortable stuffed chairs reading to each other from this book.  I would have invited you to pull up a chair and  join us.      G-nite.   DM

Repeated Sexual Harassment

March 31, 2010

I’m still pissed 1 year and 1/2 later.

- I would still like to  take a baseball bat  to get the attention of (3) morons – 1 store manager  who did nothing and 2  supervisors who repeatedly harassed my daughter verbally over a several month period while she worked at a local Wal-Mart store.

When I (the dad) finally talked my daughter into doing something about the harassment that had taken place at  Wal-Mart it was too late to take legal action.   We called a   female attorney  who had successfully prosecuted other sexual harassment cases last Fall.  The office  took a statement by my daughter but when they got back to her, they said they were not going to be able to do anything about it.

     Today I talked with my daughter about work- she’s dreading going back into the work world.  I can’t say that I don’t blame her.

  After the harassment came to light two years ago, I offered her a job- she spent the better part of a year working for me- until her wrists started bothering her.  I put her on temporary unemployment but  that is going to run out in another couple of months so she’s needing to find another job.

     My daughter has one of the sweetest personalities you could find-  Unfortunately, guys have misread her “niceness” for something else and instead of telling these jerks where to go- she’s kept quiet which has only compounded the problem. 

    Before she worked @ Wal-Mart, she worked @ a local golf course where the same type of perverted harassment took place.  The manager of the golf course was a whore who did nothing about it and my daughter didn’t  realize she didn’t have to put up with it. 

      So,  this Friday my daughter and I are going to talk about what’s next- I’m going to encourage her to talk with the local community college  to take some career placement tests-  but more importantly-  I think she needs some practical coaching on how to handle sexual harassment the next time it happens-

Any suggestions?

“I Hate Boundaries” said the chicken to the farmer

June 14, 2009

“In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act.”

 George Orwell

closeup of a hungry cat

Ben the Cat looking for a meal

 

ben1

 Here is the meal Ben the cat would love to have

When I went outside this morning to do chores, I spotted Ben our cat hanging out next to the range fed chicken pen. (see top two photos)   I could almost read her mind (yea, you read that right- the cat’s name is Ben and he’s a she/ but that’s a whole nother story, which will have to keep for now)

     Ben loves fresh meat, twice this week she came trotting into our yard with a baby rabbit in her mouth- I was able to free one of them, the second one, not so lucky- Oscar our beagle ate it.  That’s just the way it is…

      The chickens we have are inside of that enclosure for a reason-I don’t want them eaten by Ben, Oscar,  the red tailed hawk family we have roosting in the pine trees by our house, or the raccoons that rob the cat food every night.  I guarantee you,within a week,  none of those chickens would be alive if I just let them run free.   If you’ve never lived in the country and didn’t know about all the predators that enjoy fresh chicken, you may be tempted to think I was a kill joy.  Who am I to  put boundaries in their young lives?  What kind of sadistic farmer am I?   If you were to think that, you  obviously don’t know me very well.

      I picked that quote by Orwell to give you the heads up on something I want to say about sex  if your still reading along- 

    Boundaries in life are not a bad thing-  If you’ve bought into the politically correct BS   that passes for truth in today’s culture, then you’ve been set up by Ben the Cat.

    My heart grieves for all of the young people today who have bought into the lie that sexual intimacy outside the context of marriage is good and safe.  Sooner or later, the cat will get you.  You may be able  to pull it off for a season, you may be quicker than your peers,  but @ some point you will get hurt.

     I’m going to close with something  another old farmer told  his grand daughter-

“I’m not telling you what to do…I”m just telling you what I know.”

You asked “How Do You keep Your Relationship Fresh?” and other random questions

October 8, 2008

       I asked a couple of you that know me pretty well if you would be willing to come up with a few questions I could answer for a blog post.  Here’s what you  came up with:

What is your greatest accomplishment? 

   That is a good question.   My greatest accomplishment  is being able to look into the eyes of the woman I  married  almost 30 yrs ago  and still see a woman who is in love with me.

How do you keep your marriage fresh and still remain authentic to who you are?  

    
      A few things  come to mind.  Both of us are very intentional about personal growth…. whether that means   going to a counselor for  help or being willing to be pushed out of our comfort zones. Those type of things add  freshness to your relationships. 
     Forgiveness…definitely.  Both of us are very intentional about trying not to go to bed with unresolved conflict in our relationships.  Unresolved conflict will ferment  and sour your  relationship, every time.
     Time together, for us probably the most important time together is in the morning.  I bring  coffee to the bedroom before we get up for the day.
      Just speaking for ourselves, I’ve observed there is an “ebb and flow”  in our relationship in terms of emotional closeness .  Dr Dobson talks about how our emotions tend to be responders.  (ie.  do the deed and our feelings will follow)….if your relationship is starting to feel “flat”, maybe it’s because you haven’t been investing time dating, doing little acts of kindness, thoughtfulness….I know that’s true in our lives.
   

What is the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for your wife?

      That’s a hard one.  I tend to be a romantic in a dozen little ways…I will often call home when I’m driving to work (I would have just walked out the door), or @ break time, lunch time…just to say “Hi” and tell her some silly thing I might be thinking about).  I have put together more than one “surprise” party.   I’m  verbal.  I think most wives long to hear what their husbands are thinking, how his day was, be asked how her day was,  and yea, I have been known to wash the dishes on occasion.

  What is your biggest regret? 
Great question…funny you should ask it because I just had this conversation  the other night. 
     I do not have any regrets @ this point in my life period…none…nada…sure I would do things differently if I had a chance to go back  when our kids were little (and as a younger husband)..but @ the time I was doing what I thought I should be doing..and did things the best I could.
 Looking back through your life, what one moment do you see as a “fork in the road – pivotal” moment? 
  The night I picked  up the phone, pushing past raw fear to  do this : read this post
What exactly do you do for a living?
       I own a construction business with 2 employee’s currently besides myself.  I love my job, every week is different.  Today for example I rented a cement saw and cut an egress window into a basement.  Last week we finished siding an older home.  We also pour concrete, frame houses, and things like that.
Describe….how  you proposed
     We’d been dating for 5 months.   One evening we were out taking a walk around my parents farm, hadn’t talked about marriage before that night, although I had been giving it some serious thought.   I’d been  having  a very strong “nesting urge” (ie.  desire to settle down and start a family vs. run around every weekend partying, so in the midst of our walk, I said I needed to talk to her about something…I looked at her and simply said, “Would you marry me?” ..there was the longest pause …and then she said, “You bet.”  At that point my knees got weak and I had to sit on the ground…the rest is history

   5 foods you hate:  corn,  peas, asparagus, white milk, carrots

 

 5 foods you love :

  KFC extra crispy, a good rare steak, fresh green beans with new potatoes and bacon, (sorry Winston), and  coffee (coffee is a food group right?)

    If you’d like me to come up with a set of questions you could use to create a blog post, let me know…I would love to.


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 131 other followers