Susan Writes

What’s to Love about Winter?

Posted on January 12, 2024 by susanrray

You know what I love most about winter?

Not cold. But I’d rather be cold than hot.

Not heavy coats. But I like warm scarves, especially the one that wraps around my neck twice and one of my teen-age Grands knitted and gave me for Christmas.

Not skiffs of snow. But I love a big snow – to build a snowman, sled down a hill, and make snow cream.

Not even basketball games. Although basketball is my favorite spectator sport (please don’t tell my soccer-playing Grands.)

What I love most we can see only now, in the dead of winter. Only when all the leaves fall from deciduous trees, except oaks that won’t give up their brown leaves until spring.

What I love is best seen on a blue, not-a-cloud-in-the-sky day.

Twigs. That’s what I love most about winter. Those tiny shoots at the end of tree branches. Smaller than a number two yellow pencil. Pliable like a wet jump rope. Numbered like grains of sand on a beach.

I love those delicate, strong twigs. There doesn’t seem to be a pattern – angles, some overlapping as if leaning on another, some independent soldiers.

The designs and the sheer numbers amaze me. Years ago, as teenagers, Son and Daughter rolled their eyes, put on fake smiles, and make closed-mouth, ventriloquist-like comments about Mom’s tree reports.

Had I not insisted they look up, would they have even seen the very smallest tree branches? Would they have appreciated that twigs keep the tree living?

Last week as I looked from the trunk to the very top of a tall elm tree, I realized that twigs represent hope. The future of that tree. From twigs and the smaller branches, leaves will sprout this spring. Tiny holes in the leaves will take in carbon dioxide which will combine with water and using the sun’s energy, make food for the tree to survive and grow.

Maybe it’s a stretch, but aren’t the simplest, sometimes almost insignificant, comments and gifts twigs for people?

Good morning. Have a good day. Thank you. That’s a good-looking coat. I like your boots. A cup of coffee. A smile. A pack of favorite gum. A bowl of hot soup. An ice cream cone. A how-are-you-doing text. A phone call.

It seems the little things – the twigs – keep us going. Give us hope.

Sometimes I don’t see twigs. I have to look up.

Susan R Ray January 2024

Filed under: Nature, Winter | Tagged: hope, twigs, winter | 3 Comments »

Acknowledge, Regroup and Plan

Posted on December 27, 2023 by susanrray

Post-it notes with topic ideas litter the 2023 desk calendar where I’ve written column titles on the Wednesday spaces. A manila folder labeled Where We Are Topics bulges with scraps of paper. Hastily written notes and people’s contact information and newspaper clippings and printed programs and more.

There’s a folder on my computer labeled Possible Columns. Seems there’s always something to write about. Since I write only one column a week, I have time to think through what seems pertinent for readers and what’s happening now. And sometimes, a topic nags until it’s written.

Months ago, I wrote “Last Column?” on a post-it note. That idea wouldn’t go away, even after I threw the note in the trash. It’s time to write it. So, this is my last weekly Where We Are column.

Like book authors who write acknowledgements, I’m thankful to many people. First, to you readers – especially those who have told me your stories that relate to mine. I’ve appreciated all topic suggestions – especially those from one older friend who often said, “You haven’t written about your Grands lately.” You grandparents know I could’ve written about my Grands every week.

One person gave me the confidence to ask for pay. After reading one of my writings, my friend, (later fellow columnist) Jennie Ivey said, “Go talk to Buddy at the newspaper about a regular column! You should get paid for your writing.” Without her encouragement, I’d never picked up the phone and made an appointment with Buddy Pearson, former Herald-Citizen editor. Jennie, thank you for your encouragement that day and many times since.

I was surprised when Buddy offered a dollar amount and then said, “How about Wednesdays?” I’d thought maybe a monthly column. We comprised and two columns a month were published until six months later when I agreed to every week.

To all the past and current newspaper staff members, thank you. From that first column, published May 19, 2020, you’ve given me freedom to choose topics and never once refused a Monday morning submission.

Each week’s column is edited by my in-house editor. Husband Allen catches every typo, incorrect subject-verb agreement, extra space – anything and everything. Thank you. And thank you for accepting the title Husband and letting me write about you.

I appreciate Daughter Alicia and Son Eric who have let me write about their children. And to you eight Grands, someday you might find, and read, the more than 700 printed columns that are saved in plastic sleeves and stored in three-ring notebooks. Thank you, Children and Grands, for providing the very best writing fodder.

Sometimes I’ve been asked why my column is titled Where We Are. Almost twenty years ago, while visiting my aunt and uncle, I said that I was sad for them, both in their 80’s, because three of their friends had passed away during one week. Aunt Doris smiled and said, “It’s okay. It’s where we are in life.”

I hold Aunt Doris’s words as a mantra. It’s where we are in life that determines what we do and accepting each life stage with its blessings, its trials, its activities make each day okay.

Recently I discovered a poem my dad, Taskel Rich, wrote in the 1980’s, shortly after he retired as Byrdstown, Tennessee postmaster. Maybe it was his words that confirmed that I should dig that post-it note out of the trash and write this column.

Night falls swiftly

And the day is over

The day that had dragged its feet

And seemed to hover with darkness.

Today can never be yesterday

And allow us to change decisions,

Correct errors or make up lost times.

Neither, today cannot be tomorrow

And allow changes in actions

That will guarantee success.

We must regard today

As the most important one.

A time to assess our successes

And failures of yesterday

And a time to regroup and plan

To make tomorrow the best

And most successful day of our life.

I’m not finished writing. I’ll continue to post writings and recipes and stories and whatever comes to mind on my blog page and social media, but not on a regular schedule. (I won’t throw away all those possible topics and notes.)

Find future writings at https://susanrray.com/ and https://www.facebook.com/susan.ray.357. And most past columns on my blog page.

I’m grateful to every reader and every person who has contributed to Where We Are. And I intend to make tomorrow the best and most successful day of life.

Filed under: Everyday Life, FIRST | Tagged: acknowledge, last weely column, plan, regroup, thankful | Leave a comment »

Capture Heart Tugs

Posted on December 20, 2023 by susanrray

Are you capturing Heart Tugs, those times with when heartstrings tighten? Are you taking time to appreciate brief and jumbled moments in daily busyness? I made a few notes just to remember such times.

“Sit anywhere. I’m ready to call numbers,” I said as eight Grands, ages 8 -18, moved from chair to chair around our dining room table, covered with Bingo cards and colored discs. Youngest Grand moved her chair between two teen-age cousins. Boy cousins, ages 9 and 10, sat side-by-side – close enough to put one arm over each other’s shoulder and play Bingo with one hand. My suggestion of anywhere wasn’t my Grands’ plans.

On a short road trip to the Muddy Pond General Store to buy Christmas candy, two Grands and I sang Christmas carols. I stopped singing to listen. Micah’s 10-year-old voice was clear and pure, “May your days be merry and bright and may all your Christmases be white.”

Twelve-year-old Lucy chose her candy quickly. But she deliberated a long time choosing something for her older sister who had given Lucy $5 to shop for her. “Annabel really likes gummy bears, but she can’t eat them with her braces. Look, there’s orange slices, but they’re sticky, too. Hmmm, chocolate covered pretzels. She’ll like those!” And she did. Lucy knows Annabel well.

Normally, I don’t like shoes left in the middle of a room, but when 18-year-old Grand left his white Converse Chuck Taylor high tops in front of the living room chair where he took them off and then went upstairs to bed, I took a picture of the shoes. Just to remember that he still thinks it’s fun to spend the night with Husband and me.

When I unpack Christmas decorations, I treasure many gifts from students when I taught. One gift given more than twenty years ago still makes my eyes water. As the classroom Christmas party ended, 4^th grader Annie walked slowly toward me, near my desk which was covered with student gifts. “Mrs. Ray,” she said. “I’ve got something for you.” She held a small gift tightly in her hands.

“Can I open it now?” I asked.

She laid her gift, wrapped in wrinkled red foil paper and tied with a frayed gold bow, in my hand. “Yes, but nobody else gets to see.”

While I removed many strips of tape, Annie leaned against me. “It’s not much,” she said. Inside a well-worn gold paper Avon box was a button. A plastic gold coat button with tiny glistening rhinestones. “Read the note,” Annie said.

To: Mrs. Ray

I’m sorry, but the present isn’t that much it’s all I had. I hope you enjoy it.

Merry Christmas

Annie was wrong. Her present was much.

So much that every Christmas I wear that gold button, held by a safety pin, on sweaters and coats. So much that it reminds me that giving a Christmas gift isn’t about the gift.

Heart Tugs. Catch all you can and cherish them.

Filed under: Christmas, Heart Tugs | Tagged: Christmas, Heart Tugs | 3 Comments »

What’s the theme of your Christmas tree?

Posted on December 13, 2023 by susanrray

Must a Christmas tree have a theme? Like the trees at the Cookeville History Museum? Or the twenty-foot-tall trees in retail stores that are draped with red ribbons, gold bells, and white harps?

Last week when I took the lid off the cardboard box labeled Christmas ornaments, lying on top was a piece of notebook paper – written on both sides and every line filled. The top line reads, “Christmas Eve 2013 6:45 a.m.”

I began with these words: “I love this time alone. Early morning. Almost daylight. Coffee. Christmas tree decorated and lights shine brightly. All my favorite ornaments are on this tree.” And then I described many of the ornaments.

The plastic Santa sitting on a white reindeer, with a broken leg, was on Mom and Dad’s tree when I was a kid in the 1950’s. Two white square plastic lanterns decorated the package that Husband gave me Christmas 1968 – the gift was my engagement ring.

The red plastic bells were on our first tree that we decorated in 1969. I made the felt tree skirt from a kit for that first tree, and I embroidered and hand-stitched the sequins. (Still attached now, fifty-four years later.)

During the early 1970’s when Husband worked at the Cain-Sloan department store in Nashville, we bought the silver balls that have Currier and Ives scenes printed on them.

I made the fabric calico print stuffed candy canes and bells and the plywood paint-by-the-number ornaments when Daughter and Son were toddlers. When these ornaments were handled and played with and fell onto the floor, they didn’t break. These and the plastic red bells and plastic white lanterns were the only ornaments on our tree for a few years.

Daughter and Son made the felt blue bird and brown gingerbread man, both backed with white poster board and hung with paper clips, when they kindergarten students at Northeast School. The two Walt Disney World ornaments were bought during family trips – one in 1981 and the second, New Year’s 1989.

I made the quilted mitten from scraps of Granny’s quilt that I cut up to make Daughter and a few of her friends a heart pillow when they graduated from Cookeville High School in 1992. The flock of assorted birds are gifts from students when I taught at Capshaw Elementary School from the late 1980s until 2008.

While she was a college student, Daughter made wooden ornaments that have burned designs. The clear ball hanging with a gold ribbon is filled with sand from a Bermuda beach where my college girlfriends and I took a summer trip in 1997.

Husband’s mom and dad gave us the red, white and blue patriotic ornaments. In 2009 when they were toddlers, Samuel and Elsie made the salt dough pink heart and blue circle.

Since 2013, more ornaments have been collected. One that reminds me why we celebrate Christmas: a hand-carved olive wood nativity ornament that I bought in Jerusalem in 2018.

The theme of our tree is like many of yours – a memory tree.

December 13, 2023

Filed under: Christmas | Tagged: Christmas tree | Leave a comment »

Walk Through the Christmas Forest

Posted on December 6, 2023 by susanrray

While wandering through the Christmas Forest at the Cookeville History Museum, the words of a carol came to mind: O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree, How lovely are your branches!

These branches aren’t decorated with apples, gilded nuts and red paper strips like on the trees that German settlers introduced in the United States during the early 1800s. And I didn’t see red balls or ropes of glittery beads or silver tinsel or Santa Claus. Although there are a few gold stars atop trees, most toppers would never be on your home Christmas tree.

These trees have been decorated by members of twenty-eight local civic or nonprofit organizations and each tree reflects the organization’s mission and each tree is unique.

The organizations range alphabetically from AARF – All About Rescue and Fixin’ Inc. (an organization made up of a group of volunteers whose goal is to save the lives of animals) to WCTE (the Upper Cumberland’s Public Broadcasting Station).

When you walk through this exhibit, you’ll find favorite trees just as I did. I had to look closely to realize what the ornaments on the Tennessee Tech Archives tree really are. Flat circles, all the same size and decorated differently: some with lace, some with yarn, some with sparkling red stones, some painted. Now I know what to do with the many CDs that Husband and I collected in the 1990s. And what first appeared to be tiny Ferris wheels are actually small film reels that are painted gold and silver and dipped in glitter.

Taking me back to the 1960’s, Polaroid film boxes, tied together with gold ribbon, lay under this tabletop tree. And beside the film boxes is a sheet of paper printed with QR codes – one that lets me hear a woman I met in 1965 and whom I instantly admired. A click on my cell phone gives a recording of Joan Derryberry, wife of former TTU president Dr. Everett Derryberry, interviewed by Calvin Dickinson and Harvey Neufeldt in 1988.

I don’t understand how a small black and white symbol allows me to hear voices that were recorded more than thirty years ago, but I’m thankful the folk at Tennessee Tech Archives made it possible.

The Velma Thompson Doll Collection tree is all pink. This tree is for those of us who ever owned a Barbie or bought Barbies for our children and grands or saw the recent Barbie movie.

The Master Gardeners’ tree is laden with dried hydrangeas and yellow cosmos and white daisies and tiger swallowtail butterflies. It’s like walking through a garden.

Remember those encyclopedias we used? Leave it to a librarian to create a tree of books. The Putnam County Library tree is a stack of books – shaped like a six-foot Christmas tree. It’s definitely the most unique.

Sometime before January 3, walk through the Christmas Forest. I’ll take my Grands. I wonder which trees will be their favorites?

The Cookeville History Museum, located at 40 East Broad Street, is open Tuesday – Saturday 10:00 a.m. – 4:00 p.m.

Filed under: Christmas | Tagged: Christmas tree, History Museum | Leave a comment »

After Thanksgiving

Posted on November 29, 2023 by susanrray

It’s Saturday morning after Thanksgiving as I begin this writing. The house is quiet. Silent.

The soles of my shoes stick to the kitchen floor. There are enough crumbs under the cabinet toe space to make a serving of something.

The refrigerator is full – a Styrofoam take-out box, a foil wrapped cake plate, small glass containers filled with corn and baked beans and barbeque and lima beans and I don’t know what else. Refrigerator handles are gummy.

Fingerprints decorate the window beside the kitchen table. Small Christmas tree spinning tops lay helter-skelter on the windowsill. A 3-D wooden fish puzzle is upside down.

Sheets stripped from beds in guest bedrooms lay rumpled in the middle of beds. A borrowed twin mattress is in the playroom. Used bath towels hang over bathroom doors and the towel racks are full.

A dime size purple disc lays on the floor under the dining room table. The Bingo prize basket is empty – except for slap-on bracelets and green post-it notes and a multi-colored pencil.

The dining room tablecloth is spotted.

Tiny colored rubber bands stretch across a plastic loom on the buffet. More rubber bands lay scattered near a pick tool.

Fourteen Christmas carolers, that had been so carefully placed, now sit and stand crooked and lean against each other.

I love every crumb and fingerprint and rumpled sheet and rubber band and all of this big ole mess. It’s what’s left after eight Grands and their parents and Husband’s siblings and families were here.

The sticky on the floor could be pancake syrup or sweet tea or Klondike bars or giblet gravy. Those crumbs might be cornbread dressing or barbeque potato chips or bacon or bread.

Husband’s favorite Jello lime salad that cousin Carolyn made for Thanksgiving dinner is in the Styrofoam box. Dried Apple Stack Cake stays moist wrapped in aluminum foil.

When our Grands were toddlers, I began keeping small toys on the kitchen windowsill to keep their hands busy while waiting for food or for others to finish eating. And those fingerprints let me know someone played with the toys.

Even though Grands crawled under the dining room table after Bingo games to pick up card disc markers, there are always a few left behind. The spotted tablecloth tells what we ate and drank.

Ten-year-old Grand almost finished making his rubber band bracelet when it was time for his family to leave for an airplane ride across country. One of his cousins will finish it and mail it to him.

Those carolers may be my favorite Christmas decorations. Eight children for eight Grands, adults for their parents, older adults for Husband and me. Leaning and crooked, the carolers remind me that younger Grands looked at the bottom of the carolers’ feet to find their initials and placed the carolers as they wanted.

Surely, by the day this is published the mess left after Thanksgiving’s happy times will be cleaned up. Surely, except the fingerprints and the carolers. And I’ll leave those – just because.

Filed under: Thanksgiving | Tagged: Thanksgiving | Leave a comment »

Celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas

Posted on November 22, 2023 by susanrray

Tis’ the day before Thanksgiving and all through the town Christmas lights shine brightly – much to some people’s dismay.

Don’t skip Thanksgiving. Don’t let Christmas lights and glitter and tinsel push Thanksgiving aside. Thanksgiving is the time to be thankful. Enjoy the last days of fall while a few golden and rusty orange leaves hang on tree branches.

Celebrate Thanksgiving Day with family, friends, food and football. And take in the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade while the cornbread dressing and pumpkin pies are in the oven. Let the Thanksgiving spirit carry you through the weekend as you eat turkey sandwiches, watch more football and gather with family and friends.

People who say that Thanksgiving is their favorite holiday have good reasons. Little decorating. No gifts. The dinner menu is set – some would say it’s the best meal of the year.

Those same people are annoyed, almost angry, that rooftop lights on their neighbors’ homes cast shadows on their yards. They scoff that anyone would put up Christmas trees before Thanksgiving. How dare anyone skip Thanksgiving.

Let the lights shine say others. A friend who decorates with Christmas lights and green garlands before Thanksgiving said she wanted to wrap herself in the Christmas spirit as long as possible. (She might have strung Christmas lights atop her house on July 4^th if everyone who lives in her house had agreed.)

Pro-before-Thanksgiving decorators say, consider the expense and work putting up Christmas lights. Why not enjoy them as long as possible?

“The lights make me happy and I can still eat turkey and dressing,” a friend told me. Her Christmas tree, decorated only with white lights, has stood in the corner of her living room since early November. The day after Thanksgiving, she’ll add the ornaments.

For years, I’ve said, “Don’t skip Thanksgiving!” And I hate Christmas television commercials before Thanksgiving. My childhood traditions tell me that Christmas begins after the 4^th Thursday in November. That’s an unspoken rule.

Maybe it was when I heard my friend say that the lights make her happy that I began to mellow. I thought of Thanksgivings and Christmases past. We gathered with family and friends, and Mom and her sisters served turkey and cornbread dressing for both holiday dinners.

So, when my family gathers around our dining room table, they’ll see a centerpiece of pumpkins, gourds and bittersweet. Small blocks, the kind that toddlers like to stack and knock down, spell Happy Thanksgiving and ceramic pilgrims and turkeys stand on a living room table.

Nearby a two-foot wire Christmas tree is decorated with ornaments, depicting well-known local places, that I’ve bought from Cityscape through the years. And framed family Christmas cards that Husband and I have mailed for the past eighteen years set atop the piano. And my Grands helped me put carolers and a gingerbread house near the pilgrims.

I’ll never skip Thanksgiving, but I can be thankful and celebrate the birth of Jesus at the same time.

Both Thanksgiving and Christmas bring joy and hope.

Filed under: Christmas, Thanksgiving, Uncategorized | Tagged: Christmas, Thanksgiving | 1 Comment »

Dear Darling

Posted on November 15, 2023 by susanrray

On Thursday, January 4, 1944, at 7:30 a.m. Dad wrote to Mom. “Didn’t get a letter yesterday. Guess you didn’t have time since you are so busy canning meat. It’s a little greasy and messy, isn’t it?” The letter’s return address is Camp Bowie, Texas.

In last week’s column, I shared that Daughter and two Grands helped me sort the many letters that Dad wrote Mom while he served in the Army from October 1943 until April 1946. These letters give glimpses of 2 ½ years.

Dad wrote about daily life: food served, letters received from family and friends, fellow soldiers he met who had lived near his Byrdstown, Tennessee home town, weather, frustrations of letting the hem out of pants to make them long enough. And he always asked about Roger, my brother who was almost one when Dad enlisted.

In one January 1944 letter, Dad wrote that he hoped Mom was feeling fine after having ‘those old tonsils removed’ and that her headaches disappeared as a result. For about two months, letters were rerouted from Byrdstown to Albany, Ky, and Akron, Ohio, where Mom’s two sisters lived. So, Mom and Roger must have stayed with her sisters after her tonsillectomy.

From an October 1944 letter, I learned that Dad worked as a dentist assistant. A job that was envied by others because he worked shorter hours and had time off.

Dad wrote, “Do what you like with the roll top desk. Paint it or anything. Big job to sand it down tho and get it looking decent.” Someone made it look decent. It was Dad’s office desk at the service station he owned in the early 1950’s. Without the roll top, it was Mom’s back porch office desk. For many years, my brother and sister-in-law used it and two years ago, it was moved again – to my oldest Grand’s room.

February 1945, Dad mailed a signed Power of Attorney form.

Letters written in March show an APO address: New York, NY. He wrote, “I am still

very much in love with a certain beautiful young lady and this loneliness is only natural.” One heading reads At Sea. Another is Somewhere in France.

Dad tells of travelling by truck convoy through several French towns and seeing some rather beautiful farm county. People along the way were eager to get the cigarettes and candy thrown to them.

April 1945, Dad wrote from Somewhere in Germany. He assured Mom that he wasn’t in danger, far from the front, and working as a carpenter. An August letter reads, “We heard today about the new atomic bomb and our paper says something about a plant near Knoxville.”

I’ve skimmed letters through March 1946, including those returned to Mom because Dad was on his way home.

My favorite parts are the greetings and closings. Dear Darling. Hi Sweetheart.

Good night, Dearest I love you. I love you and always will.

I share these glimpses to encourage others to get letters out of boxes. Such writings make us who we are.

Filed under: Family | Tagged: Dad's letters, letters | 1 Comment »

A Box Full of Letters

Posted on November 8, 2023 by susanrray

A tattered cardboard box filled with letters has been in a corner of a room at our house since 1992. Not long after Mom’s death, Dad moved from his home in Byrdstown, Tennessee.

Dad sold the house that he and Mom built in 1947, the house I grew up in, and he moved to an apartment here in Cookeville. My emotions were too raw to read those letters so soon after Mom’s death and after helping Dad clean out the only house I’d known as his and Mom’s home.

The letters were tied with narrow satin ribbons. Some red. Some pink and blue – the soft hues that would be wrapped around a baby’s gift. I looked at those ribbons and thought Mom tied those.

At the time, Dad explained that most were letters he’d written to Mom while he was in the Army. He served from October 1943 to April 1946, the last two years of World War II and seven months after the end of the war.

Dad didn’t want to talk about his letters – only to tell me that the signatures on the bottom left-hand corner of envelopes that he’d mailed while stationed in Europe indicated that the letters had been approved by an examiner.

Dad died in 1997, never looking at the letters. He did identify himself and friends in some black-and-white photos. He was a really good looking solider when he was stationed in Camp Barkley, Oklahoma for basic training.

Through the years, I’ve read a few letters and every time I had to be careful that my teardrops didn’t smudge the ink. And every time, I’d think that I needed to get the letters out of the box, but the task seemed overwhelming and I didn’t know how to best store them.

About two months ago, I gave up the excuse that I didn’t know how. I met Megan Atkinson, Tennessee Tech University archivist, and told her about Dad’s letters. “What should I do to save them?” I asked.

Her response, while kind and gentle, was immediate and direct. “Get them out of the envelopes and lay them flat.” She explained that folded paper becomes weak and tears easily. “Use a plastic paper clip to attach each letter and its envelope to a blank sheet of paper and store them in acid free folders.”

And I learned that I shouldn’t lay the folders on top of each other because weight weakens paper and to use acid-free storage boxes.

I asked for help. Following Megan’s directions, Daughter, two Grands, and I sorted and stored Dad’s 147 letters. We reminded ourselves to stay on task, but my two teen-age Grands found some treasures. One is a picture of their great-grandfather standing in front of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris.

Since Mom’s birthday is November 7 and Veteran’s Day is November 11, it’s a good time to honor Mom and Dad. Time to read and share these letters with their grandchildren and great-grands.

Filed under: Family | Tagged: Dad's letters, letters | Leave a comment »

Is there an age limit?

Posted on November 1, 2023 by susanrray

Micah sat beside me, riding shotgun, in my van. His three older sisters sat behind us. Someone noticed a sign on a building, read it aloud and we all laughed.

I don’t remember the sign. I remember how tickled my Grands were and their loud laughing, then forced laughs, as if there were a contest for who could laugh longest. Then silence – until Micah asked a question while we were stopped at a traffic light. “Is there an age limit for laughing out loud?”

“What?” said two of Micah’s sisters.

My nine-year-old Grand repeated, “Is there an age limit for laughing out loud?”

I bit my tongue to not say what came to mind. No, everyone can laugh out loud. What made you think that?

“Micah, why’d you say that?” his fourteen-year-old sister asked.

“Well, grown-ups don’t laugh much,” he answered.

“Like who?” Micah named a few names and I admit I was glad he didn’t say mine.

“Grown-ups work more than we do and maybe they just don’t have as much to laugh about,” Micah’s sister said.

Again, silence filled my van. Micah looked out the passenger side window. “But they can laugh loud if they want to?”

“Yes!” All four of us answered.

Micah grinned. “Good,” he said.

Since that day a month ago, I’ve listened and watched. We grown-ups chuckle. We snicker. But I can count on one hand the times I’ve heard adults laugh out loud – even for a few seconds.

One of those times was last week when two friends and I sat in the basement of First United Methodist Church on the monthly food distribution day. I usually stand outside, greet those who drive through the car line and ask the best place in their vehicles to put the boxes of food.

But that day others were outside and I was tired. “Is there anything to do sitting down and not have to think?’ I asked the person in charge. I hoped she’d say there wasn’t and I’d go home.

“Yes, get tea bags ready to give next month.” So, for an hour, Ellen, Jennie, and I opened boxes of 100 teabags and put six teabags in zip-lock bags.

Ellen had worked alone before Jennie and I joined her. She showed us how to lay the tea bags flat and where to put the zip lock bags to keep a running total. Jennie and I determined one of us could open and close the bags and the other could put the teabags in.

Maybe it was because I thought it was faster to not lay the teabags flat or the questioning frown on Ellen’s face or the overwhelming aroma of tea or the flakes of tea that fell on our clothes or that opening zip lock bags isn’t easy. Whatever. We three got our tickle-boxes tuned over and laughed out loud for an hour. Oh, it felt good.

So, Micah, there’s no age limit for laughing out loud. If you’d been there, you’d laughed with us.

Filed under: Grandchildren, Kids Say Funny Things, Quotes | Tagged: age limit, laugh out loud, quote | Leave a comment »