Merry Mess

Merry Mess

Regan plopped down on a desk to take inventory. Her feet hurt, her head was swimming and whatever she had eaten at the party tickled her stomach in a most disagreeable way. Paper, ribbons and crumbled cookies decorated the floor. The tree was a shambles — ornaments ripped from its branches in the mad rush out the door. How could such chaos reign at an alcohol-free party? Regan resolved to find a new job in the new year.

Regan flipped the music from holiday favorites to calming jazz. Gathering her last shred of energy, she began to clean-up. Many willing hands helped decorate but not one remained. She didn’t blame them. Dismantling is less compelling than creating. 

The trash can and recycling bin soon filled. Now for the tree. It was a small one and Regan started to drop it back into its box lights and all. As she picked it up, something fell from its branches — an envelope, covered in glitter.

“To Ms. Cranmer.” Opening it, Regan found a hand-drawn card. The cover showed a boy with wild hair, huge eyes, and a smile as bright as the star on the tree. 

Inside she read, 

“You make me happy. Love, Doug.”

Doug.  How he tried Regan’s patience! 

A dreamer. 

A forgetter of gloves. 

A waster of paper, a dropper of markers, a dripper of glue. 

He doodled, he hummed, and he never remembered to raise his hand. 

His smile and the smiles of his classmates were worth all the trouble and mess. 

Regan glanced at her screensaver, a quote from Shirley Jackson: “Am I walking toward something I should be running away from?” 

Tucking the card into her bag full of heartfelt first-grader gifts, she knew the answer. 

LMC

12/22/17

The Third Hand

The Third Hand 

When I was growing up, I always had hands to hold. The first two hands were the hands of my parents. The third hand was the hand of my brother Joe. 

Joseph arrived seventeen months after I did. I have no memories of life without him. Even though he was followed by four more siblings, his presence was most constant in my life. He crawled into the cradle the day I moved up to a crib. He jumped into the crib when I climbed into the youth bed (the kind with rails) and took my place there when I moved again to a “big girl bed.” 

Joseph was a quiet kid — in direct contrast to his older sister. He didn’t say much because I took care of most conversation. Leading him by the hand, I herded him away from danger as he wandered happily along in his cloud of imagination, a wistful smile on his face.

My family moved a lot. My parents held our hands most times, but often we were asked to hold the hands of grandparents, aunts, and uncles. The transfers went smoothly for me because my other hand was always firmly fastened to Joe’s. We took home with us wherever we went. No need to be homesick. We had each other.

Joseph and I moved through grade school and into high school with me still blazing the trail and Joe helping me clear it. Even though we had different interests, I sang in the choir while Joe played in the band, Joe loved baseball and I left the room when the game came on; we shared values and experiences which held us together. We still do.

As I grew, I held other hands. Four more siblings, Paul, Maria, Carla, and Michael, rounded out our family. Our hands intertwined in happy and not-so-happy times. One by one we let go of our parents’ hands and each other’s as we stepped out into the larger world. We grasped other hands as we formed families of our own. 

So many hands join us together now — spouses, children, nieces and nephews, grandchildren —their grip holding hearts close. Our hearts hold us together in times of joy and sorrow. Love binds us.

There is only one requirement for holding hands. You must reach out. Babies do it in the cradle. Toddlers do it when they take their first tottering steps. Young adults drop parents’ hands for a while but eventually, they reach back to hold tight to Mom’s and Dad’s. We reach out with heart and hands to lovers, friends, and children. When hands fall away, we hold memories of them in our hearts. 

Joe’s hand is far away now but I hold it in my heart. I hold my father’s, my mother’s, my siblings’, my husband’s, my children’s, and my friends’ whenever I reach out to others with love. 

Many hands go unheld. Hands are for holding. Hearts are for loving. Reach out and grasp both.

Freedom From Fear

The Four Freedoms

Freedom from Fear

Fourth in a series

In the musical “Fiddler on the Roof,” Tevye lives in a Jewish settlement in Czarist Russia. The village Jews and the Russias maintain a tenuous peace until the greater world interferes.

In 1941, President Franklin Roosevelt made his “Four Freedoms” speech. The freedoms included Freedom of Speech, Freedom of Worship, and Freedom from Want — “everywhere in the world.” Roosevelt’s fourth freedom was: “The freedom from fear — which translated into world terms, means a world-wide reduction of armaments to such a point and in such a thorough fashion that no nation will be in a position to commit an act of physical aggression against any neighbor — anywhere in the world. 

That is no vision of a distant millennium. It is a definite basis for a kind of world attainable in our time and generation. That kind of world is the very antithesis of the so-called new order of tyranny which the dictators seek to create with the crash of a bomb.”

In 1941, Europe was at war. Dictators seeking a new world order wielded weapons which could obliterate borders and decimate populations. Americans feared being drawn into the conflict. Roosevelt knew that no nation would be safe until every nation committed to peace.

Roosevelt’s speech inspired painter Norman Rockwell. His painting “Freedom from Fear” shows parents tucking sleeping children into bed. Rockwell’s paintings inspired essays which expanded Roosevelt’s vision. 

Poet and novelist Stephen Vincent Benet wrote “Fear has walked at man’s heels through many ages….” Humanity fought disease, enslavement, hunger, and nature to assure safety for its children.” No single person succeeded in relieving fear; it took many people working over many years to secure and re-secure freedom from fear.

By 1941, the world had gotten smaller. Where once people could secure peace in their own corner of the world, new technologies allowed invading powers to easily destroy that peace. Benet wrote: “It is not enough to say, ‘Here, in our country we are strong. Let the rest of the world sink or swim. We can take care of ourselves’… No man can do it alone. No nation can do it alone. It must be all men.” 

The world is even smaller today. Does Roosevelt’s vision hold true? Can all parents put sleeping children to bed without fear? Are we working together to guarantee freedom from fear in all nations?

In “Fiddler on the Roof,” Tevye and his friends gather to celebrate his daughter’s betrothal in a community gathering place. Local Russians join the celebration, toasting Tevye, and wishing that, “We may live together in peace!” That peace is shattered when greater powers interfere. 

People everywhere want peace. Benet concludes his essay with these words: “Real peace will not be won with one victory. It can be won only by long determination, firm resolve, and a wish to share and work with other men, no matter what their race or creed or condition.” 

Have we the firm resolve to work together to ensure freedom from fear — “everywhere in the world?”

(FDR’s full speech (voicesofdemocracy.umd.edu),Rockwell’s paintings, and Benet’s essay (www.saturdayeveningpost.com) are available online. I encourage you to find them.)