junk

Although it's Friday, I am not in a Friday mood.

I keep looking at the calendar wondering what I've forgotten to do.

While I am sure that other people experience this, it can be rather disconcerting when it's my turn to belost int he soup of life.

Some days, I have to wonder just where we are heading collectively and individually.

Our world seems to be divided in so many little groups and cliques now. I realize that differences have always existed, but they seem so pronounced now.

I can't quite put my finger on why.

I worry about my kids (one of whom isn't actually considered a kid anymore - but he will always be my baby) and the other one who is getting harder to handle physically. Not because of anything he is doing, but because my physical stamina and strength are just not going to keep up with what will be required as Jared grows.

Life is changing around us and I worry that my kids will get short-shrifted in life by the ever-changing societal mores and issues. We seem to be gravitating toward making the loudest be the ones in charge.

Being loud doesn't equate to being right, but we will wade through the river Styx to figure this out instead of just applying simple logic.

The people who seem to be hurt the most with every change of societal 'good' are always the least able to communicate their needs and wants.

Governments and societies seem to last only a few hundred years at best before internal destruction creating an implosion that takes us from free and loving to enslaved and filled with both self-loathing and societal hatred.

Although I know that I am not granted any special dispensation to have trouble bypass my life, there are days I'd like to close the blinds on the havoc outside the window.

Password, please.

Words have a power that defies the simple arrangement of letters to form syllabic communication.

Within the words are meanings that are derived from the roots and branches of various 'mother tongues' the world over. A great deal of those come from Latin, Germanic and Slavic with a nice dose of Asiatic tossed in for seasoning.

But, inflection changes everything.

When we say things intoned like the best magician in the world, the words are the nonsensical syllables of childhood babbling, but instead become mystical and powerful. 'Abracadabra' means something exciting and not quite believable is happening right before your eyes.

And who, after reading all about Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves didn't roll the savory morsel of lyrical expression around in their mouth testing it for 'doneness' and hoping to see a bit of the sorcery held in that wondrous lamp.

'Open Sesame!' It can only be said with all due reverence and ceremony in a brought-on deep pitched voice and hands outstretched to the Cave of Wonders in our mind's eye.

Likewise, word combinations like 'Red Rover' and 'Simon Says' instantly transport the willing across a chasm of time to a literal place of childhood innocence and revelry. Warm cookies and cool milk on a hot summer day or a pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade and a nice little tray of bologna sandwiches cut into little triangles bring back the smell of the freshly washed sheets drying on the line in the comfortable breeze.

Bicycles with banana seats and streamers that hung from the handlebars. The ice cream truck. Bomb pops and a jar filled with jaw-breakers.

Horseback rides across the unbroken back pasture with a last minute scramble to the barn to see who could go the fastest.

When I think of passwords, I think of one of those old, heavy wooden doors that is ornamented with iron straps and hinges older than time itself that creak open with a heavy rasping sound and lead to unimagined worlds of delight, fright, or wonder.

Recently, the idea of passwords took on a whole new meaning for me as I began to see that childhood was no longer the same. Do children today sit under the sunny skies and watch the cloudshapes create light and darkness on the vast landscape created by God himself and name the shapes for what they see with their imagination instead of what their eyes alone wish them to believe?

I seldom see children playing pickup games on the vacant lots anymore. I used to keep at least one skinned elbow and two skinned knees all during my childhood as earned reminders of the password process required to be one of the players in whatever game was being played at the time.

Sometimes, I think about the password that is required to return to that time in my life when decisions were based more on eeny, meeny, miney, moe instead of the balance of the checkbook.

While driving along in the errands today, I realized that we don't have the kind of options we used to. We became adults and forgot the password that let us return to the places of happiness just because we caught a few fireflies in a mayonaisse jar that Momma let us use.

Or when we made a backyard orchestra from water and assorted crockery, chipped glassware and old Coke bottles that we would later redeem at the corner store for a cold grape Nehi that literally turned our teeth purple.

The smuggled hot dogs and marshmallows carried out to the fort we built by scrounging in everyone's back yard. The discovery that you could indeed start a real fire with a magnifying glass and make dinner over the flames that were eagerly fed the wood swiped from everyones woodpile in the neighborhood.

The fishing trips where the purpose was more time spent just enjoying the company of Daddy and a cane pole with one foot dangling in the muddy Tennessee or Elk River. The times we actually came home with fish and cleaned them up for Momma to cook for our supper.

Passwords are often a reminder of what computer issues we must deal with as adults.
The day to day, the mundane and the necessary substance of daily living on the planet we call home for now. It's important. I swear. But just in case you have had enough and deserve a break from the insanity that has become our lives, I want to remind you of some particularly strong passwords:

'Last one in is a rotten egg!'

'I dare you!'

'I double-dog dare you!'

Take some time to reinvest yourself in your own life.

Reach back into the musty closed firmly closed by time. Yank the door open and don't worry about the moth ball smells or the spiders that may be lurking within.

Instead, be willing to embrace the dress-up clothes, the silly games and the playing like there was no tomorrow.

The funny thing is that time has a way of taking our tomorrows away if we let it. The clock ticks along without reminding us of the fun that can fill that space between tick and tock.

So, in the spirit of password renewal and all that is good in life, I'd like to issue a challenge. You may choose one of the three options, but you must complete whatever you choose.

(1) With the abandon of youth, go toilet paper someone's yard. Don't be a stick in the mud and don't worry about 'getting caught'.

(2) Sidewalk chalk and imagination equals a nice display on someone's driveway. Get out there and bring out your inner Picasso.

or (3) With the bravado of your childhood now coming into focus, dress in the tackiest combination you can imagine and go to McDonalds and with a straight face, order a Happy Meal and pay for it in pennies, nickles and dimes. Piggy banks are for small change and it's time that change was liberated for a good cause.

I read somewhere that stagnation and eventual withdrawal is what happens to people who forget how to live.

I don't like that image. Stagnant water is a scummy thing.

Instead, I want to be a chuckling stream and a sunny day and a myriad palate of colors and hues all brought to vivid life on the wings of a butterfly in the July sun.

I want to recall the password that opens the door to riches unimaginable in the everyday world we inhabit. I want the password that brings real joy to the everyday life I lead.

Open Sesame!

I'm sure if I say it enough and mean it, I will eventually find the door that will open on all that can be possible - if only I can dream it.