Free Hug Tuesday

My seventeen year old son, wise beyond his years, maybe to the age of eighteen, is engaged in an activity which may not solve the world's problems, but at least plants a seed for an answer. Every Tuesday, the school abounds with hugs. And they're free! Free of charge, free of tax, a simple hug.

Free Hug Tuesday

With all the bad we’re hearin’,

The nasty nightly news,

There’s still some good things,

Goin’ on,

That everyone could use.

It's just an act of kindness,

Somehow swept beneath the rug,

A warm and fuzzy feel good,

A Free Hug Tuesday hug!

So hug your buddies,

Hug your pals,
The lunch-line ladies too.
Hug a teacher,
Watch yer hands,
It's something,
They shant do!
And when somebody,
Thinks it's weird,
Just show 'em,
It's OK.
Fear not,
It's just affection,
And it makes a better day.

A Bit of Purpose

I gave my son a nice five piece luggage set for Christmas, something he needed and appreciated as a gift. American Tourister, built to last. He'd worn his old set out, packing and unpacking it every Sunday night. That's when he arrives or leaves, seven days on, seven off. He left tonight, carrying two full sized suitcases, a backpack and the Playstation box all at once, an acquired skill.

Oh, there's still a closet full of stuff and dresser full of more. What ever is left on the floor gets laundered, extra Downy so it smells nice and then either hung or folded in it's place. Yeah, I pick up after him. Whatever habits he has by now are not about to change. Puts a bit of purpose in my life, too.

A bit of my purpose is just giving my son a place he feels real good about calling home. In this modest house, we have good meals, in front of the TV, but still together. It's decorated poorly, but the furniture is comfortable. Tried painting once and you can tell that I did! And I'm proud to say we have a civil household. I saw the other way for many years and there's no need for that. I hope my children and their own families will have this, too.

I had purpose present itself to me right before Christmas. Spring tuition was due for my daughter and I was the only parent who could help. But this was on top of an already fair amount of expenses. Up till then, I always had a Plan B purpose when no others seemed around. That purpose was to visit the Legion and ensure their supply of Jagermeister never spoiled. Costly, but I kept their Jagermeister always fresh!

I cut out Plan B and any beer it took to wash it down as part of an effort to pay that spring tuition. The town ATM isn't wearing out so fast any more. Wasn't as hard as I thought, either. I get positive re-enforcement right before bedtime when my son and I do the 'count'.

Background time. Many years ago I would tuck in my son and say "I love you"... and he'd just roll his eyes. One night he said "You always say that". "Yes", I explained "and I could say that 10,000 times and never grow tired of it". So we started counting. We started from 10,000 counting the nightly "I love you". And he stopped rolling his eyes and would sincerely echo mine.

Still does. We're down to 3,059 after tonight. We did actually start saying three nightly some time ago, just to hasten the count. Another count has been added, that of days without smoking. Up to 38. The nice part is he gives me a 'thumbs up' along with a wonderful approving smile.

Makes me feel pretty good about my purpose. Gives me strength to carry my own luggage.

That Valentine

On a day without a valentine, you think back to when you did have one. Way back, way in love. Folks just shook their heads. Thirty years ago it was Mary who had my heart. Both in the Army, she caught my eye in her blue jeans and plaid shirt covered by long, dishwater-blond hair. Simple pretty. And she was with my fellow Minnesotan Lurch, so I joined their table at the club. Talk brought out her favorite song was Blues Eyes Cryin' in the Rain. Wow! Nail my balls to a stump and push me over backwards! Hook, line, sinker, I was.

God that felt good. Every minute wonderful. And so Valentine's Day, a songwriter must have a Valentine's Day song for the one he loves. From my barracks to hers I called, and with the phone propped in the direction of a clumsy soldier, sang to that phone out in the barracks hallway:

May sound funny,
On Valentine's Day,
To call and sing,
To you this way.
Gettin' used to you,
Like a pair of old shoes,
Be my Valentine,
Mary Kruse!

After the Army, Mary returned to Ohio and I Minnesota. But we did hook up for just a bit. It wasn't the right time, I thought. Poor choices of priorities prevailed. I did call her home in Ohio a few years later, in the bag and missin' her. Her sister Suzie said she'd married and moved to New York State. Suzie asked if I wanted her number. Nah. I just said to wish her all the best.

Blew that. Still miss the way them old shoes fit so well.

Pullin' for the President

**Note from the real Rumbleshorts: Seems like Pres Obama figured out my password and posted under my name. Probably used that super-duper, all-powerful Blackberry of his!

What the heck was I thinking?
Running for president!
And darned if they didn't elect me.
Guess no other would jump into this mess.
Now I'm like the gal who just swam the Atlantic,
But it ain't water in my ocean!
It does seem like lots of folks,
Are pullin' for the President.
Gotta do a good job,
Or I'll be out.
Foreclosed on the Big White House.
Four million jobs.
A trillion dollars.
You want fries with that?

Winter's night

Moonlight on the snow,
Moonlight through the treetops,
We can see everything.

Tasty air,
Cold and crisp,
Darn good breathing.

Must be something out there,
Quiet but they’re there.

Shhh.

So we talk about our loved ones,
So we reminisce,
Golden times.

Shut up,
Soak in the night,

Pretty in the winter,
Dog gone special yup,
All goes to sleep,
When the sun comes up.

South Dakota Farmhouse Ghosts

My Mom believes in angels, but Aunt Ruth believes in ghosts! Oh the captivating tales she'd tell of the old farm south of Andover and those who just never really left. The farmhouse stood empty long after Gramma and Grampa moved to town, but we cousins would explore inside... only during the daytime! And even then...

Walking 'cross the farmhouse floors,
There's more than mice behind these doors!

August, Emil,
Albert too,
Still act like they got,
Chores to do.
Working 'neath,
The moonlight sun,
Farmer's work,
Never done.

Rested soul,
Passing time,
Sometimes watches,
Yours and mine.
In the rocker,
Through the night,
Making sure,
The child's alright.

Crickets singing,
Gramma too,
All through the night,
They'll sing for you.
At the farm,
Just south of town,
All the family,
Gathers round.

(Sung)
Sleep my child,
And peace befriend thee,
All through the night.
Guardian angels,
He will send thee,
All through the night.

Walking 'cross the farmhouse floors,
There's more than mice... behind these doors.

Angels

George Bailey, I have angels too. Not quite as old as Clarence. Younger than I. Smarter, too. Role models. Trying to put one through college. Fold clothes for her brother and take him bowling during the 'buck-a-game' special on Sunday mornings.

I'm probably more like Clarence, well intentioned, but still trying to earn my wings. Maybe got one more chance, so best not screw up this time! It's like the week at work, where Friday I always try to end on a good note. At my age, it's just about Friday.

We still may have a summer or two before home and grandkids are a plane-ride away. Time's a wastin'! Gotta do that melodrama, all three of us. Love the stage! Gave up drinkin' and smokin' so my voice would stop croakin' and by Golly, it's strong as ever! I'll leave the dance numbers to you two...

Feeling pretty upbeat about 2009. Seems to have purpose that's been missing for some time.

Maybe I'll even get my wings.