The Top Shelf by Liz Flaherty

Yesterday at Kroger, I couldn't reach the top shelf. Or maybe it was the next to the top shelf. As I stretched, trying to make five-two-and-a-half into something it isn't, a voice from behind me said, "May I help you?" A young woman in the six-foot range with dark-framed glasses and a smile reached for what I needed, and I told her she made me think of my granddaughters. Like their mother, they are tall girls who get things off top shelves for others. 

This is Memorial Day weekend. It's the week of the Race. Other places call it the 500, or the Indy 500, but I will always think of it as the Race. I've never been there because I don't like racing, but I do like that it's a tradition, that people enjoy it, that it's a point of pride in a state that...well, I won't go there. Not today. Did I mention tradition? 

Our wedding anniversary, the 52nd, will be in a few days. It was a good time to get married, because we knew we'd always have a three-day weekend. 

We'll see most of our family this weekend, although at least half of the Magnificent Seven won't be around because they live Away. They are happy. That's enough for their grandparents. Right now, I'm glad the guest room is occupied as well as a blow-up mattress in the office. It's a time of celebration. 

Mostly, though, it's a time of remembrance of those who have paid the ultimate price for service to the country, so that we can have traditions and celebrations. 

It's easy, in "times like these," to forget the good parts. Although some of us don't feel about our country quite the way we used to and every day seems to bring new disappointment, those feelings don't dim the gratitude or the reverence owed to fallen veterans.

They are the ones who've always gotten things off the top shelf for all of us. 

Have a good week. Be nice to somebody. 

  Liz

Jumper Cables and Blue Butterflies by Liz Flaherty

Friday

I haven't had a very good week. Nothing wrong, exactly, just some upheaval, a decision I didn't want to make, and a sad anniversary. We all have weeks like this, don't we? They're when we cry in the shower, forget anything's cooking until the smoke alarm goes off, and stub our toes on...nothing. The floor can be as flat as a griddle and it will still trip you up! You've read about my broken nose, but...yeah, that's how it happened. 

So, today I got my nails done. My neighbor, Bev, was in there at the same time. It was just a regular day at the Nail Studio, with Bev getting a pedicure and me getting pretty pink gel on my fingernails with a blue butterfly on my ring finger. Of course, things went awry when Bev put her sock on before Gina was ready for her to--so Gina threw the sock at her. 

It must be said here that the only reason I told this story was because Bev said to watch out because it might show up in the next column. I may have said I wouldn't do that, but I don't remember. I need to add, too, that Julie, who does my nails, has never thrown anything at me. 

Maybe saying never isn't the right thing to do here...

The point of this is that it was a good laugh on a day when I needed one in the worst way. Thank you, Gina, Julie, and Bev.

Saturday

So last night, after a delicious dinner at Club 14--try the grouper; it's great--we went to Kroger's. I needed ice cream and Duane needed yellow cheese. We discussed as we went across town whether it was Kroger or Kroger's and even though I think he's right in calling it Kroger, I still say Kroger's. Or on days when I feel slightly ridiculous, I'll sing, 🎝Let's go Krogering...🎝even though I shouldn't. Or I mumble "cut your costs at Kroger" as I push the cart into the store. I'm sure I'm not the only one who does this. Well, maybe...

Anyway, Duane waited while I went into the store. When I came out, he said, "It won't start."

My first thought was, "Don't tell me it won't start. I have ice cream here." My second was that I wished I'd bought a spoon. We've had Duane's car for ten years. We've never bought a battery for it, but I think if it was going to give up the ghost, it could have done it when I didn't have a carton of butter pecan in the cart. 

We didn't have jumper cables. We had a discussion about where they were. We still don't know--they might still be riding around in the 1995 pickup he traded on his car. Several people offered us a jump, but they didn't have jumper cables, either. Duane called our daughter, who also didn't have any, but she brought a battery charger thingy from a friend--he didn't have cables, either. 

It couldn't give the car enough juice to do more than play the radio and open the windows. (Which would have been enough when we were sitting at the Kar Hop back in the 60s, but I'm regressing today, aren't I?) We really, really needed jumper cables. And a battery.

One daughter and a couple of hundred dollars later, we had them. There was much laughing involved, and Duane and I talked on the way home about what we'd have done in our young married days if we'd had to spend a couple of hundred dollars we didn't expect. 

We'd still be sitting in Kroger's parking lot with melting ice cream bought on sale. 

We got home--much later than expected. My ice cream was pretty soft but still really good. I was reminded by the day's adventures of how grateful we are for friends, family, ice cream, and Kroger's. Of laughing at the Nail Studio, of neighbors, and of church family who will always be family despite changes. 

It was still a crummy week. But there have been pretty days. Good food. More laughing than crying. Conversations with daughters and other friends. I used the quote from a favorite song yesterday, no turning back, and reaching that place in situations hurts. Loss almost always does. But, always, before the loss came the love. I'm grateful.

I hope you have a good week. Carry jumper cables. Be nice to somebody. 

Just wondering... @LizFlaherty

We were driving to Kokomo the other day and I saw something I'd wondered about for a long, long time. It took me 15 minutes to forget what it was. 

I wonder why I don't write things down.

In the 1960s, when I was in school, the primary concern of many people (for girls) was their virtue. I mean, it was an enlightened age, so they were okay with us getting an education and all, but, you know...virtue. So I wonder why we had to wear dresses to school. Dresses were pretty, but I can't think they added to anyone's moral character. 

I wonder why lying's awful when you're the one being lied to, but not so bad if you're the one doing the lying or if the person you voted for is the one doing it. 

We live near a corner, close enough to see the stop sign at the crossroad. Some people stop, look, and go on, regardless of time of day. Many, many people roll the sign. Many others ignore it altogether--once again regardless of time of day. I always wonder if drivers who blow stop signs are the same ones who don't use turn signals.

Photo by Regine Brindle

I love cemeteries, especially the small old ones that rest fenced and quiet in fields or in churchyards. They are so quiet and so small that sometimes I won't notice one for years and years even though I might drive past it on a weekly basis. When I do notice, I pray sometimes, that the souls of those buried there have peace. Mostly, though, I wonder who they were. Who they loved. Who mourned their deaths and celebrated their lives. 

Why do people vandalize? Even as a kid, I didn't get it. (Beyond soaping windows or on one auspicious occasion helping to steal a watermelon from a patch. It was neither sweet nor ripe enough. Served us right.) Vandalizing, though, doing real damage, is done with the purpose of doing harm to someone else. I wonder why you'd want to do that. 

Bread is hardly ever on the last aisle in the grocery store, where you could put it on top of the cart and not get it smooshed. Shoppers don't get bonuses for checking themselves out. Meat never looks as good in the store as it does on the sale flyer. It always rains when I am parked in the back 40 at Kroger and don't have an umbrella. I wonder what causes those things. 

"Limited access" is only limiting to people who live near the point of contention. That seems backwards to me. I wonder why they do that.   

Do you have anything you wonder about? Not that I have any answers. Just...you know...wondering. 

Have a great week. Be nice to somebody. 

An old favorite re-released with a new cover. If you'd like a signed copy, PM me or email me at lizkflaherty @ gmail .com (no spaces). Otherwise, order links are below. Thank you for reading. 

Early McGrath doesn't want freedom from her thirty-year marriage to Nash, but when it's forced upon her, she does the only thing she knows to do - she goes home to the Ridge to reinvent herself.

Only what is someone who's spent her life taking care of other people supposed to do when no one needs her anymore? Even as the threads of her life unravel, she finds new ones - reconnecting with the church of her childhood, building the quilt shop that has been a long-time dream, and forging a new friendship with her former husband.

The definition of freedom changes when it's combined with faith, and through it all perhaps Early and Nash can find a Soft Place to Fall.

https://tinyurl.com/5at5z3eh

https://books2read.com/u/bW57yx