The Fourth of July and Pockets of Hope by Liz Flaherty

I wrote this four years ago. This is the third time to post it. I am more discouraged as an American than I've been since Vietnam days, And yet, I still have pockets of hope, too. That's what we're still about--filling those pockets  Have a safe and good Independence Day Weekend. - Liz

Today is the Fourth of July. It's always been a favorite day, full of family celebrations and parades and awe-inspiring fireworks. It's been a reminder of patriotism, of lives lost, and of sacrifices made. Of the amazing glory of our comparatively young country.

Do I still feel this way? Not so much. There is no place right now for those who tread the middle ground, which leaves many of us longing for the way things used to be. If I'm honest about it, I'll admit they weren't really that way even then. I guess we were just a lot politer about it.

There are things, though, that still feel the same. My husband, my brother, our son, and our grandson have all served--or still serve--in the military. I am proud of their service, proud of them, and proud of others who have answered that call. There is no limit to the love and gratitude I feel. When I watched my husband give our grandson (who now outranks him) his first salute as an officer, I re-understood the meaning of having one's heart swell with pride.

I remember, though, don't you? During Vietnam Era when people spat on soldiers? When they called them baby-killers. When the government tried to deny the damage that had been done to our own by Agent Orange and by the greed that led much of the war. So, no, not always better. I not only worry about my grandson having to fight in wars not of his generation's making, but of his own countrymen treating him badly when he is at home.

I love the flag and I'll always stand for the anthem if I'm able. But I'm happy the USA is still a place where it's your choice whether you stand or kneel or go on watching television when it plays. While I think burning the flag, emblazoning a political figure's face all over it, or making it into a shirt is disgusting, you are free to do so. 

And, oh, yes...protesters burned it "back then," too. There was a lot of noise about making it a constitutional amendment that outlawed burning it. But they didn't really do much about the reason for the protests. And the only amendments most people honor are the ones they deem the most important. The First one is big to me, but many people are perfectly willing to ditch it in a heartbeat as long as the Second one remains untouched.

So many people are angry. That includes me. We all feel betrayed by more people and more things than I can begin to name or understand. The Fourth of July holiday and all it's stood for for all these 244 years is just having the crap beat out of it, isn't it? 

I'm a sucker for patriotic songs. I remember most of the words to the ones we learned as kids and cop to having cold chills whenever I hear "God Bless the USA." Especially that one piece of a line in it: "...the flag still stands for freedom..."

It does, as it has for that 244 years, but if it's not standing for everybody's freedom, well, we have a really long way to go as a country, don't we?

Happy 4th of July, USA, and everybody in it. Have a good week. Stay safe. Be nice to somebody.

Just for Now... by Liz Flaherty

 This was first on the Window in April of 2022. Like April of this year, it was a time of changing, of sorrow and dance, of ...well, April being April. Today would be my mother's birthday--I'm pretty sure she'd like this one. I hope you won't mind reading it again. 

I've always known what the word ephemeral meant, but I've never used it--possibly because I didn't know how to spell it and I'm not completely sure of its pronunciation. It means, in case you aren't sure, "lasting a very short time."

Coming from my position on life's calendar, I think that includes everything except possibly hot flashes, bad movies, and sleepless nights. However, the ephemerality is often in retrospect, isn't it? When my kids were young, I thought the terrible twos went on for about twelve years. When it was my grandkids, it only lasted minutes--days at the most. 

The bluebird's on the clothesline this morning. He's so quick. I wish he'd stay, but he has too much going on to pose outside my office window for long. 

The forsythia bush is like its own little sunbeam in the corner of the yard where it's been the whole time we've lived here. Sunrise this morning was brightly, achingly beautiful. One of my favorite pictures ever is of the rainbow that lit the sky over the neighbors' barn. They last such a short time, don't they, and yet they last forever, too. 

If you don't like who's in the White House, his tenure lasts an agonizingly long time. If you do like him, you relax a little because you feel safer, but no sooner have you put up the footrest of the recliner than it's election year yet again. 

Loss makes you more aware of how fleeting everything is. That's when you realize that the term a good, long life is subjective. Because to the ones left behind, long wasn't nearly long enough. Loss also reminds you to be grateful. Again and again and again. For family, friends, and memories--and for that life that wasn't long enough.

Nothing is more transitory than weather, although I believe the wind and rain are 

Photo by Regine Brindle

here to stay. What we need to do, other than wait it out, is find the beauty in it. Regine Brindle does that better than most. She's one of my gratitudes today, for sharing her pictures. More than just visual, they gift the other senses as well. For the writer in me, she always makes me find words. Lacy, anyone? Fragile? Tenderness? 

My grandson took this picture, which I stole without conscience, at Kilgore Falls in Maryland. I don't know its story, but I do know looking at the photograph builds a story in the mind. 

Photo by Skyler Wilson

The objects of the photographs move instantly from how they look there. The ice blows off the trees. The waterfall continues to roar and move the wood in the picture. Ephemerality at its best. 

And maybe that's what I'll end this with. Because of photographs and memories, we get to keep those moments. Even if we are at a point that we don't actually recall them, I'm not so sure we don't always remember on some plane how they made us feel. I'm not so sure we can't still experience the joy. I hope so. 

Have a good week. Be grateful. Be nice to somebody. 

The Week We Worried by Liz Flaherty

It was an idea. I got it when I was lying in bed sometime between midnight and four in the morning worrying about my kids and grandkids, my brother and my sisters-in-law, my husband, climate change, politics, aging, health, my energy level...did I mention my grandkids?

I thought, in the midst of this, when I'd turned over three or four times, squinted at the clock, and sighed with a depth that should have shaken the bed, that it would be a funny blog post. In the light of day, after all, I seldom worry. At least, I don't worry all the time. Usually.  

I wondered what other people worry about--are they as all over the place as me? So, since this is the 2020s, I did research in the most up-to-date and professional way. I asked on Facebook, expecting to get responses from a dozen or so friends. 

As of this morning, Friday, the dozen I expected was four dozen instead, and what I expected to be a probably-funny post isn't funny at all. 

About half of us worry specifically about family, with three more worrying about sick friends and family. Personal health is a concern

Money issues are things, I think, that keep people awake. A few worry about how they will pay their bills, about getting enough work hours, about being fiscally safe. 

Parents worry about their kids' health, their businesses, their finances, that they are or will be bullied, whether they are happy. Mothers of daughters worry about their girls' rights being taken away.

Photo by Skyler Wilson

People worry about cancer and the catastrophic effects it brings to its victims and their families and friends.

My niece worries about her parents. My daughter worries about her students being okay during the summer. A friend worries--and now I do, too, Leah!--about a general lack of curiosity. Another friend, a teacher, worries about how her decisions will affect those she cares about. Yet another teacher worries that she can protect her students from gun violence.

At least two worry about things that are beyond their control, that they can't do anything about. 

Valerie worries about the blights that taint society as a whole: "Addiction, racism, corruption, injustice, global warming, brutality, greed."

In line with that, several are concerned about the world we're leaving for the next generation, but the worries are diverse. Several of us are worried about the planet itself. Charley worries that "You have to watch what you say or you could be charged with a hate crime." On the other side of that, many worry about society becoming desensitized to hate. Joe worries about the "wokes"--others worry about the ones who are not. 

Some of us worry about guns. Helen worries about how dead batteries are recycled and I do, too, now (the planet again.) Vicci worries about the "disposable society" we have become, with concern for human life being at the top of the list. 

We worry about losing loved ones. About our spouses if we die first. About ourselves if our spouses go on without us. 

Brenda worries that she's not doing enough for the Lord. Another friend worries because her kids don't attend church. Many of us worry about our churches as we become increasingly divided in how we practice our faith.  

Two friends say they worry about nothing. In a way, I envy that, but in another, I still feel as if worrying is part of my job on earth.

There were more on the list, although I've covered most of them here. Debby Myers said, "All of the above."

I looked for a quote to put with this post, and all of the ones I found indicated that worrying is pretty much a waste of time. I don't believe that. As I said above, I believe it's part of my job as a mom, a Nana, a wife, and a human being. While I'm a believer in "let go and let God," I think He doesn't mind my helping. 

I've gone on longer than I intended. The Window hasn't been funny. It hasn't solved any problems. However, it has reminded me that although as human beings we are very different, we are also very alike. It's also reminded me to pay attention to what's going on around me, to care about what is in the hearts of others.

Have a good week. Worry if you need to, and listen to someone else's worries if they need to share them. Be nice to somebody. 

Hope and Other Good Things by Liz Flaherty

Continuing with hope...and other good things... Kind of busy this week, so bear with me while I this and that it for a little while--at least until the pie is done and I have to get the brownies into the oven.

Today, between five and eight PM, if you're not busy, ride out to the corner of 1100 N and Meridian Road for a sandwich, a piece of pie, and some homemade ice cream. Try a couple of flavors, because Ebenezer UM Church's Ice Cream Social only comes once a year! Free will donation and a bake sale right there when you come in the door!

Tomorrow, head south, where Peoria Church is having their ice cream social at 4:00. Three Old Guys are playing music while you eat and talk on the church's beautiful grounds. I haven't been there yet, so I can't recite their menu, but the address is 5575 E 325 S, Peru. 

One night this week, I got to attend the meeting of the book group my daughter-in-law Laura is part of. They'd read Window Over the Sink, which was pretty exciting in itself, but it was also several hours of some of the best food and the best conversation! 

Two of our grandboys, Skyler and Shea, had birthdays this week. Although they were six and five only a few days ago, they're 26 and 25 now. Skyler, with his parents there to watch, was promoted to First Lieutenant on his birthday, Our grandgirl, Tierney, got engaged this summer. Fionn is getting ready to go to Ball State. 

Someone else's granddaughter mows a nearby churchyard and cemetery every week. She's never late and she does a great job. Someone else's granddaughter sells eggs. Grandkids of the people who lived in our neighborhood when we moved to our house 45 years ago are homeowners here now. The neighborhood is better for them being here. I'm grateful.

A young woman who lives close shared this on Facebook. I've seen it before, but it's a great reminder. I don't think she'll mind me posting it here. 

You read and hear a lot of complaining about "these kids today," just as you always have. I am so grateful for them and proud of them. Not just ours, but yours, too. They think, they work, they're hilarious, they're caring, and they give me hope that things will be better. 

The sun has come up through the east window and the bob-whites are talking a mile a minute. Wishing you a great week. I hope you go eat ice cream and talk to your neighbors. Be nice to somebody. 

Liz 🌟

Just for now... by Liz Flaherty

This was first on the Window in April of 2022. Like April of this year, it was a time of changing, of sorrow and dance, of ...well, April being April. I hope you won't mind reading it again. 

I've always known what the word ephemeral meant, but I've never used it--possibly because I didn't know how to spell it and I'm not completely sure of its pronunciation. It means, in case you aren't sure, "lasting a very short time."

Coming from my position on life's calendar, I think that includes everything except possibly hot flashes, bad movies, and sleepless nights. However, the ephemerality is often in retrospect, isn't it? When my kids were young, I thought the terrible twos went on for about twelve years. When it was my grandkids, it only lasted minutes--days at the most. 

The bluebird's on the clothesline this morning. He's so quick. I wish he'd stay, but he has too much going on to pose outside my office window for long. 

The forsythia bush is like its own little sunbeam in the corner of the yard where it's been the whole time we've lived here. Sunrise this morning was brightly, achingly beautiful. One of my favorite pictures ever is of the rainbow that lit the sky over the neighbors' barn. They last such a short time, don't they, and yet they last forever, too. 

If you don't like who's in the White House, his tenure lasts an agonizingly long time. If you do like him, you relax a little because you feel safer, but no sooner have you put up the footrest of the recliner than it's election year yet again. 

Loss makes you more aware of how fleeting everything is. That's when you realize that the term a good, long life is subjective. Because to the ones left behind, long wasn't nearly long enough. Loss also reminds you to be grateful. Again and again and again. For family, friends, and memories--and for that life that wasn't long enough.

Nothing is more transitory than weather, although I believe the wind and rain are 

Photo by Regine Brindle

here to stay. What we need to do, other than wait it out, is find the beauty in it. Regine Brindle does that better than most. She's one of my gratitudes today, for sharing her pictures. More than just visual, they gift the other senses as well. For the writer in me, she always makes me find words. Lacy, anyone? Fragile? Tenderness? 

My grandson took this picture, which I stole without conscience, at Kilgore Falls in Maryland. I don't know its story, but I do know looking at the photograph builds a story in the mind. 

Photo by Skyler Wilson

The objects of the photographs move instantly from how they look there. The ice blows off the trees. The waterfall continues to roar and move the wood in the picture. Ephemerality at its best. 

And maybe that's what I'll end this with. Because of photographs and memories, we get to keep those moments. Even if we are at a point that we don't actually recall them, I'm not so sure we don't always remember on some plane how they made us feel. I'm not so sure we can't still experience the joy. I hope so. 

Have a good week. Be grateful. Be nice to somebody. 

About Joe Grant by Nick Stuber

Second in the series about Coach Joe Grant. Today's post is from Nick Stuber, who knows whereof he speaks. Thanks to everyone for reading, responding, and caring. Be nice to somebody. - Liz

Photo stolen from Skyler Wilson

I believe there is power in what we say. There are a lot of narratives, statements, and words that get thrown around because people like to hear their own voice. We think speaking all the time is more powerful than saying the right thing at the right time. I'm writing this because right now is a very important time to say some really important stuff.

 
Joe Grant has been my friend and teammate our whole lives. More importantly he is like a brother to me. We grew up playing sports together and often times competed for playing time in the same positions. He could have hoped for me to fail, spoken bad about me, or tried to undermine my growth. Joe did none of those things. In 2006 we were both competing for the starting catching spot on a pretty good baseball team. Joe invited me to work out on Sunday at a local batting cage. He was quite literally one of the best teammates I've had. He’s quite literally a leader who often times cares more about the people he leads than himself.

Maybe there should be more wins. Maybe there could be more points scored. If you are solely looking for the success of a coach or a program by looking at the scoreboard you will ALWAYS miss the REAL PURPOSE of sports. It's a game. There are winners and losers. If coached properly you can lose on the scoreboard and still win in life. This epitomizes Joe Grant. Joe invests in all the kids in that school, not just the ones he coaches. He cares not only about these kids as athletes, but as people. He could settle by only focusing on making them successful athletes, and he would have done his job, BUT he focuses on building comprehensive men. Ones that not only give their all on the field, but in the classroom, in the community, and in their homes. I can’t think of one thing that this school and community needs more. His impact is beyond measure of a scoreboard and a tally of wins and losses.

He’s impacted me as a person, but also my home. Recently my family moved and we stumbled up a box of old high school keepsakes. While looking through the yearbooks, newspaper clippings, and team photos, there was one question my second-grade son kept asking: “Where ‘s Coach Grant?” Not where’s Mom, not where’s Dad, but “Where’s Coach Grant?” In three short years in my son's life he has made a huge impact on him. He loves football because of him. He writes stories about Coach Grant for writing assignments in class. He and his friends play recess football, all of this because of a man who doesn’t even work in their building but works in their lives.

He might have lost some games, maybe even some supporters, but if this school lets Joe Grant go because of a small group of unhappy people, WE will have lost way more than could even be described. Joe and Britney’s family will lose so much, his players and students will lose, and even young second graders will lose out on the opportunity to be impacted by Joe.

...we mutually pledge to each other... by Liz Flaherty

Today is the Fourth of July. It's always been a favorite day, full of family celebrations and parades and awe-inspiring fireworks. It's been a reminder of patriotism, of lives lost, and of sacrifices made. Of the amazing glory of our comparatively young country.

Do I still feel this way? Not so much. There is no place right now for those who tread the middle ground, which leaves many of us longing for the way things used to be. If I'm honest about it, I'll admit they weren't really that way even then. I guess we were just a lot politer about it.

There are things, though, that still feel the same. My husband, my brother, our son, and our grandson have all served--or still serve--in the military. I am proud of their service, proud of them, and proud of others who have answered that call. There is no limit to the love and gratitude I feel. When I watched my husband give our grandson (who now outranks him) his first salute as an officer, I re-understood the meaning of having one's heart swell with pride.

I remember, though, don't you? During Vietnam Era when people spat on soldiers? When they called them baby-killers. When the government tried to deny the damage that had been done to our own by Agent Orange and by the greed that led much of the war. So, no, not always better. I not only worry about my grandson having to fight in wars not of his generation's making, but of his own countrymen treating him badly when he is at home.

I love the flag and I'll always stand for the anthem. But I'm happy the USA is still a place where it's your choice whether you stand or kneel or go on watching television when it plays. While I think burning the flag, emblazoning a political figure's face all over it, or making it into a shirt is disgusting, you are free to do so.

And, oh, yes...protesters burned it "back then," too. There was a lot of noise about making it a constitutional amendment that outlawed burning it. But they didn't really do much about the reason for the protests. And the only amendments most people honor are the ones they deem the most important. The First one is big to me, but many people are perfectly willing to ditch it in a heartbeat as long as the Second one remains untouched.

So many people are angry. That includes me. We all feel betrayed by more people and more things than I can begin to name or understand. The Fourth of July holiday and all it's stood for for all these 244 years is just having the crap beat out of it, isn't it? 

I'm a sucker for patriotic songs. I remember most of the words to the ones we learned as kids and cop to having cold chills whenever I hear "God Bless the USA." Especially that one piece of a line in it: "...the flag still stands for freedom..."

It does, as it has for that 244 years, but if it's not standing for everybody's freedom, well, we have a really long way to go as a country, don't we?

Happy 4th of July, USA, and everybody in it. Have a good week. Stay safe. Be nice to somebody.

Days Eleven and Twelve

On Day 11 of 30 Days of gratitude, still thankful for these guys and for all who serve. Happy Veterans Day. (This was a memory day)

 Day 12 of 30 days of gratitude. I'm grateful for fuzzy socks, coffee, and quiet places.

Day Two of 30 Days of Gratitude

Day Two of 30 Days of Gratitude. Last night I got an email from one of our grandsons, asking for my "skills as an author" in proofreading a paper for him. He signed the email, as he always does, "Your favorite grandchild, Skyler Wilson." Today I am so grateful to have our Magnificent Seven favorite grandchildren.