About Complaining by Liz Flaherty

I think summer's here. I've complained about 47 times this week about being hot and no one's done anything about it yet. That's a problem with complaining, I've learned. Something else is that you need to be selective about it.

1. Only complain to someone who can do something about the issue, preferably someone whose job it is and who's being paid to listen, apologize, and fix. 

2. Only complain once about any particular thing--47 times is just way over the top. 

3. Don't complain about the weather. Go inside or out, whichever suits your personal climate, dress accordingly, and--as your mother said--look at the bright side.

4. Don't complain to people who would give their eyeteeth to be in your shoes. 

Tierney Flaherty

5. Don't complain about other's people's kids or grandkids--they can't all be as cool as yours. 

6. Don't complain about people who brag about their kids and grandkids. Their families are their hearts just like your family is yours. 

7. Don't complain publicly about a business based on one bad experience. Give them a chance to clear up whatever the error was and then give them another try. Things are tough all over and social media complaints ripple on and on and...yeah, you get it. 

8. Don't complain about there being nothing to do when the truth is you haven't looked very hard.

9. Don't make lists so long they get boring...

So, could you tell I didn't have much to say this week? I hope you're enjoying summer even if is too ho...never mind. Ole Olsen has performances of The Ballad of Granny Siler this weekend and next; the fair will be coming up this month, followed shortly by the circus; Second Saturday will be the 10th (the Klabundes are performing at Gallery 15--don't miss them!); 100 Days of Summer is happening at Maconaquah Park; baseball fields are ringing with the sounds of "hey, batter..."

And, lest I forget, there's ice cream. 

Have a great week. Find something to do and, while you're at it, be nice to somebody. 

In January by Liz Flaherty #WindowOvertheSink

Not that anyone asked me, but I don't like January very much. I always intend to, because I like the things it represents. Newness, beginnings, one month name closer to spring. The fact that it's not February is good, too, because I really don't like February. They are, for me, the long winter in its entirety.

However, the truth of the matter is that fun can be had at any time. There are nice things to look at, good places to walk, to stop for coffee or lunch, people to laugh with. There is snow coming down in cotton balls of beauty as I write this and even though I'm glad I don't have to drive it, I love to watch. 

I don't have a subject this week. I'm lonely for non-Covid times, for non-political times, for... I remember being fearless, don't you? Oh, not completely--I haven't known a day without fear since my firstborn was...first born--but I'm afraid of more things now than I've ever been. Ever. Not for me--I'm old--but mostly for my grands. I want the world to be wonderful for them, not violent and greedy and hate-filled. 

So it's January, which I still don't like very much, and I'm still trying to make my new plan for the year. That plan's going to be giving up the fear of violence. Of greed. Of hate. If someone feels compelled to call names or run in rings around the truth, I don't have to listen. That's the plan so far. I'll let you know how it goes. 

Now, for the commercial. I promise not to do this often, but for the day, please turn your attention to some local businesses...starting with mine. 

If you'd like an autographed copy of WINDOW OVER THE SINK... It's available on all the online stores, too, at Amazon and virtually everywhere else, although Amazon and I are the only places to get print copies.

I've loved writing the column all these years, and I loved putting this book together, too. I hope you'll order it, read it, and like it!

And then there's Joe DeRozier, the "dusty old baker" on Broadway. Get an autographed copy of his book, HECK, I DON'T KNOW...I JUST MAKE DONUTS by clicking on the link, or at Amazon. If you've read this essays on Facebook, you know he's a born storyteller.

Gallery 15 and Studios has undergone changes in this beginning of the year, but it is still a place of beautiful things with--I think--music in its future as well.

Anita's Boutique is so much fun and has so many choices.

There are other places, both local and regional, who could use your support. Your encouragement. Other writers, artists, and musicians who are struggling through this long winter in our lifetimes. I haven't even touched the tip of the iceberg. I hope you stop by. Wear your mask and laugh with people.

Thanks for reading. Have a great week. Be nice to somebody.

The best things

From July, 2018:

“…Bluebirds sing for nothing—and the shade comes free with a tree…” – Troy Jones & Shane Decker

I like money. I used to like working with it in my job. I liked paying bills and working out the best way to do it so that we’d have as much money as we had month—well, most of the time. Having more of it would be nice, I guess, but since we don’t really need more, that doesn’t really matter. I like what money can do, but not what it often does do.

Even though I like it, I don’t want it to become important. At least, I don’t want it to become more important than things that are free. When I wrote that, I thought it was sort of profound. I also thought some people reading it would just think it was goofy. And I’m good with that.

But this afternoon on Facebook, I saw pictures of some of our kids and grandkids on different beaches. The sky and the waters of Lake Michigan and the Atlantic Ocean were brilliant blue behind them. The sand was sparkling white. Another of the kids told me about a bicycle ride down the Virginia Creeper Trail. Seventeen miles almost all down-hill. I’m not sure I’ll ever make the ride, but it’s been fun thinking about it, visualizing our son and daughter-in-law riding it, remembering the conversation.

Oh, yes, conversation. Conversation with friends and family is free and priceless at the same time. And sometimes it doesn’t have to be friends or family. In 1973, I waited in line at Disney World behind a couple from Massachusetts who had moved to Georgia. Their accents were a hilarious mash-up, and I still remember the conversation.

Ditch lilies. I like lilies anyway—they’re pretty. We have a yellow day lily that blooms like sunshine day after day. But those orange ones in the ditches all over the place—they light up everything, especially when they’re sharing space with a rainbow of other wildflowers.

Speaking of lighting up, the Big Dipper and all those other star formations (I only know two, so I’m not going to try to sound smart here) give a free light show every night the clouds don’t cover them up. The moon is another extravaganza that doesn’t have a cover charge and is worth a crick in your neck to watch in every presentation from full to the slender quarter known as God’s Thumbnail. Sunrises and sunsets are amazing and awesome. Although I think both those words are overused, they’re also fitting at every dawn and every dusk.

Jokes are free and funny and good for you because they make you laugh. The more laughter you use, the more you want to use, and it never runs out. It’s not fattening, either.

Music is a balm to the spirit. I think live music is best, and it’s easy to find a place to go and listen. But when I look back to the endless years of my adolescence, I’m pretty sure the only reason I survived was that it was the Sixties and I got to listen to the best music ever on WLS and WABC (at night when it came in on the radio) and WOWO.

No one charges you for crying when you’re sad, and sometimes tears are the best salve for emotional pain.

If you are able, nothing is better exercise than walking. Reading is endless entertainment. Watching a bird and a squirrel have a conversation, kids playing baseball, or babies laughing out loud can be day-makers.

Beauty is free. Artists in galleries are always happy to see you come in. To show you the pieces of their hearts that are on display there. To explain the things about art that you might not understand. The feelings you get in those places don’t have a price on them. They are like music only you can hear.

Libraries are windows on the world—yes, I know that’s not an original thought. I admit a lot of people have to pay for cards, but the truth is there is no charge to use the resources inside the building and often the programs offered are free and open to all. These include movies, music, crafts, story-time, study rooms, and great discussion groups.

Kindness is free. Holding doors for people, smiling even if it makes your cheeks hurt because you don’t feel like it, or going through the express lane with only as many purchases as the sign allows. Remembering, when a kid is screaming, that sometimes it’s just hard being two, three, or four, and hard being the mom or dad, too. Calling and saying, “Are you okay? I miss you.”

The smell of flowers. Of sheets fresh off the clothesline. Of new-plowed earth or just-cut grass or hay or the sweetness of a baby’s neck. The sounds of birds. Of laughing. Of “hey, batter, batter…” Of “I love you, too”—always a good answer.

When I started this, I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it long enough, and now I don’t know how to stop. I just went to see my sister, took her a book and shared sciatica stories. We hugged each other, said we loved each other. It was free.

So, yeah, I still like money, but once you get past the food, clothing, shelter, and health care, it’s not nearly as important as the things it can’t buy.

Have a great week. Hug somebody—it’s free.