Interview With Mom – What I Learned About Mom During a Sunday Afternoon Interview

More than eleven years after dad died, it seemed imperative to ask questions of mom that I’d never before asked. She’s wise, compassionate, fun, and creative. I believe her answers may teach us to be good listeners and encourage countless others.

While there’s still time, I wanted to remember and respect seemingly insignificant things that reveal her heart, a market place of treasures. “Mom, what’s it like to be you?”

Q. What is your favorite color?

A. My favorite colors as a child were yellow and light blue but now I prefer navy blue, red, and black.

Q. What is your favorite time of the day?

A. Sunset.

Q. What is your favorite book?

A. Gone With the Wind. When we were first married, I read it. We went to see the movie. Even though it’s been more than 70 years ago, I still remember that it was the only movie your dad ever went to see.

Q. What is your favorite food?

A. Hot chicken salad with almonds. It’s delicious!

Q. What is your favorite memory from school?

A. Well, that’s a two-part answer:

1. Sports: playing basketball and baseball. In my first year of high school until I graduated, I was a member of the first string and played every game as a basketball forward, one of three. Our uniform was a white shirt and dark blue shorts. I played in tip-offs. Our games in the 1930’s were half-court, not like today’s games.

2. Performing in school plays. In my junior year, I portrayed a mother in a play, although I don’t remember the title. The audience saw me sewing a white garment by hand. The husband walked toward me and asked a question. “What are you doing?” When I held up the white garment, the audience saw me holding a large pair of ladies bloomers with elastic around the legs and waist. They roared with laughter.

Q. When did you learn to ride a bicycle?

A. 10 years old. My brother would stand on the step and shove my bicycle. My first successful destination was riding to the local post office.

Q. Where did you first attend church?

A. At a Christian church close to our house. It’s still easy to remember the first scripture verse I memorized, Psalm 23. I walked to church as a young child before I ever began school. The path was straight between home and church; I didn’t even have to cross the road. My first Sunday school teacher’s name was Ms. Jewel Hatch and our class met in the church basement.

Q. Where did you first attend school?

A. My first grade class was in a one-room schoolhouse. When it was cold weather, I’d warm my hands at a stove inside a service station on my walk to school.

Q. Did you have any pets while you grew up?

A. One of my brothers brought a dog home with him one afternoon. The dog was black as a charcoal briquette. I kept a photograph of that dog. The photograph was taken with a box camera. Mom stood beside the dog that we named Little-Bitty.

Q. What is the most unusual event you remember from childhood?

A. Mom tinted my hair in the summer early on a Sunday morning when I was rather young. I wore a short-sleeved dress made out of light fabric. My hair was white as cotton and it always tangled. For some reason, mom apparently thought changing the hair color from white to black would make my hair easier to brush. She just didn’t like white hair. “I’m going to change it.” And that’s what she did. When the black dye grew out of my hair, it was never again as white as cotton.

3 Questions for Fun Decision Making – How to Find Fun With 3 Questions

“How did you find that concert?” It was a profound question because it was engaging and thought-provoking. After a pause of at least thirteen seconds, the answers bubbled in my thoughts.

It was easy to remember an enjoyable evening when attending a concert almost two years earlier. Even though advertisements for the latest concert performed by the same musicians and artists weren’t readily available, I’d found them with a minimal amount of research. Perhaps my friend was puzzled due to the fact that I hadn’t shared with her my three question process for fun decision-making.

The questions are straightforward; however, clarity of thought is paramount to the answering process. With practice, you will improve as you discern whether or not the time is right to pursue an event, an idea, or fun.

Question 1. Will this occur near my location again within the next twelve months? If yes is the answer, stop immediately. However, if no is the answer, proceed to the second question.

Question 2. Is it affordable? If no is the answer, stop immediately. If yes is the answer, proceed to the third question.

Question 3. Would participation in the event provide life-enriching benefits for me as well as others? If yes is the answer, proceed to take immediate action.

Using these questions on a regular basis generates serendipitous memories. More often than not, five minutes is ample time to easily answer the three questions but expertise is achieved only after consistent practice in order to make it a permanent process.

Remember, there is a magic five letter word associated with the success of these questions: Think. Caution is strongly advised when this element is absent in the process.

As you decide to implement these questions into your own decision-making processes, you’ll find new opportunities waiting for you. Of course, you must be forewarned as this could be among one of the most challenging things you may ever attempt. Earl Nightingale said it best. “To think is one of the most difficult things human beings do.”

Begin today by investing a tiny fraction of time for quiet in your day. Practice the process at least five days a week each month. Write your thoughts and ideas in a notebook or journal. Even if you believe you only have one good idea each day, after four weeks you’ll have a minimum of twenty ideas to ponder.

An unknown author wrote a poem of only four lines that emphasizes the importance of quiet in our lives:

“I have a treasure which I prize,
It’s like I cannot find;
There’s nothing like it on the earth -
‘Tis this, a QUIET MIND.”

Love Is Foundation for a Miniature Platform Rocking Chair

It was a gift from a previous colleague and friend. “This antique rocking chair was the first gift my wife gave to me when we married…” He had been promoted and his career required relocation to another state. “We just don’t have room to take it with us and we know you’ll appreciate it.”

Thankful to have been the recipient of such a valued treasure, reality struck. “This rocking chair needs a lot of love and work, which would include re-upholstering as well as refinishing the wood. When dad first saw the chair, he paused. “I hope they paid you to haul it away…” It was the truth, albeit brutal, and then he smiled.

Dad and I began our joint venture the next week. It proved to be an extensive project of work requiring incalculable hours. Several weeks later, family and friends enjoyed the new and improved antique rocking chair. It was comfortable beyond words. Someone always found time to rest in the classic rocking chair.

The corduroy cover on the seat cushion resembled the color of mink that faded with use until it was beyond time to repair it again. Thankful to remember that dad had a friend who specialized in upholstery, the friend agreed without hesitation to restore the antique.

Only a few months later, dad died. His death devastated my tiny daughter. Afterward, when chatting with dad’s upholstery friend, he offered to craft a miniature platform rocking chair for my daughter. He wanted to give her a tangible memory that represented her grandfather’s love as well as the friendship our families shared.

A few tears welled in the eyes of dad’s friend as he gently placed his hand over his heart. Emotion filled his words. “I have a few leftover remnants of the fabric used for your rocking chair… I’ll craft a miniature platform rocking chair for your daughter. It’ll be like a matched set. It’s for your dad, too.

Less than seven years of age, she enjoyed playing in the chair; however, several years would go by before she’d be able to comprehend the gift’s magnitude. She loved her grandfather; he loved her, too. On the birthday she celebrated with him before his death, he’d told me how grateful he was for the time he’d been given to spend with her “Pa-poo.”

Dad’s friend told me the fabric that covered her child-sized platform rocking chair was sturdy and durable enough to last a long time. He reassured me with a smile and a few words. “It’s so tough, gravy won’t stick to it!”

His eyes brightened when I asked if he’d autograph a 3 x 5 index card to commemorate the gift. “Of course! Write what you want remembered. I’ll sign and staple it underneath the chair to one of its wooden foundational supports.”

Recently, I was reminded of that signed index card. It was a tender, sweet reminder of dad, his love, and his life. The card remained in tact even though it’s been almost 20 years since it’d been stapled to the foundation of the miniature platform rocking chair that was custom-made for her.

Mom says it best. “It’s the little things that matter the most.”

1 Reason Why I Needed to Read the Fine Print

Stored in a miniature cedar chest, I paused when the view of a flat rectangular purse captured my attention. Inspecting the denim zippered artifact, it seemed odd to hold denim that resembled the color of a pink rose. It had been more than a few years since I’d last held that bag. Rediscovering a tangible moment of a forgotten childhood memory piqued my curiosity.

Dad worked in a textile mill when I was young. The mill exclusively manufactured dark blue denim fabrics, which was quite the opposite of the pink denim bag resting in my hands. While wondering whether I’d purchased the bag or had received it as a gift, memories of dad surfaced when Mom and I visited his place of employment. The family day event was planned to celebrate those represented by employees of the mill.

It suddenly seemed important to inspect the tiny label on the simple and perhaps insignificant denim bag. Imagine my unexpected surprise when realizing I’d received a minuscule history lesson about the mill where dad had labored for our family. The message had been hidden by thick lines bordering the miniature company label on the bag.

Squinting didn’t reveal the seemingly secret words framed in a square line of print. It bordered the edges of the label, which was equivalent to the size of a postage stamp. However, with the assistance of a magnifying glass, the elusive answer was finally revealed. The textile mill proclaimed excellence as they began their second century of operation. It was easier to read the subsequent line summarizing the mill’s mission to create comfortable fabrics for everyone. The pink denim keepsake served as a reminder of the reason why dad appreciated working for the respected textile mill in our community.

While recently watching a movie about the Santa Clause, it was amusing to watch the key character casually read aloud a name printed in bold letters on a business card. There didn’t seem to be any apparent reason to inspect the broad lines bordering the business card, which temporarily disguised the charge for the next individual who received it.

It was only a few days later when the similarity was understood between the fine print that bordered the postage sized label on my pink denim bag and the fine print that bordered the business card featured in the recently viewed movie. Neither the movie character nor I had stopped to read the fine print before us until a magnifying glass finally revealed the mystery. It was vital for both of us to read the fine print in order to proceed.

The movie character needed the details on the card in order to continue and complete his scripted story; however, my need to read the fine print on the label was sentimental. The details of that pink zippered denim bag had been overlooked for years. Perhaps that’s why it’s now such a valuable memory.

Dad was a man of few words, yet he generously served our family, his employers, and friends in our community. The visual struggle to read the fine print on the postage sized label stitched to the pink denim bag finally unlocked the door to cherished memories that hadn’t been recorded for others to remember… until now.

Boomerang 101 – How to Throw a Boomerang

One particular sermon illustrating the importance of the healing quality of laughter in life is unforgettable for me. Norman Cousins authored the book, “Anatomy of an Illness.” He discovered the positive effect of profound doses of daily laughter combined with Vitamin C that conquered his illness.

Fascinated with Cousins’ discovery of how laughter improved his life, my search for contagious laughter began. The notion developed about my preceding interest in boomerangs. Enthralled with their history, the mirth memory of a Far Side cartoon surfaced. While pondering the cartoon frame featuring Mr. and Mrs. Boomerang, I felt a smile and giggled.

In the lone cartoon frame, Mrs. Boomerang stood in the open door of their home while Mr. Boomerang walked away from the house. He held a solitary piece of luggage. Her words were few but the sentiment was clear. “Go ahead and leave. You’ll be back in 10 to 15 minutes, just like all the other times.”

It’s been more than a few years since an acquaintance had given me an Authentic Aboriginal Boomerang crafted by Wungella Artifacts in Australia. Several days ago my eyes rediscovered printed directions for the correct way to throw it. On the reverse side, a narrow rectangular sticker displayed the “How to Throw a Boomerang” instructions:

1. Throw at 45 degree angle away from wind direction.

2. Flat side away from wind or away from body.

The thought struck me that it was time to photograph the boomerang. It also seemed imperative to immediately complete the task since the New Year had just begun.

My goal was to understand how to correctly throw a boomerang. However, I received a greater appreciation for the meticulous design of the Australian boomerang.

Although throwing my boomerang produced a different result than the results featured on a YouTube video, it was easy to understand that practice is required to successfully throw a boomerang that returns.

Before throwing my Australian treasure again, I decided it was time to frame and exhibit the artifact in my work area. The frame shop guy I spoke with said this would be the first time he’d ever framed a boomerang. His finished project produced a stunning presentation of the painted kangaroo on the boomerang.

We smiled. Both of us enjoyed the boomerang challenge that incorporated humor, art, history, geography, and accuracy.

Boomerangs will return when correctly thrown; however, correctly framed boomerangs will tell stories that families and friends can throw and enjoy for countless years.

No Ordinary Diagnosis – Recovery From Toxic Mold Exposure

Thought for Today 06-25-10

“Too bad all the people who know how to run this country are busy running taxicabs or cutting hair…” ~ George Burns [Life Magazine, December 1979]

Thought for Today 06-24-10

“Reading is to the mind what exercise is to the body…” ~ Sir Richard Steele

Thought for Today 06-23-10

“Cheerfulness keeps up a kind of day-light in the mind…” ~ Joseph Addison

Time Capsule in a Tin Can

In the middle of a 30 second cell phone conversation, I heard a beep and silence. The battery died, I guess.

“Only a year ago, I paid 99 cents for this cell phone, new.” The death of my frugal investment wasn’t comforting.

On my way home, I checked on the price for a replacement battery. The sales associate listened attentively even though it was minutes before their business closed for the day. His reply, “Only $37.95 for a new battery,” wasn’t comforting.

He must have seen the question on my mind because he began an abbreviated yet detailed summary about the steps to replace the dead battery. “This type of battery will be a special order; this week’s orders have already been placed. The anticipated delivery date…approximately two weeks.” My response, “Oh,” ended our conversation.

Just a few years ago, I experienced a similar situation. That cell phone battery died too. It wasn’t a comforting memory.

Digging inside the console of my car, I was desperate to find a power source for the cell phone. Instead, I found a silver tin container. It was rectangular in shape with a heart and cross embossed design on the lid. “What’s that?”

As the primary driver of the car, I was the culprit who had buried the unlikely version of a time capsule in a tin can. Neither did I remember the contents of the tin container nor did I remember why I had placed it in the console of the car.

Eager to find out what I had inadvertently hidden, I sat on the floor and lifted the lid off of the tin container. I found a wooden toothpick holder, two Bible verses which had been clipped from a newspaper, one miniature mechanical pencil, a few antacid tablets and a Theodore Roosevelt quote.

Also inside the container, there were two more newspaper clippings and a miniature hand carved box that could be opened only with secret instructions. It was less then two inches wide. A tiny red heart was painted on the outside. Inside the box, the palm of a hand was etched in the thin wood.

In addition, there was a miniature plastic bag in the tin that contained a collection of gifts symbolic of courage, strength and hope.

The first newspaper clipping told a story about Bald Head Island, North Carolina. However, there wasn’t a year listed in the article so I’m certain it was over a year old.

Another newspaper clipping told a story about two professors who had recently received the highest civilian honor bestowed by the North Carolina Governor, “The Order of the Long Leaf Pine.” That article didn’t list a date either but it did include the state toast.

It felt as if I had discovered a time capsule buried in my car, without premeditation. Each item evoked memories far beyond the face value of the item.

People might say the intrinsic value of my tiny memories was little more than a miniature tin can of trash. However, the epiphany I experienced while inventorying my buried treasure was worth more than a pound of rare gems.

I confess this recent discovery of memories led me on a path I had previously traveled but forgotten. Memories flooded my mind searching for understanding.

The answer, of course, was the realization that the tin container held glimpses of previous opportunities in life, a miniature blueprint for future plans.

The questions played over and over in my thoughts. “Why did I bury these items? Why did I stop? When did I stop?”

Waiting for my response, I remembered. Mom had a heart attack in July the previous year. I remembered the urgency to develop a new plan of action after that unexpected family emergency.

Dr. David Campbell said it best in his book entitled, “If You Don’t Know Where You’re Going, You’ll Probably End up Somewhere Else.” I found myself in quite a different place than my original plans.

Mom’s heart attack stopped me temporarily but the severity of her situation urged me to live intentionally with a definite plan, even though it had been temporarily misplaced.

Remember, now is better than never to prepare a blueprint for your life, even if you use a tin can.

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Angela Scott is an author who diligently works to encourage and inspire you, and those with whom you live and work to continually find hope. Visit http://www.thatstorylady.com to get your free “Thought for Today.”