SHOPPING AND LOVING IT

Yes, tonight, I am shopping and loving it. Not buying anything, just shopping. That is why I do enjoy QVC. When I want to shop, I can turn it on and shop to my heart's content. Today is the last Fashion Day before Christmas and so all kinds of things are being shown. And I am looking and longing and looking and longing. But not buying. The fun is in the looking, the window shopping. It is eye candy for the lover of clothing.

First, there are the Anne Klein shooties. Oooh, in red patent and 3 inch heels. I couldn't wear them at all. But they are gorgeous and make me long for the days when I was young and wore such things. Deep red patent .. oh my.

And then there is the Bob Mackie velvet burnout long blouse with long, full sleeves and a wonderful, intricate print in red and purples, ready to wear with the Bob Mackie purple velvet pants. I would love to have these for wearing during the holidays. Don't know where; but if I had them, I would find somewhere to go where this outfit would really shine. I love QVC's Bob Mackie designs. They are so fashionable, so glamorous, so elegant, and always so flattering.

There are the short pull-on suede boots with a soft lining that means they will keep your feet warm all winter. And with such colors: pale lilac, pale blue, grey, black, chocolate, all kinds of colors to keep feet warm for every female. And pointed toe, 3 1/2 inch high, croco print ankle boots. The pair in grey is to die for, but they all look great on the models who wear them with leggings and short skirts.

At two AM, they will be selling coats and at three, Quacker Factory. Jeanne Bice sells some of the greatest tees for everyday wear. They are made from a good fabric that washes and wears like a dream and she always selects the most luscious colors. I cannot wait to see what she has tonight; but I am not going to for I am about to go to bed and give up the shopping for the night.

But if I were up to it, I could continue shopping all night long. At five AM, I could watch Denim & Co and see the best fitting jeans to be found at prices we can afford and wonderful sweaters and sweatshirts that always look good with those jeans. And at 8 AM I could watch Susan Graver, the designer who got me started shopping at QVC. That is a story in itself.

In October of 1990, I had just begun teaching in a new school (administrators had moved several of us from 9th grade at a junior high to 9th grade at a high school) and of course, all of us wanted to put our best feet forward by dressing our very best. I had just learned how much fun it is to wear combinations of colors and I had some dark teal pants and a strawberry colored silk blazer. I wanted a pale lilac silk blouse to put with that. I had shopped all summer for short sleeved silk or silky shells in purples, teals, and fuschias. I had looked everywhere: shops, catalogs, everywhere.

One morning I turned on the TV to keep me awake while I got ready for school; and there they were. A woman was on TV selling exactly what I had been looking for and at a great price. Oh my. I hurriedly grabbed the phone and made the call. And that was it. I would guess that for the rest of my teaching career, I wore garments designed by Susan Graver and sold on QVC. And they looked terrific.

Yes, I admit, I bought entirely too many things. I still do. I can still wear those first garments I bought and they still look brand new. Their design is classic and so, they are not that out of date. A shell is a shell and a pant is pretty much a pant! And so, I absolutely do NOT need another new garment. Therefore, I shop and so not buy. I shop and get all of the kick from it that we women do have in looking at new things and imagining ourselves wearing then.

I do enjoy this kind of shopping. I love just seeing the every nice things, the beautiful designs, the gorgeous colors; and I enjoy seeing how the stylists have put things together. Every time I watch a fashion shopping show, I learn something new about using my older things and making them look new and up to date. And that is the practical reason for watching I suppose (as if I needed an excuse).

But now it is time to stop the shopping and take myself to bed. You all shop through the night and find something you cannot live without. I will see you tomorrow in time to watch Susan Graver at 8. See you then.

I AM IRONING

Yes, for the last three days, I have been ironing, steaming, and pressing. Sounds terrible, doesn't it? But you know what? I have thoroughly enjoyed myself. I may continue doing this until everything is sleek and shiny and in the closet. (As opposed to being in a pile beside the ironing board or in a chair or at the foot of my bed.)

At least, they aren't still in the refrigerator. Back in the olden days, when people did things like sprinkle clothing and let them sit until they were damp throughout each garment so that when hit with the hot iron, they would smooth nicely, if one didn't get all of the ironing completed, the damp clothes had to be put somewhere so they wouldn't grow sour. The fridge was my favorite place. Those days are long gone.

Along with sprinkling, I no longer starch my white shirts, dry them outside on a line, and bring them in to be sprinkled and ironed with a hot iron. No longer do we have to have uniformly damp clothing to be ironed smooth. With the wonderful fabrics that we have these days and the terrific appliances we own, ironing is really a very enjoyable time.

I have in all of those piles are cotton and cotton/poly tees as well as cotton and cotton/poly shirts, and jeans and silk blouses and polyester blouses and all kinds of other lovely fabrics that come from the laundry looking fresh and almost ready to wear.

And I have the most wonderful appliance for taking out the few remaining wrinkles and leaving my garments with a lovely finish. I have a Rowenta 1800 watt professional iron with 100 steam holes. That thing breezes through garments like the trite old hot knife through butter. It is lots of hot steam right through those wrinkles. And I love it. I can make a tee or a pair of jeans look brand new in less than a minute and a silky poly blouse in not much more. Creases are sharp with just one pass and most things can be ironed while doubled and the steam goes right through and does its job. I do love it.

And why do I steam those tees? Those $12 tees from Wal*Mart look brand new each time I steam them; and the steamed ones that have had a little sizing sprayed on them first don't pick up stains and the short fiber cotton lies down and so that the tee looks as if it were made from long staple cotton! If I didn't get bleach on then while cleaning the kitchen, they might last forever.

I have completed a stack of ironing and I may well be half finished. Have no idea what tomorrow may bring other than rain; but I do inten d to complete this job this year!

SELF-TALK AND POSITIVE THINKING

Do you listen to the thoughts that are constantly flying through your mind? It's a funny thing when you stop and listen to the things you are constantly telling yourself. Although we always think that our minds are filled with gibberish, the truth is that all of those things we are telling ourselves remain in our minds and often shape how we feel.

Yes, some morning, just stop what you are doing and listen to yourself. Are you just babbling on about things you plan to do today or are you working out full conversations with someone you need to talk to later on? All of us do that, you know. You aren't the only one who works out complete dialog as if you had any idea what that other person might really say.

But that's not the kind of self-talk that I am thinking about tonight. I am talking about all those things we say to ourselves while we are washing dishes or heading for that last turn before the last of your 50 lap walk around the little gym or as David is tying his tie before he heads out the door to conquer the world.

Some people, like David, have a constant run of criticisms of themselves, the brain mumbling things about how he should have listened to his mother all those years ago as she tried to teach him to make the perfect knot. Oh, but he was too busy to do it the right way, and he simply never learned how.

As David goes out the door, his mind has a running list of all the things he sees that should have been done over the weekend and he tells himself that had he not been so lazy, the garage door would have been repaired, the rose garden fertilized, the car taken in for its inspection. And as he rehearses each offense, he rebukes himself for not being a better provider, a better father, a better neighbor.

By the time he has backed the car down the drive, his mind is back to the bill paying that he had done the night before; and once more, he is telling himself that he is a poor provider for his family and berating himself over choices he made many years before. Can you even imagine what a storm of unhappy bumble bees conflict within his brain as he tries to think?

All of that is the result of negative self-talk, perhaps one of the most devastating habits adults allow themselves. Sometime in the late '80's, I read a book on the subject of self-talk and decided to do something different in my own life and began a very determined effort to change my way of thinking. I know, you are thinking that your thoughts are automatic. There isn't much you can do to stop them.

True. Thought is automatic. But the fact that you have thought about something doesn’t mean that it is true or good or even useful. In fact, the opposite is often true as those thoughts can often be destructive; but self-talk can be changed. To begin, you have to be aware of the fact that this self talk goes on inside your brain all of the time and at lightening speed. When you notice, you discover that you are constantly in conversation with yourself, everything from congratulations to beating up on yourself. But until you stop and think about what you are telling yourself, you may not be aware that what you tell yourself automatically all the time does have an effect on how you feel about what you do, what you are.

If you will begin to check up on yourself from time to time and listen to what you are telling yourself about yourself, you can begin to change any negative thoughts you have and add a strong positive line of thought in your life. When you get to the point that you believe that everything is all wrong, ask yourself just what you are saying to yourself. And remember that just thinking something does not make it a fact. It is simply a thought.

When one of those common negative thoughts comes along, remembering that it is ONLY a thought takes much of its power away. Don't listen; tell it that it has no power against you. And change that thought to something more realistic. On a day when you are fine and thinking good thoughts, look at the things you have been hearing yourself say. How many are completely unrealistic negativity and need to be tossed out? How many are completely unreal and almost ridiculously positive? Identify those. And keep only those thoughts that are realistic and can help you grow.

Now, you have determined that you know that you talk to yourself all of the time and those things that come into your mind are simply thoughts and not facts. You can analyze your thoughts and separate those which are valid from those which are not. And last, you should replace those thoughts that lie to you with good thoughts, valid thoughts, positive thoughts, thoughts that will allow you to grow, be a better mother, a better student, a happier person.

When you have tossed out all of those negative thoughts that disturb and prevent your being the very best person you can be, and have replaced them with valid, positive thoughts, you will learn that you can become your own best friend, your own cheerleader. I used to tell my students that I was their greatest cheerleader; but it took me a very long time to learn to be my own cheerleader. And now I have changed. Most of my self-talk is positive. I no longer beat myself up over those things I cannot do. I try to recognize those things I can do and those I cannot do and be realistic about the choices I make.

And when I see something I feel that I NEED to do, such as get my personal bath room sparkly clean and organized, rather than beat myself up over what I simply never seem to get done, I tell myself that I will eventually complete the job, but I will do it in small bits, a little every day, until it is done. I still don’t like the fact that it isn’t done yet; but I am not talking myself into deep depression. I am encouraging myself to get it done, planning, mentally preparing, cheering myself on.

I am learning. Even on one of the very bad days when the Fibromyalgia is beating me up, I do not let my thoughts add to that. I have long given up the indulgence of thinking about how bad I feel, how much I hurt, how little I am able to do, how seldom I am able to do things with other people. Instead, I have learned to spend that time, doing those things that allow me to pamper myself so that I will be over this episode sooner, feel much better a day earlier than usual, get back on my feet, and accomplish something I want to do.

That’s so much better than lying around, feeling bad and complaining, telling myself all those things about myself that are NOT good, just feeling bad and wishing it were not so, thinking about other people who do so much more, comparing myself to friends who are my age and are so much better at accomplishing things. Now when a day of doing that is over, where am I? Feeling sorry for myself, crying, feeling worse emotionally, wanting to hide in bed somewhere until it is all over. And what does a day like that lead to? Too often, another one just like it. At that rate, it takes much longer to begin to have good days, truly productive days.

Those of you who discover that you are talking to yourself with negative self talk can change all that by planning deliberately positive things to say to yourself, just as you have learned to use coping skills effectively. And as you reassure yourself, encourage yourself, and cheer yourself on, you will find yourself achieving at a much higher level and loving yourself through your efforts.

FREE SPEECH?

I have not written recently; not because I didn't have something to say, but because I had too much to say, too much that has come rushing at me so that I feared babbling and saying things in the wrong way so that others brushed aside my ideas without thinking about them. I want what I write to cause thought and discussion, not immediate denial of my point of view.

And so as I sit now to write, I hesitate to say what I want to say for that same reason. Before you deny what I am saying, think about it, please. For several years, I have wondered about something I have believed in for many years and that is the right of an American citizen to speak his opinion.

For years, as a teacher, I believe that I never preached my ideas to my students. I did answer any question a student might ask about my opinion and I never felt any way but good about that. We were told that as teachers, we should answer our students honestly when they asked our opinion, but never to tell them that our opinion was the only opinion. I believe that was the way I conducted my classes.

I know that I had students in my classes who disagreed with me, and I believe that I never made them feel any way but good about having their own opinions. I know that I never made fun of them, or belittled them for disagreeing with me. And believe me, many subjects came up that we could have argued about. I hope that I always allowed for all of the varied opinions in free discussion.

I do know that doesn't go on much any more. There are teachers who are adamant that theirs is the only right opinion and insist that the class come to their ideas while there are other teachers who fear to state an opinion due to the fact that we are no longer a nation that honors the differing opinion. Have you noticed that?

There are some subjects on which we must all have the same answer, topics on which we have to agree, names we all must use. Have you noticed? It began innocently enough with a desire to remove a certain amount of rudeness from our culture. We wanted others not to use old derogatory terms about people. That was a good thing. From there, it seemed to go in all directions so that almost any term used to describe a person offended someone. At one time, the Mrs. in front of a woman's name was anathema as many feminists were incensed to have that and demanded that everyone use MS. I didn't want MS. I wasn't a MS; I was a Mrs.

From there, it went to the ridiculous use of he/she every time we wanted to refer to the unknown singular person. For years, we had used 'he' and suddenly we had to use he/she or we were ostracized. That is ridiculous, especially when English teachers demanded the use, as we had known forever that the 'he' referred to a singular person, not necessarily one of the male gender.

Frankly, I thought all of the political correctness was just short of silly; but this year, the entire thing has passed silly and arrived at anti-American. No matter what my opinion, I have never destroyed someone for voicing an opinion differing from mine.

This year when a judge asked Miss California her opinion about marriage and she gave her honest opinion, not only did he take time to blast her in every way about what she had said, but thereafter, every entertainment columnist also had something derisive to say about her. And it didn’t stop after she did not win the contest. Instead, it went on and on with the various writers deriding her for not agreeing with the majority of people in California. Oh … that’s not right. The people of California voted to keep Proposition 8. Oh .. . she seems to have had an opinion that disagreed with … entertainers.

Now, if that is the way we are going to treat those who disagree with those who have the microphones, we are all in trouble. Any one of us could be heard saying something with which others disagree. I could. We seem to be losing our ‘right of freedom of speech.’ I do know that teachers have lost that right. Perhaps, it has come because so many teachers abused it by drumming their own opinions into their students; perhaps, it has come because we are afraid that the teachers might disagree with our own opinions.

All I know is that fifteen years ago, I was not afraid to answer the question of what I thought about any given subject that came up in the classroom. Today, teachers are warned not to do so. Warned? Perhaps, threatened is more like it. I am afraid that it won’t end with teachers fearing to express an opinion that differs from the government or the school board or the students. What happens when newspapers or radio commentators fear expressing an opinion?

FIBROMYALGIA

Some days, fibromyalgia is a true dragon and it takes me over completely so that I can think of little else. Today was one of those. No matter that I wanted to do some fun summer type things. I hurt too bad to do almost anything. That is one of the bad things about the disease.

Last night, it prevented me from sleeping well. No, I didn't stay awake. In fact, I slept in great huge blocks of three and four hours; but each time I woke, I was in pain and felt all crippled up as if I had slept in some terrible position. Besides, each time I woke, I immediately went back to sleep as if drugged and again slept for several hours only to wake in some sort of cramped position and hurting.

Finally, I gave up and attempted to sit up on the sofa and stay awake with the heating pad covering the parts that hurt the most and a blanket keeping any air from touching the skin. And then, I would wake in that position with my head lolling in some sort of strange direction and that adding to the pain.

That is the problem with fibro. The pain simply will not go away. And this wasn't even the flu-like pain that is the worst part of having fibromyalgia. This was just simple pain. About 10 PM or so, I had taken enough pain medication and heated the muscles enough that I finally felt like doing something other than just sitting.

Of course, by that time at night, it is really too late to accomplish much, but I did work in my bedroom some and put away some of the great heaps of clean laundry that are stacked everywhere. Tomorrow is going to be much better. Of that I am certain. And so perhaps, tomorrow I will come in here and write something wonderful on one of those topics that is rattling around in my brain. I do hope so.

The other day, one of my former students who writes to me on FaceBook asked me about Fibromyalgia, saying that she had been diagnosed with it and that now it was really beginning to bother her. I did try to give her as honest a description of what to expect and what works to help as I could.

I am sure that by now she has discovered these fibro days that come along when nothing works, but I hope also that she had learned that they do not last forever and that a good day does come along from time to time; and that the very best thing to do is to look forward to those good days and to make the most of them when they do come along.

I'm going to have a good one tomorrow; and I do hope that you all have a good day also.

OH, BY THE WAY

About that stress test, when I went in to see my primary physician, she had not heard the result and so looked it up on the computer right then, acknowledging that if she hadn't heard anything, then the news must be good. She looked at the page with the result and simply said, "Normal."

Told you all there was nothing wrong with my heart, but it is so nice to know it. Now, I have had almost every test they give to women "of a certain age"and I believe that they can now leave me alone for a while. I am quite happy with where I am. I think.

Writing and Thinking ... or should it be Thinking and Writing

I suppose that I should think before I write; and thus far, I have been thinking for about three weeks on things I want to write about here. I do try to get the ideas straight in my head before I begin; and sometimes that leaves long, empty spaces between Blogs. I don't mean to do that, but I am simply not one to write a comment about what I had for supper and call it a blog. I cannot do that. I blog because I want to say something and I want to share that with whomever wants to read what I write.

I really want to write about the economic situation and that one goes round and round in my head. I also want to write about writing when the readers so often know that I was an English teacher as well as about reading others' blogs when yes, the writers also know that I was an English teacher. Something else that goes round and round in my head is my idea of patriotism as opposed to much of what I read and hear these days.

And I think I would like to write some things about my childhood. About some of my favorite places. About other memories. I would hate to make this just a place where I relive much of my past, but there are things I remember that I want to write about. I will get there.  What sounds good to you, anyone reading?  Guess I am a little too late to write about American Idol; but I may anyway.

At least, this gives me a list to work from so that tomorrow some time I might write something. Or not. We shall see.

FOLLOW UP TO MY APRIL 29 POST

Guess what? Today I had a Nuclear Stress Test. My doctor felt that as a woman of "a certain age" and after all of last week's excitement, I needed to have a stress test to make certain that my heart was just fine. Now, I know that all is well; but for some reasons, doctors need proof!

It was a very simple thing. All I had to do was sit still, first while the technician took nuclear pictures -- or something equally magnificent -- of my heart muscle at work. She had injected a small amount of a radioactive substance into my veins so that when I lay on the table underneath the gamma camera, it was able to produce images of my heart at rest. Then she took me into the stress test room where rather than walking on the treadmill, I was given a medication that caused my heart to react as if I were actually exercising, causing the coronary arteries to widen and the blood flow to increase.

After that, a second set of images were taken with the gamma camera so that the two sets could be compared to determine whether there were any heart damage or any place blood was not flowing correctly. It was all very simple and although it took about three hours, it was quite an easy thing to do.

It was the actual stressing of the heart that told me something, that gave me information about myself and the experience that I had had last week. When the technician injected me with the medication that would simulate exercise, I felt all of the effects she had told me that I would: cold, shortness of breath, shaking, tears (well, she didn't mention the tears, but I had them) and I felt just as I had felt last week when I went to the Emergency Room. To me, that was very interesting. Although nothing had shown up as being wrong with my heart when I was checked in the ER, I felt the same effects that night as I felt today.

The tech didn't seem too concerned about that and I'm not either. What I have decided is that what I felt the other night was a good reason to go to the ER, as I did feel the same way that I felt today when my heart was working hard. It might have been an overworked heart, but it wasn't. It was some sort of panic attack set off by American Idol. (Well, not really. It was some sort of a fake panic attack that I will recognize next time.) And you know what? After my experience today, I will probably go right back to the ER if I ever feel that way again. I have learned that it might be real. My heart might be working too hard.

SWINE FLU, OH MY

So much has been written and so much more has been said about this year's flu scare that I decided to get my voice in on this! Now, I know that it isn't swine flu ... really; it's A/H1N1. Actually, swine flu came through the United States three times in the twentieth century and twice it got me. That's why I have been upset when so many people pooh-poohed the whole thing and could see no reason in anyone's or any school district's taking any preventative measures that they wouldn't ordinarily take for the seasonal flu.

I don't think that most people who have complained knew that there was any relationship whatsoever between the swine flu of 1918 and that which we might yet have in 2009. The pandemic of 1918 was called Spanish flu because the Spanish people spoke up and declared that Spain had a major epidemic on their hands and thus the flu that year was called Spanish flu. It really wasn't theirs. In fact, it probably began in China just as did the swine flu of 1957 and the swine flu of 1968. (And did you know that the Spanish flu was A/H1N1?  Sound familiar?)  

The Asian flu (we called it) in 1957 is one of which I have a very personal memory. I was in college, living in a dormitory, a dormitory that suddenly one week was filled with very sick females. One day, Peggy and Bert began making potato soup for those unable to walk to the dining hall; and the next day, those two were out trying to recruit others to help them as the number of sick had doubled. (I don't have any idea whether the school knew just how many were ill yet. It was a weekend and school activities continued.)

What I do remember was waking up in the middle of the night to walk around the corner to the bathroom and hearing my head hit the concrete floor of the hall. Yes, apparently, I had fainted; and when Peggy, who lived right there on the corner, heard me crash, she came running with a thermometer and I was put to bed. 

I was sick, very sick. High fever. Horrible headache. In fact, I ached everywhere. And violent chills. It's the chills that I remember most. Fever. Chills. Wet sheets. And debilitating fatigue. Monday morning, I made my way to the infirmary only to discover there was no place to sit. Women everywhere were sitting in the floor waiting to be seen. Finally, at some point the doctor came out and told us that he was asking that the school be closed.

In those days, communication was by long distance operator and coins in the pay telephone. And transportation was by parents. There were few cars on campus and mostly seniors owned those few. I don't remember just how the word got around. I do remember the doctor telling us to call our parents to come and get us and I remember that my mother did come. She took a car filled with others who could meet their parents in Cleburne and get home that way. 

I don't remember how many or who, but I know that those who were not sick weren't feeling too good at that time. Medication for the flu in those days at the school was Benadryl and the original antibiotic, sulfa. My mother was an RN and at least, I know that I was well cared for at home, but I don't remember any of it. 

At home, there were stories about the flu on TV; and even though we didn't have 24/7 news as we do these days, we had enough news programs that I remember seeing what looked like gyms filled with cots containing sick college students in other states who had not been able to get home and were being cared for in large groups. That picture alone made me quite alert when I heard this year that once again swine flu was alive in Texas and prowling the state. And it is photographs like that that caused officials this year to close entire school districts. 

When we went back to school that year, we all went back exhausted. It seems that most of the schools closed for that week as the swine flu that we knew as Asian flu ravaged the college campuses in Texas and most of us who had it were weak for the rest of the semester. But all of us did come back and that was far better for us than being one of the more than 70,000 in the United States who died that fall.

In 1968, swine flu came around again and this time it was called Hong Kong flu; and this time I was teaching school. One of my very favorite students was being married and I was determined not to get sick so that I could be there for her wedding. This time, I fainted again; but my head didn't bounce off a concrete floor. No, this time, I was coming down the stairs (in straight skirt, girdle, stockings, high heels, the entire works: that's how we did it in those days) and I fell to the bottom of those stairs. 

It didn't seem to hurt anything other than my vanity; but I did leave and go home. And oh was I sick again. This time it seemed to last and last; and I did go to the wedding somewhere in the midst of all that: before, after, or in the middle of having the flu I don't know. I was just sick an awfully long time. Again it was high fever and chills, horrible headaches, body aches,  extreme fatigue; and it went on and on, night and day, only abating for a short while each time I took aspirin.

Every day, I heard about more teachers going home sick; and one day Mr. Jones, my principal, called and asked if I could come back to school. He was a wonderful principal and I would have done anything for him and thus, I went back. I didn't last an entire day before I was back home: fever, chills, ache.

Oh, I know what the real flu feels like; I also know that the flu isn't something that lasts two or three days and you are right back to work. Flu is a two-week monster. After two weeks I went to my doctor for that official piece of paper that said that I had really been ill and out of school. When he asked whether I felt as if a freight train had run over me and left me there to die, I knew that he understood just how I felt; and so I felt free to ask him just how long I would feel this bad. When he told me that I probably would not feel well for at least six months, I swore that I was not going to do this ever again.

And now, perhaps, you understand why I have become upset each time someone said something like, "Oh we have flu every year. What's the big deal?" Well, the big deal, my dear, is that swine flu isn’t like the seasonal flu that we see every year. The big deal is that swine flu is virulent. When one in the family has it, everyone else has it. In 1957 entire towns had it at the same time.

And the symptoms that go along with swine flu are more violent than for the seasonal flu. There is always fever, usually well over 100 degrees; and with the fever, there come chills, body aches, terrible headaches, and extreme fatigue. And it goes on and on. You aren't over it in a weekend of good sleep. Swine flu as experienced in the United States lingers; and then when you finally feel well enough to go back to work, it hangs on just enough to make you feel terrible as you work.

Nope, I have had it  ... twice; and I do not want it ever again. And I know that this year’s swine flu isn’t finished. When it starts in the spring, it continues in the fall and finishes only as spring comes 'round again; and we yet have next fall  and winter yet to live through. Thank goodness, the CDC seems to believe that those of us who had swine flu in 1957 are immune to this flu from now on. I do hope so, for except for Tamiflu, which seems to work if it is taken in the first 24 hours to lessen the symptoms, we aren't much beyond the sulfa drugs of 1957. 

At least, we have gone beyond the things which were used in 1918 when doctors were unable to find anything which really worked and people who lived away from city doctors made their own medications, coming up which such palliatives as a  liniment, warmed and applied to the chest, made of hog lard, kerosene, and camphor or a cough syrup made from boiled cherry tree bark, sweetened with sugar and whisky. Nope, not interested in ever having swine flu again.

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MUSIC THIS SIDE OF HEAVEN

As you know, I have said before that I am very selective about the music to which I listen; and in particular, I am very particular / discriminating / picky about the sacred music with which I surround myself. I have always found a drawing near to G-d in much of the liturgical classical music, as in Bach's many chorales and in his oratorio. And although I grew up in the Broadman Hymnal and could play and sing everything in the book something there was always lacking.

Of course, as a musician and church soloist, I frequently sang in many of the local churches; and whenever I sang in the church of a different denomination from the one in which I usually sang, I enjoyed singing the hymns from all those other churches, so rich in their history and liturgy. That way, I found several other hymns that I found meant so much to me. But still, something was missing in the music ministry.

And then, several years ago, I found what I had always missed: music taken completely from the scripture. Oh yes, there are many of the great hymns which draw much of their words or phrases directly from the Bible; but they were the grand hymns of the great hymn writers of Christianity and so often contained so many ideas and so much scripture that it was often difficult to take from them one specific scriptural idea.

But some time in the 70's I found a series of albums called Scripture in Song; and in them I found what I had been looking for, songs in which one specific scriptural idea was expressed, songs that a non-singing congregation could easily sing and remember, songs they could take home in their hearts and souls and sing in the car and in the kitchen. I'm sure that by now you have heard some of them and either you liked the use of a simple scripture song from time to time or you felt that such music was too simple, not really musical enough.

Nevertheless, in the church which I attended in those days, these songs were used from time to time; and it seemed to me, used in exactly the right way. At communion, the choir might sing "Oh Sacred Head now wounded / With grief and shame weighed down / Now scornfully surrounded / With thorns Thy only crown," one of my very favorite hymns, followed by "When I survey the wondrous cross / On which the Prince of Glory died / My richest gain I count but loss / And pour contempt on all my pride." 


And then they would begin a simple song with words taken directly from the Psalms, words of simple praise that were sung straight from the heart of the worshippers. "Oh, magnify the L-rd with me / Let us exhalt His name together," words that expressed their response to the true meaning of communion, words that allowed the people to pour out their response to G-d, a simple song of praise which they could carry in their hearts and sing to themselves and to G-d. I had found the music that I had missed during all those years.

And it all blended so beautifully and made so much sense liturgically and spiritually. It was so right. That is what I had always missed in the church hymns, a simple melody, easy to sing and a lyric from the scripture itself that we could remember whenever we needed the assurance of our faith and sing to ourselves, part prayer, part affirmation, part ministry. Here were the songs that would come to me when I needed G-d, needed to pray, needed prayer. Here were songs to which I could remember all the words as I drove down the long highway toward a doctor's office or sat waiting for anticipated results, songs I could sing alone in the kitchen as I celebrated success or anticipated a terrific afternoon. Scripture I could sing. For me, it was the most beautiful music this side of Heaven.

And if that sounds like some radio advertisement, well, it is the description of the music to which I listen while on the computer, a radio station on the computer at PBNRadio.com. There, the most beautiful music being written today plays 24 hours a day, praise and worship music that lifts up the weary soul and brings the worshipping believer near to the Throne of G-d. Now, not every song is a direct quotation from scripture, but every song does come directly from the Word of G-d and every song does give the listener scripture he can sing back to G-d in praise. I know. I listen and I am a happier person for having that sound go deep within to become a real part of me. And I invite you to come there and listen with me. You will be blessed beyond your belief.

TIME MEANS NOTHING TO ME

Apparently, time means nothing to me. Here I am at 4:30 in the morning sitting at my computer and watching QVC on the nearby TV. Now, this would ordinarily be ridiculous and I would not tell anyone; but today is Fashion Day on QVC and even when I cannot afford to buy, I do enjoy watching to see what is out there, what is being worn, and what is being sold.

Now, QVC is not what you may think. It isn't a lot of junk being pushed by a few celebrity wanna be's, no matter what you have heard from the smart mouths on TV. The hosts are truely talented, as well as warm and friendly people you would actually enjoy knowing. Yes, some very funny (silly) things happen from time to time that are shown (and laughed at ) on (Talk) Soup; but for the most part, the shows are genuinely entertaining. And that is what I am looking for at 4:30 in the morning.

Besides, as I said, it is Fashion Day and that means good looking clothes and shoes and leather jackets and sunglasses and handbags (oh my gosh! the handbags), all at prices most of us can afford. It isn't like trying to purchase something at the mall. First of all, there is a huge selection and a lot of variety. While everything is up to the minute, there is still something for everyone. You can find whatever it is that you need or want, from soft silky sexy blouses to cotton gauze shirts or from well tailored pencil skirts in good men's wear fabric to linen slacks in a dozen colors: it is all there.

And it fits. The sizing is standardized through all of the various lines. Whether I purchase something from one of QVC's own lines or something from a well known New York designer, every garment in a size fits the same way. If I wear a size medium (oh for the day) in Denim and Company, I can wear a medium in Pamela Dennis or George Simonton. That means that if I see something I want, I can simply order it and not worry about whether it will fit. It will fit. And if, for the sake of argument, it doesn't fit, I can always return it for a full refund, no questions asked.

Besides that, the clothing is well made. I own several items of clothing  that I purchased in the early 90's that look as good today as they did when I first bought them.  And that is quite unusual for clothing. From time to time, they show some of the testing the garments go through before they are accepted for sale. If all garments that we can buy were so tested, we wouldn't need to buy as many things as we do. Instead, our clothing would wear and wear and not wear out!

The prices are wonderful even after I add in the tax and the shipping cost. I cannot buy a well made pair of dress pants in my size in a wonderful, wearable fabric, with a choice of half a dozen colors for less than $30 anywhere at the local mall. I can buy cheaply made pants in one or two colors (maybe) that last perhaps for a year; but a nice pair of well made slacks begins at $60 and may well go on to $200 for a good brand of clothing.  The highest price I have seen on a pair of slacks was on a pair of designer made lined summer weight wool slacks. They were $109. Try that at Macy's.

The whole thing makes such good sense. I have wonderful pieces of clothing that no one else has. I never see myself out in public. I seem to have my own personal designer who makes certain that I dress very well and quite inexpensively. So, this morning I am sitting here looking at things that are made just for me. I have quite a choice of styles and every style comes in a great choice of colors. Just how many garments do you think will be for sale in the 25 hours of today's Fashion Day? And each of those will be in my size. Every one of them comes in my size. And in a great choice of colors. Now, you know why I haven't shopped in the mall since 1990 and I am very well dressed.

Fashion Day doesn't end until midnight Eastern time tonight, and I do plan to watch most of it. I can sleep tonight sometime. After all, I'm retired. I don't really have to do anything that I don't want to do now, do I? So, I am doing exactly what I want to do: enjoying life.

ANOTHER WORD

Tonight, I want to think about another of the many Words by which I try to live and this one comes from the book of James. Here, the author has told me that whenever I don't know what I should do, I should simply ask G-d; and if I believe, He will give me the answer.

Isn't that a wonderful thought? Don't you wish that it were really true? That if you didn't know what to do about some serious situation in your life, that all you had to do was ask G-d and He would just tell you what to do? Wouldn't that be exciting: to come to G-d and ask what to do, where to go, what to spend; and we would know?

But that is what it says. Can I really do that? Does it work? Well, yes, but not like the magic act some seem to expect when they ask. Let's look at what the word does say, "If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask G-d, ... and it will be given to him.  But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind."

That means that if I need wisdom about something in particular, if I really need to know whether I should or should not take a trip or take a class, put off an appointment or buy another car, if I need wisdom and really need to know from G-d, if I haven't already made up my mind and am not simply waiting for something to encourage me in the direction I already want to go, if I am truly looking for wisdom and not permission to do something I already know I should not do,  I should ask G-d.

If I lack wisdom and truly want not an excuse, not permission, not encouragement, but wisdom -- if I lack wisdom and want wisdom about any specific thing, then I should ask of G-d, go to Him with my mind open to His wisdom, go to Him with a real desire for His will, and I should go to Him believing and not doubting. I should go without any idea of "if it works..." or "If He cares ..." or any of the multitude of doubts which we take along witih us every day; if we do believe that He will give us that wisdom, then we will be answered, we will have the wisdom we need.

If we need wisdom and we ask for that wisdom, believing,  then G-d will give us that wisdom. And here is where we get in the way again. Sometimes, we expect a big answer booming through the sky or spelled oud in gold letters in front of our eyes; but that isn't the way it often comes. G-d gives us that wisdom which we need and often it IS in that small quite voice deep within our spirit, and sometimes it is given to us in the words of some other person in conversation, in a commentary in a book, in a speech or a sermon, even in a novel or a movie, the words of a song or a poem we read.

Suddenly, we have our answer; the wisdom is a part of our thinking; we know what we must do. And that wisdom has come from G-d because we asked. Isn't G-d good? If only we had the wisdom in the first place to quiet ourselves and come before Him and without any preconditions, simply ask.  Wisdom can be ours. The wisdom written about in the Proverbs can be ours. The wisdom Solomon asked for can be ours. We only need ask, believing.