Thursday, August 17, 2017
My mother and my father posed for this photo in 1961. They were rowing on Treasure Lake, which was behind our house. The little dinghy, which we had christened "Scout" with a bottle of 7Up, provided endless hours of summertime enjoyment for all of us. 1961 wasn't a particularly peaceful year for the world. There was the failed Bay of Pigs invasion. The Berlin Wall was completed. President Kennedy urged everyone to build fallout shelters. My father shrugged at that. We lived across the bay from New York City. He figured NYC would be bombed and we would perish instantly--so there was no point in building a fallout shelter.
But all the trouble in the world didn't seem as close back then. My father was a journalist so I knew what was happening but I wasn't bombarded with it constantly. I was happy. We rowed around the lake in our little dinghy. We caught fish and turtles. We played with the neighborhood children. My mother baked cookies, cakes, and pies. We swam at the beach. In the evening, we'd build a fire and toast marshmallows.
Life seemed simpler, or maybe it was because I was a child with loving parents. I was lucky.
Friday, August 11, 2017
I posted this a few weeks ago on my Facebook page. It had been part of one of the readings at Mass that day. I used Canva as usual to make a nice frame for the quote with an especially lovely photo I had taken of sunset on the Navesink River.
Afterwards, one of my Facebook friends discovered she couldn't find the quote in her Bible. That's because it's from a Catholic Bible, which has more books. You can read a short explanation here https://www.quora.com/Why-are-there-more-books-in-the-Catholic-bible-than-the-Protestant-bible
There are longer explanations if you care to Google them.
At any rate, I've read the entire book of Wisdom. It's good. Take a look at it sometime.
Tuesday, August 01, 2017
I bought a new journal this week. I have kept a journal for a long time. I was inspired as a child after I read Anne Frank's story. While I do not write in it everyday, for the most part I faithfully record all the major events in my life as well as feelings, disappointments, and dreams. Every year of my life has presented me with stress or one kind or another. (Just like everyone else on the planet.) 😉 On occasion, I reread some of my journal entries and it makes me a bit depressed, but I remind myself I have survived the crises I've been handed so far. I pray for the strength to handle the next crisis, whatever it might be.
After talking with a friend, it occurred to me that maybe the journaling actually has been helpful for me. My friend does not keep a journal. She has suffered through some extremely stressful events, but she tends to dwell on them. She doesn’t write them down. She continually goes over and over the incidents. She never lets them go.
I realized for the most part, I do not dwell on past traumas--not always anyway. True, the problems don’t go away, but I move on—or my pen does at the very least, usually to the next problem. Still, the actual writing seems to be cathartic. It’s not that I don’t remember the difficulties after I record them—it’s just that somehow I forget the sequence—even if the events pile up one on top of another as they usually do.
Journaling is a very good thing according to the article below:
So if you’re feeling stressed, write it down--with a pen on paper--you know, the old-fashioned way. Even if you don’t become a romance author--which might be a good thing--you could be doing yourself a big favor.