The Things that Matter Most by Betty Badgett

The things that matter most are not
always tangible. Air matters but you
Can't touch it. Love matters but you can't grab it with your hands.

Yesterday, while driving to the local
Supermarket, an on coming car speeding like a space ship headed to
Mars, zoom past me in a haze. I
Was angry in that moment and wanted to speed up to catch up to him and
Use all the curse words in my vocabulary!
I thought about it for a second, and
Calmed myself. The important thing
Was, I was fine and my car was fine.
That's what mattered the most.

In this short life of ours we need to
Grab on to the things that matter most
To us. That includes the people we love, the things we enjoy doing and
Those quiet moments alone with our
Inner spirit and our God.

We take so much for granted every day. The closet full of nice clothes to
Pick from, the endless pairs of shoes
And sneakers, our cars sitting patiently
In the drive way waiting for us. What
If in an instant a house fire claims all
Our belongs, or a hurricane such as
Dorian comes along and wipes out
Our life as we knew it. When we watch
The news daily and witness the
Devastation that has taken place all
Around us it should cause us to hit
The pause button on our lives and
Think for a moment about those things
That matter most.

At the close of every Ellen Degeneris
Show, she closes by saying,
"Be kind to one another."

I think that's a great place to start!

Live each day as if you are not sure
Tomorrow is coming. I'm living my
Best life! Are you?

Meandering Thoughts: What's In a Name by Roberta Lacey

When I was born, my parents decided to name me Roberta.    They hadn't planned on any particular name, though dozens had been suggested.   While still in the hospital, a nurse asked my Mother if she'd liked the name Roberta.   She did and my Dad agreed.  Helen was my middle moniker after my paternal grandma, Nana.

On the day of my baptism, the priest apparently was unfamiliar with that name and was unsure if it was a saint's name.    I guess he hadn't heard of Saint Robert Bellarmine.   Therefore, he put  "Helen Roberta" on my baptismal certificate.   However when my birth certificate was printed in the City of New York, I was Roberti Helen, not Roberta Helen.   Some idiot in the office issuing birth certificates decided the "i" ending was the norm for the feminine of Robert.   When i was a young woman, I committed the crime of altering the birth certificate by making the "i" into an "a".

My Dad usually called me "Berta" or "Bert", neither of which did I care for.   My sister always called me "Bert".   Only my Mom called me "Roberta".   When I got to parochial school, I was always called Helen, since that was the name on the baptismal certificate.   Neither my parents nor I complained.  Perhaps we should have.   In those days, we were more accepting of established rules.   As I grew older and in high school, I was always called "Roberta"; some friends called me "Bobbi" which was fine with me.

Now my big sister's name was Elizabeth.  When she turned sixteen, she demanded to be called "Betty"; fearful of being called Liz or Lizzy.   It didn't hurt Liz Taylor to be given those names decades later.

My Mom's name was Mary.  I never heard her called anything but "Mae".   Dad's name was Joseph, which could never be anything else but "Joe".  Now take a classmate of mine whose name was Alfreda Stank....yes, "Stank".  She cringed every morning when attendance was called in school; bracing herself for the giggles from classmates less sensitive to her feelings.   She was the only daughter among seven brothers.  They taught her how to fight and have thick skin.  In fact, she became quite a tomboy in school, but that attitude didn't endear her to the boys or the girls.   The girls didn't tease her; we wouldn't dare.  The boys were a bit more careful upon realizing she could give one a black eye if necessary.   What would that do to a boy's reputation?   I'm sure her Polish parents could have legally changed their name, "Stankowsky", to a more acceptable  shortening than "Stank".   "Sankowsky" was fine.   At least, poor Alfreda would not have been called "Stinky Freda" and worse.   Her hygiene was excellent regardless of the cruel barbs thrown at her behind her back and sometimes to her face if a boy felt mean and or brave enough.

When I worked for the Federal Government many years ago, my boss's first name was Bernice.   He was a native of England.  The names Carroll with two l;s and two r's, Evelyn, Beverly or Florence, as in Flo Zigfield, come to mind when I wonder what their parents were thinking.   Obviously, in some countries, those names are acceptable for boys.  But why put a child in the position where he or she has to fight or be ashamed when anyone mentions his/her name"?   When school attendance is called, he/she may answer meekly "here" but wishing he/she was not.   Remember the song "A Boy Named Sue"?   Enough said.

I was especially careful when it came to naming my own four children....all boys.   I also made certain their "nick-names" and or initials would not embarrass them.   There was a nice young man named Bradley Moore.   The initials B M were printed on his Junior Varsity jacket.   That example is mild, but several others are not.   It could be worse:  how about B S emblazoned on his jacket, especially if he had the "art" of throwing it.

                                                                                                  

When God Has a Plan by Betty Badgett

WHEN   GOD   HAS   A   PLAN

 As a child growing up in a single parent home, I recall hearing my mother say, “God always has a plan, and if you want to make him laugh, just tell him yours.”  I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant at that time, but as the years have passed, I’ve come to understand the meaning of that.

There were so many things in my life that I thought I was in total control of, sometimes they worked out the way I wanted them too, and sometimes they didn’t work out at all or perhaps in ways that I could never have imagined.

Finally, I realized that there is a higher power that I have to answer too and not the other way around.  God is not sitting some place high in the sky waiting for my to do list, telling Him what I wanted, when I wanted it and how

I expected it to show up in my life. 

Four years ago, the doctors found a tumor on my husband’s colon.  He underwent surgery to remove the tumor.  He was cancer free for one year.  I had prayed, and asked God for a miracle.  I got it!!  Just as I had asked.  But then a year later, it had returned on his liver and I was devastated.  What happened?  I had prayed, told God what I wanted and waited patiently for Him to give me what I asked for.  He did, and I was thankful, but now what?  I felt that God had answered my prayer but now He had changed His mind, and said no to the miracle

I had prayed for.

My husband underwent a total of four rounds of chemo, but this time, nothing was responding as I had hoped and prayed.  A year and a half went by and he was placed on hospice, as there was nothing else that could be done.

One night while sitting at my husband’s bedside, I totally surrendered my plans to God.  No more lists of things I wanted and expected of Him.  No longer was I going to expect God to work according to my plans. I began to pray differently.

       Dear God,

       I surrender everything to you, including my life and my husband’s life. I have no control over his life or mine.  “Not as I will, but as Thy will”.

Where had I heard those words before? 

In August of 2014, God took him home to be with him. I never say he died of cancer, because that would give cancer too much control. God had a plan, and His will was done. 

God always has a plan for our lives.  We may not understand it, or even agree with it, we just have to remember who’s in charge of our lives and submit to his will.

PROVERBS 16 verse 9:

       “A mans heart plans his way,

          But the Lord directs his steps.”

                                         

                                         

Meandering Thoughts by Roberta Lacey

For twenty one years,  I lived in Bayside, L.I.   There were many children in our neighborhood.  The average family consisted of two parents and two to three children, with the exception of one which had seven offspring.   In the 1920's through 1930's, we were mostly Irish, Polish and German.   We all got along well enough with the exception of a couple who had their spats on occasion, especially when one neighbor kept his dog tied up all day and night regardless of the weather.   The only shelter was an opening in a small area in back of the house with little protection from the wind and cold of a L.I. winter.   The one neighbor not only wanted to sleep at night but was concerned for the poor animal.    Thankfully, we did not live too closely to that thoughtless neighbor; however, the howling dog could be heard for several blocks.

    One of my little friends, Evelyn, lived two blocks away.   I thought she was nice and friendly.   Upon inviting me to her home one afternoon,  she said she wanted me to see her pets.   Hoping to see kittens or puppies, I was aghast to see several terrariums with snakes of all sizes.   I hate snakes and anything else that slivers about.   As long as she kept the lids on top of the glass containers, I wasn't too frightened.   Some snakes were quite long and fat.  She said they were fed mice.   Suppose the glass broke, i thought to myself.  Her mom and dad were doctors and allowed their only child a lot of freedom.   I thought she had too much freedom, especially with her tongue.   When she refused to do something her mother requested of her, Evelyn alarmed me with the words she used to sass her mother.  Her mother's response was, "Now Evelyn dear, I'm sure you will want to think about your answering me in that manner and want to apologize.   Perhaps Evelyn thought about her fresh mouth, but did not apologize.

    One day, I thought I would refuse to do something my mom asked me to do.   I never acted up before, but took a chance.   I sassed my dear, sweet mother.   My father heard me from the next room.  He quickly swept me off the floor and put me across his knees where i got a sound and well deserved spanking.   My father used his psychology.   If a child sasses  his parents, a reminder on the seat of his pants works best.   That was the only time my father ever laid a hand on me and his method worked far better than Evelyn's mother's method.

    Another friend was Alice.  She was about twelve and I was eleven.   Her favorite thing to do on a beautiful summer day was to sit in her garden and listen to classical music.  She had a very handsome big brother, a fifteen year old high school man.   He didn't know I existed.   Regardless, it wasn't fun to be sitting listening to classical music all afternoon anyway.   I appreciate it more now and enjoy certain classicals immensely, but for an eleven year old, it didn't compete with riding a bike and playing games.   I liked action.   Maybe Alice became a virtuoso when she grew up, but I never heard anything about it.

    When I got into high school, I was invited to pledge for a sorority.   It was named Phi Beta something or other, but it didn't mean enough to me to remember.   After accepting the invitation, I was sorry and regretted that I was voted in.   At first, I was somewhat proud to be wearing the black sweater with the white lettering signifying my membership.   However, I thought to myself, "What have I gotten myself into."   My thoughtful father hit the nail on the head, so to speak, when he said with tongue in cheek, "Berta belongs to a snob club".   Some of the girls were very nice, but some thought they were God's answer to womanhood and snobbish, also.   I noticed how they acted toward girls outside the sorority.  I don't, nor ever did like snobs.   Many were obsessed with their clothes and appearance.   Most high school girls have that desire to look great and be popular, however this group carried their obsession a notch further.   A few had vicious tongues, especially with "outsiders" whom they didn't even know.

    A favorite verse of mine is in St. James, chapter 3, verses three thu ten.  I didn't know this verse when I was a kid, but it would have been good if these particular girls learned it.   I'll mention one verse here.   "See how the tiny spark is that sets a huge forest ablaze:  The tongue is such a flame".   So far as I know, those girls didn't give me any trouble, however, I decided I didn't want to be part of their group and soon found a good reason to resign gracefully.

Why Didn't I Help? by Betty Badgett

WHY    DIDN’T    I    HELP ?

 

                One year ago, I remember walking into the neighborhood Dollar Tree two blocks

from my house In Upstate New York.  It was crowded as usual, so I hurried to get my purchases

rush to the nearest cashier so that I would avoid the long lines and be able to quickly leave the

the store.

                 As I stood on line waiting for my turn, I noticed the young gentleman in front of me

standing there with only a large gallon of milk.  He was fumbling in his pockets, perhaps trying

to get his money ready, as he was next on line.  The cashier rang up his purchase and began

looking annoyed as she looked at how fast her line was growing and there was no one working

the register next to her.

                   After searching his pockets trying to come up with the money to give her for his

item, he said, “I’ll be back.”  He turned towards the door and walked out leaving the gallon of

milk on the counter.  The cashier looked even more annoyed as she quickly yelled for someone

to hurry over and place the gallon of milk back in the refrigerator.

                    At that moment I heard a voice inside me saying, “Why didn’t you help?”  I tried

to find an excuse or reason to come up with to answer that question.  Truth was, I had money

in my wallet being that I had just left the ATM machine. I had no answer.  I paid for my

purchases and walked out of the store and headed across the parking lot to my car.  When I got

to my car, I had tears in my eyes.  Suppose that gentleman had children at home waiting on that

gallon of milk for cereal, or just to drink.  I had no idea what his situation was, but there was

 an opportunity to help someone and show kindness, and I had let it pass.  I felt small as a

human being.  I always talk to my kids about being kind and giving and here I was with the

opportunity to do just that and I let it pass.  At that moment I was a hypocrite, 

                I loaded my car and got in.  My heart hurt for that young man, so I took a moment to

say a prayer for him since I had no way of finding him and redoing what had just happened.

Why didn’t I help?  What was I afraid of?  At that moment a thought came to my mind.  Perhaps

God had placed me in that store, on that line, at that exact time to reach out and extend a gift of

kindness to a stranger in need.  I wanted to cry at that moment.  Instead, I vowed to God that if

I were ever in a position to help some one again, I would, so I would never have to ask myself

Why didn’t I help.

Letting Go written by Betty Badgett

Letting go is never easy.  

First you think of all the reasons that you should,

then you think of all the reasons that you shouldn’t.

When a love you’ve cherished for a life

time is suddenly no more,

How do you let go?

It’s hard to let go.

The memories are to strong,

The romance was endless.

The picture of his face is embedded in

a permanent place in your mind, and

In the deepest recesses of your heart

where only you and he resided.

Maybe one day, you’ll sell the home that

you both once shared, move to another state,

buy a new car, get an entirely new hair style

and walk into a new life you’ve tried to

create for yourself.

Well, I did all those things, and it’s still hard

letting go.

Vina Byrne Poetry

Life is just the way it is, most things you cannot alter, 

But always try to do your best to cope and not to falter.

You must do your very best to try to understand

And only change the things you can, take other things in hand.

For it never pays to bemoan your fate when things don't turn out right,

Accept the things you cannot change, try hard with all your might.

You'll find that you're much better off than crying every day,

Just stand your ground, be firm, be strong,

And take what comes your way.                                                               

~ written in l981

Things I Love, by Vina Bryne written in l982

There are so many things I love, pretty things to see and hear,

Such as daisies, tulips, daffodils in green fields everywhere.

I love music I can listen to when I'm having a blue day,

I love music that will pep me up when I want to feel that way.

I love puppies, kittens, yellow chicks, dogs of every size and breed,

Baby ducks out on a lake with the mother in the lead.

I love sunrises and sunsets, I love a big rainstorm,

When I can close my windows and feel so very warm.

I love snowflakes of every shape, so graceful as they fall,

They coat the hilltops and the fields, they cover trees so tall.

There are many pretty things if you'll only stop and seem

They can lift your spirits up, they've done so much for me.

A poem written by Vina Byrne in 1981

I've known heartache first hand, so this is not a guess,

I look around me everywhere, but there's no real happiness.

It stays but for a moment, and then it goes away,

It is replaced by pain and such, and things look bleak and gray.

It's wonderful being happy, but it's sad that it can't last,

For it's here one day and the world's aglow, but it goes away as fast.

So when you have the feeling that the world is bright and gay,

Hang onto it lovingly for it will pass away.

* Guess I wasn't in a very positive frame of mind when I wrote this....it all goes back to the last years of my son's life and how I felt about life.

                                     ~Vina

Letter to Laurie by Kym Seward

Several years ago, I wrote a poem with no one special in mind. Today, that poem exemplifies you Laurie,

My Special Friend

I was lonely

no one heard me
A shell on the sandy beach Waiting...

to be carried into the flowing sea.

Time  moved  past  me 
no one cared
I  stood  in  crowds, 
alone and scared

Everyone stared 
like an eager child 
viewing cartoons 
no one smiled

An ice-cube 
dissolving in time.

My eyes swelled
as tears began their race 
down  the  hollows  of   my  cheeks, 
the pain in my heart
ticking like a bomb, 
was waiting to explode.

I stood not  knowing 
who I was,
what I wanted, 
where I was going.

'till you came along.

A light fell
through falling rain, 
Understanding followed the patter of teardrops.

A rainbow appeared

Your hand reached out 
to touch mine,
I took it, 
cautiously,
Your smile warmed my soul 
once hidden by dense fog.

With your help
I saw the sun
I climbed a ladder
and didn't fall

I was headed somewhere...

...A new direction.

When you spoke, 
something stirred

in the damp night air,
birds began singing in harmony 
unlike anything heard before.

You spoke kindly (I remember)

I held every word
like newfound treasure 
buried on the ocean floor.

It took time...

you taught me patience,

then, slowly
the barriers rolled away.

The sun began rising up 
from the shadows of time
filling the long, dark corridors 
of my mind, with light

Re-opening the door of my life.

Laurie,

In just the measure of a year, you changed my life. Your smile, shoulder, hugs, lit up my darkest days. We were more alike than others realized. We shared many of the same scars. We surprised others by openly sharing memories of our wild days. Memories most people wouldn’t admit. You never held back, and you never judged me. In fact, you embraced me with the arms of a sister. Your boys and grandbabies meant as much to you as mine do to me. You loved Garrett’s wife Beth with a fierceness I hope to acquire for my daughter-in-law. Reconnecting with your mother this year put the light into your eyes that you’d been missing. Your door was always open. Remember scheming to find Brett a love that would be true to him? A love he deserves. You always wanted more time with your boys and grandbabies. We shared that too. You loved girl’s trips to  dinner, shopping, card games into the early morning hours, watching the birds, playing with your dogs and roosters. Even that huge one you received in the mail from, well we won’t embarrass  him by letting everyone know who mailed you a cock. You my friend, were a rescuer. You helped those that others shunned. You taught me to love myself again, introduced several of us to the Keto diet and rejoiced when you came home from TOPS after learning you’d lost another pound. On your trip to see Garrett’s family last summer, you accidentally drove the wrong way down a one-way street. I hope you know Laurie, when you walked the road into my heart, you found a forever friend. Now you’ve traveled that road to Heaven. Don’t think we’re done walking and don’t think you’re done cleaning house now. You’d better be polishing the floors of Heaven. I’m not letting you off the hook. You promised when you got better, we’d go dancing. Your better now and when I get there Girl…we’re gonna show God how to rock!

The Car Wash by Betty Badgett

Today was beautiful, sunny and warm. I decided it was a great day
To get my car washed. I drove over
To the Flag Stop car wars and couldn't believe the number of cars
Lined up to be washed. I decided
There was nothing pressing on my
Agenda, so I sat back and waited for
My turn. 
Finally, a young man walked over and asked if I wanted to have  a
Basic wash or detailed. I decided to
Have it detailed since this was my
First time here.
This was the fanciest car wash I
Have ever seen. Once my car was
Placed on the moving belt, I was told
To through the glass doors and pay
At the desk. Inside was a large waiting room, filled with modern chairs, a counter with coffee and tea
And a large flat screen hanging on
The wall. After paying for my car
Wash, I helped myself to a cup of
Coffee and sat in one of the large
Comfortable chairs. I was impressed!!
I sipped my coffee and watched
Let's Make A Deal as I waited. Soon,
One of the employees opened the
Door and asked who had a gray
Lincoln. I quickly jumped up, gathered my things and followed him outside to my car. My car looked
As if it had just rolled out of the show room of Feduke Ford Motors.
Today was a good day. Aside from
Having my car wash, I used ten
Minutes to write this piece. You
Really can write in ten minutes!!

SATURDAY AFTERNOON AT THE AUTUMN CAFE by Betty Badgett

SATURDAY AFTERNOON AT THE AUTUMN CAFE

                        ********************************************************

                        

                        It’s a beautiful sunny warm afternoon, and I’m sitting on the back yard

                        patio of the Autumn Café’ with my writing buddy Natalie.  I took a

                        a break from all the cleaning and packing and decided to spend a moment

                        writing.

                         My life is going through a metamorphosis at this moment.  After having my

                         house on the market for the past three years since my husband passed,

                         I finally sold it.  For the past month there has been one inspection after

                         another. There’s portions of my life to pack away in boxes. There’s

                         things to gather together to be donated to the good will.  All pieces of my

                         life from the past eighteen years.

                         Natalie and I decided that since our writers group was on hiatus for the month

                         of June, that we would meet, have lunch and find a quiet place we could

                         sit and write.  We could concentrate on work we started, work that we are

                         editing or start something new. So, I did some editing and then decided to

                         put my feelings on paper.

                         Making the decision to pack up and sell the house was not an easy decision

                         to make.  Although, I knew I didn’t want to stay here in the North East with

                         out any family close by, I was torn inside.

                         Giving up the home I shared with my husband for the past eighteen years

                          meant giving up apart of myself, my independence, my connection to my

                          husband.. Although he was no long there in the flesh, his spirit was there

                          with me.  Bringing me comfort, sometimes tears. Leaving my home, closing

                          the door to the house would mean closing the door to my heart, to my

                          memories. How could I?

                          I took a moment from writing and putting my feelings on paper, as we

                          sipped a glass of wine and began talking and laughing.  So nice to have

                          a friend.        

                      

                        

                         

                                                                                                                    

Her Name was Charlotte by Roberta Lacey

My mother was sweet and sensitive to the especially those whose psyche may be   fragile.

feelings of others, Perhaps that is why she would encourage me to go over and spend a little time with Charlotte.   I, a nine year old, had plans of my own, as in riding my bike, seeing my friend, Eleanor, and playing with paper dolls. Charlotte was not on my selfish agenda that day or any other day. But with a little prompting, I crossed the street in my quiet neighborhood in Bayside, L.I. to visit Charlotte. She sat on her front stoop alone, under the watchful eye of her mom.  I could see her mother as she moved the curtain to check on her daughter from time to time. When I said "hello" to Charlotte, she smiled her nervous smile. She seemed so happy that she had a possible playmate. She said "my name is Charlotte". I did not remind her that I already knew.

Charlotte was plump, short, with thinnish brown hair mixed with gray.  Her answers were generally in monosyllables, but always with a smile on her face.      I would guess this woman/child was in her  mid forties, now that I look back.    My mom would never ask the age of her neighbor's only child.   However, we kids were curious. Charlotte's mother opened the door and asked if we would like to play checkers. Charlotte beamed with delight at that suggestion.     How could I say anything but "yes"?   Surprisingly, Charlotte was well adapted to the game which I'm sure she played many times a day with her elderly parents.

After about the second or third game I said "I have to go, now".

She smiled and said "bye"  to my farewell.   After my lunch I hastily went through the alley way to see Eleanor at the house directly  behind ours.  We enjoyed cutting out paper dolls from the previous week's Sunday funny sheets.   Tillie The Toiler had many stylish dresses to cut out and add  to her wardrobe.   Sometimes I'd join the kids on the next street to see the Saturday matinee; mostly westerns. Most Saturdays I'd see Charlotte sitting on her front stoop alone or with her mother.   I'd wave if she was looking  my way.  Sometimes I'd go over for a visit and then the inevitable game of checkers came out, to Charlotte's delight.

2.

As a kid, I did not know the meaning of the words guile or averice.           This woman/child was incapable of either.     Even when she watched us kids play "cops and robbers" in summer twilight, it seemed she took pleasure in seeing our wild antics, just as if she, herself, was in the game.

In those days no one had a name for what caused this sweet soul to develop childlike in an adult body.   She did not have Downes Syndrome.   Mentally challenged  would  be  a generic name  for                   her handicap. Her disposition was sweet and kind.   She must have been precious in her parent's eyes and most especially in the Eyes of God.

Sometimes other kids would walk by her house, staring and pointing at her, but would only wave when she smiled and said "my name is Charlotte.