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.