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Wednesday, September 25, 2019

Mirror, mirror on the wall...



Tomorrow is seven-years since my mother passed away, and in her honor, I’m going to tackle things with some light humor and take you on a short journey through my life with her special quotes. In fact, we’ve all heard them. Most of us have even spoken them.

Mommyisms.

Those things your mother said that most likely weren’t even true, but when she said it, her voice rang with the authenticity that only a mother can procure. Right?

Like, “If you eat a seed, a tree will grow in your tummy.” Or “There’s enough dirt in those ears to grow potatoes.” And the dreaded “If you tell me one more ‘story’ Sydney Lea, your nose is going to grow like a carrot.”

I’m not kidding when I tell you that as a very small child, I was constantly looking in the mirror to see if there were any signs of vegetables growing out my ears!

You all know how much I love and miss my mother. So, I thought it would be fun to shed some light on a few of my mother’s quotes that may explain why I am who I am today. I’m sure you’ve heard them or at least some version of these “mommyisms”.

We’ll start with this: My mother absolutely hated to hear my younger sister and me whine, and we weren't allowed to mope. In fact, forget about crying, too.

Whatever the circumstances, we were expected to "dry it up."

"Pick up your lip or someone's going to step on it."

“Quit your bellyaching!”

"Stop crying, or I'll give you something to cry about!"

Naturally we didn't want that last one to happen, because that would mean getting hit on the behind with the dirty fly swatter.

And who wants that to happen? Yuck! Trust me, that fly swatter served a duel purpose. Growing up in Miami without air-conditioning meant the windows were always open.

Mother wasn’t the kind of person to use the “I’m going to give you until the count of three” line, nor the “Just wait until your father gets home” line. My mother handled things. Period.

When I wanted something she wouldn’t let me have, or I wanted to do something that she wouldn’t give me permission to do, I’d fold my arms in front of me and pout. I often heard, "You can get glad in the same pants you got mad in, young lady."

My mom’s "The world doesn't owe you a thing" taught me that the sooner I take responsibility for my actions, the better off I'd be.

Do you remember after getting in trouble for doing something you knew you shouldn’t have been doing, saying to your mother, “Well, everyone else was doing it” ??


And her response would be, "If your friends jumped off the bridge, would you?"

Of course, when my mother would ask me that question, I wanted to ask her, “That depends, Mom. Who else is going?” and “What are they wearing?"

Ha ha ha

But a level head prevailed, which kept me from actually being pushed off that bridge.

Mother also said, "There's no sense in crying over spilled milk." That's a lesson that, to this day, I still haven’t learned. I've just never been able to turn my emotions off and on like a water faucet – ‘though I sure wish I could.

Another memory I have is when I wanted to have my ears pierced. Mom said, "If God had wanted you to have holes in your ears, he would have put them there himself." So, every time I asked her if I could get my ears pierced, she said “No.”


If you know me, then you know my ears are pierced, and I didn’t wait until I was an adult to do it. Being a do-it-yourself kind of gal (learned through Girl Scouting with my mom as my leader for many years), and although I was only 13-years old, I simply got some ice, froze my earlobes one at a time and poked a sewing needle and thread right through them. I was petrified when I couldn't get one of my ears to stop bleeding -- but that "don't cry over spilled milk" thing sure came in handy at the time.

Here’s the thing, though: From my earliest memories, I knew that the same woman who tanned my hide with that disgustingly dirty fly swatter also had my back. Always!

She was proud of every one of my accomplishments; from learning how to play the flutophone in elementary school to becoming the editor of a social magazine and everything in-between. She was also proud of me during failures.

Mother played a huge role in why I was always able to get so much done in so little time. When I’d tell her my plans, she’d always reply, “You’re going to do wonders and eat green cucumbers.” (That happens to be my favorite Julia mommyism.) She had incredible faith in me; that I’d accomplish whatever I set out to do.

Mom also taught me that "Into every life a little rain must fall, but if you have a good umbrella and a tube of red lipstick, you can get through anything." That's a life lesson that I hope I've passed on to my son (except maybe for the red lipstick part). (And now you know why my lips are always red.)

She taught me by example just how important it is for my own son to know there is always someone there rooting for him; someone who loves him unconditionally.


For her birthday in 2011, I gave her a book about the kind of love that was shared by the two of us. In it was a quote that quickly became one of her favorites:

“But if I will love, then I will find I have touched another life, and that’s something. Something worth leaving behind.”

Not long after my mother passed away, I bought a small sign I saw in the window of a gift shop.

It says, “Mirror mirror on the wall, I am my mother afterall.”

Big shoes to fill. I want so much for that to be true, because she was the BEST and there are far worse things than being like her. Right?





Tuesday, July 23, 2019

It's Not The End of the Road. It's the Beginning of Dual Income.

Smack in the middle of vacation season, today I applied for my right to my money that's been set aside by my own Uncle Sam out of my paychecks for my retirement for the past 49-years. How sweet of him.

Vacation season? Well, isn't that normally when the sun's to our backs as we linger with toes in the sand and conjured dreams of retirement? So, it's only fitting that today's the day I begin making my way to fulfilling that dream. 

But it wasn't all a party this morning as I stood in line with at least 60 other people, waiting to see a Social Security professional. Like a fool, instead of celebrating my additional income that will begin in November, I got caught up in all these thoughts of when I was in high school. 
Like, when did this happen? What the hell? 

Just yesterday I was trying out for the flag corp. In fact, just yesterday I got in trouble for wearing my skirt too short and had to be picked up from school by my dad. (Whom, by the way, thought I looked great and thought the dress code was too firm. -- Some things never change.) Yesterday I walked out of my English class, because the teacher was leading the students in a heated debate about the Vietnam conflict. I didn't think that was the place to be talking about war. So, I left. Yesterday my big sister was teaching me how to put on panty hose. Yesterday I was making plans for the annual Spirit Week that culminated with a great football game and a fun Homecoming dance. Yesterday I auditioned for a part in the senior play, and got it! Yesterday I skipped my typing class, because "I'm never, ever going to be some man's secretary." Yesterday I posed for my senior photo in the yearbook. Yesterday we voted on our class song, "Wooden Ships" by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. Yesterday I was spending my summers at camp in Leesburg. Yesterday my girlfriends and I were inseparable. 

Yesterday I could eat ANYTHING!

Yesterday I didn't have a care in the world. 

Yesterday things were easy. 

So, there I am standing in line at the local Social Security office and instead of having a private celebration, I'm having what I think is a very public mini-breakdown, tears streaming down my face.

What the hell?  Right?

"Pull it together, Sydney!" I say to myself. "This isn't about your mortality. It's simply about getting what's rightfully yours!"

And then I'm suddenly reminded that when you think you're at the end of something, it usually means you're at the beginning of something else.

So, my new beginning, temporary 'though it will be, is having a duel income. How cool is that?

Montana, Wyoming, and Utah, here we come!

I plan to continue to work full-time for a couple of years. 
Afterall, I still have what it takes to be really good at whatever I do. 
I still have it in me to be viable. 
I still enjoy working. 
So why not? 

And you're never too old to set a new goal or to live a new dream.

Besides, how many times can you clean out your closet?

When I do finally retire, I'm going to get up early in the morning and drive around really slowly so I can make everyone late for work, and I'm going to do my grocery shopping at 5:15, so I can drive crazy all the worker bees who stop in for a few things before heading home.

Just kidding.



Socialism is a scareword they have hurled at every advance the people have made in the last 20 years. Socialism is what they called public power. Socialism is what they called social security. Socialism is what they called farm price supports. Socialism is what they called bank deposit insurance. Socialism is what they called the growth of free and independent labor organizations. Socialism is their name for almost anything that helps all the people.
HARRY S. TRUMAN, speech, October 10, 1952
Should any political party attempt to abolish social security, unemployment insurance, and eliminate labor laws and farm programs, you would not hear of that party again in our political history.
DWIGHT D. EISENHOWER, letter to Edgar Newton Eisenhower, November 8, 1954





Tuesday, January 8, 2019

Facing the Unknown

The very last words I ever thought I'd hear my husband say, and seriously mean them, were uttered by him today as the nurse wheeled him into the OR for biopsies on some lymph nodes that look suspicious.

"I feel like I'm facing a firing squad."

My heart sank.

The unknown. Uncertainty. Randomness. Fate. 

Regardless of the name given to it, this force can alter our lives in the blink of an eye. Whether we're aware of it or not, it permeates all aspects of our lives. It affects our mood, how we treat our family and friends, and our anxiety levels.

Simply put, the unknown wreaks havoc.

Everything is humming along perfectly - job/work, family, relationships - when suddenly you're blind-sided with an unexpected issue. Like they say, "It's always something, right?"

Annoyances pop up all the time; testing our patience. The car breaks down on the very day you're starting a new job. Horrific traffic gets between you and an important appointment. The cable goes out while you're watching that one football game you've been waiting for all season.

That's all small stuff when it's compared to life's unexpected curveballs; the passing of a loved one, a natural disaster, or being faced with your own health problem.

At the very moment that my husband said those eight words, I realized that regardless of the outcome of today's tests, our "normal" life together ceases to exist and will be replaced by something many people call the "new normal."

Separately and together, we are facing a major change in our lives. To get to this point, it has already been a rather long journey; months of visits with doctors as far away as 120-miles, blood tests, invasive examinations, drug therapy, and x-rays of every type.

My husband's never had a single health issue. This "unknown" has been eating him up. Hearing him say those eight words, well frankly, made my heart stop. As the love of my life was wheeled away and I was told to settle into the waiting room, the hallway got longer, the lights went dim, and I became consumed in the beast, myself. The Unknown. 

We are a partnership. He's my confidant, my advisor, my best friend, and the person I go to with all my trouble.  And - I am his.

We are in this together, always. The plan is to continue to grow old together, holding hands and sitting in rockers on the front porch. We've been together more than 45-years. It ain't over, yet.




I've learned much from the passing of my father, then my mother, and then most recently my sister. But health scares like this tend to force us to evaluate and then reevaluate all that is important to us. 

My husband, to put it simply, is a really good man. He has integrity and character, is fair and kind, exudes confidence and courageousness, and shares his life with me. 

This Friday the unknown will also cease to exist. The road to creating our "new normal" with a plan for handling the outcome of all the testing will be paved.

I'm grateful for his strength, and for him seeing the strength in me. Together we will accept our new normal and conquer our fears.