Who am I?

A while back it struck me that there had been a major shift in my identity.  No, my ID still had the same name, but the description of David had gone through a major metamorphosis.
I was the grocery man.  Competent, capable.  I loved it.  I was good at it.  It gave my life meaning.
I always lived in the shadow of my father.  I was expected to be a good businessman.  At least that was what I perceived.  Now, I think, Dad would have been happy for me as long as I was good at what I did and was happy.  That's how I am with my boys.
My identity was the big guy.  When somebody needed to move, they called Big Dave to move the refrigerator and piano.  That and work took its toll on my back.  Now I am lucky to take out the garbage.
Now, my identity has changed.  I am still husband and father, but I am a seamster.  Proudly.  It took me a while to come to terms with that.
Here is this 6' 6" really BIG man, that makes doll dresses.  Me.  Making doll dresses.  Go figure.  As it turns out, I am pretty good at it.  I enjoy it. 
I can take raw materials and put them together in such a way that comes out pretty and useful.  People like it.  Mine will compare to just about anybody's. 
My outfits can help sell a doll!  They can make our dolls stand out from the pack.  It turns out I have a pretty good eye for it too.
I guess what this comes down to is that we have to be able to use our talents in ways that you can't imagine.  You never know what God has in store for us.  You just never know.
My outfits are all over the world by now being enjoyed by many of our customers.  I like that.
What's in store for you?


As always, comments and responses are always welcome.  David.

A letter to Mom on Mother's Day

Hi Mom.
Its been a while since we spoke last.  You passed from this earth about five years ago.  Seems like forever.  Seems like yesterday.
Remembrances are all I have.  But the bottom line is that you loved me.  Period.  I know there were times I worried you.  I am sure there were times you got angry or frustrated with me.  But.  You loved me.
I remember one night you came to check on me in the little house in Norco.  I had done something wrong (I don't remember, grades, whatever), and I was afraid to tell Dad. 
You were sympathetic, but you helped me do the right thing and talk to him.  Its not that I was afraid of Dad, I just didn't want to disappoint him.
You, however, were the parent I could turn to.  You were the one that cared for me when I was sick.  Not that Dad didn't, but you were the primary one.  When I had a fever, you were at my bedside.  When I was just plain down and out, you were the one to buy me comic books.  I loved that.
You made us slumgullion, Dad's term for whatever noodle enhanced, budget stretching, leftover using concoction you came up with in the electric skillet.  I loved that stuff.
You, my dear mother, encouraged me to learn to cook.  It has served me well.  It is something I can do well, I give my love to others through my own concoctions.  It gives me great pleasure.
I watched you make bread.  You showed me how to knead.  The smell of the yeast was heavenly. 
Then, you let me take the reins in the kitchen.  I found the recipe for Swedish Tea Rings in the Betty Crocker cookbook, the one with pictures. 
I made a God-awful mess.  The floor, sink, stove, and anything nearby was covered with flour.
But I succeeded.  I made several tea rings for family.  I got rave reviews.  I felt good about myself in a way I hadn't before.  I learned to give love, to be a caretaker from you.  I cherish that.
Now that you are in heaven, I just wonder what is in store when I get there.  I wonder if I get to cook there too.  I would love to be a part of the team that puts that heavenly feast upon God's table.  Who knows.  But I will be there. 
I can't wait to see you again.  I want so desperately to get a hug from you.
As I write this, the tears are flowing, the snot is running, my heart is regretting not spending more time with you.  I miss you.  Hugs.
Happy Mother's Day. 
David

perseverance

Recently Rita and I have had a pretty serious downturn in our business.  We are scrambling to gin up some cash flow.  Hard times seem to be always waiting at our door.  Sometimes scrambling for a couple of bucks can hurt you down the road.  Hard to figure out.
Today I read of a young man from Princeton that did some research into his family, specifically his parents and grandparents.  One of his professors had assumed he was privileged because he was Jewish.  The professor had implied he could not have anything to say to minorities because he didn't know their struggle or their lot in life. 
What he found about his grandparents was that his grandmother had survived the Bergen-Gelson death camp in World War II.  She had been forced into hard labor for two or three years, watching her family and friends all be murdered.  She weighed eighty pounds.
His grandfather had escaped to Russia to be confined to their horrid and brutal work camps in Siberia during the war.  When the war ended, they were liberated and traveled to America to start a new life.  Ameica is where his grandparents met.
His grandfather began a wicker basket company, working long hard hours every day to make enough to support them.  He didn't complain about the long hours, the pittance of money he made, the tough conditions they were in, because they had freedom.  They could go to Synagogue without fear.
They raised a family, sent them to school, in the hopes their children would know a better life.
Their son, this young man's father, graduated from community college, got a job with a good company, and made enough money to send his children to a private jewish school.  His father worked long hard hours and was proud of his family.  They never were able to afford a vacation, but they lived reasonably well.
The point of his story was that we should not assume we all know of one anothers troubles, or if their life is easy.  We all have our stories, and we should not assume.
But, a point I got out of this article was, this young man's grandfather spoke of his times of trouble running his wicker basket business.  He said, "I survived Hitler.  Some business problems are going to ruin me?"
This put my business problems all in perspective. We will persevere and survive. Dammit.  David

Yesterday

Wow.  Yesterday's blog I wrote with hope and anticipation.  I was choosing to take charge of my destiny. 
Yesterday turned out to be a tough one.  Things did not go as I planned. 
Pretty much got me down.  Having a tough time getting through it.
Yet.
I am still in charge of my destiny.  I can still choose to be happy.  I can still flirt with my wife (didn't really do that yesterday, an opportunity missed).
As I said yesterday,
Today is precious.  Its my day.  I choose to enjoy it.  This day.  David

This day...

Today, this day, I will make mine.  It is mine to do with as I please.
I can do what I want with it.  I can choose to be noble.  I can choose to be self destructive.  I can choose to be mean.  It is my day the Lord has given me.  My choice.
Oh!  The possibilities!  I can go on an adventure!  I can read a book!  I can stay home and work to make my life better.
I can sit on my lard butt and do nothing.  The choices seem endless.
I can call my kids today!  I can enjoy the morning sun.  I can revel in mundane and see, even there, God's hand.  I can kiss my wife.
I can flirt with her.  I can ignore her.  I can cuss up a storm if I wish.  Or I can respect her wishes (and also respect myself) and not spout nastiness.
I can slander another person.  Or, I can lift them up.  I can talk like I know everything, or I can listen.
Today, I choose to be kind.  I choose to be loving.  I choose to listen.  I choose to talk to my kids.
I choose.  I am in charge of my destiny.
So often, I live my life doing what I think I am supposed to do, what others have said I should do. 
It is my life. 
How much of my life have I wasted?
Today is precious.  Its my day.  I choose to enjoy it.  This day.  David

Remembrances

I have strived to keep politics out of this blog.  I want it to be about daily life.  But today, I beg your indulgence.  Its important.
Many people are afraid to look at the past.  To look at the human conditions and frailties.  To see the horrors that have been perpetrated by man upon other men (and women and children) is often beyond comprehension.
There are so many examples, I don't know where to begin.  The crusades.  Uganda.  Iran's gassing of the Kurds.  The American slaughter of the American Indians.  More recently, Sudan gassing their political rivals.  The list goes on and on.
Today is holocaust remembrance day.  Six million Jews exterminated.  "Exterminated" seems too polite of a word.  Even "gassed, shot, stabbed, abused, raped, humiliated" seems too polite.  How about murdered.  Plain and simple.
In high school (1972) I read Elie Weisel's book entitled, "Dawn."  A brief, poignant account of the holocaust.  It has stuck with me all my life.
If nothing else, that book gave me a distrust of all politicians.  All of them.  When a person is in charge of another person, has control, their true character can come through.  We see it over and over.  Abuses can run rampant.
So forgive me today, as I run the events of the day through that filter.  Have we learned? 
A quote I learned long ago from my parents, "Power corrupts.  Absolute power corrupts absolutely."
This is why the framers of the American constitution had three equal levels of government.  Each was to watch the other.  To keep them honest.  It seems as though that is being corrupted.  We must stand strong against corruption.  And learn from the past.  David

Today

Today promises to be a good day.  I feel good.  I have much to do.  And I get to spend it with my sweetie.
Trash day.  Shipping day (four to ship out today!).  Build dolls day (2).  Maybe picture day.
The weather should be pretty nice.  Clear skies and warming.
Maybe, just maybe, I can get it all done.
I like busy days.  It gives me meaning and purpose.
Looking forward to it.
David