Chocolate/Peanut Butter Squares

QUESTION: Where can you get a chocolate/peanut butter square?




ANSWER: Blackbird Bakery .... but if it is not on display out front it may be in the back so do not be afraid to ask for it. So tell 'em Natasha sent you.

Saint Francis

Someone saw me drive down State Street yesterday and asked me about the Saint Francis statue that I have on the dashboard of my Subaru. The simple reason is that I like Saint Francis. I’ve liked him since I was a little girl. My mother liked Saint Francis and told us, Kevin and I, stories about him. My favorite story was the one about the town that was terrorized by a wolf. The wolf told Saint Francis that he had a hard time hunting because he was injured. So Saint Francis told the town to feed the wolf and all was well. I just loved the idea that he could talk to the animals and make peace with them. We were Methodists but my mother said we didn’t have to be Catholic to follow St. Francis. I didn’t find out until later in life that one of his teachings was to renounce wealth, a teaching my mother failed to mention and she was certainly not going to follow. But in her own way she did love him and she taught us to love him too. To me he is an example of someone who was true to himself no matter what the cost was. I like that in a guy. My favorite book on Saint Francis is The Lessons of St. Francis by John Michael Talbot.

The statue on my dashboard was originally my mothers’ but when she remarried she turned her back on St. Francis and threw all her Francis stuff away. I was able to retrieve some of it including the statue on my dashboard. To me that statue is a constant reminder to be true to my self, just like he was true to himself. I just want to make sure that I never become one of those women who disappear into a man. You know, the kind of woman that gradually absorb the opinions and worldview of the man they are attached to. Eventually what happens is that when these women speak you listen but you don’t ask questions because you know she is just repeating what she was told and if she had an answer for what you asked it too would be his words coming out of her mouth. I would rather have my tongue ripped out of my mouth than have someone think that about me. I know I’ve got plenty of my own problems when it comes to relating to the thicker sex, but disappearing is not one of them. And that St. Francis statue on my dashboard is a reminder to never disappear. It is also a reminder of when my mother did.

Meeting Pua at the Blackbird Bakery

It was a Thursday morning and I decided to have my mid morning coffee at Blackbird Bakery. Sometimes nothing will do but a chocolate-peanut butter square. I just wish it were smaller because eating one by yourself is a sugar over-load that will last all day long. Luckily for me the woman being waited on by the other cashier said, “I wish I could have half of one of those squares.” “I’ll split mine with you,” I offered and she accepted. She told me her name was Pua Coffman and that she was on the staff of First Presbyterian Church working with the youth group. She didn’t look particularly Hawaiian but she had one of those half grin/half smiles that make you think she’s just glad to be alive. I find myself smiling now as I write this and remember her. She seemed safe enough to talk about religion so I asked her what was the difference between Presbyterians and other Christians. Without getting all serious on me she told me that Presbyterians tend to be very serious about their theology while Pentecostals tend to be more interested in expressing their joy. At that point she had to go join the group of youth pastors she met with every Thursday morning. As she stood to leave her grin got bigger and she whispered, “I like to think of myself as a Presbycostal.”

My step-father, Lionel O'Brien

In a lot of ways Lionel O’Brien is a good man. In fact, in most ways he’s a very good man. I was twelve, almost thirteen, when he married my mother. Kevin was nine. Mom had been working as the receptionist at his law firm in Johnson City but she had to quit working there when they got engaged because he didn’t want to appear to show favoritism to his fiancée and any of the other staff feel uncomfortable. That put mom out of work and he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable either so their engagement was only three months long. Mom, Kevin, and I moved into the house he had lived in with his first wife. Why would I feel uncomfortable about that? His daughter, Samantha, became my older sister. In every way imaginable they opened the door to their home and their life and welcomed us in. And we went in. We joined their life. We started having hot breakfasts instead of cereal and fruit. We joined the Westfield Independent Church. Kevin and I each got our own bedrooms and the same Interior Designer that decorated his office decorated both rooms. Why would I feel uncomfortable about that? I suppose I could have gotten Samantha's old clothes as hand-me-downs, but that never happened. I got my own new clothes every August before school started. Samantha picked them out. I could have said I wanted something else, but she did have good taste, and besides, I never let myself want something else.

One of the new rituals was a formal lunch every Sunday after church. We kept our Sunday clothes on and ate in the dining room instead of the kitchen. The unspoken rule was that after we had eaten Lionel would ask each of us a question about our life and we each got a turn to talk about whatever he had asked about. Once each of us, including mom, had had a turn to speak he would lean back in his chair and say that something one of us said reminded him of something he had been thinking about. His pontifications could last anywhere from fifteen to forty-five minutes, even longer if someone asked a question. He is a very intelligent man whose opinions are all well thought out and well articulated. He is sure he is always right and he generally is. He is also sure he is interesting but that is one thing he does not get right.

HOW TO RESPOND TO REJECTION LETTERS

This form letter is for anyone who's ever gotten a rejection letter. One of my followers sent it to mefrom mikeshumor@gmail.com. Please let us know what kind of response you get if you send this out.

Dear [Interviewer's Name]:

Thank you for your letter of [date of rejection letter].After careful consideration, I regret to inform you that I am unable to accept your refusal to offer me employment with your firm. This year I have had been particularly fortunate in receiving an unusually large number of rejection letters. With such a varied and promising field of candidates, it is impossible for me to accept all refusals.Despite [Firm's Name]'s outstanding qualifications and previous experience in rejecting applicants, I find that your rejection does not meet with my needs at this time. Therefore, I will initiate employment with your firm immediately following graduation. I look forward to seeing you then.Best of luck in rejecting future candidates.

Sincerely,

[Your Name]

Encouragement Baseball

This morning I overheard the very end of a phone conversation Kevin had. He didn’t know that I was so close but I heard him clearly say good-bye then close the phone and say, “That was a grand-slam” to himself. I thought it curious so I asked him about it. He claims he invented a game of solitaire called “encouragement baseball.”

Kevin plays encouragement baseball in his head whenever he has an interaction with anyone for more than a few minutes. He does it with friends and strangers alike. The object of the game is to score a run, which can be done by hitting four singles, two doubles, or a home run. Hits are accomplished by verbal and non-verbal communications that build up, support, amuse, and/ or encourage whomever he is talking to. If he gets a smile, a chuckle, or an eye twinkle he gives himself a single. Doubles occur when the person laughs heartily and home-runs only occur when he can see that what he has said made the person stop and consider that Kevin’s more encouraging view of himself might be more accurate than the view he had previously held. “For a homer you have to see the light-bulb go on in their face,” explained Kevin.

That sounded dangerously insincere to me but according to Kevin insincerity only gets you foul balls anyway. The only way to get a hit was by the effect the encouragement had on the person so it had to matter to him or her. In encouragement baseball you only score with safe hits and safe hits only occurred when you waited for the right pitch. Besides according to him being deliberate does not mean insincerity, insincerity is when don’t really meaning what you said.

“I’ve never been accused of insincerity because I’ve always meant what I said,” he claimed. But I still challenged his sincerity if he tried to play the game with everyone he encountered. Surely that could not be sincere. But he had an answer for that as well, “No matter whom I’m talking to I can always eventually find something encouraging to say.”

That’s my brother. I told him he should write a book and he told me that I had just hit a double. And if at a later date he should call me and tell me that he has written a book and it was partly because of my encouragement then it could be upgraded to a grand slam.

The Man Song

After my father left us ...

This blog picks up where the June 21st blog left off:

Beautiful women get things. It’s just how it is. My mother was a beautiful woman. Actually she still is. And I was her gangly daughter with the small eyes and big feet. “That’s ok,” she’d tell me, “you’ll fill out when the time comes.” She meant that when I got boobs the boys would be more interested. That was before puberty, before my father’s accident, and even then I thought what’s so great about having boys interested? I had to admit that whenever we were in trouble, and I mean little troubles like car trouble or not enough to get into the movies, there would always be a man who would help us out. She could smile and laugh that soft way men like and the man helping her would go into a trance. Kevin and I would be invisible until mom would point at us, then he ‘d pat us on the head and say “what beautiful children, they take after their mother.” She’d always laugh and Kevin and I would become invisible again. It happened so often that when the man would turn away Kevin and I would turn to each other and with big fake smiles we'd bat our eyes. I know her laugh was fake in those moments because I had heard her laugh many times when we were alone. Her real laugh was harder and if it lasted more than a few seconds she would snort. I liked her real laugh. The fake one made me invisible. One particular day after dad left she was in the cafeteria at the courthouse with no money to pay for her lunch and of course a man came to her rescue. This time it was a lawyer named, Lionel O’Brien, whose wife had died two years earlier. He bought her lunch and she batted her eyes. He gave her a job at his office and nine months later they were married. Like I said, beautiful women get things. Most folks would say she landed on her feet and in some ways she did. But her snort disappeared and I became even more invisible.

4th of July Parade "above" State Street

Where were you at 11:30 this morning? I was at the parade on State Street when a bi-plane flew overhead. This was one of those moments when I just happened to be taking a picture at the right place and at the right moment. I caught the bi-plane coming out of a loop-te-loop directly above the Paramount marquee. It was a nice celebration for Bristol followed by free food and music for all at Cumberland Square Park. A couple of high school marching bands would have made it perfect.