As a significant note, I would like to share more about this beautiful song.
In 9th grade at junior high school, my classmate, Linda Creed was the center of attention for her buoyant spirit, her out-going nature, and ability to lead. At lunchtime, she would go to the middle of the gym floor and invite us all to dance and sing to the latest music. I always thought it odd how completely immersed in the music she seemed to be, and her insistence for us to come together to dance in the gym after lunch at school. She made it happen just about everyday, if I recall correctly, breaking racial barriers and other irritating issues we faced in school.
Our school was in a neighborhood comprised of predominately Jewish people. So the school was a reflection of the neighborhood and was populated of 50% Jewish and 50% everyone else. I make these facts known as they indicate how all encompassing Linda’s influence actually was. Linda insisted we all come together to have fun dancing, and we did. She was infectious, beaming and so happy being able to create with music and dancing, a moment that would bring us together like nothing else could.
Linda was Jewish so at first one might wonder how and what part of her felt so compelled to rouse us all to dance to rhythm and blues at lunchtime. We could feel that she was special somehow.
Years later, I learned that Linda had became a standout songwriter, creating some of the best lyrics and music of our era and in collaboration with Gamble & Huff, a significant part of what would come to be known as “The Philly Sound” of the 1970s.
Linda is the composer of this amazing song. Not long after writing this song, Linda would die of cancer in 1986.
RIP dear Linda, you “crazy diamond”!
Thank you for bringing us together in junior high school.
And a bigger thanks for all of the incredible lyrics and music.
There are times when life defies understanding, the information we want, that we think we should have while experiencing a moment. Understanding may come later, unexpectedly, inconveniently. We may have settled with our current knowing so this revelation can also be obtrusive. But it is undeniable. We recognize a solved mystery revealed, but now we also have long ago adapted ourselves to make up for unanswered questions. We are fine now. But this understanding comes just the same.
Along with this, I think of my parents today. They were so very down to earth, no nonsense. I wanted a little more fluff, like I saw with my friend’s families. But Mother and Dad would have none of that. They were completely aware and not without aspirations but theirs were completely customized to fit their lives and not a carbon copy of anyone else. Eventually Mother and Dad moved our family into a big, stone house on 1/4 acre in a wonderful town. It was the envy of many, including the “fluffy” people. That’s the way that they were, patient and determined in reaching their aspirations.
Mother was highly admired for her leadership, her strength, her drive, her vision. She was unique. She envied no one. She set her sites on a thing and off she went in that direction., fashionably dressed, striking and confident, beautiful. People wanted to know her.
My Father was a quiet giant. He was strong in his beliefs and resolve. When he spoke you listened, you remembered because he wasted no words. He was quite handsome and he adored my Mother. Both strong individuals, my parents, but quite different in their approach in maintaining their strengths.
Looking back now, what has come to mind today, the understanding, is my parents approach to teaching discipline, responsibility, character and integrity; not with so many words, but by the way in which we were left to decide how to behave. They laid down the law and gave us the freedom to follow through. And having garnered our admiration and respect for them, my brothers, my sisters, and I seemed most times to come to the right decision that kept us in line and taught the tough lessons.
My parents were not averse to using the strap. I could tell a couple of stories about that, maybe later. (Spare the rod and spoil the child.). But I realize how intelligent they were. The simple way that they had with teaching and with most everything. They often told me just to look and listen. Don’t ask so many questions. Now this was completely in opposition to what we were taught in school. I often felt that I needed to ask more questions; how I might not be as smart as the ones in class who were constantly asking questions. But as it turns out, my parents were so right in their approach. Most of my questions were answered and in the most significant way. Those answers came during the course of a lesson if I just paid attention. And because of allowing myself the time to receive the answers, they were so much more valuable as the process involved only me. I received the information in the way for my mind to comprehend (we all have our unique way) instead of having to try to understand someone else’s interpretation or significant take on a subject. It was mine and will continue to be mine, foundational, solid, but open to further clarity and substance. I am not purporting that questions should not be asked in class at school, but only if one is inclined to ask, after listening. And at that point in time, more often than not, you may not have questions. I hope this makes sense.
We tend to forget many of the experiences that we’ve had, and easily so as some are truly forgettable, others regrettable, and still others simply because we must get on with our lives. Some events, though we may not think of them when they occur as pertinent or relevant, remain with us somewhere deep inside.
For months I’d been struggling with a perplexing issue which seemed to defy resolution. I was bound on all sides with thinking about it, when suddenly a forgotten memory emerged. Shapes, colors, and details became part of the air around me, dancing in concert to form a story that I would tell in a little book that I would write.
This extraordinary experience of my childhood took place in 1957 in Virginia. As I wrote the words, I felt warm and comforting support for a time that I spent with my grandparents, so very dear to me now. Until the time of writing, I was unaware of how much meaning that summer had brought to my life. How impossible that it was safe in my heart all along! It is a story of love and an ever-growing appreciation for my family. It might well have been entitled , “The Gift”.
Here is an excerpt from my novelette:
Two Little Girls
Chapter 1
As far as I was concerned, summer began with the day my father installed the screens in the windows. Early that morning, Mother would have taken the summer sheers from storage to the clothesline in our backyard. By the afternoon, she swooped up the freshened bundle and brought them back indoors to hang on the rods at the tops of the windows. When the transformation was complete, I’d run from room to room to see the curtains flying on the breeze that raced in through the windows of our big old house. Like a magical invitation to adventures possible only with summer, when one day melted into the next and no one asked about the time, I felt that I could fly too and that anything could happen.
There were 5 children in my family. My brother Lionel was the oldest; my sister Cecilia was next, followed by my sister Rose, then my brother Isaac, and me. We spent summertime totally absorbed in keeping pace with our friends as was our Mother in keeping up with us. She mended our scraped knees, our bruised egos, and the holes in my brothers’ dungarees. I remember lemonade and tuna sandwiches, cotton sun dresses and hair ribbons; the pennies I collected for the corner candy store, and my ankle socks that never stayed up. Summers seemed much longer then when hopscotch and jump rope, hide-and-seek and tag, dress-up and make believe, with my bicycle, my dolls and friends filled the days until supper time. When August finally came around, among the five of us someone would be chosen to vacation with our grandparents in the country. It was in the year 1957 that I was to spend my first summer there.
I’d thought so often about my first trip to the farm. But like the landing of a cascading boulder, my mother’s cheerful delivery of this summer’s plan completely shattered my vision of it. Leaving little room for the way that reality alters things but similar to most events concerning “the children”, I was quite certain of my unvarying reverie. It was always the same. My brothers and sisters are running through a country field with me, very happily and as usual, following close behind. But everything had been arranged and I alone would spend two weeks on the farm that year.
My family had gathered in the living room when Mother made the announcement. But my frustrating lack of enthusiasm was like a call to dinner in emptying the room of everyone and I found myself alone, save for the dog. While I struggled with the concept of being on my own, Spiky jumped onto the couch next to me. Placing his head upon my foot he kept a concerned and watchful eye over my disposition until we both fell asleep.
Later that day, I listened to Dad’s recollections of farm life adventures while Mother prepared supper. As she filled in with the finer points and particulars she’d taken note of my mixed feelings with her knowing smile that always took the sharp edges off of things. “Don’t forget that your cousin Joanna is just about your age and lives close to Grandpa‘s”, she nearly whispered. Then I thought of the pocket inside the little green suitcase as the place where my Jacks would find a perfect fit.
~~~~~~~ Truth is Beauty is Love ~~~~~~
You are amazing. Create something beautiful today!
Hatred is beneath the problems that we are facing and to some degree, in every negative experience.
Choose Love.
God is Love.
Someone once said that there are only two emotions…love and everything else.
All other emotion weaken the spirit.
A level of hatred lies within all of them, as the “little bit” in something as seemingly innocuous as self-doubt for falling short of one’s own expectations, to the extreme level that energizes feelings of rage for atrocities suffered by the masses that have become part of the history of mankind…and everything in between.
It is actually very simple and not the confusion that clouds the mind.
Could this be the grand design of The Creator?
He has given us a way to live our lives. He has given us His Ten Commandments.
Do we know what they are? Not knowing is leading the world to destruction.
Hatred for atrocities formed against us is a natural first response for a human being.
Remember that He and only He is to judge. Assuming this role for ourselves leads us in the wrong direction, away from Him.
Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.
Romans 12:19
We want to see judgement come to those who cause harm. And when it doesn’t seem to come when we expect it should, when we are so effected, maybe to extent of suffering physical pain, it seems by things that feel out of our control, we may feel justified with hatred for those people or organizations for all of the damage and feelings of hopelessness. This is a trap, a set-up by evil; evil hoping that you do not know the word of God.
Allowing ourselves to be influenced enough to hate is the work of the evil one.
Jesus is love. After being nailed to the cross, He recognized His enemies’ spirits were weakened by hate. He spoke to God:
Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.
Luke 23:34
The way of life is the way of Love…The Grand Design.
Sometime in the 1970s, there was a tv commercial by The United Negro College Fund which ended with this line. It was a commercial promoting the significance of education. Not sure if I’ve used the correct article; it could have declared “A” mind, etc. None the less the message remains the same.
What/who do we rely upon to inform us? Have we actually given thought to this question? I will guess many people have never. We are provided unsolicited information, answers to questions never asked. We live in a fast-paced environment leaving little space and time for our minds to ponder, to reach the place from where questions arise. We need not put in the effort, ultimately accepting data bombarding our senses. What is wrong here? Everything goes along smoothly so what could be wrong with this?
Well, in the presence of overwhelming information and distractions, we may have completely lost connection with what could be our own thoughts. But would we notice this phenomenon at all?
Observing trending ideologies, I am amazed with how easily they take root and grow; how readily accepted, that questions asked by a person who pauses to think before accepting information seems to be an irritant to others who accept without question whatever is presented. People can even become violent in their beliefs which I contend are not actually their own. The worst of this is that most likely, they won’t realize this. In so many areas of their lives, they haven’t had to actually think things through, so they don’t know that they have this natural ability. They don’t know the valuable resource within themselves. And the thinking person is a fright, a danger to their stability and safety. They put up defenses. They will argue a point, not realizing the genesis of which is not of themselves. They are not accustomed to being present with themselves.
We are feeling, experiencing how detrimental this has become for our society.
Ha! I actually had a client, a young woman, who once remarked that she doesn’t like to think!
Take time. Put in the work. Go within. Ask questions!
We may think we know ourselves, but unless and until we determine and identify the various aspects of our personality, I wonder how can we truly know.
I may not be describing this as well as I might, but this is how it seems to me.
We should have an awareness of what is important to us, what we keep within us; such as:.
What we believe.
What we will not tolerate.
We we must always do in every situation.
What we will never allow ourselves to do in any situation, and so on.
And what are the things that we expect of other people who enter our lives, etc. etc..
Each person brings a pre-determined standard along with every encounter, otherwise we are vulnerable to any well-phrased opinion, especially by someone we admire.
Speaking of this, you may give credibility to someone, an eloquent speaker with a well spring of knowledge, very convincing, charismatic and engaging. But what if something that is said comes against a standard that you have for yourself…a standard that you actually have, but have not determined or recognized as such?
Maybe you paid to be in the audience of this person. You are enjoying what you are hearing. Then suddenly, the person says something that is a little irritating, just “a little bit” (channelling De Niro’s character from the movie Goodfellas, haha!). The person has captured your attention and has your trust and respect. But still, you find what has just been uttered to be slightly irritating. It doesn’t fit. Their narrative should resonate with you; you expected it to have. You are annoyed with yourself because of this intrusive and inconvenient feeling. You want it to go away. You wait to hear something that overrides this initial response within you, bringing the speaker back in line with what you expect to hear. You invested in this moment after all. Are you the only one who feels this way? It may seem to be only with you.
In a very real way it is only you. It is personal.
Whether you have actually given thought to this or not, you have a guidance system. And it may come as a surprise to find how unconsciousness you can be of it, and how it works with and for you.
I would like to suggest that you take a moment to identify what makes you who you are by getting to know your silent guidance system. What are your morals and standards for yourself, and for others? It may take a while because who can name every thing, and you have not thought In this way before, not like this? But it can be very enlightening. And the irritation that you felt with the person of many opinions, well, you will probably come to realize has something to do with your internal guidance system.
Discovering yourself by naming the things that make you who you are can be a lot of fun and a little surprising! But what is even more significant, is realizing there is a system at work all of the time. Trust that it is sorting things out for you. And, while identifying your guidance system, you may find that some things could be changed, in order to be your authentic self! If you are clearly and honestly identifying what guides you, you may want to actually make a change or two. With determined and thorough examination, you may have found by identifying all that is guiding you, that changes can be made! Each of us, we are evolving all of the time. So taking this look of what is guiding us can be thought of as maintenance; making sure that we are aligned with ourselves in the present time.
It is a hell of a thing! Residing within you may be a standard that has the ability to, and may have taken you in directions that you didn’t intend to go, and what a revelation this could be for you, more over how empowering that you control this! You have always been in control.
Well, now with this new-found consciousness of the control that you have always had, I think now as I write this, that there is also, and no less significant, the opportunity to forgive yourself for decisions you may have made, unconsciously!
Taking inventory of your guidance system and realizing the control you actually have in the creation of the life you live may be time very well spent.
Wow. Wee!!!
“Thoughts create things!” (this is a quote from in the movie, The Secret)
Get to know your guidance system. You may need an update!
…so said my mother. Always commenting on my propensity to think “too much” about things…”Go out to play.” was her common refrain, and rightfully so, I suppose. She had no better thoughts for the direction of my mind, heaven bless her.
It was a very long time ago but I remember clearly of visiting the farm in Virginia in the summer of 1957. As the days unfolded I became completely aware of the extraordinary experience of the farm life, of how it was for my grandparents.
Granddad used 2 buckets to collect water from a well. The quenching of thrist, cooking, cleaning and laundry, bathing and brushing teeth made possible only with the water my granddad collected from the well and carried to the farmhouse, every day of the year.
By contrast in Philadelphia, our water was managed by a system and people that we would never see or get to know. The flip of a switch or the turn of a knob provided all utilities for the household. And subsequently and without fail, there appeard every month on the floor below the mail slot of the front door a bill for services rendered. How completely convenient for us! Poor Granddad.
But then, hadn’t Granddad chosen to abandon his indoor plumbing after it failed? Hadn’t he simply gone back to his tried and true reliable way of the well? So the child wondered, “What would our family do if one day, the switching of switches and the turning of knobs produced nothing at all?”
For a little more of my grandfather I include this excerpt from my book:
Two Little Girls
Chapter 6
My grandfather preferred a simple life, unencumbered and close to nature and the freedom that self-sufficiency permitted. With two helpers, he was able to take care of the business of the farm and remained staunchly independent.
I remember that the sink and faucets were actually little more than furniture for the old country kitchen. Mother had told of a costly repair after which Grandfather surmised that the sink would continue on in this way, “costing more than it was worth”. Eventually, he abandoned it completely in favor of towing water from his well as he was so used to doing. Two silvery buckets were housed on the back porch for the purpose. The well was at the bottom of a small hill. Moss grew in the spaces between the stone which remained cold on the hottest summer day. It was surrounded by wood planks as the area would be swollen with rain following a storm. Several days had passed before I would accept that the frog residing there hadn’t rendered it unfit for its function of providing clean drinking water. But what I recollect is the cold, crystal clear, and sweet taste of the water from the old farm well.
Canvas Sack for Tire Chains
The Rappahannock River was in walking distance to my grandparent’s home. There were horses, cows, pigs, chickens and ducks; a smoke house, a barn for the animals and a tool barn. I remember the huge log pile just beyond the fence between the two barns. My grandmother tended a large garden providing all manner of vegetables and fruits. A pumpkin patch flourished on one side and watermelon on the other. I remember the tomatoes were biggest I’d ever seen. There was an apple tree, and a peach, and pear tree. Two large shade trees grew at each side of the front porch. And one of them had a rope swing that I loved. Swinging to and fro I could socialize with my grandparents, exchanging pleasantries between the pages of Grand pop’s comic books that he enjoyed reading at the end of the day, and with my grandmother, from her chair on the porch, as she prepared our supper vegetables for cooking on the old wood stove.
Grandmother’s Canning Jars
Two Little Girls is available at my publisher’s website:
charondiane 
You must be logged in to post a comment.