Author: jdavis

A Moment in My Life – Tuesday, January 5, 2021

Every day is a celebration of life, in my opinion. Still, being the human I am, I find I tend to mosey on through my life day-after-day, surviving, to getting things done, instead of living my life purposefully and enjoying each moment fuller. As a new year begins, it is the perfect time to start anew. Leave behind what didn’t work, reassess, and make new plans to move forward. The beauty of each year and each day is that every day is a clean slate, which I plan to create a masterpiece of a day well-lived. When I realized I didn’t know how to accomplish that because I am a doer with my eyes fixated in my planner and my hand was scribbling to-dos faster than I can read on my ever-growing list, I knew I needed to reevaluate how I have been living my life. I realized the answer was right under my nose.

Two years ago, today, I held a Celebration of Life in honor of my late husband, Mark, who requested attendees wear colorful clothing and fun hats to the event. He wanted his friends and family to fill the room with laughter instead of tears. I know Mark was smiling from above and chuckling at times, along with the room full of 200 plus familiar faces reminiscing and sharing memories of Mark, and much laughter resonated through the halls of our church where we held this service.

The man who I loved so dearly for more than half of my life provided me with an example of how to live my life well, but I was too busy keeping busy to notice. Like the old saying goes, ‘better late than never,’ and I’m grateful that this is late and not never. 

For as long as I’ve known him, Mark typically drew the short straw, but he always managed to keep an even keel during trials and adversity. He was patient and unwavering and was the master of letting things roll off his shoulders. Mark was a smart worker who was highly regarded and entrusted to delicate jobs such as church treasurer and executor of an estate and was well-loved and respected by his judokas. He befriended people with his willingness to listen and ability to hold a conversation. It was never a wrong time to talk with anybody about anything. Once a salesman sat next to him on a flight from New York to San Francisco, and they yakked non-stop the whole flight home. Mark was 100% introverted, but he enjoyed conversations at any time. 

He showed up at gatherings in the ‘Cat in the Hat’ hat that he was famous for and sprinkled smiles everywhere. If it weren’t his fun hats, it was Mark’s wittiness that attracted smiles. He was even cracking jokes with the nursing staff just hours before he transitioned to heaven. Sometimes I think he missed his calling for standup. 

I was most impressed with Mark’s ability not to let anything stress him out. He managed to live a balanced life each day and took everything that came at him in stride. He took care of his responsibilities and made time to enjoy his favorite things such as movies, good food, and time with loved ones. His unspoken goal was to live each day well and be happy.

I finally realized that his daily goal was always my goal, too, but I was too busy to notice. I’m out of time, but tomorrow I’ll tell you how I’m incorporating Mark’s techniques in my quest for a celebration of life.

A Moment in My Life – Wednesday, December 9, 2020

It’s amazing what might pop up when you connect with someone deep in conversation like I did last evening with Lily, my Canadian BFF, literary since she is my longest friend from early grammar school. You know how it goes. You start with the usual pleasantries, how are you, what have you been up to, then WHAM you go deeper in for the meaningful exchanges. We covered a lot of ground in our 3-hour chat. I love our banters. Our conversation inspired me with a new career idea for her to consider and a couple of story ideas for me to ponder. Just those two tidbits alone were worth the long call.

In sharing with her, I remembered a couple of old unresolved topics that didn’t sit well with me in the past, but at the time, there was nothing that I could do about them. What was done was done. End of story. Was it, though? I don’t think so, since it was one of those things that stuck with me. You know what I mean? I know I’m not alone. I know that normal people would let it go unresolved. I’m not normal people. I don’t like unresolved issues, either. Those normal people I mentioned would harbor bad feelings forever if that’s what it takes, but they wouldn’t do anything about it. For me, I rather resolve the issues, if possible.

One of those unresolved issues I mentioned is this old story stemming from the days I was living at home with my parents and my seven-year younger sister, Susie. Susie was my BFF at the time. We were inseparable when we weren’t with our respective friends. Every Saturday morning, we would clean the house together. I can’t say that it was our idea because Susie, being the younger teen, of course, would instead do anything but clean house. It was my parents’ house, but being the neat freak, I wanted a clean house, and I made it so.

I tried everything I could think of to make it more appealing to Susie since she didn’t share my joy of cleaning. One day, I had an epiphany. 

I didn’t push or force the idea on her. I said, “What do you think about this? I’ll clean the whole house if you clean the toilet, then you are free to do whatever you want.” 

Since I despised cleaning the toilet, and she didn’t enjoy cleaning, this offer was a win-win that worked for her, and she sealed it with, “Deal!” Alternatively, we split the chores 50/50.

Little did I suspect that somehow, she forgot our deal, and the story that ended up circulating in the grapevines was that I was a bully who used to force my little sister to clean the toilet. Ouch! 

It’s funny how people willingly listen to gossip but rarely does anybody go to the source to verify what they heard. Sad. For years, I was the victim of this and probably many other one-sided stories that went around but avoided circling back to me. One day, this story did slap me in the face. It suddenly made sense why people looked at me funny when I visited the family in San Diego. No words. Just stares that made me think, “What? What did I do?” 

I wish someone could have brought up the subject so that I could have a voice in setting the record straight. It’s a tough one because I believe people are good, and they meant me no harm. They were told something, but what could they do about it? Especially a silly story like this one that was harmless to anybody else except my reputation and ego. I don’t ding anybody for this—not even Susie. I don’t think she intended it to go south. I think she merely remembered wrong. 

The other scene that troubled me didn’t have to do with me. It impacted my late husband, Mark. When it happened, I was devastated, and I felt so bad for Mark, but at that time, it caught me off guard, and under the circumstances, I was helpless to do anything about it. 

 It was on the day of Mark’s Celebration of Life gathering when our nephew, Brian, shared memories of his Uncle Markie. Brian shared some heartwarming words and memories. However, one memory grabbed me because it was from the point of view of a hurt little darling boy. I felt for him. I really did. I get where he came from. My only wish was that he could have come to me beforehand, and I could have set the record straight before he shared his story with the 200 plus people in attendance.

Still, I felt so bad for Mark, who was gone and not there to share his side. I see clearly now, and I realized last night that I am still alive and kickin’, and I have a voice. If Mark can’t speak for himself, then I will speak for him.

Here’s what happened. When my older sister Menie’s kids were little, Mark and I visited with them in San Diego every summer. Once upon a time, on a particular visit when Prince Brian was four years old, Mark and I arrived in the heat of a power struggle between the queen mommy and prince baby boy over apple juice. Yes, you read that correctly. Prince Brian, apparently, just recovered from a nasty bout of diarrhea after chucking down a gallon of his new-found vice—apple juice. As a tot, he didn’t understand the consequences of his overindulgence.

Upon our arrival, Queen Menie appointed Mark as the guard over the apple juice. Queen Menie instructed that Prince Brian was to have—not a drop of apple juice—was her specific instructions. Guard Mark performed his duties like a pro, even if it meant he was the bad guy since it was for the Prince’s own good. Every day and everywhere we went, the game was afoot between the two, which heated up to the finale that resonated in Prince Brian’s memory for the decades to come until the fateful Celebration of Life service.

Prince Brian, “I hate you!”

Guard Mark, “Not a drop!” 

And on and on they went. We, adults, knew the story, but not until Brian shared his point of view at the service did I realize the impact our actions had on that poor little boy. After the service, I told him the back story. Now he knows that his uncle wasn’t trying to purposely be nasty by forbidding the little kid his apple juice.

I know that Mark, especially in spirit, didn’t mind. That’s who he was. He never cared what people thought of him, but I’m hypersensitive, and whether I like it or not, I do care. For that reason, I’m so glad that I’m here to set the record straight.

A Moment in My Life – Tuesday, December 8, 2020

Viola Davis shared in an interview on 60 Minutes that although she has accomplished so much in three decades with much hard work, she has achieved tremendous success and fame. Yet, even with all her accolades, she still has to remind herself that she is no longer poor and no longer that helpless young girl who came from poverty, inexperienced and just starting out.

Her message sparked something in me. For the first time, I realized that all my life, I, too, have been struggling to overcome the person I was before I became the person I wanted to be. Until she verbalized her challenge, I didn’t know any better. I figured it was my demons that I had to deal with for the rest of my life. I never shared this with anybody. I didn’t think to tell someone because it’s ingrained into my being. I accepted it for what it was—memories of my past—and dismissed it when it surfaced. However, it was more than memories. It was like seeing yourself in a movie flubbing your lines, tripping over nothing, and falling, making a spectacle of yourself in front of the whole school. That’s a devastating scene for any kid USA. Compile that scene with all the other memories you have of moments you are not proud of, and imagine them looming over you for eternity.

Rarely a day goes by when the younger me doesn’t surface. I’ve been an adult for decades now, yet that little girl continues to peek out from time-to-time with her shyness, inadequacies, and naive judgment calls. She desired to be noticed by her family and loved for who she was and allowed a voice. She takes me down memory lane of moments I had with my mother that I would rather forget. Moments that defined the person I was, but not the person I wanted to be so bad. The old saying “Words are sharper than a sword” is so true. You can heal from a physical wound, and you may forget where that wound was if there were no scars left behind. However, words scar you within and reside in your memories forever, and you don’t even need to worry about renewing your subscription.

As much as I have changed and improved, scenes from that little girl’s world surface reminding me she’s still a huge part of me. Some of her challenges, which I had hoped would have been a success story by now, try if I might, those moments continue to loom over me as if it were an unobtainable fantasy. 

I’ve moved on. I think I did well in becoming the person I am. I have a long road ahead with much to accomplish, but I am way better off than when I was that little girl. The younger me’s memories make me cringe at times, but I wouldn’t change anything even if I could. With all her imperfections, hurts, sensitivities, and aspirations, that little girl made me the person I am today. She taught me the areas I needed to work on to become the person I dream of becoming. Because of who she was, I am more empathetic to others. I can appreciate that little girl of my past, all she went through, and I will love her more than ever before because she deserves that. We have to cherish our memories—the good along with the bad. I have a life goal to reframe the bad memories with a success story. We are who were are, and we all have our younger selves living within us. Who we were never leaves us, even if we try to forget, but do we ever forget?

A Moment in My Life – Monday, December 7, 2020

Have you ever attempted to take a day off only to end up doing everything else but? For months I’ve been trying to take one full day off from my routines, commitments, and the mundane tasks that fill my days. This past Saturday was a great candidate since it was the first Saturday in months when I didn’t have either a Zoom meeting, a webinar scheduled, or any phone dates. 

I was elated because it was the perfect day to take off until Saturday morning rolled in. I woke up with a few things that I needed to do before I could begin my day off. One of those items was time-sensitive. I had to complete a letter and get it into the mail. With my postman, you never know when he’d arrive, but if I got that letter into my mailbox before he came, that would save me a trip to the USPS.

When San Mateo County joined most of California back into the Purple Tier, who knows if more businesses might have to close again. I checked with my hairstylist to see if she was open, and she got back to me that morning, saying she could see me at 10:40. Of course, I grabbed the appointment. Good thing I did. She said she might have to close any day now.

Come rain or shine or day off or vacation, and I must write my three Morning Pages. Before I finished, I got a phone call from my sister’s sister-in-law, who never called me before. We ended up chatting for a short while. That call pushed out my morning schedule even further.

I had one more must-do task that I planned to take care of after lunch. I eventually forgot about it because as I was heating my lunch, I got another unexpected phone call from another person who doesn’t usually call me. I suggested we talk the next day, but he needed to talk right away. We talked a while, and the content of that call shook me up a bit, causing me to ponder the conversation for a time. 

It could have been worse, so I can’t complain. I ended up taking a truncated day off, and as it turned out, I took care of many things instead of pushing them off to the next day had I not taken care of them. Knowing me, the next day would be a busy one anyway, and it was. 

I enjoyed the shortened day off immensely. I finally got to binge-watch the Ms. Fisher Modern Murder Mystery DVDs that I borrowed from the library over a month ago. It was now, or neither, as my auto-renewal ran out. It was a delightful escape from reality and made up for the lessened time off. 

What I learned from this experience was that nothing is black or white. I tend to be rigid with an all-or-none mentality, which doesn’t serve me well. All it does is give me stress and disappointment when my plans get foiled. Instead, I realized that there is a time and a place for everything. Yes, vacay is essential for our mind, body, soul, and spirit, and we should not take it lightly. People are important, too, and whenever possible, they should come first. Sometimes things happen. People are always busy, and that may coincide with my plans, and all I can do is make the best of the situation and keep in mind that plans are not set in stone.

A Moment in My Life – Thursday, December 3, 2020

A couple of days ago, while I was doing my daily Bible reading in Bible.com, I got an alert for a new friend request from a guy named Mark Adrit. I was surprised and intrigued because I have only one friend on this platform I met when we participated in a group annual Bible reading plan. I am not on this platform for making friends, but I don’t oppose it. I never bother with making friends here. I come to this app for one reason only, and that’s to read. 

When I received Mark’s friend request, I didn’t think anything of it. He had to be a fellow participant, right? He must be a good and decent person, and if he’s on a Bible devotional reading platform, he must be a Christian, right? Those were the questions that went through my mind as I considered accepting or rejecting his friend request. In a moment of trust, I accepted his friend request. Usually, from other platforms, nothing happens. My new friend and I coexist, and that’s that. However, this Mark guy immediately messaged me and started a conversation. Okay, no problem, I enjoy chatting with people and getting to know them. 

He said he’s from Albania but resides in New York Long Island. In my attempt to be more open-minded to diversity and not be a writing snob, I noticed, but I chose to look past his choice of words, non-perfect punctuation, and non-standard sentence structure. In any event, it was odd that he would refer to me as a damsel. A damsel? Really? Who talks like that these days? In my lifetime, I have never heard that word used in real conversations. This guy called me a damsel not once but twice in the brief chat we had. It should have been a red flag, but I was still feeling generous. I let it go. 

He sounded like someone who stepped out of Shakespearean times. He said, “It’s mine pleasure meeting you.” That was another red flag. Again, I told myself not to be so hard on people, and I dismissed it.

I was curious why we couldn’t continue chatting in this app where we were already chatting, but it was a bit antiquated, unlike text or messenger, so when he suggested that we move our chat to Hangouts, I wasn’t super surprised. I declined his offer because I didn’t want another app to keep track of, so I suggested Facebook messenger or text. At first, he refused Facebook saying that he isn’t on Facebook that much. When I told him that I didn’t want to start a Hangouts account, he asked for my Facebook user name and cell phone. 

I decided to give him my Facebook link but declined to provide him with my cell. He was okay with that, but the next thing he said raised another red flag. He said, “I’ll let you know when I message you.” What? Why would you need to let me know when you message me? Wouldn’t I know when I receive your message? Whatever. Again, I tried to be open-minded that we all do things differently. 

A day went by, and no message from him. I looked at his Facebook, and I was surprised that his profile photo is that of a Caucasian man, but 99% of his friends are Indian names. When I googled Adrit, it revealed that it is an Indian name, too. I may be completely wrong. If I am, I will offer a mea cupla, but I think this guy is a perp out to collect personal data to do his harm. I doubt he’ll message me because I don’t think he got what he wanted from me. 

It’s so sad that people can’t use their talents for good. This is a very personal story, but I wanted to share this to bring awareness to the simple fact that it doesn’t matter which app or platform we are on; perps are lurking everywhere preying on innocent people. We need to be vigilant and take precautions to protect ourselves, and our data, at all times. Thanks to this Mark Adrit, if that is his real name, I am wiser now, and I’ll continue to be open-minded, but I will exercise due diligence to prevent falling prey to a perp again because now my eyes opened.

____________

Epilogue: I stand corrected. After I wrote this column, he did message me again only to get more information from me. Here’s how it played out:

Mark AdritHello Jeannie I could not get through you on Facebook please send me your cell number so I can ring you from time to time.

Jeannie DavisHello, Mark Adrit, if that is your real name. I gave you my trust, and you threw it away. If I’m wrong about you, then mea culpa, but I think I have you correctly pegged that you are nothing but a two-bit con man trying to trick me into giving you my personal information. Shame on you! Keep in mind that there are consequences for every decision you make and everything you do. Have you heard the proverb, ‘what goes around comes around? I’m glad you couldn’t get through because you don’t really want to be my friend. You are right about one thing. Not everyone would hurt me, but you plan to do just that. I repeat—shame on you! It’s not too late to repent and save your soul. You can still turn your life around and use your talents to do good in this world, so you could sleep at night and look at yourself in the mirror in the mornings.

A Moment in My Life – Wednesday, December 2, 2020

Something marvelous happened to me while I was sheltered in place. I became country! I grew up rock n roll, R&B, pop, soul, with a touch of country. I don’t know if I could take credit for country since there was only one song, “Rhinestone Cowboy” by Glen Campbell, in my repertoire. That was as adventurous as I got when it came to country.

Mark was faithful to jazz and country, while my loyalty was all over the board. For me, it depended on the song. He often teased me about my broad range of music preference, but jazz and country didn’t make the cut for a long time. I was warming to jazz the last years he was with me. That pleased him. However, country? Nah, it still didn’t do it for me.

At the beginning of this year, I fell in love with EDM (electronic dance music), or I should say particularly with Alan Walker’s music. Perhaps, I should be more specific since Alan Walker is the only EDM artist I follow. I remained true to my ‘dependence on the song’ rule. It just turned out that many of Alan’s songs called out to me. Great sound. Tremendous energy. Perfect for dancing to get exercise in, and during shelter in place, I need all the excuse I could get to move my body. It is good long-playing pieces to enjoy in the background, too.

As the year evolved, so did my music. One day, I paused and noticed that I hadn’t listened to Alan Walker in a long while. I lived and breathed his music for months.  Suddenly, when I glanced at my playlist, I saw Tim McGraw, Chris Young, Carly Pearce, Reba, Billy Currington, Blake Shelton, Faith Hill, Brad Paisley, Carrie Underwood, Brett Young, and last but not least, George Strait. Holy honky-tonk Moly! I could hear Mark say, “Who are you, and what did you do with my Jeannie?” And, he would be right. I never listened to any of these artists before. What has happened to me? I woke up one day in Nashville, Tennessee, that’s what happened to me. Mark would be thrilled after he recovered from the surprise. 

There is something about country music that touches my heart. It tells a story either of a romance beginning, ending, or anywhere in between. Some are filled with melancholy over losing a loved one, a broken romance, hope, or what have you. It rings joy over life’s blessings, celebrations, and even songs resonating Jesus and Christmas. There are playful songs about everyday life. There’s no ground too wide for a country ballad. They tug at my heartstrings and give me a good cry on those days I need one. They warm my heart with hope and peace at just the right times. They fill my heart with a smile as I dream along with a couple finding each other. I rejoice to hear a country Christmas song. You know what else I discovered—southern rock, which is country Christian. Wow, no wonder Mark was such a fan!

I questioned myself why it took me so long to find country, and the answer is, I still don’t care for all country genres. My country is New Country like country-pop and country-rock. While telling a compelling story, country music is fantastic for easy listening, dancing, or simply background music. Country music has become my Hallmark in music. They are generally feel-good songs that I could trust to brighten my day. Don’t get me wrong. I still love my EDM, R&B, soul, rock, among other genres, but right now, I seem to love country a little bit more.