Reflections

Thanks, Halls, for the Pick-Me-Up

/ still a dreamer

Finally. My head was starting to clear a wee bit from this seemingly endless flu/virus/whatever and I actually had something I wanted to write about. So I popped a Halls honey-lemon cough drop, gathering my thoughts, and then was stopped in my tracks. There was a message on my cough drop wrapper!

Now, anyone that knows me or even occasionally reads this blog knows how hard I lean towards a positive or inspiring message. And suddenly, there was a whole bunch of them! I decided to scrap what I was planning to write and scan a couple wrappers just to share this unexpected little find. On the unwrapped cough drop at left, is “Dust off and get up.” Always good advice!

And here on the other two, you can read some more, plus a trademark saying Halls seems to have called “A pep talk in every drop.” Who knew?

I swear I don’t work for Halls Cough Drops and am not related to anyone who is, but this just took me aback. Do I expect a bit of wisdom from Celestial Seasonings or my Yogi tea? Of course! But my little ole OTC cough drops? Nah. Who’d think?

And what’s more delightful than a happy – and uplifting – surprise! So – keep your chin up, hi-five yourself, put a little strut in it and heal your sore throat. Go, Halls.

He Who Will Not Be Touched

/ still a dreamer

It’s tough looking after a feral cat. And by that I mean beyond making sure he always has enough food and fresh water, and de-worming him at the end of summer,  there’s not much more you can do for a cat that has never been touched. He will run in terror if you approach him or even make too loud a noise. I call him Little Fee. (He appeared in Summer 2009, and I initially thought he was a female, and named him Fiona.)

I continue to be amazed at how this little guy – so small, he must have been the runt of his litter – tugs at my heartstrings. He will run at the drop of a hat, but lately he has been a little more brave. He seems to know that he has some small sense of entitlement on my back porch. If  he is already eating at the back door, he will continue eating his fill and ignore the cat from next door that normally threatens and chases him away. He even dares to look him in the eye, then continue eating.

“She loves me,” I imagine him saying. “I belong here, too.”

But once done, he slinks away submissively in slow motion so as not to challenge the next door cat who also spends time with me and on my porch.

Imagine my surprise when I went into the kitchen for coffee late this morning and saw none other than Little Fee sound asleep on one of the back porch chairs, (see photo above), looking for all the world like he lived here and was just napping. I say surprise because I have never once seen this cat sound asleep on a chair on my porch – he seemingly just discovered it as an actual possibility. I took the photo through the closed back door and storm screen. If I’d opened it, the moment would have been lost, and since my intention is not for a gallery shot so much as a moment, it’s as unfocused and grainy as it is.

Little Fee … who would think one could be so in love with a creature that cannot – will not – be touched?

Re-Finding Ourselves

/ still a dreamer

I woke up this morning not feeling fully awake – I remember waking at 12:40, then 1 something, then 5:40 with a jolt – a disturbing noise that may have only been in my dream. When I finally got up at 6:30, I hardly felt rested.

In the kitchen, I found that one of my cats, who has recently returned to dragging food out of the bowl with his paw, had dragged the entire bowl to the center of the kitchen floor which was now littered with many small pieces of half-eaten food. Are they trying to attract mice?

With coffee in me, I was thinking of work, how much I had to do right now, and how much time I was spending in my office. The open doors and windows brought in a breeze and drew me out to the porch, where I sat down and realized what an absolutely gorgeous morning it was.

I watched a little spider on one of the yews valiantly mending her web as fast as the breeze would blow a bit of it away. Sunlight glistened on web strands of larger spiders, and as the breeze would move them, it seemed as a scintilla of light traveled a diagonal from the porch rail to the roof.

I heard birds I didn’t recognize – I heard what sounded like the high pitch of a seagull, but I’ve never once seen a seagull in this area. Perhaps it was a late-summer baby clamoring for food, or maybe one of the numerous catbirds had mastered a new voice.

Sitting there, peaceful at last, I wanted to stay … to delay the inevitable, and just enjoy a cool summer morning and do nothing. I am always amazed at the healing power of even a few moments spent appreciating nature, if only from my porch. We can usually re-find ourselves by taking a little time away from our many demands and just being with the simple wonders of the natural world.

And then I saw him. It was a seagull, indeed, circling in the sky. I wondered if he had lost his flock and was calling out to be found. His cry had such a desperate air to it, and he flew in wider and wider circles, but still in view. I hoped someone would come looking for this seemingly lost soul. I returned inside, having found myself, and hoping that he, too, would soon find himself where he needed to be.

Enchanted

/ still a dreamer

Enchanted, entranced …. swept away … by such a lovely piece of music by Mike Rowland, who I am just now discovering. Entitled “Magic Moment,” the added visuals, (by truus 1949), are just that – simply magical, a reminder of such moments – so often in our lives and not noticed, or just a star’s breath ahead of us – and a reminder of how beautiful we actually are. Watch and summon your own true beauty. Feel the magic always in our lives if we just let ourselves be.

 

When the Title Doesn’t Fit the Story – Taming the Star Runner

/ still a dreamer

When I’m offered coffee, I don’t want tea. When I’m offered a ride, I don’t expect to walk. When I choose a book entitled Taming the Star Runner, with a number of horses on the cover, and a jacket liner which pumps up the story of a horse named Star Runner, I don’t expect a story about a teenage boy named Travis. But that’s what I got.

Taming the Star Runner  by S. E. Hinton is a coming-of-age story about a 15 year old named Travis, who, while he sees himself as very cool, is always on the edge of getting in more trouble than he can handle. After attempting to kill his abusive stepfather and doing some time, he is sent to live with his uncle on a ranch in Oklahoma. Here he meets, among others, a teen barely older than himself, Casey, rider and riding instructor, and then we finally meet who seemed to allegedly be a main character, her horse named Star Runner. Had I not been excited to read a story about this wild horse, who only first appears halfway through the book, I may have liked the story more. Or maybe not picked it up at all.

S.E. Hinton, deliberately using only her initials as an author, (lest it be realized she was a very young woman author), broke ground in the 60’s, writing about gangs. Her first published book was The Outsiders, written when she was 16. This story is similar in the sense that Travis is another angry, angst-filled teen, feeling unappreciated, isolated and ever on the edge of an emotional explosion. The story is fairly good, actually. Travis’ character is well-drawn, as are other characters, and the plot has some interesting twists and turns, even if, in my mind, they are not all tied up that well in the end. Still, this particular tale became more interesting for me when the powerful spirit of Star Runner was introduced and the girl who wanted to tame him.

Having read a number of Newbery-winning and other middle grade novels, and having learned what editors are looking for and what is being published nowadays, I can’t help but wonder if Hinton would have been published today. Or at least if she remained in her own writing style. Being mindful of what we are told at workshops, conferences, online, etc. I am sometimes amazed at how she worded things, switching tenses, using unmarked self-reflective dialogue in the same paragraph as lengthy descriptions, etc. It made me realize how much more refined the craft of writing – in this case, for teens – has become.

I don’t mean to sit and criticize S.E. Hinton for what she did – she brought a whole new way of life and type of character to light in her novels. They were groundbreaking, have become classics, and continue to resonate well with many readers today. I only wish the book had really been about what the title told me.