The Blame Game

Posted on April 19, 2020 by pujakins

Roots and light When I was growing up it was my responsibility to care for the chickens. In the winter what that meant was carrying a heavy bucket of water from our house the thirty or more yards to their coop. The spring I was twelve the wetlands near the coop flooded and there was plenty of water right there. I took advantage of it. However, something then happened to the chickens. They began dying. Apparently, they had somehow caught a disease.

My parents called me into the living room. They were sitting on the sofa looking stern. They asked me if I had been doing anything different for the chickens. “No,” I lied. Then they faced me with the evidence. My great aunt’s gardener had seen me getting the water from the swamp. Uh oh! I don’t remember my punishment—probably a suspension of my allowance. Sadly, I didn’t really learn my lesson then, though eventually I did. I was often too fearful of the consequences to tell the truth.

Many if not most of us are. The vase is broken, the favorite toy ruined, the car dented and we hear: “He/she made me…” or “I couldn’t help it.” Heard that before? This familiar copout is often every child’s first response—except perhaps for, “I didn’t do it.” How do we teach children to take responsibility for their actions? It isn’t easy and every parent has his or her idea how best to accomplish this. Sometimes they manage to make that happen, and the child grows up to be a responsible adult.

However all too often even as adults we are reluctant to take the responsibility we need to for our own actions. We may be afraid of the results when someone finds out. I know often I was, or we may not want someone to think ill of us, as in “how could I be so stupid as to make that mistake?” There are as many reasons as there are situations. The bottom line is that we do not like to admit to being ill advised, ignorant, or just plain absent of mind.

Blaming is something many do when they want to get out of a situation where they feel trapped or one that will lower their value in another’s eyes and mind. The problem with playing the blame game is that not only is it dishonest, it is also unkind to the person or persons we may be blaming for our mistake.

I learned to own up to my responsibility only as an adult. My husband Stephen was actually the one to help me to do this. He would not allow me to get away with evading it, and he would make sure I was ultimately honest. I’ve learned that honesty really is the best policy when it comes to admitting to wrongdoing. Feelings of guilt are thereby avoided as well as other consequences that may arise when and if the truth emerges—and all too often it will.

Spring is a Time for Awakening

Posted on May 5, 2018 by pujakins

Maple ree flowers and leaves 1 Though I am fonder of some than of others, for me every season has its unique blessings. Autumn has always been a favorite of mine because I like the crispness of the air and the vivid colors that paint the scenery. However, the cycle of the seasons produces different feelings in everyone and we all have our favorites. It may be that as a poet I am more sensitive to or pay more attention to the change of the seasons because I feel it so keenly. Winter for me is a time for rest and often for extra sleep. The dark hours encourage it. During the winter, like the bare branched trees and the hibernating creatures, I am less active and more inclined to quieter occupations.

It’s easy to sleep late in the winter. The light does not come through the curtains until morning is well advanced. Chilly weather does not encourage leaving warm covers for frigid floors. Yet as the light hours grow longer and the dark ones shorter, the day calls to me sooner and sooner. Reluctant as I may be to get up from my bed, it becomes less alluring to linger than to rise into the day. Even as the trees and the birds greet the brightening weeks, with the spring, something in me begins to wake up.

Winter encourages me to make soups and stews. My pantry and refrigerator are stocked with warming foods. With the advance of spring I think more about salads and lighter meals. I toss the cold weather recipes that I have accumulated yet not found time to make and clip out more recent ones geared to fresher, less sturdy meal components. Now that I can see it, when I look around at the winter dust on shelves and surfaces, I feel more diligent about eliminating it. Somehow when I can’t see it, it is so much easier to ignore. Now it no longer is.

When I was out and about, my eyes had become accustomed to bare trees sleeping in the cold. All winter I admired the still shapes of the bare branches against the sky. Now as the trees blossom and leaf out, they seem to be dancing with joy. The spring breezes flutter the trees’ new emerging clothing as they dress themselves in their fresh spring wardrobes. When I go about my errands, my heart sings along with the turning wheels of my car.

When I used visit my daughter in Italy, she would come into my room of a morning to waken me from my jet-lagged sleep. She would open the curtains and turn to me as I clung to my pillow. “Wakey, wakey,” she’d say with a smile. Finally I’d open my eyes and greet the day, glad to be awake and alive, ready for a new adventure. Spring feels like that. It is time to pursue the new, the untried, the innovative. Time to put away the darker, heavier winter clothes and put on light, bright colors and fabrics, to free the feet of boots and don sandals. Time to awaken to the new season and to rejoice in it.

Dust is Visible in the New Light of Spring

Posted on April 8, 2018 by pujakins

Spring water One day years ago as a relatively new bride I returned to the apartment I shared with my then husband and our baby to find my father sweeping the rug.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

“Cleaning the rug,” he replied.

“Oh,” I said. I didn’t have a vacuum and didn’t know any other way to clean the rug. Now I did. I had never seen anyone sweep a rug before. My dear father smiled at me and suggested that perhaps Santa might provide me with a vacuum. I don’t remember if he did or not, but my father bought me my first washing machine some years later. He was a generous man. Also, I never saw him do any cleaning in the home I grew up in, so his sweeping was a great revelation to me. I have never learned to love housework but I have learned to do it more efficiently–except for dusting.

While I welcome spring and the new light it brings, I also recognize the need to dust. The new brighter light coming from a sun now, in the Northern Hemisphere, higher in the sky shines on all the surfaces in our apartment that have been neglected over the winter. Dusting is not my specialty. I have a tendency to get impatient or careless and damage or knock over items on shelves and surfaces. Stephen is far better at dusting than I, and thankfully he is willing to do it—in his own time. Sometimes this means waiting a bit.

Spring cleaning has a long, honorable history. I am thankful I do not have to haul my rugs out, drape them over a clothesline and beat them with a rug beater. These are now antiques. I remember them as being woven out of wood, like baskets, in the shape of several round circles intertwined. They had handles and were sufficiently sturdy to raise the dust from the rug and into the air to land heaven knows where—hopefully not back on the rug.

Before central heating or cleaner electricity and oil as opposed to wood fireplaces and coal furnaces, a good housewife washed down room walls every spring to remove grime from smoky fires and particles of soot delivered from heating vents. I remember coal being delivered to a coal bin in the cellar every fall. Now an oil burner has replaced that coal furnace. Cobwebs too needed to be removed. Windows had to be washed. Ammonia was in common use for cleaning them in days gone by. Horrid stuff! Now a vinegar/water spray does the job.

I am grateful for my vacuum cleaner, for the size of my apartment that needs much less work to clean than either of my past houses, and for a helpful husband who is willing to clean with me. The only thing I remember my dad cleaning was the silver. He polished it all himself because my mother would not. It is also true that we often had a cleaning person come; yet sadly it was my mother’s nature never to be satisfied no matter how well the job was done. I am grateful both that it’s not a hundred years ago, and that spring is on the way.

Lighting Candles

Posted on June 20, 2016 by pujakins

The town common in Grafton was alight with candles. I looked around and saw people of all ages gathered for a vigil to honor the victims of the Orlando massacre. It was a collection of many faiths and lifestyles. With the my friends and neighbors I listened to prayers and invocations from a variety of individuals and religious leaders. With them too I lifted my voice in songs that spoke of the need for change as well as the desire for peace. Yet in all my years here on earth little has changed.

During World War II my father was an Air raid warden and had to go around checking to see that the blackout curtains on the neighbors’ windows kept the light from coming through so no targets were visible. I remember he wore a funny looking hat–a sort of helmet to identify him as an official. The windowpanes of the big windows in my school were crosshatched with some brownish tape. We were told that this was to prevent them from shattering in the event of a bomb explosion.

We were also given bomb drills, which were different from fire drills, when we all filed outside and stood in lines with our classmates. Bomb drills took place inside. I seem to remember going down to the basement, but I was small and it was many years ago. Now children are being given drills in the case of an armed person coming into their school and shooting people, and some people want teachers to carry guns.

The last time Stephen and I were at such a vigil was on 9/11, after the twin towers in New York city were destroyed. Since then the climate of violence in this country seems to have accelerated. It grieves me that the children of today have to live in such a conflicted world. I regret that they must be taught what to do in schools or other places if some crazy person arrives with a gun and begins random shooting.

The climate of violence when I was growing up was in some ways the same. The difference was that the war was somewhere else. It had not come home to our cities and towns in the form of gun wielding terrorists It seems so tragic. What can we do? One thing seems clear. We need to see things differently in order to do better. We must start now by setting an example. Perhaps if we begin in small and simple ways we can make big changes happen.

We can begin by lighting candles of love and kindness wherever we are. Let us keep a vigil each hour of each day by shining our light into the darkness of ignorance and fear. Random acts of kindness are good, daily, simple acts of kindness are even better: holding the door for someone, smiling to a weary stranger, donating used items or goods to charity, helping a friend or neighbor. When the intention is made opportunities will manifest, and every candle we light helps dispel darkness and brightens the way for someone to see better.

Tasha Halpert

Fall In Its Variety

Posted on October 24, 2015 by pujakins

Fall in its variety fills the air with bright, brimming over with an ecstasy that brings us joy..

The light shines upon the leaves and it reflects into our hearts.

Then the leaves dance and their brightness makes us sing.

Singing fills the air; light glistens echoing our song.

Until we too sigh and sweetly lie down to rest.

A Light on the Subject

Posted on May 31, 2015 by pujakins

Having the correct tool for any job is a great help toward successfully completing it. I’m definitely a tool person; I have a large collection of implements that I have accumulated over the years. Some of my most important ones are kept in plain sight right on my kitchen counter. Most of these are assembled in several open containers where I can reach them easily when I need them.

However, if you were to ask me what I consider one of my most valuable kitchen tools, I would say, “My flashlight.” Does that sound odd? Perhaps it is, yet when I need to locate an item on my shelves or even more importantly in my overcrowded refrigerator, the small bright penlight flashlight I keep on my kitchen counter is exactly what I need.

I don’t remember when I acquired the penlight. I believe it was a gift, and I bless the giver every time I use it. It saves me a lot of time looking for items by helping me check the backs of the open shelves I use as my pantry in our efficient but small apartment. It saves me even more precious time otherwise spent removing items from the ‘fridge in search of what may be on another shelf or in another part of it.

My refrigerator tends to get crowded with useful leftovers, important condiments, and things I make ahead to provide for quick, easy meals. Then too it holds various things to drink, like iced tea, a staple for Stephen, and carrot juice, one of mine. As well it holds the ingredients for the foods I make from scratch: cartons of chicken and beef broths together with alternatives to dairy milk…the list goes on.

As well there are other uses for my penlight elsewhere in the apartment. If I drop something tiny in the bedroom it is much easier to locate it with the use of a penlight. The focused beam sweeps over the floor and helps me to locate that dropped earring back or small ring or earring without getting down on my hands and knees. I didn’t always know this, and I don’t remember when I figured it out, yet I am delighted that I do now. As I get older I appreciate discovering ways to make life easier and more comfortable.

Shedding light on anything increases its visibility. This can be metaphorical or actual. When I shine the light of my understanding on a situation I can see more clearly how to deal with it. Information is a form of light as is good advice. The more we can see, the better we can judge what we need to say or do.

There is an amusing teaching tale that goes like this: A man came across another man searching the ground. “What are you looking for?” he asked. “My ruby ring,” replied the searcher. The second man joined him in his search. Finally he said, “Where did you lose it?” “Over on second street.” “Then why look here on third street?” “Oh, the light’s better here,” came the reply. To me the point of this story is that effective searching requires light.