Seventy-three degrees in mid-March, in Indiana. And an extra hour of light at the end of the day. And sunshine is beaming right now. Sure wish I didn’t have to work today. But I'm home now, and in just a bit, I’m heading out the door and around the block. I hear the children’s voices out there, and it’s almost a childhood flashback; as though I could hop on my pony and fly down our gravel road and meet up with the neighbor kids. Reality check: I’m 57. Could it be that spring has sprung and we’re done fretting about cold weather? Nah. We’ll have more of it. But not today and I’m celebrating. Almost as polarizing as presidential politics around these parts is where you stand on Daylight Savings Time. I don’t discuss politics on social media but I will tell you exactly where I am on DST: I love it. Love that extra hour of light at the end of my day, love it in mid-summer where it is 10 p.m. and I feel like I’ve had an entire day to enjoy since I left work. Maybe it depends on if you are a morning or evening person or if you have school-age kids to get to bed or to bus stops. I have none of those issues. I’m neither a morning nor evening person. My finest hour is 10 a.m. but I get a second wind at night. The light is inspiring. If you aren't feeling it, well, at least I hope your clocks have all been changed. Like me on Facebook! Well, enough about light. I see the stats on how many read this blog but few of you comment. And I wonder: WHO are you all? Here’s a favor. My author page on Facebook is five people shy of 500 and in the coming weeks I’ve got some big stuff to tell you about. So if you enjoy writing, books and my quirky brand of small talk, would you go onto Facebook and like Donna Cronk – the author page? And, tell me about yourself while you are there and if this blog prompted the “like.” Or not. You could just put on your walking shoes and hit the road. There’s still some light to be had out there. Yee-haw.
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I’m always glad to see March arrive. It isn’t that March is a fantastic month (well, unless one is headed somewhere wonderful on spring break or has a dog in the hunt of March Madness), but the beauty of this month is in what it is not: it is neither January nor February.
You can expect anything, weather-wise, and you will get it. Maybe that is only if you live in the Midwest. I’ve never lived anywhere else. Here in Indiana, you’ll find cold, wind, snow, ice, warmth, maybe even heat, tornado warnings or at least watches, thunderstorms and possibly thunder-snowstorms. Yep, we’ve got it all—sometimes in the same day or two. Don’t be jealous. When I was a kid, I went with my parents to a farm auction. There was something about that date, March 12, that has always stuck with me. It was warm as summer, and it felt delicious. Back then we were big Cincinnati Reds fans and that day, there was a spring training game on the radio. It felt so hopeful. Hopeful is perhaps March’s greatest attribute. We’ve made it through the bulk of the winter. The clocks are springing forward which means an extra hour of light at the end of the day (I love this; my husband does not). It’s also the birth month of our daughter-in-law, Allison, younger son, Ben, and their aunt Linda. It’s time to consider that spring is nearing reality; that winter coats can soon return to the closets until late fall, and that a new pair of sandals are in order. March, I don’t love you like I do May, June, and October (my favorite months). But you are growing on me. What’s your favorite month? And, are you doing something fabulous for spring break? I remember a season a few years ago when a friend and I were discussing winter and she said she looked forward to the stillness and lack of demands of the winter months. She mentioned things like reading, sleeping well, hibernating and enjoying the fact that January was not December, a month that expects a lot from us.
I thought about that—when I got a breath—this January. None of it applied. January has become a demanding month at the newspaper where I work. It comes with a variety of special projects and this year, training on a new computer system was added to the mix. My Bible Study Fellowship and its related homework resume, I have to figure and pay Indiana sales tax on book proceeds by January’s end, and we had several unexpected expenses including the death and burial of Brian’s long-loved (and hated) exercise machine (which passed away one month after the much-renewed and too-often-used service contract ended). There was the carpeting, which we had planned for, the death of the dishwasher, which we had not, and two vehicles’ worth of new tires which also took us by surprise. Oh yes, December was nothing on the bank account compared to January. I also worked on upgrading some social media and installing Paypal and a few other things in prep for the new book later this year. I keep asking myself: Will I make good use of the changes and more, their potential? The month ended with a women’s retreat. And then some bad things happened. There were three sudden deaths over the past few days in families of people I know well and care about. My heart goes out to all the families touched by these circumstances and unexpected losses. Basically, last month and the recent passings have left me feeling cranky. But we are grateful for the good things in life, all the same. This day dawned sunny—such a treat—and I used the morning to sit down and go through all of our financial statements and expenses that are needed for getting our income taxes done in a couple of weeks. After a couple of intense hours gathering, paper-clipping and adding expenses on my business, I took a break and checked email. There in the inbox was the subject matter of “Program” and the email from someone whose name I didn’t recognize. Sure enough, it was someone from my hometown inviting me to give a program to senior citizens at 11 a.m. on Tuesday, Feb. 23 in the Union County Public Library. The topic is “Reminisce” and I’m asked to share some hometown memories. Would I consider it? You betcha. Sometimes it takes something that might seem small to improve an otherwise blah day. I needed something to brighten my outlook and while I am thankful to those inviting me, I am crediting the Good Lord for arranging it. I’m beginning to see January in my rear view mirror as I pull deeper into February. And that is a good thing. What winter joys do you see ahead for yourself? Or maybe you are enjoying a laid-back season of reading, snuggling and relaxing. Some friends from church are leaving today for a short-term Philippines mission trip. Some others are leaving for Florida. Some family just returned from there. Whatever is on your winter calendar, I wish you sunshine in your spirit as well as out your window. And a sweet surprise or two along the way. There is a legend in our family that I am stingy about Halloween candy. Sam says one year I bagged up cereal! (I do not remember this and think he dreamed it).
Brian always says I don’t buy enough. I think that myth dates to the first year we were married, 37 years ago, when we ran out and had to go buy more. But run out and buy more we did. I don’t think we’ve been short since. In fact, the opposite is true. And that's exactly why we should not buy the most delicious candy. In our hands, tiny bags of M & Ms are nothing if not gateway sweets to full-sized Reece Cups or even Jumbo Hershey Bars. Brian and I do not need candy. In fact, we need to avoid candy. That means we shouldn’t be entrusted with a bowl brimming with 160 small bars of Snickers! We should hand out Skittles or Three Muskateers or Milky Ways. Those, I can turn down. But no, Brian picked out the best stuff. If there are leftovers, and there will be, we need to immediately stash them somewhere like the trunk or the crawl space, somewhere that requires effort and a contemplative walk of shame to reach. I was gone to a conference most of yesterday and today and didn’t figure I’d get home until the little goblins had come and gone. So I told Brian, weeks ago, that I was giving him more than two-weeks' notice that I had resigned from handing out candy this year. Turns out I got home early, but my resignation from these duties remains in effect. It’s all him. I’ll be in the tub. I remember a few unusual Halloweens. Years ago, Brian and I visited Abraham Lincoln’s home in Springfield, Ill. on this day. One year we transferred my father-in-law’s nursing home residency. A few years ago my brother and sister-in-law Tim and Jeannie Jobe and I went to the Exotic Feline Rescue Center on this date. There were years I took the kids around locally. One of my favorite pictures of the boys is when they dressed up as Batman and Robin. Then there was the year I married Bradley Rigsby. Bradley and I were in first grade and rode the school bus together. I was a bride that year, and I guess Bradley wanted to be a groom because we got hitched. On the bus. Gee, this must be our 51st wedding anniversary. Too bad he moved away after first grade. Many years I went trick-or-treating with my relatives Mike, Lisa and Marlene. A couple of years, Barbara Earl and I created a haunted house in our basement and invited in the neighbor kids. We loved to scare them with things like eyeball grapes and spaghetti brains. I have a memory of getting full-sized candy bars – Hershey Bars as memory serves – in Philomath. Apparently they got so few treaters that they went big for the local kids they knew. I always think of Philomath when I think of Halloween. When I was very small, I attended the Halloween party in the Brownsville Gymnasium, long since burnt down. I remember Perry Floyd dressed as a clown. He scared me and I cried. Maybe that’s why I don’t care for clowns today. Perry was a nice man -- as long as he didn’t look like a clown. It’s time to turn on the porch light and sequester the dog. I will tell Brian to unload those M & Ms first. They need to be gone when I emerge from my bath. |
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