OPEN SESAME...

...that magical command used by Ali Baba to open the door of the robbers' den in the story Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.  For some reason, since July 9, 2014, I have had no such magical word or phrase to open The Tomorrow Trunk. I have stored up words and sentences for months. I have written and re-written a collection of unfinished posts. I have even entertained the idea that The Tomorrow Trunk had been locked by mistake, and I had misplaced the key. Until this past Thursday night...open sesame.

The dictionary definition of open sesame is that which allows a person to do or to enter something successfully and easily; something that unfailingly brings about a desired end. Synonyms of open sesame are portal, access, gateway, key, ticket, passport, and secret password. That secret password for me ~ my open sesame ~ was organic. The actual word: organic. Just like that, the trunk was opened.

For about the third or fourth time in as many months, I have provided my bachelor son with the name of a person of interest ~ love interest, that is. Pretty confident in my Thursday afternoon find, I shifted my match-making gears into overdrive.  As is the regular routine, I not-so-subtly passed along the young lady's name and any info I could conjure up. I offered my own list of things that the two might have in common - both are graduates of the same university, both are smart and funny, both have a good command of the English language, and both are attractive.

However, this time I did something I have NEVER done before. In a round-about way (which is entirely too difficult and embarrassing to explain), I forced a totally awkward, face-to-face introduction ~ up close and in person. I will say that I had a little help from his best friend and leave it at that ~ all within a four-hour window! As I am sure that most mom match-ups go, the evening's events did not turn out quite as I had planned.

To describe the impromptu meeting as dreadful might be a bit extreme, but I do recall the use of such words as high anxiety and really creepy. Thirty minutes after the coerced introduction, my son was driving back to his apartment ~ alone. I dared to pick up the phone and call him...another poor decision in what was becoming a common thread for the entire evening.  If only all of the events had occurred one day before, I could just shout, "April Fool's!"

Unfortunately, I deserved what I had coming. After my sincerest heartfelt apology and earnest promise to never, ever offer the name of another female, he made this statement: Mom, I want the organic or nothing at all.

Open sesame...As he was talking about his standards for a relationship, I was thinking about Christmas Tree Cakes and The Tomorrow Trunk.  My son has one true weakness at Christmas.  He loves Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cakes; we buy them for him in multiple cartons. Even though he maintains a healthy diet all year, he eats those holiday treats like they are coming off a conveyor belt. Sure they are tasty and sweet, but they are also pre-packaged and processed. Most certainly, they are not organic. That one secret password had lifted the lid on my own inability to manufacture some kind of pre-packaged post ~ one that I think people might want to read.

Organic means to derive from natural sources, free from artificial additives, the most integral element of the whole, and most importantly, produced without the employment of commercial fertilizers. (I love that last one!)  I have never been able to produce anything commercially. Despite my greedy attempts at fame and fortune, I can't fabricate or synthesize what goes into The Tomorrow Trunk. No manufactured embellishments, protective coatings, or professional stimulants work for me. I just simply write what comes naturally ~ the most integral element of the whole. The more I try to produce a post that people want to read, the more I lose the organic element of my own words.

My son truly possesses a rare key, a magic ticket, an unseen passport that will eventually open the door to the hidden treasure that awaits him. In the original story of Ali Baba ~ despite many failed attempts by the thieves to uncover his true identity ~ he alone is left as the only one knowing the secret of the treasure in the cave and how to access it. Open sesame ~ that which allows a person to do or to enter something successfully and easily; something that unfailingly brings about a desired end.

I, too, know the secret of the treasure in the trunk and how to access it. We just take today, tuck the best of it away, and keep it for tomorrow.

Dianne ;)

Library Brody

I have been reading to children for many years. I was first hired as a children's librarian in 1998, and I have had an ongoing obsession for picture books, easy readers, and chapter books for twenty-five years. Several years ago, I wrote a manuscript entitled It Takes Two, which begins as follows:  It takes two, me and you; one to read, and one to listen ~ it takes two.  Occasionally, I find that second person who loves listening just as much as I love reading.  This past year, I met a four-year-old boy named Brody who listens with wide-eyed (or wide-eared) wonder!  He has the cutest flat-top haircut and wire-rimmed glasses, but his most endearing characteristic is his auditory perception.

Brody listens.  He seeks out rhyming words.  He predicts outcomes.  He recognizes sequences.  He understands conflict and the need for resolution.  He reacts to the emotions of the characters, and he changes his facial expressions like text message emoticons. I remember one afternoon when his grandmother was reading The Three Little Pigs to him at the children's table.  She read that the first little pig built his house out of straw, to which Brody grabbed his forehead, leaned back in his chair, heaved a deep sigh, and responded with exasperation, "Now he oughta know that's never gonna work."  I laughed out loud!  How many times have I read that book to children? Brody is the first four-year-old boy to ever call out the little pig for his choice of building materials with that kind of response! I knew I had to write a story about my library buddy who starts big school next year. I won't be reading to him on Tuesday mornings, but I hope he stops by the library on Tuesday afternoons and reads to me.  I'm a great listener, too.

LIBRARY BRODY

Brody loves Tuesdays for two reasons.

Every Tuesday morning, the library lady reads to his Gingerbread Kindergarten Class and every Tuesday afternoon, his grandmother takes him to the Morton Public Library.

Brody loves listening to the library lady read books.

She tells his grandmother that Brody is the best listener, and Brody likes the way her voice changes when she says best.

Brody thinks listening to anyone read a library book is easy.

He knows how to hear a book just like it should be read.

"No, Grandma!" he interrupts. "Don't you know that you have to use a squeaky voice when the mouse is talking, and you have to use a roaring voice when you read the bear's part...like this ~ I have to hide from the bear or I'M GOING TO FIND THAT MOUSE!"

The library lady has lots of nicknames for Brody.  

When he walks into the library on Tuesday afternoon,

she announces, "Here comes my favorite book buddy!"

When she reads to his class on Tuesday morning,

she calls him the best listener.

But his favorite nickname of all is the one she uses when she introduces him to someone new in the library.  

"I'd like for you to meet Library Brody!"

He always laughs when she calls him that name.

Library Brody knows all the best spots in the library. 

He knows where to find pigeon books, and wrestling books, and new books ~ which the library lady keeps in a special place on top of the picture book shelves.  

On Tuesday afternoons when they stay awhile, he leads his grandmother to the reading table. Then he steps up to the check-out counter and asks for robot books.  

He knows that the library lady can find books about anything!  

He and his grandmother sit together at the children's table.  She reads, and Library Brody listens. "Grandma," he interrupts, "you have to read it with a robot voice, like this -- AF-FIR-MA-TIVE. Robots don't sound like grandmas!"

On Tuesday afternoons when they have errands to run, Library Brody turns the corner of the children's area and walks with eagerness to the book display. He knows the quickest way to check out the best books of the day, especially if his grandmother is in a hurry.  "Are these the books you read this morning?" he asks. Library Brody fills his arms with as many as he can carry before his grandmother edits his large stack with her usual response, "Let's leave a few for the other children to take home."

Most important of all, Library Brody knows the secret library code. The library lady told his kindergarten class about the code, and he remembers. Number one ~ It's fun. Number two ~ It's free. Number three...

"It's for me!"  Library Brody shouts to his class, and the library lady laughs.  

Then one of the kindergarten boys says, "Brody, you can't read yet!"

The library lady looks at Library Brody and smiles, "The library isn't just for readers; it's for listeners, too. And when it comes to listeners, Library Brody is the best one ever!"

Dianne ; )

(Just in case you are wondering how to read best in the above story, stretch out your neck, close your eyes, use a high pitch voice, and hold the word for about three seconds!)

No Replacement For TODAY

March 19, 2014 ~ the date of my last post...

This morning, I was granted a two-hour window to write.  Surprisingly, I have not written one single, solitary word in two months ~ 65 days, to be exact.  Sixty-five days without writing ~ a self-imposed fast of my daily bread. I truly believe that writers write because writing is intrinsic to their genetic make-up. I am convinced that writers are born to write, and that writing is not only a livelihood, but a nourishment to the soul. Like an emergency blood transfusion, I have received necessary life support from a sharpened pencil and a blank sheet of paper. Certainly a person can improve their writing skills, but practice does not always produce a writer.  An overall command of the English language might suggest proficiency; however, mastery does not always qualify someone as a writer.  I may never be a success, but I will always be a writer.

During the past 65 days, the immediate members of my family have experienced a wedding, a honeymoon, a rehearsal dinner, a bachelorette party, an anniversary, Easter, two birthdays, Mother's Day, and more expense than anyone could imagine. Throughout this entire time, I kept thinking, Oh, I need to write this down or more truthfully, Oh! I need to WRITE!  It never happened.  As the events and engagements piled up, so did the obligations of time and money. At some point, my life became one gigantic IOU ~ to everyone and everything.  And yet, the more full the cups, the more empty the pitcher.

Blame it all on that flighty little thing called TODAY ~ that wayward 24-hour period that comes and goes without remorse. TODAY is that impulsive and capricious phenomenon that gives and takes without regard. TODAY is a temperamental commodity that is up and down, with its own built-in mercurial gauge that records gains and losses at every orbital turn.  TODAY is whimsical, quirky, volatile, unpredictable, unstable, and contrary.  TODAY is the total success and complete failure that appears with each sunrise and disappears with each sunset.

On April 26, 2014, my daughter married her one true love ~ Amas Veritas. For ten months, we devoted heart, soul, and pocketbook to the wedding day.  Despite every attempt on our part to create this epic day, only one transient foe threatened our best-laid plans. No trivial misunderstandings, no unexpected expenses, no last-minute developments ~ nothing deterred our long-awaited anticipation...with one exception. That ephemeral adversary called TODAY.  

Wedding day began at 4:00 a.m. for the bride and her siblings.  For me, wedding day began two hours later. When I arrived at the wedding venue, the skies were blue, the morning was cool, and a slight breeze was blowing.  I stood completely still in the midst of that beautiful setting, and I inhaled and exhaled a deep, sustained breath.  I whispered quietly, "TODAY, please be my friend. Please stay by my side, TODAY.  I know you are brief, short-lived, fast and furious, but slow down for a few minutes.  TODAY, let me hold your hours in my hands and experience each precious moment that you afford."

For a split-second, I thought TODAY had indulged my request. Instead, TODAY answered with a tap on the shoulder.  "The photographer is here, and we need to know where to set up and serve the brunch for the bridal party."  A donut bar, bacon and eggs, bagels with cream cheese, and mimosas needed a destination, and the photographer needed direction. Despite that unyielding pace, I truly experienced fleeting moments when I captured TODAY. Time stood still when my daughter said I do.  I completely lost track of time as I watched my son do the Wobble on the dance floor. I even took a break to try out a rocking chair. TODAY granted me evanescent intervals to smile at my handsome husband, laugh with my best friends, cry with my beloved daughters, and give thanks for a highly-favored groom.  But then, as is characteristic of its elusive nature, TODAY just slipped right through my fingers again. Wedding day lasted until twelve o'clock midnight, when TODAY said, without apology, "It's done. Pack up the remains. I am starting over right now." 

David and I did the same. We packed the leftover food, the floral bouquets, and the wedding gifts into the trunk.  I was making the final walk-through of the venue to make sure everything looked just as it had before the wedding day began.  My phone rang. Katie McLaurin Wynn said, " Mom, I want to tell you and Dad that TODAY was perfect. I didn't want it to end. Thank you so much for TODAY."

Even as I write my first post in 65-days, TODAY is still my greatest teacher. "I have given you a great revelation. Take the best of TODAY, tuck it way, and keep it for tomorrow.  I AM ~ TODAY. I understand that you want to be about your own business, but I will not be back this way again. TOMORROW makes no promises to anyone, so I am all you have. I have no imitation to offer, no replacement for TODAY."

I look back on the day of the wedding, and I wish I could change a few things.  The DJ upset Katie with his song choices, and we forgot to designate the wedding party table. My mom didn't have her picture taken with her granddaughter, and I forgot to give Katie a card or letter celebrating her special day.  However, TODAY cannot be relived or revisited...even when it becomes YESTERDAY. There is no going back. We can remember and reminisce, but we cannot redo. Despite our best efforts to explain, apologize, or resolve, TODAY accepts no excuses for the mistakes we make. TODAY only provides the opportunity to learn from those mistakes.

As David and I were finally driving home from the wedding, I turned to him and said, "I never tasted one piece of cake. No Italian cream wedding cake, no chocolate groom's cake, not even a Mississippi State red velvet cupcake."  He laughed and said that the top tier of the wedding cake had been saved for Brandon and Katie to freeze. Then he replied, "You can eat some next year on their anniversary."

I reluctantly agreed, "I guess so, but it won't taste as good as it did TODAY."

Dianne ; )