Hurles Blood

My father says our family has something he refers to as "Hurles blood".

"Hurles" was my paternal grand-mother's maiden name. Her family was known for it's boisterous behavior. They were a fun bunch, always laughing and joking around. There was never a dull moment when they were together. They were fiercely loyal to the people they loved and didn't take much flack from anybody.

So, whenever my sister Connie or I complained about something hurtful someone had said or done to us, Dad would always say, "What's the matter? Don't you have any Hurles blood?"

That, of course meant we were supposed to either get up, shake it off and laugh about it ... or go kick some butt.

You know, act like a "Hurles".

Of course, even though being born with "Hurles blood" brings with it some responsibility,(like you've got to know how to control it) it is overall a good thing. Although our family members have more than our fair share of sassiness, we also have more fun than most. We can find humor in just about anything.

At 89 years old, Dad's "Hurles blood" still flows strongly thru his veins. His mind comes and goes at times though, and we've noticed lately that the line between real and imaginary has gotten slightly blurred for him.

For instance, last week Dad started asking my sister where his black car was.

A fair question of course, since there was no black car in his garage.

The problem is that as far as we know, Dad does not now, nor has he ever owned a black car. We still can't figure out where the idea of a black car came from, yet Dad has been insistant that he indeed DOES own a black car and now it is missing. He is quite distraught that no one seems interested in helping him find it.

Finally, after almost a week of questioning, Dad was talking on the phone to my sister about it from my niece, Stacia's house.

"I think I loaned my black car to Jug", he commented. ("Jug" is the nickname he gave my nephew Chad)

Connie, jumping on the notion that this could be an opportunity to put the issue to rest once and for all, said. "Yes, that's right Dad. You loaned it to him."

So, Dad asked, "Well why hasn't he brought it back?"

Ugh!

That question sparked the "Hurles blood" in my sister and she replied, "DAD! O.K.! YES! Chad borrowed your black car and wrecked it! It's gone!"

And Dad responded, "Well, where is it?"

"It's in the junk yard ... totalled!"

Dad again: "Which junk yard?."

My sister, "DAD! I don't even know, but it's GONE!"

Dad: "Well then, we need to find out, because I should at least get some insurance money out of it."

Frustrated, Connie gave Dad a straight talk about the condition of his memory. "Remember what I told you before about the black car, Dad?" she asked.

"Yes"

"What did I say about it?."

You said I am only imagining that I had a black car and it never really existed."

"OK Dad, so tell me. Do you have a black car?"

"No. I don't" he said, obviously disappointed at the admission.

"Now give the phone back to Stacia" Connie instructed him.

Doing as he was told, Dad handed the receiver to Stacia, muttering something inaudible in the process.

Stacia's laughter erupted over the line.

"What did he say?" Connie asked her daughter.

"He said to see if I could find out anything about his black car for him."

That's "Hurles blood" for you. Once we've set our minds to something, we don't give in easily.

"Hurles blood" keeps us witty and at times a force to be reckoned with.

Having "Hurles blood" gives us the determination it takes to get what we want out of life ... most of the time.

It's "Hurles blood" that has kept every member of Dad's family very much alive and robust right up to the end of their natural life on earth.

When I look at my own grandchildren, I can see that the "Hurles blood" has not lost an ounce of momentum as it's made it's way through the many generations of Hurles offspring.

My grandparents on Dad's side of the family all passed away before I was born. I never had the privilege of meeting them. But yet I know them just the same.

I grew to love them through knowing my Dad and his sisters. They were a lot like me and my sister, our kids, and now our grandchildren. All fun loving, loud, happy boisterous, strong willed, perserverant. (Alright, yes ..maybe even slightly stubborn ... sometimes downright mule-headed)

We're all good people. We all have Hurles blood. We've surely made Dad very proud!

That should be some consolation to him, considering we never did manage to locate his little black car.

And So This Is Christmas ...

Someone please tell me that Christmas is NOT less than a week away. I must be dreaming because I could have sworn I had weeks left to prepare.

It's been weird this year.

Walt and I decided to stay home in order to alleviate all the Christmas stress we normally endure. We thought it would be nice to relax and enjoy the holiday without having to throw everything in a suitcase and hit the road as soon as the last package is unwrapped on Christmas morning.

Like they say ... "The best made plans of mice and men ... "

This is partially my fault. I've just not felt like my usual festive self. Until this morning (five days before Christmas) I hadn't addressed a single card. I didn't start shopping until about a week ago ... a real record for someone who normally makes sure she doesn't have to go into a store at all between Thanksgiving and Christmas! I tried to take the edge off the whole "going into the store" deal by doing most of my shopping online.

Unfortunately, it looks like nothing I ordered for Walt will get here before Christmas! So much for that money/time saving idea.

Although, in some ways I think that waiting until the last minute simplified things. For example, when I start my shopping in October I tend to spend more overall. That didn't happen this year and that is a good thing, considering the amount of which our income dropped over the last twelve months.

Christmas isn't about money, right?

Of course that's the case, but Walt and I LOVE to GIVE. I'd be lying if I said that not being able to do so hasn't taken some of the joy out of the season for me. Last year, not only did we totally indulge our families but we "adopted" another family and fulfilled the entire Christmas wish lists of three children. We all had a blast doing that! What a joy to see the faces of the parents when we arrived with the truck load of presents! We arranged it so that the children wouldn't know where the gifts came from ... that made it even better.

A month later, in the mail, we got a scrapbook titled "The Best Christmas, Hands Down" from that family. It was made from "scratch" and had the hand prints of the three children on the front cover. Inside were dozens of pictures taken of their Christmas morning celebration. Beautiful, smiling faces with descriptions of their reactions to the "magic" they had awakened to that day.

The Taylor Electric Christmas party was canceled this year as well. That was another thing we always enjoyed doing. Walt goes all out in making sure that every one of his employees, their wives and children go home with nice gifts. To top it off, we always gave away a flat screen T.V., surround sound systems, and other awesome prizes.

But, as I said .. this year is different.

The economic status of our country has affected small business owners drastically and cutbacks have been necessary.

To make matters worse, we've had to deal with more than the usual amount of "family stress".

I don't do "drama", so this has been a particular challenge for me.

And so this is Christmas. I suppose that, in a few years I won't even remember how difficult this one has been. Life moves on, and things return to some sembelence of "normal", even if it means that "normal" has to be re-defined.

We are already dreaming of next Christmas and hoping to just pack up and leave the country over the holidays. Germany, would be nice ... or perhaps Jamaica. After all, money is no object where dreams are concerned.

Merry Christmas from the Taylors! Enjoy every moment you have with your family. Savor the smiles of your children on Christmas morning. Indulge in an extra piece of pie or just "one more" Christmas cookie (I didn't make any of those this year either).

Hug your parents ... and grandchildren extra tight, if you are so blessed as to have them with you.

Most of all, don't forget to take a moment to thank God for the real "reason for the season".

"For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life." John 3:16

Ugly To The Bone!

They say that beauty is skin deep.

I've also heard it phrased, "Beauty is skin deep but ugly goes clear to the bone" That statement, while meant to be humorous, is sadly true.

Ugly is ugly, and even when hidden, it eventually comes out. Just like a big ol' pimple. When pressure is applied, the nastiness of it comes to the surface for all to see.

Sorry to say there are a lot of people like that in this world. Try as I may, I can't understand it. I've attempted to prove that theory wrong. For forty eight years I've chosen instead to believe that almost everyone is basically "good". Sure, we all suffer from the occasional bad day, or even a short season when we are not at our best. We're all human, after all.

At this point I'm not even sure the "we're all human" statement is accurate.

Nope. The truth is that some people are just plain ugly. No question about it.

I've decided to accept the fact and move on. Nothing can be done for an ugly person unless they look in the mirror and decide they want something to be done. The only thing I can control is how I allow the ugliness of others to affect my life.

So, I choose not to associate with ugliness any more. I fear that "ugly" might be contagious, and that is a disease I do not wish to catch.

Our pastor says that the friends we keep are a reflection of our true selves. If I keep ugly friends, then I too am either "ugly" or risk becoming "ugly".

Sounds like a "no - brainer" to me.

Just say "no" to "ugly". From this day on, that's what I intend to do.

I Wish I Had A Cookie

My mother (L) and Aunt Ethel (R)

In Memory Of Aunt Ethel
2/23 - 12/08

I grew up in a ridiculously small town on the outskirts of Appalachia. It was the kind of town where everyone knew everyone and they all looked out for each other.

My Aunt Ethel lived two doors down the street from us. The neighbors yard that sprawled between our houses was distinctly marked with a worn path leading from our back door to her front door.

I walked (or rather ran) that path nearly every day as a child. Even as young as three years old, I made the journey by myself on a regular basis.

There was never a need to knock on Ethel's door, a mere "Hi Ethel!!!! I'm here!" as I entered her living room was good enough.

I can still hear her voice as she would call back to me, "Hello, Becky Jean! Come on in!"

Ethel always kept a cookie jar filled with macaroon cookies in her kitchen, and I would make a beeline for it first thing upon arrival. For a few minutes I'd sit at her kitchen table and chatter to her, my skinny long legs dangling off the edge of the chair as I gobbled down the delicious treat.

My mother had a sweet tooth herself, so of course we had cookies at our house too. Somehow they just didn't taste as good to me as the cookies at Ethel's house did.

The things we remember from our childhood are interesting to me. My Aunt Ethel was a wonderful woman, always gentle, kind and loving. I cherished her, and was most definitely very fond of her macaroon cookies. Even though I've long since given up eating them, I still think of her every time I spot a package of them sitting on a store shelf.

Aunt Ethel passed away only two days ago at the age of 85. She was the last one left of the Fairchild sisters. I'm glad she's gone on to Heaven and can't help but smile when I think of the reunion that must have taken place as she entered the gates. No doubt my mother and her other siblings all met her there, those big trademark "Fairchild" smiles glowing as they welcomed her in.

I was able to see Ethel during our trip to Ohio for Thanksgiving. Walt and I stopped to visit her twice while we were there. She was failing quickly but her mind was surprisingly sharp. She recognized me right away and talked about the hibiscus plant we'd given her last summer.

It was a good visit and one we were grateful for, but it left Walt and me both in tears.

I spent the better part of yesterday evening and this morning trying to no avail, to find a decently priced airline ticket so I can fly home for the memorial service. At this point, it looks like I'll either be driving or not going at all.

I can't imagine missing it but I may have no other choice.

How did life get so complicated anyway? It's been a rough week in general. Besides all the stress naturally associated with the holidays and Ethel's passing, I've got three or four other situations that are pressing, all of them "urgent" in one way or another.

I have important appointments scheduled for tomorrow night and Friday. Even if I don't go to Ohio, I will likely cancel those. A couple other situations are causing me aggravation and grief too, but I can't do anything about them right now.

So instead, I have chosen to sit in my pajamas and sort my thoughts for a while. Dealing with life logically can almost be a handicap at times. I'm not without emotions, don't get me wrong. It's just that logic tends to prevail and I am able to slip into this "auto-mode" as I manage my way through the necessary evils in life.

But you know, sitting here as I negotiate all the pros and cons and consider all the what's and if's, I find my mind repeatedly drifting back to one thing.

I really just wish I had a cookie.