How I Became Alfie

You really don't want to know my real name, do you?  It's pretty boring and mundane.  What people ask me about is "How did  you get the name, Alfie?"  (That's after we've established that it isn't 'short' for something else, like Alfreda, or something.)

It is one of my favorite stories. My husband named me. He has a tendency to nick name everyone, and for some reason, he's good enough at it, his nick names stick.

Since I'm six inches shorter than he is, when we first started dating in college, he'd call me elf.  Just randomly.  Not all the time.  Mostly, he used my given name.  (I suspect with his knack for nicknaming, he knew it wasn't right yet.) Elf gradually became Alf--and he used that more.  Then one day it was Alfie and that he used almost always instead of my name.  But he was the only one who called me that.

Until we'd been married about five years and we'd just moved for the 3rd time.  He'd accepted his first job in management at the phone company and--though up until then, I'd always had a job, I didn't get one when we got to Osage City, KS.  I was about 7 months pregnant at the time so it seemed pretty pointless.

When we'd been in Osage about a week, his staff at the phone company had a pot luck dinner to 'welcome' us to town.  They invited all of the employees as well as various business men and city boosters and dignitaries and for the most part, it was very informal, with an hour or so of mingling and happy hour prior to the actual dinner.  It was approaching time for the actual dinner and the minor formalities to begin and I was feeling very strange and sort of isolated.  Dan was doing his thing, moving about, talking to people, making friends and influencing people.  I was kind of standing at the side of the room, watching and letting people come to me.

One of his office group approached me with her hand out and a huge smile and I could tell this was someone I was going to like.  She gave me her name as she gave me her hand and I returned the favor, saying, "Nice to meet you.  I'm Vivian."  (Ok, I'm giving you that much. See why I wasn't really anxious?)

The smile disappeared immediately. The look on the poor woman's face was nothing short of shocked and appalled--with maybe a little awe thrown in for good measure.  And I was instantly confused and hesitant.  And THEN Dan joined us and said, "Alfie, I want you to..." whatever it was he wanted me to do.

The woman's face suddenly looked like a light bulb went off and I suddenly had a light bulb of my very own over my head.  Obviously, Dan had been talking affectionately about "Alfie" at work and when he finally showed up with a wife, it was an very pregnant woman named "Vivian." I quickly re-introduced myself as Alfie and everyone was smiling after that.

I officially gave up trying to be Vivian after that.  Life sure got easier and I've gradually grown into the name that everyone believes fits.  (Except my family and friends who knew me 'when.'  Sometimes addressing Christmas cards and remembering which person should sign them gets tricky.) See, I told you he was good at nicknaming people.

My biggest disappointment was when Harlequin wouldn't let me use it as my pen name when I was signing my first contract with them and they were requiring everyone to take pen names.  Since the line I was writing for had a huge following in Great Britain, they worried that everyone there would think I was male since Alfie is a male name there. 

Happy 2014!

I've seen a lot of posts in the first four hours of this bright new year about letting go...of people, of things, of feelings, of...lots of things.

In the past week, I've realized there were many things in my life that I've let go of too quickly.  Yeah, many things it was easy to hold on to way too long--like old hurts and, definitely, lots of old baggage. But I've had a lot of relationships I let go of too quickly and moved on.  Some were from actually physically moving on.  Either the friend moved or I moved or work situations changed or whatever.  If I could have a do over, I would have made a lot bigger effort to hold on for dear life to some of those friends.  Yes, we're (mostly) still friends, but they've turned into the dear old acquaintance type friends instead of the really close current kind.  And I regret that letting go.

If I could teach someone younger anything about eventual regrets, it would be to truly evaluate and be very careful how quickly you let go.  Somethings are very important to let go.  Some things--mostly people--are really important to hold on to for dear life.  Think long and hard about which things are which, because you generally can't pick up where you left off if you let go too willingly.

Music and me.

Life is strange.  Hmmm.  That was the title of a really bad song and (thank heavens) I haven't heard it for a long, long time.  It was also strange to log onto this blog and find that it had 58 views yesterday.  THAT was strange, since I haven't posted anything to either this blog or any of my others in at least a year.

I did do something a little whacko this past week.  I decided since I was probably never going to blog often enough or about anything anyone was terribly interested in, I would grab most of my posts from various places and put them in one place:  this one, to be exact, since this is the title of the blog I would create if I were going to blog regularly about things I cared about. 

So the posts on these pages are from random blogs I've participated in with others about varying things.  And now I'm going to use this blog as kind of a diary.

No, you are NOT going to hear all my secrets.  But you are going to hear about the things I care about and cuss about and celebrate  And if you're looking for a blog about just writing...or just political stuff...or about wonderful recipes, or...whatever.  Don't look here.  I will try to tag things with tags that will help anyone who stumbles on it the chance to sort out the things they might be interested in from the things they definitely aren't. 

And you are going to hear about how I would fix the world if someone would just let me.  (I'm old enough.  I gathered a bit of wisdom along the way.  I COULD get it going in the right direction, anyway.) 

And you are going to hear about writing.  And books. 

And you are going to hear music.

Music has always been a passion of mine, but I kind of quit doing more than just listening when I started writing.  (I also quit doing crafts about the same time.  I have learned that having a creative personality forces you to do something creative from time to time or you feel half alive.  Crafts, music, a wide variety of things filled that hole until I found writing.)  But back to music...

Music has become essential to me again.  I don't have to make it myself anymore, (and can't, if truth be told.  Without at least a little practice, you kind of lose the ability.) but I can't let a day go by without getting a fix of some.  So I am going to share some of the music that makes my heart hurt or soar or expresses exactly how I feel on certain days.

And this is my song to you for today.  I wish this for so many people I love and care about.  (I guess I really wish it for everyone in the world.  Wouldn't it be a nice place if everyone had exactly this?)

Rascal Flatts: My Wish

I hadn't heard this in a while and Pandora played it for me.  I realized I had to share.  And it kind of broke my heart that I couldn't tell the person (Libby Piotrowicz) who had posted this version/video on You Tube that I thought she did a spectacular job of finding exactly the right images to capture the heart of the song.  I'm not exactly techno whiz, but I'm not especially techno challenged either. YouTUBE just expected me to sign in before I could post and it kept signing me in as my husband or daughter.  When I'd put my own sign in name in, it would tell me that someone already had that user name (yeah, probably me!) and I couldn't use it.  I didn't have all day to waste, if you know what I mean.

Anyone who knows me knows I love words.  Add some magical music and the words become even better.  Add images that perfectly reflect the music and you suddenly have something awe inspiring.  That's how I feel about this video and this song.  And it is perfect to start a brand new year and a brand new mindset about a blog I suspect no one will ever see or read.

And that's okay with me.  When I'm gone, someone may find it...and there will be a record of what I thought about life, liberty and the pursuit of a writing career, among other things.  And it is going to bring me joy!

Joy to you.  Now listen to the song (and watch) and you'll know exactly what I wish for you!

Let me see if I have this right. People who care deeply about finding a cure for breast cancer are no longer going to support the foundation that has done the most to advance that goal because...because that foundation has decided to no longer donate the money people donate to them, to financially support the organization most known for single handedly killing LOTS of women (aka unborn female babies)?
Do I have that right?
What? Planned Parenthood is doing cancer research now?
So the Race for the Cure isn't really about curing breast cancer? It's about showing support for one of the nation's biggest abortion provider? Figure in that a lot of research that shows that abortion increases the chance of a woman developing breast cancer and it kind of seems equivalent to the American Lung Association donating money to cigarette companies so that they'll donate free cigarettes to everyone who smokes, doesn't it?
The son of a woman who died of breast cancer jumped all over me because I made the mistake of being glad the Susan G. Koman Foundation had wised up. His mother died a horrible death, yadda, yadda, yadda...
I really wanted to ask him how many dead babies it would take to make up for his loss? I'll bet (and hope) they gave his mother a lot of things to help alleviate her pain while she was dying.  I don't doubt she suffered, but I've never heard of anyone giving dying babies a thing for their pain. Have you? Those babies are drowned and burned to death in salt water or torn apart and scraped from their private little God-made incubator, or in the case of full-grown babies who would easily survive outside their so-called mother's womb, turned feet first so they can go through all the trauma of birth, and then pulled, unnaturally, out the birth canal--except the poor baby's head.  Then scissors or knives or other instruments of pain and death are jabbed into the baby's brain so the baby can be (finally) delivered dead. I can't help wondering if that man's mother would have liked the thought of babies dying in exchange for her own life, even if they were actually using the throw-away babies to find a cure for cancer.
Now if the Susan G. Koman Foundation was giving money to Planned Parenthood to cover the cost of mammograms, it might make a little bit of sense, but all Planned Parenthood does is refer women to 'other' providers. Why not let the Susan G. Koman Foundation donate to the 'other' providers, the people and organizations who actually give mammograms?  Guess we will never know, because the people who like dead babies are generally the ones who yell the loudest and feign outrage the best. Without a single bit of common sense (more people donating= more money for finding a cure + more money to help more women actually get mammograms rather than referrals = earlier detection = less breast cancer deaths = their goal) they diverted attention from the cause they claim to care about, attacking the organization doing the most to make their goal a reality. Curing breast cancer. And the Susan G. Koman Foundation will get less money because, literally, the people who historically donate the most money  to causes--minus the baby killers--won't be as ready to donate now that their money is still going to help Planned Parenthood stay in the baby killing business.

Last week, several people on Facebook derided and condemned a teenager in California who wanted to start a boycott of Girl Scout cookies because the organization was admitting a 7 year old who was 'transgender.' There is so much wrong with this picture, I don't even know where to start.  But the point of those posts was to point out how intolerant (and wrong) that teenager was.  The same people were on the front lines (on Facebook) to condemn Tim Tebow for his 'inappropriate displays' of his religion in public.  They derided and ridiculed him. Where is their tolerance now?
I remember a time when people weren't nearly so 'tolerant' and, believe it or not, the world was a much nicer place.  Kids didn't run through stores screaming and knocking things about like they do now.  (Their parents wouldn't 'tolerate' them acting like that.)  People who cheated on their spouses weren't so open about it and when it was discovered, the 'cheaters' went down in everyone's estimation. Teenage pregnancy was whispered about--not admired--and so there was less of it and the 'norm' wasn't mothers--who are still children themselves--raising children without the help of a father.
Disapproval has its place in society.  It helps keep the world balanced and people in check rather than doing whatever feels good, no matter who it hurts. Why in the world, are we tolerating a situation where a 7 year old even knows what transgender means? (What has happened to that kid that it has even come up? At 7, shouldn't the kid be aware only that there is an anatomical difference between boys and girls, but happily oblivious to any sexual meanings? Someone needs to investigate this situation!)
And why are the people who constantly preach 'tolerance,' the least tolerant of all, if it is something they don't agree with?
The first Bible verse I remember learning in Sunday School was "Be ye kind, one to another." I wish we could go back to teaching kindness rather than tolerance.  There is a difference.

The Rebirth of Social Darwinism
And then watch this:
Mother of 15...
The government Reich wants is really working well, isn't it?
As a conservative, I can tell you that this is what those with a government mindset want. (That's what most of the genuine conservatives I know, do NOT want.) A government mindset tends to think that someone else--some government elitist--knows what is better for you than you can possibly know yourself. You don't feed your kids what Michelle wants them to eat--even though she eats a lot of garbage herself--the government can take them and choose what they will eat. You don't give your money to the right charity? They'll take it in the form of taxes, and give it to who/what they want to give it to. When I was growing up--back in the fifties and sixties that Reich is so negative about--people tried hard to treat people as they wanted to be treated themselves. (People actually had the mentality to teach their children that.) Someone was struggling with an illness and couldn't afford medical care? The doctor DID treat those patients in most cases and the community of people who knew them, gathered around, did fundraisers, helped the family survive the tough times. Some kid didn't have shoes to wear to school? Some neighbor or caring teacher noticed and shoes magically appeared. Yes, people fell through the cracks from time to time, but no more (and probably a whole lot less) than they do now, with the government playing I'LL BE THE BIG TIME PROVIDER. With the government playing GOD, people step back and assume that they do not have to do anything. GOD (some distant bureaucrat who has no idea of the reality because they ARE so distant) will take care of that. Just fill out all these papers and everything will be all right. It's upside down now. This is one of the few countries in the world (hmmmm, wonder if THAT is why everyone wants to come here so badly they will do almost anything, legal or illegal, to get here?) where you can be born in poverty and work hard, save, be smart, get a break or two, and die rich, leaving a whole lot to your kids (and the GOVERNMENT.) Hope it stays that way.

This is where all the junk lands when anyone comes into the house from the garage:

And this is part of the problem.   What to DO with all this stuff?  For example, what about all of these keys?

Wish me luck.