While I try to maintain BC Nuts as original writing, once in a while something catches my eye that cries out to be shared. This description of a brief encounter by Robert Perks is one of those somethings that touched me:
Recently, I overheard a mother and daughter in their last moments together at the airport as the daughter’s departure had been announced. Standing near the security gate, they hugged and the mother said, “I love you and I wish you enough.” The daughter replied, “Mom, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Mom.” They kissed and the daughter left. The mother walked over to the window where I sat. Standing there, I could see she wanted and needed to cry.
I tried not to intrude on her privacy but she welcomed me in by asking, “Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it would be forever?” “Yes, I have,” I replied. “Forgive me for asking but why is this a forever good-bye?” “I am old and she lives so far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is the next trip back will be for my funeral,” she said. “When you were saying good-bye, I heard you say, ‘I wish you enough.’ May I ask what that means?” She began to smile. “That’s a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone.”
She paused a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail and she smiled even more. “When we said, ‘I wish you enough’ we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them”. Then, turning toward me, she shared the following, reciting it from memory: “I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright. I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more. I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive. I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger. I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting. I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess. I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye.” She then began to cry and walked away.
They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them … and an entire life to forget them.
I WISH YOU ENOUGH!
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The exterminator just left. So did several hundred of my hard earned dollars. It turns out that, for the past 3 or 4 months, I’ve been sharing my studio with a flying squirrel … two such creatures, actually! I’d been hearing the padding of paws and general rattling around inside an enclosed space between my dormer and the roof, especially in the wee small hours of the morning. With this winter’s generous helping of ice and snow, there was no way to get a ladder up to look for an entry point outside and I wasn’t excited about tearing down pieces of wooden tongue-in-groove material looking for livestock from the inside, so I waited.
Not knowing what we were dealing with, but with a strong consensus of the ‘experts’ toward squirrels, today the entry points were discovered and equipped with one-way doors … once out, Bonnie and Clyde can’t get back in. After some vigorous thumping and bumping on ‘their’ walls by our human assault team, one quickly exited behind the other, sat on the roof for a few seconds giving us scornful squirrel looks … then, with a running start, glided gracefully together to a nearby tree where they Read the rest of this entry
Along with all the other attributes that make them so desirable, persons of the feminine persuasion possess a very special touch, whether soothing the cheek of a crying infant or wiggling the stubborn lid off a jar of applesauce. It’s a genetic gift that guys just don’t get … one that’s involved with thinking and reasoning rather than with simply grunting and pulling things apart.
This gift is most likely related to the same gene that enables a woman to find the keys, glasses, pens and other objects a guy doesn’t see when he’s staring straight at them, because of the ‘kill and fetch’ bone that God stuck into his head instead … back in the apple and snake days of the original garden. While the female of the species has evolved through many centuries, men have managed to maintain pretty much the same hammer and chisel mentality.
Take, for example, our chronically clogged sink drain that continually threatened to swamp the bathroom and drown its inhabitants during a simple tooth brushing. I poured about every drain cleaner known to man down there, including a few not commercially available. Read the rest of this entry
The first major snowfall of the season was expected within the next twelve hours and the temperature would soon be dropping into the single digits. It was getting dark and I had just finished my last in a long line of errands … buying a box of religious cards for Mom. Even with her failing eyesight, she never misses an occasion and, of course, Christmas is extra special. My marching orders were clear: They had to say both Christmas and God or Jesus in the text and must have an angel, the wise men, or the Holy Family pictured on the face. I had met all criteria for the cards but, as luck would have it, not for my lunch; I had missed that altogether. No wonder my stomach was snarling at me in some foreign tongue!
Fortunately, right next to the card store was one of those cookie-cutter submarine sandwich shops … you know, the one where the guy on TV ate nothing but subs for six months and became an individual instead of a group? It was either that or the Italian sausage place with grease-frosted plate glass windows; I opted for cold cuts. There were Read the rest of this entry
Thomas was a handful from the very beginning. The day he was hatched, he went around pecking open the other turkey’s eggs … and as he got older, he took great delight in pulling pranks on the other barnyard creatures. Thomas would sneak up on the hens and tug their tail feathers while they were trying to lay eggs. Another favorite was climbing up on the old tree stump and suddenly leaping into the middle of a brood of small chicks, scattering the little peepers in all directions.
He would strut around the barnyard like he owned the place, puffing out his chest and poofing up his feathers to make himself look larger than he really was. The older turkeys tried to warn Thomas about his outrageous behavior, especially about doing things that would cause the farmer to notice him … but he only laughed and called them a flock of old fuddy-duddies. After all, he was the farmer’s favorite. Sometimes, the farmer would even come over to the pat the cocky rascal’s belly and rub his head! That made both man and bird smile. The farmer would say friendly things like, “You’re plumping up very nicely Thomas. I think you’re going to be ready real soon.” Read the rest of this entry
It was a time when ghosts and goblins were real, penny candy still cost only a penny at the corner drugstore and holidays like Halloween were a season, not just a single day. Any kid who didn’t have a haunted house in his neighborhood probably also missed out on Three Musketeers bars, wax lips, chewy little Coke bottles filled with sugary syrup and those tooth-snapping colored dots on narrow strips of paper. The wide-eyed trio toeing the curb, anxiously searching every window of the rickety old house across the street, had missed none of these things.
JoJo had a problem saying his “L’s” so lemon would come out “yemon” and his treatment of yellow was a thing of beauty! Lenny had a limp, since he’d been born with one leg slightly shorter than the other, and was a frequent recipient of the kindness typically bestowed upon any eight year old perceived as different by his contemporaries. He sort of hung out with the other two because they didn’t seem to notice … at least they never said anything. Read the rest of this entry
There was once a time when I enjoyed listening to tons of music. I don’t mean just turning it on, like some people turn on a radio or TV just to have some company or hear a familiar dull roar. I mean, I spent hours completely absorbed in every note, every phrase, and just let the whole experience wash over me like a warm shower or a cool breeze!
Then something happened. I could still put the music on, but it didn’t pull me in. After only few songs it sometimes even became annoying. How could my music possibly be annoying? I started to accept that I was probably “all music’d out” from years of Disc Jockeying and endless loud studio sounds assaulting my eardrums … but a few evenings ago I had an epiphany.
Vigi and I were watching an old movie when I saw a tone arm settle onto a record. That’s how old the movie was. Before I knew it, I’d hit the pause button on the remote and pressed rewind two or three times, to see the process over and over again! I must have presented the Read the rest of this entry