Halloween by Kat Magendie

In the cove here between Killian’s Knob and Walter Bald, there will not be, nor has there been, any trick or treaters. For to get to my little log house, they’d have to walk a ‘fir piece’ and then trek up my steep road, then up my steep driveway, then up my stairs, to my porch, and then knock on my door. By time they arrived, trick or treat would be over, and besides, all I’d have for them is some rocks a la Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin.

And speaking of Charlie Brown, I still watch that show—that is my Halloween celebration tradition. Since the move here, I don’t dress up. I don’t trick or treat. I don’t receive trick or treaters. I don’t watch any of the Halloween movie specials about vampires. And, I most especially do not buy Halloween candy, as I and my spousal unit in residence would be the only ones eating it (and yet, as I type this, I yearn for those miniature candy bars—the snickers, the milky ways, the health bars! Oh My!)

I found a photo the other day of my son dressed as—guess what?, come on, take a guess—yes!, a Hobo. He didn’t particularly want to be a hobo (what kid does when there are millions of manufactured suits out there of their favorite cartoon icons?), but I didn’t have the money to buy anything fancy. I was so proud of my ingenuity (um, okay, well, the old usual smudged face, patches on shirt and pant leg, and frayed pant cuffs, etc), but little kids only know that someone down the street bragged about their Star Wars, Spiderman, or Incredible Hulk costumes. He still had fun, once he ran out into the inky night full of ghosts and goblins and Icons.

So, tonight when it's time for the little ones to stalk the night elsewhere, I’ll be sitting in my tower on the mountain thinking about chocolate, and memories, and laughing, and “Trick or Treat; smell my feet; give me something good to eat!” I’ll be thinking about my favorite personal costume of all time—my mother dressed me up as a gypsy, complete with lipstick, one of her colorful skirts, and scarf. Oh I felt beautiful and grown up! One can find gratitude in anything if one opens up a memory, an idea, a moment, a tradition, and peers inside. Right this moment, I am smiling at that young girl, dancing through the night in her gypsy costume, feeling beautiful for the first time, ever.

The Great Girl Getaway by Angie Ledbetter

My sisters and I took our mom on a little journey a few days ago. I'm sure we were all hoping for various outcomes from our trip to a Mississippi Coast casino, but I got exactly what I wanted. Was it a big, fat, Greek jackpot win? A day of R&R off life's hamster wheel? Grazing at the casino's legendary buffet?

None of that crossed my mind, although any of it would've been a nice bonus. No, what I hoped and prayed for was a good time for our mother. She's always dearly loved spending time in front of a video poker machine, and hasn't gotten to do that very much in the last year since becoming ill. But, durn it, we made that trip and she had a blast in the jingling, jangling, flashing casino!


I'm filled with gratitude and honor for the opportunity to make our girl's escape. It was fun and it made memories that will stay with me forever...especially this look on Mom's face:


{Photo by Angie Ledbetter}

Guarding Over Us All by Barbara Quinn

The lifeguards were cleaning up the beach yesterday, storing equipment, closing down for the season. Behind them, the waves were large and the riptide strong. This wasn’t a gentle end of summer surf. Soon, they were rescuing five children who were being swept out to sea. What a relief that they were present and able to help. Last summer the worst that could happen did: a child drowned while swimming in the unguarded evening surf.

Today, the ocean was still churning, roaring a clear message to proceed with caution. So even though the official beach season is over, there were guards posted at one beach for swimming, while others patrolled and prohibited swimming elsewhere. I’m grateful to the lifeguards for responding to this unusually strong surf. Being a lifeguard requires so much focus. They understand the riptides, look out for sharks, watch each head in the water, and spring to action on a moment’s notice.

When I caught a wave today, the water was rougher than usual, but not unpleasantly so, partially because the lifeguards were still there watching over us. It’s safe fun losing myself in all that power, tumbling about in the roiling water of nature’s amusement park. The wind was intense and salty, coming directly from the ocean to the shore. The surfers were out having a wonderful time. I could feel the rip current pulling straight out from the shore. My swimsuit was coated with sand because there was so much of it swirling about in the water. Wise parents kept small children close.

On days like this, with the sun beating down, and the water so warm, it’s hard to believe that the summer will ever end. But soon the sun will set earlier, the breeze will be colder. The memories will be bottled and shared in the future. I’m grateful that the families of those rescued children will be able to tell a tale about the time one endless summer when the waves were so high that they had to be rescued by the selfless guards of the beach. My thanks go out to all the guardians of the beach who risk their all. They are the guardians not only of our happy shore memories, but of our futures. Thank you!

Do You Remember? By Angie Ledbetter

I've been thinking a lot about memories and the ability to remember. Attending several important functions for my kids (an honors fraternity induction, a spring band concert, a confirmation ceremony at church, etc.), the digital and regular cameras have been in use frequently. I LOVE photographs. They are a means of hanging onto and capturing special moments. I have a new screen saver on my monitor -- my middle son (in tux!) wearing the Bishop's purple beanie at his confirmation. No matter what happens, I have that little encapsulated moment to relive again and again. I am truly grateful for that.

Our last high school reunion was such a success, we've decided to meet every summer in addition to the 10-year gatherings. Again, tons of photos accompany these events, plus we enjoy strolling down the memory lane of our Glory Years when we're together.

Being of a certain age -- that age where "Sometimers" makes memories and remembrances fuzzy -- I'm making a conscious effort to engrave important moments and times on my mind. When my life slows down, I'll want them available even more when, hopefully, I'll revisit the fun, exciting, sobering, spontaneous, hilarious strange times of Today.

Treasure your important moments NOW, but also lock them away for safekeeping for tomorrow. We're not guaranteed anything in life past this one single moment. I see this with my precious mother who is fighting brain cancer. Her short-term memory continually erases itself like a computer program gone mad. I'm thankful she retains older memories and knows who we are. I cannot imagine the loss of those, as so much of our basic personality and essence is tied up in our brains' memory banks.

Today, live fully, live wildly, live joyously. Take photographs with your mind and camera of these times and things and people you love. Someday, your remembering may be more important than ever.

Big Sister, Little Brother by Kathryn Magendie

I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea. ~Dylan Thomas

I most always think of him as a little boy, not the young man David was when he died at thirty-two. Imbedded in my memories lie his infectious laugh, impish ways, and gentle nature. My little brother once brought home the mangiest, ugliest stray mutt and named him Dinky. Dinky promptly ate my mini-parrot, but I couldn’t stay mad, and now I’m glad. David’s face was so woebegone I’d have had to harden my teenage heart far too much to yell at him or blame him.

A few years before Dinky, David and I planned to stay awake the entire night—oh, this was a daring, exciting feat before the days of endless television and technology. We sat on my bed—as big sister that was quite an honor for a little brother—and played games, told stories. The last I remember the time, it was four a.m. We awoke the next morning, disappointed we hadn’t quite made it, but I’ve never forgotten the little brother-big sister bond we felt.

And years before that, David was feeling poorly, and so climbed in bed with me, feverish and pale. My sisterly heart took over then, too, instead of the “eyewww…go away, brother!” I petted his head and told him he’d feel better in the morning. Instead, he was rushed to the hospital and would have died if my parents had waited any longer. I remember visiting him, awed at the tubes protruding from his small body. When he came home, it was as if he was made of glass and we didn’t want to break him. Who knew that was only a practice for what would later come. A mean tease from whomever or whatever may be in charge. I suppose some could look at it as a reprieve, delay of the inevitable. I suppose.

So, you may be thinking, what does death of a beloved brother have to do with gratitude? Why...gratitude for those days I can pretend he’s not gone by re-living our childhood. Gratitude for the days I see David’s impish face grinning at his big sister who sometimes showed sisterly charity by being kind instead of bossy and mean. Gratitude I remember those kind sister events more than the mean-sister ones. Gratitude for the time he was here on Earth with us, however short.

Solitary Enjoyment by Angie Ledbetter

I had a rare opportunity this afternoon while visiting my parents. I didn't have anything I had to do, no place to be, no duty calling. It wasn't meal time and my cell phone was quiet. I suddenly had truly free time and could do anything I chose. This may sound strange to a lot of people who get "down time" often or can fill their days with leisure and activities of their choice. But for me, it was a strange occurrence.

I suddenly had an urge to do something I used to do when I was young (before the advent of computers) or during summers and holidays in my college days -- play solitaire. I opened the side table in my folks' living room and got out a crisp deck of Hoyle playing cards. Sitting on the floor, I laid out the classic 7 piles for the game and played a hand or two. I actually even won a couple! It was a simple and enjoyable pastime and sent me back in time.

Nostalgia wafted from the cards as I shuffled them hand over hand and then did the slightly more complicated bridge shuffle. Even the smell of the cards sent me to childhood. Back in the days when we and the dinosaurs roamed, kids weren't over scheduled with activities, sports, and such every moment they weren't in school. We had to invent ways to entertain ourselves; much of it outside running around with other neighborhood kids or making up imaginary games to play. We challenged ourselves and each other over games of pickup sticks, jacks, marbles, and cards.

Cards were a permanent fixture in our home, and we all knew a ton of card games by heart. We spent hours dealing out hands or playing one of many solitaire versions. In fact, the DiBenedetto household spent so much time with decks of cards that my twin sister and I got in quite a bit of trouble on our first day of kindergarten. Our teacher Miss Territo called our parents and said, "The twins need help. When the class counts numbers out loud, your girls say, '...nine, ten, jack, queen, king!'"

So many fond memories tied to those 52 little paper rectangles.