Cash Register Pleas

“No one has ever become poor by giving.” – Anne Frank

I'd like to think I'm a generous person.  I donate a tidy sum of money every year to some selected charities.  I try to behave kindly towards strangers and try to help and support my friends and family.  Why then, do I feel so resentful lately when doling out two and three dollar donations at the cash registers of stores where I'm being asked to make charitable donations?  Could it be because it seems I'm asked multiple times every day?

If it's not Chapters, Winners, Marshalls or HomeSense, it's Loblaws or Costco or the LCBO.  I just got home from grocery shopping at Longos.  I wasn't asked at the cash register for a donation but I was asked at the entrance and again in the meat department.  Seriously, I can't even navigate the store without someone asking me for money?  I go grocery shopping almost every day.  At the end of the week, those little donations add up to ten or fifteen dollars.  At the end of the year, those donations add up in the hundreds of dollars.  There are no tax receipts.  What there is though is an ad campaign from a profitable business bragging about what good corporate citizens they are for having raised so much money for charity.  The only issue I have with that is that it's our money, not theirs.  

I know I have the right to say no when I'm asked and normally, that should be the end of it.  But I rarely say no.  It's not part of who I am.  I was truly shocked last week to find myself in a Winners store having just come shopping at Marshalls and HomeSense (all owned by the same company) to hear a cashier berating a customer for saying no.  "We're only asking for a couple of dollars", she said.  "Really, you won't give a couple of dollars for such a good cause?"  If I had been the customer, I would have hit the roof.  Of course, being the sucker I am, I didn't have to listen to a tirade.  For the third time in less than an hour, I forked over a couple of bucks to support their charity.

Walking With Dora

“Any time you think you have influence, try ordering around someone else’s dog.” – The Cockle Bur

It is day eight of the nine days I am babysitting Dora, a beautiful Victoria Day.  The weather has been unseasonably cold with frequent rain but today the sun is shining and the air is warm.  There is a lot to be said for taking care of a dog.  Dora is a lot of work but while doing that work, there has been pleasure.  

Rain or shine, Dora and I have been taking long walks every day.  We encounter many other people and dogs in our travels.  Those people and dogs don't know me but they know Dora so they often stop to chat.  It's nice to get to know people in the neighbourhood, at least a little.  While we walk we take in the sights of the arriving summer.  The temperature of the air isn't much of an indication that summer is on the way but the magnolias, cherry and apple blossoms confirm that warmer days are on the way.  We've seen beautiful birds - cardinals, robins, blue jays and woodpeckers and even spied a bunny or two.

Tomorrow night, Dora will go home to her mom and dad.  I will move back into my regular bed and appreciate once more the comforts of a sleep number adjustable bed.  There will be no more nights of standing on the front lawn in my bathrobe trying to convince the dog to pee at midnight.  There will be no more coaxing her to open her mouth to take her twice daily meds.  But I've kind of gotten used to those walks in the neighbourhood.  Maybe I'll just go on my own.

Sleeping With Dora

“The dogs with the loudest bark are the ones that are most afraid.” – Norman Reedus

My little friend Dora is a bit neurotic.  Actually, she is a lot neurotic.  Dora is a shelter dog and it's impossible to know what happened to her before she found her home with my friends Brian and Geraldine.  Whatever it was, it wasn't good.  She seems to suffer from a serious abandonment complex.  So when Brian and Geraldine asked me to look after her while they went on a nine day trip to Italy, I knew I would be in for a bumpy ride.

This is not the first time we've had Dora stay with us while they were away.  She spent a week here last year when they went to Hawaii.  And she has stayed here the odd night when their commitments took them out of town.  But I have a poor memory for pain and I had forgotten just how challenging it can be to look after her.  The hardest part is sleeping.  At home, Dora sleeps in bed with her humans.  But as Merv isn't about to share our bed with a dog, for nine nights I've been relegated to the guest room.  It's just as well.  There wasn't a lot of sleeping going on the first three nights. The first night, Dora was clamoring to be let out every hour.  I accomodated her several times in an attempt to avoid an accident in the house.  It turned out she didn't really need to go out.  She wanted to go out, attempting to pull me in the direction of her house each time I took her out.  Then there was the endless barking at every creak of the house and the crying, even in her sleep.  By night two I wouldn't get up.  It didn't stop the barking and crying but at least I wasn't in my pajamas on the front lawn in the middle of the night.  Day three was a tough day.  Dora's level of stress wreaked havoc on her intestines.  In spite of the fact that we walked for an hour and a half and I was never out of her sight when at home, Dora failed to alert me that she needed to go out.  Unbenownst to me, she left a gift on the rug at the garage door and Merv walked through it.  He wasn't very happy.  That accident provided a preview of the night to come.  We were outside every twenty minutes for much of the night.  At least I didn't have to wash the floor again.

By last night exhaustion had well and truly set in.  I took Dora out at eleven and decided to call it a night.  I don't know which of us was more tired.  She snored soundly throughout the night as, no doubt, did I.  When I got up at seven this morning she stayed in bed.  Here's to hoping tonight is as quiet.

Dandelion Bouquet

"When you look at a field of dandelions, you can either see a hundred weeds or a hundred wishes." - Anon

My baby is in Rome and so, for the first time in 23 years, I will not see him on Mother's Day.  As silly as it is, I've been feeling a bit sad about that.  There is nothing magic about Mother's Day.  Jacob is always a good son, loving and grateful.  And I'm a good mom, even if I do say so myself.  It's just that for me, Mother's Day is a celebration of the best part of my life and while I don't need him here to celebrate that I am his mom, I know I will be feeling a void tomorrow morning. 

This morning my friend Geraldine stopped by with her three-year-old granddaughter, Emma.  I opened the door to the sweet sound of Emma's voice wishing me a Happy Mother's Day as she handed me a dandelion bouquet.  It's been a lot of years since I've arranged dandelions in a tiny glass to display on my window sill.  I had forgotten how much those little bouquets make my heart smile.

Tomorrow afternoon I will go to the nursing home to spend some time with my mom.  I will bring watermelon for her to eat and a small gift which won't register with her but it will serve as a reminder to her caregivers that she is loved and valued and they should treat her that way.  Before I go, maybe I'll stop and pick a few dandelions and put them on her windowsill, just in case something resonates in her when she sees them and brings a smile to her heart.

Lies We Tell Our Children

"Nothing fools you better than the lie you tell yourself."  - Teller

Jacob has moved home.  Five years ago when he left for university, I was pretty convinced the next five years would crawl by but they have not.   So now Jacob turns to the next part of his life; the part where he figures out how to be an adult, an earner, an employee, a contributor to the world.  Right now he is in Rome with Courtney - a graduation gift from his dad and I. While he is exploring The Vatican and the Colosseum, I've been thinking about his convocation ceremony in June - wondering how I will keep myself from wailing when he goes on stage to get his degree; wondering who will speak at the ceremony and what the speaker will have to say to the assembled crowd of graduates as they embark on a new leg of their life's journey.  And wondering what I would say to them if it was me who was lucky enough to make that address.  I think I would tell them the truth.  After all, like most well meaning parents, I've been lying to my son for twenty-two years.  I think it's probably time to stop.  So here goes...

As well meaning as I've been, I want you to know that I haven't always told you the truth.  I did it because I thought it was best for you but you're about to step into a different world and it wouldn't be right for me to send you out there without really knowing some things.

Do you remember when I told you that cheaters never prosper.  It was a lie.  Cheaters prosper all the time.  Very often they get very rich and rise to high places.  They become business executives and presidents and high ranking politicians. They lie to the world and to themselves.  Sometimes they get caught and sometimes they don't.  It's hard for me to understand how they can be happy living with themselves but it would be naive to think most have a hard time.  Just because I wouldn't be able to live with it doesn't mean that they have a problem.

Then there is the part about you having a long life ahead of you.  You don't.  I hope it is true that you have far more years ahead of you than behind you.  But even if you live to be a hundred, the time ahead of you isn't long.  Life is short.  I'm looking at my 59th birthday in less than two months.  I could swear I attended my own convocation just about a decade ago.  In my head, I know it was almost forty years ago but my heart finds that hard to believe.  There is a lot to do and a lot to see in the world.  Don't waste your time.

Like your dad and I, you are a hard worker.  I told you that hard work never killed anyone.  Sorry, it's another lie.  Lots of people die from the effects of too much stress caused by too much work.  Aim for balance.  Hard work is good.  Hard play is good.  Make time to dream.  See the world.  Take up a hobby.  Exercise your inner artist.  Spend time with friends.  Dance.  Laugh.  Live with joy.  All work and no play didn't just make Jack a dull boy.  It killed him. 

In a few years, I imagine you will have children of your own.  You will want the best for them as I have always wanted the best for you.  You will want them to live their lives with integrity, to be good citizens, to take their responsibilities seriously.  You will probably tell them that cheaters never prosper.  That they have long lives ahead of them.  That hard work never killed anyone.   It's what parents do.  Just remember to cross your fingers when you say it.