There are not too many things one can do to get me all riled up, but I remember a few years ago someone managed to do just that…
The finer details have long been forgotten but, at the time the issue came to my attention, I had no access to the offender. The longer I thought about what was said, the more I fumed, and the very next friend who asked me how I was doing got an earful… all the way down to the urge I had then to give the offender a solid punch.
She listened, for however long it took for me to get it all out, before dropping this gem…
[Warning: Reality check ahead]
“They have a problem with (x), but you have a problem with anger and we need to talk about that.”
Personal spiritual issues trump peripheral issues any day of the week.
I remember chanting the gem in school that taught every Jamaican child just how the Atlantic hurricane season was supposed to play out:
June, too soon.
July, stand by.
August, we must.
October, all over.
We chanted in sing-song fashion as seasons came and went. It all seemed like great fun until… Well… I will tell you about that in just a minute.
Today, as I continue to view all disturbances in the Atlantic Ocean with suspicion, it is as good a time as any to take a trip down memory lane. Continue reading
As a third grader, I discovered my teacher’s age, quite by accident.
I had passed by while she was having a conversation with another adult, and I remember thinking that 30 was quite old. She was all of 23 years older than I was. How incredibly ancient!
Twenty-three years, to my seven-year-old mind, was a very long time.
I like rainy days – most of the time.
But not today.
Pounding drops on zinc roof, barely muffled by the ceiling beneath, nag and annoy. The forecast cold front still lingers near this bit of rock in the Caribbean Sea and I sympathize with my friends up north who are stuck with snow piles and temperatures below zero. My 18-degree temps cannot compare, but I shiver, pull on socks and attempt to think of warmer days.