Anger Management 101 (Courtesy of a Wise Mother)

*Updated from journal entry dated February 3, 2014.*

The day I turned 13, she gave me a gift. It was a book entitled, Everything A Teenage Girl Should Know.

The hardback version. I have always been an avid reader, and this was the kind of book designed to survive numerous rounds of reading and re-reading. Perfect.

Mom and I never had the talk. That conversation which some refer to as being about ‘the birds and the bees’, although I still have no idea what birds and bees have to do with human sexuality – but, I digress.  This was Mom’s way of getting an uncomfortable conversation out of the way with as little discomfort as possible. I am sure she must have known  that I had covered most of that ground in the fifth grade and I was already into my third year of high school when I celebrated my thirteenth birthday.

As a seasoned educator, Mom would have had to know that much of the information in this new book was old news to me, so she must have had some other reason but I thought nothing more of it at that time.

More than 25 years later, it finally dawned on me that the answer had been staring me in the face the whole time.

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The Struggle Is Real

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.

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The Element of Surprise: Avocados, Horses and Little Foxes

As much as I love avocados, I was not about to eat that one.

JB had always been friendly but something had shifted. She seemed agitated that day she showed up at my doorstep and I did not feel impressed to ask why. She wanted to know if I remembered asking her to obtain something through a sister she had overseas.

I did not, because I had not. What I did have, however, was a vivid recollection of her making an offer which I never pursued. I reminded her of that fact and she went ballistic for some reason.

She remembered differently and, as she stormed out through the front gate, I pondered whether she was losing her mind. That was the last time she actually spoke to me although I saw her in the community on a regular basis.

Then it happened.

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How Do The Americans Do It? ‘Hats Off’ To Them

The Canadians celebrated Thanksgiving Day in October, and my American friends are celebrating Thanksgiving Day today.

Both celebrations involve large family gatherings and I often wonder how they can work up enthusiasm year after year, after year (you get the idea).

In my family of origin, funerals were the large family gatherings we attended. No reunions. No Christmas dinners. No bridal/baby showers. No nothing.

There may have been weddings, but I might have been too young to remember anything that occurred. When you are born as far down the line as I was, you tend to miss out on a few things.

But those funerals were something else.

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Illusions and Parched Peanuts

The illusionist moved his hands swiftly, waving his fingers in a manner suggestive of hypnosis.

He reached for the ear of the volunteer he had recruited from the audience and a coin appeared. When the coin appeared, the poor volunteer felt his ear and stared in confusion – amazed, no doubt, that he felt nothing – and the oohs and aahs that rippled through the air from the captivated audience bore testimony to the fact that he was not alone in his amazement.

Oh, the mesmerising interplay of light and shadows.

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