THE COOKIE JAR

 

A series of essays....

THE COOKIE JAR PASSES THROUGH
TIME AND GENERATIONS...

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

There she sits, in all her glory. The apple-shaped outline keeps teasing my thoughts. Each little crack and crevice oozing  memories of a time and place so far away and long ago that they pull me back into my Grandma’s kitchen on the farm. Once again, I’m a small child seeking approval from the adults and trying so hard to fit in with my siblings and cousins that share with me the joys and freedom that farm life provides.

Even after riding on the tractor fender, holding on for dear life, while Grandpa navigated the furrowed fields, we wanted more and more of everything the farm had to offer. We were never disappointed. I remember how the chickens maddeningly clucked while we collected their precious offerings. Some eggs were cooked and eaten for breakfast. The majority of them, after being flame-checked, were placed in cartons to be taken to the local farmer’s market to sell.

The eggs that made it into the farmhouse kitchen on Grandma’s baking days were the ones that most interested us. Grandma was a consummate baker and the magic she weaved within the old coal-fired cook stove and oven, the coiled handles of the metal grates begging to be lifted to expose the heat source below, was woven around us kids like cotton candy on paper sticks at the county fair.

As rich and crisp as a Poilane biscuit in France, my Grandma’s buttery apple tarts, cream puffs, eclairs, cakes, buttermilk biscuits, and breads could rival any pastry chef’s delights found in Paris, today! 

AN EXAMPLE OF GRANDMA’S
FARM STOVE/OVEN

GRANDMA IS ON THE LEFT SIDE, THIRD PERSON BACK.
YOURS TRULY IS SEATED IN THE FOREFRONT, RIGHT SIDE.
GRANDMA’S COAL-FIRED COOK STOVE AND OVEN
CAN BE SEEN IN THE BACK LEFT OF THE PHOTO.

Photo courtesy of Linda McCombs Williams

Her kitchen was gigantic and spanned the entire depth of the farmhouse and was, probably, fourteen feet wide. It was the heart of the house and Grandma kept it beating in a steady rhythm while feeding family in numbers anywhere from the two of them to twenty-two on Christmas Day. The long, wooden table running down the middle of the room served as her prep bench when we weren’t sitting down at it and enjoying one of her meals. 

For us kids, it was the happiest room in the house! After working hard with Grandpa in the old barn, or having enjoyed a long romp in the apple orchard, we would migrate to the warmth of the kitchen where we knew ‘The Cookie Jar’ would be filled with treats meant for wild and playful grandchildren. Again, we were never disappointed.

CHECK-OUT ‘THE COOKIE JAR’
IN THE BACKGROUND

GRANDMA’S COOKIE JAR KEEPING WATCH

BREAK OUT THE ROYAL ICING

ALL OF MY LITTLE HELPERS WORKING
TOGETHER LIKE A FINE OILED MACHINE

Grandma, a smear of flour highlighting her cheek, would make sure we washed our hands. Then came the joyous sound of ceramic gliding over ceramic as the apple-stemmed lid gently slid away exposing sweet goodies she’d recently extracted from the oven. We had no clue if today meant sugar, peanut butter, chocolate chip, molasses, or oatmeal—but our small hands eagerly reached inside the belly of the apple to find out. Large glasses of milk suddenly appeared on the table to dunk with and create frothy white mustaches on our upper lips after  guzzling down the cold, refreshing beverage.

It always amazed me how Grandma could soothe the pain of scraped elbows and knees by merely opening that lid to our exploring hands. The simple presence of that blushing, ceramic vessel championed sudden impulses and often we were caught, literally, with a hand in the cookie jar. 

Now that we’ve moved back up to Michigan and close to our own grandchildren, standard traditions dictate Christmas cookie bake-offs and hours spent in my own kitchen. Last Saturday my daughter, grands, and I pulled-off a baking marathon with the scent of ginger, cloves, and cinnamon wafting throughout the house. There she sits, in all of her glory. Dusted with wayward flour and sporting more hairline cracks than ever before, ‘The Cookie Jar’ watches over us. Her splendid apple form and stemmed lid reminding me that what goes around comes around.

I inherited from my Grandparents the one and only item that means so many things to me. As it pleasantly evokes my own childhood memories of long, playful times on the farm, running between the tall corn stalks with my cousin, Vicki, and picking wild raspberries along the one-lane entrance path, I am grateful for the opportunity of showcasing it in my own kitchen. What pure joy to be filling it up with sweet, baked treats with our grandchildren!

Even though I’m not one hundred percent sure that Grandma was turning a blind eye (ear) to our sneak attacks into cookie heaven, I do know that when I hear the faint rubbing sounds of a ceramic lid sliding out of position, life is good and is how it was always meant to be. It is so satisfying to think that ‘The Cookie Jar’ continues to create new memories for the little ones that mean so much to us.

CHRISTMAS MUSIC FOR THE SOUL

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year 2021 to everyone! 

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

SPACES

 

A series of essays....

French artist, Henri Matisse, used flat colors to create
spaces in his Red Room (Harmony in Red)1908.

   

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Spaces can be beautiful things. They were created to calm the weary soul between bouts of upheaval; before the spirit can be crushed under the pressure of tempestuousness storms. Spaces offer relief and respite from ourselves. We can be grateful for this downtime. It is meditation for the soul and sanity for the mind and allows us the freedom to gulp fresh air and new ideas before carrying on. As humans, we can perform at our greatest potential if we offer ourselves time-outs, spaces for reflection, as we contemplate our next move, solve the next problem—recreate the world. A space in time is our sigh of relief when we exhale audibly in one long, deep breath releasing collected sorrow and weariness; a whispered exhalation suggesting the sound of trees sighing in the wind while we’re on a walk through a forest. The spaces between the trees define the paths that we follow while the space high above us offers an azure blue sky drifting between the bundles of broad leaves forming the crown of the tall, majestic trees. Our collective sighs surround the bracts and catkins, the likes of the Trembling Aspen whose leaves vibrate and quiver in the wind.

Wherewouldawriterbewithoutspaces?

Spaces define perimeters denoting boundaries that we have chosen to respect and abide by. Giving our neighbor his own ‘space’ in which to function as he sees fit is akin to respecting the fence he has installed to secure his property believing that he will respect our own private spaces in return. As some spaces deal with ownership and free will, others imply colloquial and basic parameters of daily life: A parking space, a space between your front teeth, the space between residential housing, spacing plantings a certain distance apart, the wide, open spaces of the Great Plains, the space of time between one action to be followed by a similar action, and the three-dimensional area around us, including the universe where stars and planets exist. Space, as one of the classic ‘seven elements of art’ refers to the distances or areas around, between, and within components of a piece. In art, the use of space can even be used to distort reality. One of the best ways to explain the use of space in art might be: Painters imply space, photographers capture space, sculptors rely on space and form, and architects build space. 

The use of space within an artistic format is sometimes nothing but an illusion; magic for the eyes.

An intermission placed in the middle of a performance offers the audience a space of time in order to contemplate and process the meaning of the first half so that they can more informedly approach the final act. If this intermission is applied to our own life span, might it be labeled ‘middle-age’ as in one’s prime, mature adulthood, seasoned, educated, and more reasonable than one’s undisciplined and often reckless youthful self? If we solemnly believe this, our second act should be driven by the mature lead of past examples, lessons learned via our mistakes, and the culmination of wisdom and truth that only the passing of time can provide. Keeping all of this in mind makes growing older a means of creating assets of great importance from each of us and being able to share this wealth of knowledge and experience with others of all ages. Even though, given the relatively short scale of existence one person has on this Earth we call home, this space of time may seem trivial compared to the span of history. But, it is long enough to capture in memory the heart and soul of every person and pass their ethereal existence down through the passage of time.

Researchers describe the interpersonal distances of man (the relative distances between people) in four distinct zones: intimate, personal, social, and public space. The implication of the importance of social spacing has impacted us today with great force, its reverberation can be felt around the world. From the largest cities to the smallest villages, remaining at least six feet apart from others during social and public settings may bring us one step closer to eliminating the deadly impact of Coronavirus.

Wear a mask, social distance outside of your home, and please regard the life of those around you as you would your own—with respect and love. Give everyone the ‘space’ they require to move forward!

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

REMINISCENCES

 

A series of essays....

EACH GENERATION RECORDS ITS
CHERISHED MEMORIES VIA CURRENT TECHNOLOGY 

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Our mission, as we chose to accept it, was to bring the boxes of video tapes upstairs from their two-year long isolation period in the basement to be played, scrutinized, and labeled. And, I know what you’re thinking—yes, we do have a VCR player, kept in good condition, just for this very purpose.

You see, we are the protectors of the bulky, Hollywood-style, VCR movie camera that all of these tapes were derived from. And, if truth be told, along the time we were starting our little family, 8mm reels originally captured the images of our celebrated life-changing events and marking time together. Most of these reels have been transferred to VHS tapes. Overwhelmed by the daunting task of modernization (transferring the VHS tapes onto DVDs), these tapes have remained ‘as is’ for years. I don’t think the iCloud is remotely prepared for all of the ‘stuff’ Baby Boomers have saved for future generations!

With our oldest daughter and family, the other portion of our ‘little bubble’ these days of pandemic and self-preservation, coming over for Thanksgiving last week, we decided to sort through miles of tapes a few weeks earlier and precisely mark what lives on each one.

It’s interesting what retirement, a major move back to Michigan, cautiously existing through Covid-19 with long spans of time to utilize, and the inevitable march forward into a new decade of life (both of us turning seventy in November)—will produce from us. Considering our recent journey back into some of the most remarkable/memorable times of our lives via long neglected VHS tapes, this adventure turned out to be one of the best trips we’ve taken in a long, long time!  

Taking the plunge into the deep, dark waters of reminiscence, we found ourselves consumed by our emotions as we wound our way through the thick sea grasses of mental impressions retained and revived. We remained in this state for nearly one week, nourishing ourselves with food and sleep as needed, and coming-up for air only long enough to label each viewed tape with its timely contents; each precious recollection a superimposed image brought to life on our flatscreen television.

Instantly, our grown children appeared as toddlers and adolescents and looking almost identical to their own children as toddlers and adolescents in real time. Even their clothing and hairstyles back then only slightly blurred the margins of time that surround our grandchildren, today. This experience was as irrational and surreal as a dream while having the disorienting, hallucinatory quality of turning the world upside down and then right side up again in a matter of moments.

I guess that’s how it should feel when you ram so many years of life and circumstances into a condensed period of time. The protective walls that surround logic and reality began to shake as innumerable visions passed through us and clouded our present from our past and projected possibilities far into the future. I don’t think we were quite ready for all of this.

The shredded pastels of birthday wrappings commingled with a thousand images of reflective Christmas papered packages bedecked with ribbon and bows being ripped open and tossed about by two adorable blond girls over the years. We rewatched important celebrations and milestones in our lives over and over again with daughters aging from birth to late teens all in the span of this one week.

With the directorial precision of Lana and Lilly Wachowski in Cloud Atlas, a philosophical take on a soul’s journey into different timelines, with each timeline being altered with certain actions of the humans it goes through, we rediscovered our family’s existence through a sci-fi take on our own innocent souls. As we observed time’s passing, Dan and I agonized over the fleeting stages of youth, but were energized by the numerous triumphs displayed by maintaining a positive family coexistence.

We sat plugging tape after tape into the black box as we ate meals and drank mugs of rich, black coffee in the comfort of our living room; one hand nourishing a different machine all while linking the past to the present.

Countless birthdays; Christmas mornings; first walks through kindergarten classroom doors and then celebrating a momentous collection of academic achievements; basketballs, golf balls, volleyballs, and tennis balls kept rhythm with parental heartbeats as they bounced across the screen; a procession of piano and guitar recitals; numerous improvised plays performed in the grand foyer of our Victorian home, all worthy of a Tony presentation; parade after parade of elaborate dance recitals; trips from tent camping in the Upper Peninsula to our condo years on Sanibel Island, Florida, to European adventures with a fourteen and an eleven-year-old, and the bright, shining faces of grandparents, aunts and uncles, and close friends, many who are long lost to us in life but will never be forgotten in our hearts and memories.

Here, I must tell of having almost lost our youngest daughter due to a ruptured appendix when she was only three-years-old. The tapes failed  to show our agony and frustration after three surgeries and nearly four weeks of hospitalization. Instead, they revealed our various degrees of joy as this tiny person began to recover and flourish once again.

Even though their ‘interest timespan’ can be one TikTok video long, our grandchildren had fun seeing  their Mom and Aunt as children about their own age. Their reactions to the past were interesting to observe.

Dan and I exceeded the patience of most people that week or these video tapes would still be buried in the dark recesses of our basement. Now that we know what we’re looking for, we can separate the family segments from old television programs and full-length movies recorded off of HBO and Showtime. Seeing their murky quality compared to HD today makes me realize that we did the best we could with what technology had to offer back then.

Just as I have been moving and filing the thousands of photos I’ve taken over the years onto USB flash drives with high gigabyte counts, I should be able to do the same with our video memories. Unharmed by surface scratches, unlike a CD, this might be the ticket to transporting them to our children and grandchildren for safe keeping.

Dan and I enjoyed our daily reminiscing parties complete with ooh’s and aah’s, some tears, soft  laughter and wonder, and oodles of heartfelt commentary. It feels good to take the time to sort out our life together after so long. Refreshing the memories of living life day-by-day opens all options going into our future. Maybe it is time to pick-out a lite-weight travel trailer built for two and decide on where to go, with whom to visit, and how long we wish to be gone. You know—the possibilities are endless!

Take good care of yourselves and others as we ride out the coronavirus. It’s important to be smart in order to stay healthy. Wear a mask for goodness sakes!

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

BLESSINGS AND GIVING THANKS FOR THE SIMPLE THINGS IN LIFE

 

A series of essays....

LET’S KEEP THE TURKEYS MARCHING ALONG
THIS THANKSGIVING!

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

When I look back on my many Thanksgiving memories, I recall the hours my Mother spent chopping cup after cup of celery, carrots, and onions. She would peel mounds of potatoes before cutting and boiling them in a large, heavy pot of salted water. Skill, yes, but endurance, mainly. This all began around four o’clock in the morning when the hour was dark and the rest of us were snuggled deep under our bedsheets and blankets dreaming of the feast to follow.

Interestingly, I still use the same potato peeler that Mom did so many years ago. It continues to work better than any peeler I’ve had since then.

My brothers and I had already named the huge bird the day before while trying to recall his name from last season to avoid repetition. But, somehow, I remember him being called Tom more often than not.

Secretly, I know Mom rather enjoyed the time alone, those special hours before the songbird’s initial chirrup beyond the kitchen window and her family sound asleep above her head. She had time to be alone with her thoughts. There were no immediate distractions interrupting her internal rhythm. Mom could do most everything that needed to be done during those wee hours of Thanksgiving morning, alone, in the dark....if need be.

I would like to think that while chopping and dicing, Mom had time to dream about walking on a sandy, sun-dappled, Hawaiian beach with the sound of waves breaking and distant palm fronds flapping as the tropical trees swayed in the salty breezes. She loved the thought of being in Hawaii, but never cared much for having to fly in order to get there. Dreaming about it might have been as good as being there for her. Once, when I asked her about it, she just smiled as if to say that it would, in all likelihood, never happen. Sadly, it never did.

Eventually, the mouthwatering aroma of the baking bird would slither up the staircase calling my name like the aromatic curlicues that the characters from a black and white Saturday morning cartoon delightfully inhaled through their enlarged nostrils before devouring a substantial feast. Entering the kitchen with bare feet, I knew that by her side would be the warmest spot in the house. The uncomplicated act of hugging and kissing her was a simple but marvelous gift for me. While inhaling the freshness of the cut vegetables and the variety of  cooking spices that mingled with the roasting turkey and dressing, I noticed the slight sheen of perspiration glistening above her brow-line even though her skin felt cool to the touch. These scents and images will touch my life forever. Despite being so young, I knew how blessed I was even then.

Mom always cooked way too much food for Thanksgiving. It was her way of giving a large part of herself to everyone she loved so much. Also, I believe it was her way of letting off steam that had accumulated throughout the year.

Women give vent to their frustration in various ways. For many women living in the 1950’s, the silent release of repressed emotions was particularly important for them. They should just have been happy to have a roof over their heads and children to take care of, and a husband who (hopefully) brought home his paycheck each week in order to pay the bills and keep that roof right where it belonged. The lifestyle and social norms of the middle-class during the 1950’s quickly lost any appeal it might have had for me and helped to pave the path for the surge of the women’s liberation movement in the ‘60’s.

Two generations later, after raising two daughters of my own and still fighting for equal pay in the workplace and the right to manage our own body, we are suddenly embroiled in a battle against the unknown: A deadly virus that has already taken the lives of 258,846 innocent souls in the United States alone. We exist in so-called tiny bubbles consisting of immediate family and close friends and know to monitor our comings and goings at all times in order to remain in this precious bubble.

As I wait to begin preparing my Thanksgiving meal on Thursday for our daughter Ali and her family, our own little bubble, I think about all of the families who will be missing one or more loved ones from their own bubble this year. Yet the thankfulness and the feasting will continue because...it must. We thank the scientists who are stepping up to create a vaccine to stop the spread of the coronavirus. We thank the medical staff and first responders for being there for us and risking their own lives everyday. We thank all of the critical retail and trade workers for supplying us with all of our basic essentials in life. Despite many setbacks, we have much to be thankful for this year.

Even though the times may have taken on a different public façade, I will always make time to reflect on the past while promoting the present and future by safely sharing precious time with my family during the holidays.  Now, our daughters have families of their own with five little ones between them. I know they are creating their own traditions every holiday that will be merged with those from both sides of their families that have been handed down throughout the years. The turkey may be deep fried instead of baked and vegetables such as kale substituted for creamed corn, but life goes on and sharing the simple things together as a family will always remain the backbone of our existence.

If I could share, once again, those precious hours alone with my Mother in the dawn of a crisp Thanksgiving morning,  I don't think I would change a single thing. What’s even more important to me is that I don’t think she would either.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO EVERYONE!

Stay safe inside your own little bubble this week so that you and your loved ones will stay healthy and be able to enjoy many more Thanksgivings in the years to come. Wear a mask when out in public. Be kind.

TURKEYS ON PARADE

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

SPONTANEOUS CELEBRATIONS

 

A series of essays....

PEOPLE CELEBRATE ON THE STREETS OF NEW YORK CITY
AFTER JOE BIDEN WAS DECLARED PRESIDENT-ELECT. A SPONTANEOUS
CELEBRATION OF PEOPLE LONG OVERDUE FOR CHANGE.

Courtesy of The New York Times

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Late in the morning of November 7, 2020, the world changed...significantly. Beneath facial-masks were cheeky grins layered with fresh dreams made possible by a Biden/Harris winning ticket. If you believed, how could you not feel a bit sassy and pleased? Four years of tension and anxiety had just snowballed down the ‘Mountain of Lost Hope’ and our collective ‘tears of relief’ were creating orange tinted rivers that flowed out into the mighty seas.

Someone I know and respect as a writer, teacher, and good human being recently posted a meme stating: “Trump is turning America into a Banana Republic.” If she were simply initiating a ‘writing prompt’ for her students, I completely understand that. Instantly, people from all over the world began to negatively comment on this meme and they were plentiful, hurtful, and exasperating. Amanda, the crazies have crawled out from beneath their rocks to concur with this statement. Do they wish the USA to experience similar circumstances in order to justify their own losses? I am here to say that we plan to stay focused and fight like hell not to be led down that rabbit hole any longer.

Democracy is only as good as the people who support it and help to make it work. Yes, it is with great sadness that I understand the last four years have been choreographed by 45 and other dictators and despicable politicians. Many people have suffered the hate and humiliation sponsored by them. We the people have fought long and hard to change the specifics of this passé performance by legally electing a strong and loyal team in Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. They are already working hard on removing the walls, complexities, and hatred that have been collecting for many years. It’s time to believe...

Our deliberate show of emotions, especially after the past four years of being torn down and humiliated in the eyes of the world, deserve the spontaneous celebrations offered by the oppressed citizens of this country. Do not worry. Our minor happy dances in the streets did not expend all of our energy or leave the coffers of Democracy empty and askew. If anything, our celebratory souls have been renewed and re-energized for the fight for freedom that is ahead of us. 

 

Elizabeth Gilbert, American journalist and author, best known for her 2006 memoir entitled, Eat, Pray, Love, has written all of us a letter specifying how she had battled depression years ago and made the realization that lying alone in bed, not sleeping, not reading, but thinking, was the most dangerous place to be. “Captivated by what I came to call “horizontal thinking”—the worse off I would be. What I cannot do in bed, if I want to survive the treacherous crevasses of my own mind, is think.”

She goes on to say, “I don’t know who needs to hear this today, but here it is: If you are physically able, get up now. Nothing good will ever come to you from horizontal thinking. Don’t let your mind win its most brutal game. You deserve better. Get vertical. Move your mind to a higher altitude where the view is better. You can do this.”

The view has certainly been looking much better, lately. Its vertical heights have empowered us while helping to shake-off the images of anxiety, shame, despair, regret, unworthiness, and past failures in a brilliant  attempt to avoid future catastrophes. For this important awareness alone, we deserve to celebrate. Thank you, Elizabeth, for your words of knowledge and encouragement!

Georgia, Georgia, Georgia—you are definitely on our minds.

We stand close by our President-elect and Vice-President-elect with our spirits uplifted even while acknowledging the fight for logic, freedom, and democracy that’s before us. In great numbers, we will be stronger, better. Rushing in, with Georgia on our minds, it is time to support the Democratic candidates, Jon Ossoff and Raphael Warnock, in a double-barreled Senate runoff election to be held on January 5, 2021. The outcome of this race will determine control of the Senate under the Biden administration for its first two years. 

Think again if you believe that Joe Biden alone can change the negative and destructive policies established by the current administration that heavily relied upon the support of Mitch McConnell as Majority Leader of the Senate. Understand how this combination has undermined our freedom and democracy for so long, even during the Obama era. Then, realize how important these two Senatorial runoffs are. With the tenacity, experience, and intense cheerleading offered by a strong, black woman and voting rights activist, Stacey Abrams, we hope to control the Senate as of January 20, 2021, and begin the healing this country so deserves.

We may have had our glorious few moments of dancing tall and joyously in the streets of this great country, but we must now embrace the monumental tasks ahead with grace and dignity. We have been rejuvenated by the examples set by Joe and Kamala along with their brilliant victory we celebrated on November 7th. But, we cannot stop there. 

There is no time for “horizontal thinking!” It’s time to stay sharp, think on our feet, and elevate ourselves from the sinking depths of the past four years. By believing in our right to shake-off false images of hopelessness and despair, together we can and will make this happen.                                                                     

For the love of our country and everyone living here, please where a mask while in public and donate your time, money, and effort into the two Senatorial races in Georgia. With these victories under our belt, the real celebrating can begin!

Congratulations going out to Joe Biden, Kamala Harris, and everyone who still believes in fighting for our people, politics, and freedom.

May we begin to experience a smooth and peaceful transfer of power.

Thinking of all of our uniformed soldiers and thanking them for protecting our freedom. May we earn their respect for all of the sacrifices they’ve made to protect and defend our great nation.

 

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

THE ELEVENTH COMMANDMENT: THOU SHALL NOT BECOME COMPLACENT!

A series of essays....

COMPLACENCY IS THE ENEMY OF PROGRESS.
THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO BECOME COMPLACENT.

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Today is the day—the moment of truth. A day that will go down in infamy, filled with scandal and dishonor, or—it will be one to be proud of knowing that Americans believe in the freedom and happiness that stems from a good life with equal opportunity for everyone! Today is a day marked with historical connotations that will either cradle these times within the gentle hands of democracy and truth, or beat up already weakened minds and bodies with fists of rage, continued oppression.

Today is the day—the moment of truth!

The idea of being or becoming complacent should have, at least, been one of the Ten Commandments. Not knowing which of the original Ten Commandments it should have replaced, it may have become the Eleventh Commandment instead: “Thou shall not become complacent.”

Remembering my Catholic upbringing and teachings, I recall that the Church doesn’t see the Ten Commandments as arbitrary rules and regulations from the person upstairs, but as commandments for our own protection. “Obey them and eternal happiness is yours. Disobey them and suffer the consequences.” When explained in this manner, my young, six or seven-year-old self would look at the elaborately layered and robed priests and nuns as flesh and blood symbols authorized to dole out any punishment they saw fit if we did not comply by these simple rules of the Church.

It’s not until we grow-up do we come to realize that we are our own judge and arbiter of our personal life and habits. We alone determine if we will allow the commandments to be our guide to being a person of sterling character with an elevated ethical behavior.

Today is the day—the moment of truth!

Thou shall not become complacent, comfortable, content, smug, or lazy. The moment we reach the pinnacle of self-satisfaction or the most successful point in our lives and feel there is nothing more we can do, doubting there are any new accomplishments to strive for, we have become complacent. We are experiencing a feeling of quiet pleasure and are often unconcerned with unpleasant realities or future harmful possibilities.

If we continue to drop our guard and stop protecting ourselves against trouble, relax our vigilance, we could end up in a world of hurt. Unfortunately, on November 8, 2016, we did just that. Through our acute feeling of complacency, belief and rationale that others would ‘get the job done for us,’ and they would vote for the moral and ethical logic of Hillary Clinton, we allowed for a wide enough crack in our standards to permit the hatred, lies, and indecencies of a dishonorable man to infiltrate our lives and infect our souls.

We need time to peel back the layers of hate and mistrust after the last four years; time to heal and then surge forward with our positive ideas and plans for a better life.

As we sit here on Election Day, battling for the soul of the nation, I have to ask myself if we’ve truly learned invaluable lessons during the past four years? Do we now understand that it is never a good time to let our guard down and become complacent? And, most importantly, will we allow the hate, bigotry, and selfish greed to carry on for another four years and watch the country be crushed even further by hopelessness and despair?

Today is the day—the moment of truth!

It’s about time we grow up, shed our childish fears, and become adults. If you haven’t voted already, today is your final chance to make it be known that you’re not going to be bullied any longer! You will not give up the right to participate in our political process by relinquishing your vote. You will become an active participant in the consequences of your own future. You will not be complacent and later only wish that you had exercised the honor and privilege of making your voice be heard.

Yes, today is the final day—your moment of truth. Go to the polls, masks on, and MAKE YOUR VOTE COUNT!!

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved 

 

FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, AND HOPE: MYTH OR REALITY?

 

A series of essays....

LIGHT BREAKS THROUGH FROM THE HEAVENS WHILE DRIVING
ON THE RING OF KERRY: CAHERDANIEL, COUNTY KERRY, IRELAND, 2018

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

FRIENDSHIPS mean the world to us. Friends keep us feeling alive in so many ways. It's much more than knowing that they have our backs; it’s understanding why we will always have theirs. Friends keep us motivated and being the best that we can be....even though, some of our escapades show how naughty and fun-loving we actually are. This alone can make us feel tremendously alive. 

You can be yourself around your friends without a false face or pretext. Rather, showing genuine respect for each other with smiles, laughter, dreams, and memories thrown in for good measure. 

The best part about being a true friend is being there when your friend needs a helping hand; a listening ear. Perhaps a hug and shared tear or two denotes a unique understanding between you that nobody else is able to fully comprehend. Genuine warmth of words from the heart shared over the phone when you are living many miles apart can be like a full-blown hug to someone in need of your compassion and strength. 

My friends do mean the world to me. And, they know that I will always be there for them....in good times and in sad times, as well. 

Feel alive! Virtually hug a friend today and let them know how much you love them. I just did and, even though the tears do fall....we both truly know how important and comforting our friendship is to one another!

LOVE isn’t a word anyone of us should take lightly or for granted. Love is the gift of a strong feeling of affection and concern towards all fellow human beings. Love is about family, whether they are blood relatives or not. It is sharing a special affinity together due to respect for similar ideas and goals. Love is having a close friendship or relationship with others.

Having a strong sexual attraction towards someone often leads to physical expression of your love for them. To be swept off your feet by love and be able to bestow on one another the same strong affection and concern is a feeling to treasure for a lifetime.

The affectionate utterance of calling someone ‘a love’ is a term of endearment, sweet talk, and a sign of the tenderness and fondness you may have for them. Being human means we often display an intense and emotional attachment to something, as to a colorful, handmade quilt passed down from a cherished grandmother, or an adorable ‘fur baby’ (pet) who shares your domain and heart, as well. Think of a special place where you’d like to be at this very moment; a particular country, city, or favorite beach with sun-drenched sand tickling your toes as you stroll along the shoreline.

Love is feeling a devotion to something or someone whom you deem as a higher or greater part of yourself as God or a god. 

Buddhism, often known as a Path of Freedom, could equally be called the religion of love. One of the most rewarding spiritual practices is to cultivate the ability to bring love into all aspects of our life and to all the people we encounter. This entails learning how to include love’s presence while we speak to others, are in conflict with others, and are living with others. Often, this can be a daunting task, but, if achieved, the benefits of loving kindness are immeasurable.

HOPE, in reality, is another way of revealing how much trust and confidence you have in someone else and how this unshaken faith may be a determining factor in the positive aspect or outcome of your life. Hope is the longing or desire for something accompanied by the belief in the possibility of it successfully coming to pass. It is having faith in the possibilities of eventually achieving our dreams and desires for things we expect, long for, and aspire to. Hope is understanding that there is light at the end of the tunnel and soon, the light will, hopefully, shine down upon us.

Whether we believe it or not, hope is a part of everyone’s life. We all hope for something and it’s an inherent part of being human. It defines what we want in the future. Hope is part of the personal development regarding our lives that we all have running inside our heads on a constant basis. 

If you want something badly enough or deeply desire something to happen, you must have hope and faith in all of the factors that lead up to the final moment of truth. To have hope is to want an outcome that makes your life better in some way. Hope can not only help make a difficult scenario more tolerable, but it can improve our lives exponentially due to imagining a better future as it motivates us to take the direct steps to make it all happen.

A MOMENT OF ZEN 

Friendship, Love, and Hope are obtainable and available to everyone with an open heart and an open mind. If we have the freedom to choose the path we take in this lifetime and we incorporate friendship, love, and hope into this soul-searching itinerary, this trek will be our personal reality; our life fulfilling understanding of truth and faith in what is to come and what can and does shape our future. 

The only myth is that we do not have the freedom to follow our individual path filled with goodness, kindness, and an abundance of love. With free will and acceptance, we do!

The outcome of next week’s presidential election will determine whether or not we, as Americans, wish to improve our present lives by imagining a better future for everyone! If we strive to be the best that we can be, have a close and personal attachment to helping others obtain happiness, and truly want something badly enough, deeply enough, to make it happen—than a vote for the Biden/Harris ticket will help make it a reality. 

Let’s wipe-out the myth that the present administration consists of our friends who love us and hope to make our lives better. This idea could not be further from the truth, whether we choose to admit it or not. These past four years have more than proven this clear and present falsehood. Instead, let us adhere to the reality of a better outcome and a good life for all of the people.

PLEASE VOTE! Wear a mask when in public and take good care of yourselves and others.

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

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Photo Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

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