My Canadian Connection

My sister, Audrey, has served as our family historian and genealogist for many years.  I recently received from her a voluminous stack of documents that record her work researching the origins of our family back to the mid 1600’s and mid 1700’s.  What a fascinating read to discover all those who lived and died on my mother’s and father’s sides of the family. It is a record of hard working, industrious men and women who struggled through life with a lot fewer resources than I have today. Many dealt with the same health issues that I have had and it makes me grateful for the blessings of modern medicine. Neither my sister nor I would be alive today if we had lived in “the good old days.” Many had a strong faith in God that allowed them to survive and thrive in spite of life’s circumstances and I am the inheritor of that legacy.

My family tree on both sides has been traced back to Canada. I was raised in a small town close to the Canadian border in upstate New York. When my ancestors moved there, New York was not yet a state and the lands were populated by the Mohawk Indians. France and the Catholic Church controlled the Canadian provinces. The need for arable farm land and timber drove my ancestors from French controlled lands into what would become The North Country of upstate New York. The bitter cold winters and short growing season presented many challenges to be overcome in order to survive in that area.

I moved from that area further south in New York State when I was six years old to the Rochester, New York area near Lake Ontario across from Toronto, Canada. This past year, my oldest son, Stuart, accepted a position with the Bank of Montreal, with headquarters in Toronto. I visited his family before Christmas and was reminded again of my Canadian roots. Yes, the Polar Vortex is alive and well in Canada, but Toronto stays somewhat warmer than much of the country because it is on Lake Ontario. Nevertheless, it was very cold, windy, and snowy, and a true test of character every time we walked to the subway station or to a store. My granddaughter, Marcella, helped me navigate the icy streets. I borrowed a coat from my daughter-in-law so I wouldn’t turn into a Popsicle and promptly ordered a “puffer” coat to have for future visits. I hope to visit next time in July so that I can enjoy the brief, but beautiful Canadian summer.

We’ve all heard the saying “What goes around, comes around.” I can truly say that my life that began with strong Canadian roots has come full circle. 

Read more about my growing up years near the Canadian border in my memoir, Born Three Times-A New Life, A New Liver, A New Love. It is available in soft cover and Kindle formats at Amazon.com:   http://www.amazon.com/Born-Three-Times-Life-Liver-ebook/dp/B00A3UBK9C/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1389722852&sr=1-1&keywords=Born+Three+Times

A Clean Slate

ü  A new Word document  

ü  A blank calendar

ü  A fresh blog post

ü  An empty journal or diary

ü  An unopened flash drive

All waiting to be filled with words, dates, memories, and files—A New Year filled with choices, actions, resolutions, goals, and efforts.
  
Like you, I ask myself, “What will 2014 bring and what will I do during the next 365 days?” According to my calculation that is 8,760 hours; 525,600 minutes; 31,536,000 seconds. If I sleep one-third of my allotted hours, the remaining 5,840 hours or 16 hours each day await my imprint.

Some of those hours will be filled with office work, housework, food prep, and unexpected interruptions. Quantity time with my husband, family, and friends will be a priority as well as quality time with God through prayer, church attendance, and service to others. 

I start a new year with a clean slate when it comes to my writing. Writing 24 blogs in 2014 is daunting when I have an idea for only one. Most of my blog topics come to me from events or circumstances in my life. I  always look for a good quote or inspiration from an article or spot on TV. So far I have written 40 blogs with the self-imposed deadline of two each month. When you read and comment, I am encouraged to keep on posting.

My big project for the year is writing Charles’ life story. He has already given me pages of memories that I will massage and rework into a memoir that will be an inspiration to many. Like it was for me, writing his life story is a time of reflection on many events—some of which he would prefer not to relive. However writing my memoir, Born Three Times­­­­–A New Life, A New Liver, A New Love, proved to be a very therapeutic experience.

You, too, have a story to tell and I encourage you to take the time to find a way to record your memories for your future generations. It would be a good way to use some of your time in 2014 to bless other people. 

Let's fill our clean slates in 2014 with words and actions that will honor God and bless others along the way. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “Write it on your heart that every day is the best day of the year.”

Happy New Year

Frieda Dixon

Too Two Late Bloomers

 

An Orange Grove Parable

Spiritual insight can come from many places this time of year. Mine came in early November when Charles and I were heading home from our Florida vacation. The billboard on I-75 displayed pictures of beautiful citrus fruit with the invitation to take the next exit and pick your own. We are always eager to try something different so we followed the signs to a weather worn barn with green fruit displayed in bins. I was really surprised not to see orange colored navels and tangerines, and yellow grapefruit. The proprietor assured us that the displayed fruit was ripe, and that it only turns orange or yellow when exposed to cold temperatures, or sprayed with ethylene gas. I was not convinced, so we grabbed a ten pound mesh bag to fill on our own. We were given a word of caution, “You can pick fruit from any tree in the orchard, except the ones wrapped in crime scene tape.” 

We trekked into the orchard to find the low hanging fruit. Sure enough most of it was green, but a few tangerines and oranges looked better than the others and gave way when we gave them a gentle tug. Then we saw them, orange trees wrapped in yellow crime scene tape and covered with orange fruit. Those trees must have been exposed to cold air or gassed in anticipation of being sent to market. Like a little kid, I couldn’t stay away from those trees. I wanted to fill up my mesh bag with that fruit. With the proprietor's warning ringing in my ears, I dutifully continued to pull green fruit, but kept looking at the forbidden orange fruit in the middle of the orchard. 
 
Back on the road, it hit me. The account in Genesis of the first sin possibly took place in a fruit orchard. We all know the story of how Adam and Eve were told by God they could eat of any tree in the garden, except the tree of the knowledge of good and evil in the middle of the garden. God warned Adam if you eat of the forbidden fruit, you will die. And we know the rest of the story. Eve listed to the serpent, ignored God’s warning, and ate of the forbidden tree—then gave the fruit to Adam. The first sin entered into the world and people have been dealing with their sinful nature ever since.

Over two thousand years ago, God took on the form of a human baby, and came into our world for one purpose—to die in our place as the perfect sacrifice for our sinful nature. We can be forgiven of our sins and receive eternal life if we accept Jesus Christ as our personal Savior. That is the real reason for the Christmas season and something to celebrate all year long.

Have a blessed Christmas.

 

Off the Beaten Path

While we were at the beach in Florida, we could only take so much sun, sand, and surf without burning and blistering our pale skin.  So we scanned the tour guides looking for adventures off the beaten path.  Something different to do so that we could say, “Remember that vacation to Florida when we …….”  Charles picked out one activity and I got to choose another. 

Ever since I first saw one, I’ve wanted to try a Segway—the personal electric balancing transportation machine you ride standing up.  I was nervous when I called to inquire about the price and how much skill would be required to take the Segway tour.  I knew I could no longer balance on a bicycle, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself by falling off a Segway.  I said, “I am a senior adult and I’m not sure I can do this.”  The voice on the other end was encouraging, “My best customers are senior adults.  I will train you until you are comfortable.”

It was a slow tourist day in Clearwater Beach and Charles and I were the only two who showed up for the Segway tour. Our tour guide, Fred, worked with us in the parking lot until we got the hang of the machine. A real no brainer- lean forward, machine moves forward, lean backward, machine stops-lean to the left and lean to the right whenever a turn is required. Our seven mile tour on an absolutely gorgeous Florida day was a thrill. We rode past the beach and onto the causeway built for non-motorized transportation over the high bridge overlooking the beautiful bay.  The bottle sharks and dolphins frolicked in the water while we watched from the bridge.  The egrets and pelicans dove into the water for their mid-day meal. We rode down the bridge and toured the historic section of Clearwater Beach seeing the100 year-old mansions that were the winter homes for wealthy industrialists from the northern states.  Riding a Segway is the best way to tour a new place, and I won’t hesitate to do it again. 

Charles’ describes his ride in the Sky Surfing Flying Tricycle. “I have piloted or flown in almost all types of aircraft except the Flying Tricycle, and I really enjoyed the ride with Dane in the Sky Surfer. Being an aerodynamics engineer I had to think at least twice before going. However, the "Sky Surfing" Flying Tricycle appealed to me because it has a well proven Delta Wing. I spent an enjoyable hour during the scenic tour of Clearwater Beach and the nearby islands.”

These two late bloomers won’t forget our Florida adventures any time soon and look forward to our next opportunity to cross something off our “bucket list.”  Zip-line here we come.

The Rhinestone Hospital

Our Florida beach vacation was just what the doctored ordered.  Rest, relax, eat out, and leave all our cares back home. We spent four glorious days in Clearwater Beach with a beautiful view of the Gulf of Mexico from our hotel. The weather was perfect and the Gulf crystal clear with very little surf. It was overcast and cooler on Friday morning as we packed up for the drive home.  Valdosta, GA was our destination to spend the night to break up the long drive.

About the time we got to Valdosta, I started getting the chills and shaking so hard it was impossible to get warm.  Charles heated up bath towels in the room microwave and wrapped me up like a mummy. With Tylenol and lots of prayer I made it through the long night and the miserable drive back to Acworth. 

I had no idea what was wrong with me or why my fever was almost 104 degrees, until my right leg started to swell, burn, and turn bright red.  At the Kennestone Hospital emergency room, it was soon determined that I had cellulitis caused by a bacterial infection which left untreated could prove to be deadly. I was admitted to the hospital so that treatment with high-powered IV antibiotics could begin.  The memories of sun, sand, and surf quickly faded only to be replaced by needles, nurses, and no-sleep. 

Watching TV and checking my email on my Smartphone was my main form of entertainment while I was confined to my hospital bed. Early one morning, I received an email from a friend who asked me to critique a story she wanted to submit.  I managed to reply (not easy with hands hooked up to IV tubing) that I was in Kennestone Hospital being treated for Cellulitis. The Android operating system for my phone did not like my reply one bit and decided to fix my ignorant statement with its auto-correct feature.  In its infinite wisdom, Android replied to my friend, “I’m in Rhinestone Hospital being treated for Cellulite.”

Once I realized what happened, I started laughing and couldn’t quit. It was 5 AM and I’m in my room laughing my head off. If a nurse had shown up, she would have called the men in white coats for sure. In my mind I was off to an exotic and expensive fat farm, eating rabbit food, and undergoing liposuction treatments for my dimpled, lumpy skin. If laughter is good medicine, then I improved my chances of recovery every time I thought about it. 

Reality soon hit with the shift change and the fresh deluge of nurses, aides, and doctors and the overhead bright lights so that everybody could check my progress. I recalled one of the lines Glenn Campbell sang from his hit song, The Rhinestone Cowboy. “But I'm gonna be where the lights are shinin' on me.”

After my two weeks in the spotlight, I am almost recovered and according to my scales, still carrying around way too much cellulite.

Autumn Leaves

Summer is my favorite time of year—sunny days and the freedom from heavy clothes and boots.  Even though I live in the South, I complain and gripe every year about the arrival of Fall and Winter.  When others get excited about dropping temperatures and say they love the weather, I frown and declare that I want my summer back. I blame my poor attitude on Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) that comes with fewer daylight hours and inclement weather that keeps me housebound. I blame it on autumn memories of loss—hospital vigils and cemeteries. I blame it on cold hands and feet from the dropping temperatures and dry eyes and skin from the furnace heat.  My head tells me the natural cycle of spring, summer, fall, winter are necessary for the earth to function as intended, but my body wants bright sunshine and heat.

Almost seventy Falls and Winters have come and gone in my life, and Lord willing, I hope to enjoy more in the years to come.  Just as the seasons of nature change, so do the seasons of life. It occurs to me that I am in the Fall of my life and I am reminded of the Bible verse from Ecclesiastes 3:1: “For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.”  

It’s way past time for me to discard my gloomy face that shows up around September 21 and embrace the six months until Spring. In many ways these are the best days of my life and I need to look for the positives, instead of the negatives, in the seasons of nature and the seasons of my life. So here goes:

Season of Fall:  Colorful leaves, a cozy fireplace, an electric blanket, hot cider or tea with a piece of sweet potato pie. The end of Daylight Savings Time —less daylight in the evening, but more in the morning— gives me an extra hour of sleep and the motivation to get an earlier start to my day. I also love the emphasis on a bountiful harvest and Thanksgiving.

Season of Life:  More time for writing, more opportunities to share my journey, fewer financial responsibilities, more time for prayer and contemplation, time to enjoy the grandchildren, cooking less, date nights with Charles, and the good health to enjoy these many blessings and opportunities. This Fall will be a time for reflection and rejoicing over every season of life.

The song I think about every October is Autumn Leaves, originally a French tune made popular in America when Johnny Mercer wrote the Lyrics in 1947. This year I am rejoicing in the words from that song: “The falling leaves drift by my window, the autumn leaves of red and gold.”

 

Words & Wings

A book signing event for Frieda and an air show for Charles. Add a beautiful fall weekend and it doesn’t get much better than that.

Frieda promoting
 Born Three Times

FoxTale Book Shoppe in Woodstock, GA hosted an Emerging Author Event in its quaint independent book store. As one of ten authors, I had a few minutes to talk about my book. It was fun to meet the other writers and compare notes about our journeys as authors. Networking always leads to new avenues to promote your work. One author was looking for guests for her upcoming radio show. We exchanged cards and the promise of a future booking. Several folks bought my book and I bought some of theirs. I was amazed by the diversity of writing and the imaginative and creative flair of so many. It would be a big stretch for me to write a colorful, well-illustrated children’s book or create a fictional story about espionage or murder in a small southern town. Those books were on display next to mine offering something for everyone who ventured into the book store. 

Saturday’s air show was unique in so many ways. Through our company’s connections, we received passes to the President’s Club at the Paulding County Air Show. That gave us entrance to a covered tent with many amenities—shade, cold drinks, hors d’oeuvres, and a sit down dinner between the afternoon and evening air shows. The military planes with their death defying maneuvers stole the afternoon show. The aircraft bursting through the clouds faster than the speed of sound and the following roars and booms of the engines shook the earth and made us cover our ears.

Granddaughter Alexa
with astronaut Scott Horowitz

The best part was seeing it all through our granddaughter’s eyes. As a ten year old fourth grader, she’d studied space, the planets, and astronauts in school. She was excited just to see the airplanes, but thrilled beyond words to meet and talk with an astronaut. Scott Horowitz, who has participated in several shuttle and space station missions, took time to talk to her, autograph her program, and posed with her for a picture. The day ended perfectly with a night aerobatic air show. The small planes performed their maneuvers with multicolored flashing lights and painted the sky with smoke trails, visible against the background of an orange and blue sunset. As we headed for our car, a beautiful fireworks display lit up the sky.

The verse penned by poet Robert Browning summed up my feeling after such a perfect weekend: “God’s in His heaven and all is right with the world.”