One Tribe

When I was about 5 years old, my grandma was visiting and watching me as I played in the driveway. She observed me for a while then declared, "Oh Dorie, look how sweet she is...Laurie is helping the little ants get into their anthills!" At that moment, I stood up and stomped on the anthill, twisting and grinding the dirt into the cement crack. Grandma went from touched to horrified, instantly. Mom thought it was hysterical.

I tell this story because it demonstrates how things are not always as they seem. We, as human beings are often quick to judge, and all too often, we're wrong.

I've always been a bit fascinated with ants. Maybe it was because, at 4 years old, I was officially an "aunt". Perhaps because, being the youngest of 9 children, I could relate to being part of a "colony". When we would have our summer family reunions at Gun Lake, my relatives would take up half of the park. In we would swarm, feasting, swimming, laughing, storytelling, and finally, dispersing. Still to this day, when I see a swarm of ants on a sidewalk, my mind says, "Hey, look, it's a family reunion!"

I remember watching those ants whose homes formed impressive granular towers along the cracks of the driveway. They were hard workers! But they just seemed too busy working to get to know their neighbors. I, being the goodwill ambassador of my domain, took it upon myself to perform experiments. I would take in a stray ant, walk it across the drive, and drop it into a foreign hill. The thing is, they just didn't mix well. Try as I may, the other ants would inevitably kick the poor little guy out. Eventually, I had to step it up. I decided to create my own little natural disaster. (Not to worry, no ants were harmed in this research.) I would give the foreign ant sufficient clearance, then BAM! Buried. I just knew that these hard working ants would rally together and rebuild, stronger, taller. Ants of the drive, untied as one tribe!

It occurred to me, as I was mulling over this memory, that we people are a lot like the ants. We're busy, hard working, living life and trying to keep up. How well do we know our neighbors? Next door, down the block, down the road, downtown. Certainly, when a crisis hits, we reach out to help, but are we warm, friendly, and welcoming to "outsiders" on a daily basis?
I felt like that ant that had been plucked from my home this summer when I was on a mission trip. I was dropped into an unfamiliar, uncomfortable environment. I learned a lot on that trip. We are all one people, one human race. We all have the basic human need to love and be loved. And, as Mother Teresa once said, "When you're judging someone, you have no room to love them."

So, to the untrained eye, I may have appeared to be a cruel child at play, but if you took the time to know me, or just ask me, you could come to a completely different conclusion. (And, right now, I'm sure some of you may conclude that I'm a bit crazy.)

Go on now, love your neighbor. Turn off that judge-o-meter and offer up some love.

Howard turns 83.

Yesterday, Michael, Carter, Ella & I filed into the magical minivan and headed to Detroit to celebrate Howard's 83rd birthday. (Ok, so there's nothing "magical" about it. It's a minivan.)
It was a beautiful day for a drive, and when Judy's entertaining, you definitely want to be there! Ok, Howard first. If I start with the food, I may never make it to Howard...

Last week I was talking on the phone with my sister Nancy about our plans to visit the Labadies and celebrate Howard's birthday. There was this long, puzzled pause, and she said, "NOW?... I thought Howard's birthday was in the summer." It seems when Nancy & Bernie were traveling in Northern Michigan this August they stopped by the lakehouse to see them, and Howard was going on about his birthday. My sister went so far as to send him a birthday card...in August. For the record, Howard's birthday is October 21, but he'll celebrate any day of living!

When you first meet Howard, you instantly feel his warmth and kindness, and without a doubt, he's smiling. He smiles a lot. I hope I'm like that at 83. I want to be the kinder-gentler version of me. (I think my family might want that for me right now.) Howard has had some health scares over the past decade, and he could teach us all something about being happy, and thankful each day. Judy is the love of his life, family is everything, and he is blessed. Howard has become rather sentimental in his years. He's a sensitive guy, and during those "moments" in life...the ones that should matter to us all... Howard will tear up. It's really the sweetest thing. He gets it. This thing called life. Those moments are precious, and should be celebrated with abandonment, and yes, tears.

He's also a funny guy. He likes to tell people that when he served in WWII, he was stationed on a little island about 1,500 miles off the coast of San Francisco. (that part is...technically true) The island? Grosse Ile. Yup. Downriver Detroit. He got to drive home for lunch. :)
A summer morning at the cottage goes something like this...Howard: Good morning Carter! How are you feeling this morning? Carter: I feel good. Howard: Oh really? I feel with my hands.
To really know Howard is to anticipate one of his "Howardisms". My favorite: Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today is a gift...and that's why they call it the present.
He has several of these on automatic rotation. That Howard is a true gift and a joy to be around!

The food was, as always, amazing. I was mostly full after the appetizers, but limited my dinner so I could finish with birthday pie. One apple, one mixed berry. Yum.
And now, two months of reprieve, then in January Howard will start talking about his birthday. I can just hear it now...
Howard:"I'm gonna be 90 this year."
Judy: "Oh Howard, you are not! You're only gonna be 84!"
Howard: "Well, I had a stroke, ya know..."

God bless him!

Hi there.

So, here we go. I'm having a grey day and decided I should do something I've never done before. I thought of my dad today. It made me smile thinking of what my dad would say to me if he were here. He passed away 12 years ago, but his spirit lives on.

When I was little I used to stand in front of the fridge and stare into it when I was hungry, (which in my case was about every half hour). My dad was a man of few words. He would often get his point across by merely clearing his throat. This was a clear indication that he was not pleased with whatever it was that you were doing...like standing in front of an open refrigerator...and staring.
Eventually dad would say, "Just DO something, even if it's wrong!".

Do something. Pretty simple. Most people don't reach their full potential in life. Most regrets are not of things that were done, but rather those things that weren't. Don't wait for something to happen, make something happen. Do something. Even if it's wrong. Heck, if it's wrong, at least you've learned a lesson. Not sure where this will take me, but at least I have one cheerleader on my side. (thanks Jen)

What something have you done today? Tomorrow is a new day. (Howard would say it's a mystery) Oh, the things I could write about Howard-isms! Now there's another dad that makes me smile.

Go on, get along now, and do something...even if it's wrong.