Tag Archives: sister

I have to ask myself …

is it a bad thing to ask people that I know to like something that has nothing, really at all, to do with them?

It feels odd to me to ask people to “like” a page that they may not like (to be specific, a page dedicated to my greeting cards, or mayhaps my rambling blog posts … like this one).

Gone are the days of simply calling someone on the phone, a phone that has a rotary dial and no inkling of caller ID (am showing my age even as I look through my collection of eight track tapes and vinyl albums)  to say, “hey … i have this thing going on and I would really appreciate it if you would call, rotary style, your friends, and let them know”.

The ability to reach hundreds, thousands or, even in the most wonderful of scenarios, hundreds of thousands of people, with a single link is nearly mind-boggling.

I am from another time.  A time when I stretched the phone cord (attached to the wall) as far as it would go to talk to a boyfriend that I wonder now if I even ever liked.

It didn’t matter how far I stretched the cord, however, as my sister was nearly always listening on the other line and was all too eager to tattle about anything I was saying.

Those of you who have younger sisters will understand this with chilling clarity.

The hair on the back of your neck will likely stand up.

I don’t begrudge my younger sister nor harbor any ill feelings about her, but at the end of the day, it would have been nice had she minded her own business.

But, as younger sisters often do, she did not and, if truth be told, still does not.  She may deny this but as my dad is fond of saying, “the truth will stand when the world’s on fire”.

But then I digress about the obstacles that younger sisters (or brothers, as the case may be) entail.

As it is, this isn’t a post about old boyfriends, dead husbands or otherwise estranged friendships.

It is about whether or not it is acceptable ask people you know, friends or otherwise, to follow along on whatever endeavor that may be taking form at the time.

I am a photographer and writer and, because it is necessary in order to support such things, a nurse.

A paycheck, these days, comes in handy.

A job is a job and while I find myself becoming more involved with people than I feel comfortable with, caring about them, wondering about them, worrying about them, I try to distance myself.

It isn’t as easy as it should be for I find myself thinking of them as my parents, or daughter, or sister or friends and then I get all mixed up in their lives and wonder how they are doing and if they are eating and if they have air-conditioning on days when the thermometer reads 95 degrees in the shade.

I think sometimes that I am selfish and then realize that I want to be selfish, but can’t quite attain that status.

I guess, on some level, that is a good thing, that unselfishness, but it doesn’t change the fact that I want to be selfish.

I’m just not any good at it.

S0, with unselfishness that belies itself, I besiege my friends and family to promote my blog and greeting cards while harboring a sense of guilt for asking in the first place.

I am certain that somewhere, in all of this, an oxymoron is simply waiting to be born.

I am not going to apologize for being myself, but will, rest assured, feel guilty for not doing so.

Until next time, be well.

God will, without fail, have the last word.

God will, without fail, have the last word.

Becoming my worst nightmare …

while trying to wake me from one, wasn’t what my sister had in mind when she heard my obvious distress during the night.

I was, as has been the case over the past couple of weeks, right in the throes of my own personal hell and she meant well; meant to comfort me … when she came to my rescue.

It didn’t go down that way.

We were spending the night in a motel and planning to go to Dollywood the next morning.  Since having both of my nieces in the same bed is like trying to sleep with a team of mules, my youngest niece slept with me.

At some point during the night, my bad dreams came on full force; I began to talk and cry out in my sleep.  It woke my sister and she decided she could be the most help by simply waking me up. Naturally, she came up beside the bed and began gently shaking me.

I woke, as I always do from these dreams, in a panic; heart pounding, breath ragged, eyes wild …

and looked at what could only be my worst fear … the hell in my nightmare had come to life.

The horror of the dream images usually recedes when I open my eyes, but low and behold, there the creature was.

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I’m not the envious type …

never have been, thankfully.  I’ve always been the type of person that was so very happy for anyone doing what it was that I wanted to do; experiencing the things that are on the list of things to do before I die … important moments that I can only hope to be a part of. That is no different now.  Although being in New York City and seeing the tree at Rockefeller Center on my birthday is on the top five things to do before I die, I could not be more happy for my sister.  She is there.  She and my brother (my sister’s husband), walking the streets, looking in the windows, stopping to listen to the saxophone player and then putting a bill in his case because he is just damn good.

And though I don’t see her walking into the seedier part of town just to get to a little hole-in-the-wall Italian joint, (I do, however, remember this place in China Town with a secret door and weaponized thugs where she tried to have me killed over a purse), a place that treats a tourist like a tourist and a local like a local; a place that I would do my very best to make friendly so that, even though I was a tourist, they would treat me like a local.  I’d have my camera out, hoping they, whoever they at that particular moment would be, would grace me with a few moments of their life in my lens.  I have so many lives in my lens.  I look back at the photographs sometimes and simply sob with gratitude that I was allowed to be a part of a life moment, at some time, in some place.

Yes, I hope she is having the time of her life, she and her husband, as they enjoy the beauty of New York with the drab streets and bare trees.  I hope she takes a photograph of the “virtual billboard” in Times’ Square, not really because she wants to but because she knows I would.  I hope she enjoys the subway and takes in the sounds and sights as she flies through the tunnels.  I hope the late Autumn, Christmas ready New York is everything she hoped it would be.  I hope, beyond all rational thought, that she has the best time of her life.  We may not always see eye to eye, but when it comes to the sticking point, I know who to call.

another of my many mottoes ~ Wherever you are, whatever you do, do it for yourself; otherwise your life will always be lived vicariously and the real experience will never be your own.  Dreaming is dreaming, irregardless of the dream.

There’s something about sisters …

that makes you want to hug them tightly even as you tear their hair out.  Something about someone who knows which buttons to push to get a certain reaction.  Someone you can call anytime and know that, without hesitation, they will help you hide a body.  Someone who knows your deepest secrets and only uses them against you to win an argument.  Someone who will stand with you even if the two of you are the only ones standing.  Someone who knows the difference between when you need to fight to vent and when you’re really mad.  Someone who forgives you for saying stupid and hurtful things.  Someone who sometimes says stupid and hurtful things.  Someone who seems to have an innate sense of when you need to be, depending, encouraged or discouraged.  Someone who will pray for you without being asked.  Someone who, were they no longer in our life, would leave an illimitable hole in our heart.  Our sister; our friend, enemy and ally.  I am thankful for mine.