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Montage Moments is a page of blog postings about a variety of subjects, thoughts and opinions..

New Year's Eves of the Past

12/31/2013

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Since I have been alive for 67 years, it is safe to assume I have seen 67 New Year's Eves come and go. Some went quietly, others not so much. Some were ushered out with laughter and some with tears. I will attempt to reconstruct a few of the more memorable ones.

I can start by eliminating at least the first 10 or 12. Some of those, I was obviously too young to remember and the others were just another night and day. I have a memory bank chock full of childhood memories, but for the life of me, I cannot recall any memories, good or bad, of childhood NYE celebrations. It either wasn't high on the list of celebrated holidays in my parents' home or I went to sleep early and never knew of any frivolity taking place downstairs. I do know we went to church on New Year's morning.

When I reached junior high age, we had moved to town and NYE celebrations seemed pretty important. I have great memories of parties at a classmate's house. The parents were home but they only appeared occasionally to ask if we needed more pop or chips; at least that was the reason they gave for coming downstairs to the rec room. (If you remember the term rec room, you must be as old as me.) 

There were probably 20 or more kids in the basement, playing games and eating. We all brought our entire stack of 45 records and danced all night. There was some pairing off of couples, as I recall, but only to steal a quick kiss, not to disappear to some bedroom.

One very memorable NYE, I agreed to baby-sit for a couple with 3 children. I must have been coerced by my parents or I really wanted the money for something special; I don't recall, but they lived in a creepy old house that made lots of weird noises. Due to some remodeling they were doing, there was a huge hole in the middle of the living room floor. It went clear down to the black basement. There was also a large organ in the dining room and due to some electrical short, it would play a few notes every once in a while. I had never been to their house before and I was scared to death. I couldn't leave, of course, but I wanted to. That was the longest night in history. I looked at the clock every 2 minutes but the hands never seemed to move.

Then there was the NYE when I was a little older. I went with my boyfriend (he later became my husband) and a few other couples, to a huge dance at the Coliseum. I think it was called the Fireman's Ball at that time. Whew. Dancing, laughing and some serious drinking taking place. I was not 21 but I don't think there was any checking of ages. That was the first and last time I was totally inebriated. I did not remember all the humorous things I seemingly said that night, but everyone else seemed to remember them and they reminded me quite often. I am too much of a control freak to let that happen again. I can say stupid things without drinking; but at least I remember what I said. The one vivid memory I have is of my bed spinning one direction while the bedroom seemed to be turning in the opposite direction. Nope, never happened again. I am a fast learner.

There was a NYE when Tom and I were invited to a party at a friend's house. We took our neighbor's along. The only problem was the ice storm that coated everything in about an inch of ice. It was so icy, it wasn't safe to drive and we should have stayed home, but of course, we couldn't do that. We had a babysitter for the kids and I had a new dress and some gorgeous high heels...we were going. There was nowhere to park as the street was packed with cars sliding in all directions. After circling the block a few times, we found a spot. The next problem was the drive, which was not flat, but quite slanted. Picture this: New dress, high heels, ice-covered driveway. You would have thought those stilettos would have dug right in, but alas, they didn't. After several attempts at walking up the drive, we all sort of crawled up to the house. This time, I had no alcohol and I was crawling. The sensible thing would have been to go home, but we couldn't do that, of course. Not until after midnight.

 The year of 1983, we spent NYE in a hotel room. It wasn't just Tom and me, but the whole family. Our house burned on Christmas day. Because it was uninhabitable, we lived in 2 hotel rooms until other housing could be found. I was 8 months pregnant, all our clothing was in the house and I couldn't have walked in high heels if I wanted to. We definitely did not celebrate that NYE.

I spent more than one NYE in the barn, either delivering pigs or goats. No pretty dress or high heels on those nights, either; they had been replaced by warm boots and coveralls.

Now, most of my NYE are spent at home with Kalisha or a few friends. Pretty quiet, but the new year seems to come, regardless of what we do the night before.

No matter how you choose to spend your time while ushering the old year out and the new year in, remember to be safe and happy. When the clock strikes midnight, you will have another 8,760 hours until it comes around again. Do something creative and new and exciting and helpful with those hours. Smile more, frown less. Pray more, complain less. Give more, take less. Listen more, talk less.


I WISH YOU A HAPPY AND BLESSED NEW YEAR...2014






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Is It Enough? It's All I Got

12/21/2013

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This is the time of year when we hear (even if we occasionally don't want to) never-ending Christmas songs. I like the religious and the secular ones, but I never fail to have a small lump in my throat when I listen to The Little Drummer Boy. He had no great gifts but he gave what he had; his talent.


The picture above is of my youngest grandchild, Emily. She lives with her parents and brother in the great state of Texas. One of the things not great about Texas is it is so-o-o far from Indiana.

Emily is a sweet 6-year-old with a great big heart, as you can see in the picture and will read about in this post. (Get your tissues ready)

Several weeks ago, I noticed it was a bit chilly in the house. When I checked the thermostat, the temperature did not match the 'setting.' I finally called the furnace company that services my ancient furnace and air conditioner. The month before while doing their annual inspection, it needed a new part. It was $178.00. Now the repair was going to be a bit more; $618.00. I really did not have that much money. The company graciously allowed me to pay half of it then and pay the balance in January.

So, although I was frustrated, I was also very thankful it was 'repairable' because a new furnace was out of the question. I really didn't whine about it; I just told several people about it, including my daughter in Texas.

Emily overheard her parents talking about how much it cost. She went to her room, emptied her bank, came out with a ten-dollar bill and some change.

"Send this to Grandma, Mommy. Do you think it will be enough? It's all I got."

I can't even type those words without tears in my eyes. Like the fictional little drummer boy, Emily gave all she had.

Do I give all I have? I'm not referring to money, necessarily. Do I give all my love, my compassion, my understanding, my hugs, my time?

I pray that Emily's words will resonate in my soul for years to come and I can say some day, "I hope this is enough; it's all I got."


A blessed Christmas to you.




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Be A Good Gift-Getter

12/18/2013

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Whether it is right or wrong, if there is one thing that says Christmas more than any other, it is Gifts or Presents. Ask any child and most adults and the word 'gift' brings a little sparkle to the eye. We hear of nothing else from October through December.

We are either urged to purchase things the recipients don't really need or want or we are encouraged to buy gifts for ourselves. We make lists and hope the people reading the lists actually get what we have written. There is even a dilemma in making a list if there is no monetary amount set. Do we ask for that $100 gift we want or are we humble and ask for a new cookie sheet? (Actually, I could use a new cookie sheet.)

 My ex-mother-in-law is no longer living, but it was useless to give her a list for my children when they were small. She always asked for the lists, but never paid attention to them. I would write 'purple slacks, size 4' but she would buy green ones in a size 6 so they would fit longer, of course. It became humorous after several years; I knew it wouldn't matter what I wrote.

I think we have all been guilty of the thought, "Well, I'm certain they will like what I get them better than what they wrote on their list" right? And I know we have all done the 'rush around the aisles and pick up something, anything, for that person we forgot.

The season also brings with it the opportunities to buy gifts for many adults and children less fortunate than us. Whether it is the change we drop into the red kettles or the lists we pick off a giving tree; either at church or some other organization.

If you notice, the title is about being a good gift-getter. That is probably more important than buying the correct gift. I have a few examples. My mother, whom I loved dearly was a terrible gift-getter. I have tried, on occasion, to analyze that, but aside from being of German heritage and not feeling worthy or being from a family of 9 children and growing up getting one item, I have never figured it out totally.

One Christmas stands out in my mind as the prime example. Mom had often made the statement that it seemed like a waste of electricity to heat the entire oven for 2 baked potatoes for her and Dad. I smugly thought I had the perfect gift: a toaster oven. Not a complicated one, just the right size.
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She unwrapped it while I waited for her look of surprise and delight. She looked at the picture on the box and said, "Ach, what am I going to do with this?" I was in my thirties and it was still disappointing. Lest you think it affected my psyche, I can assure you it didn't. I teased her about it many times because she used it nearly every day after she decided to keep it.

On the other end of the spectrum was my firstborn, Kirk. He was excited about every gift. One of his 'small' gifts when he was 3 or 4, was a box of brown socks (obviously he needed new socks). When he opened it, he exclaimed, "Look, I got brown socks. Yay, brown socks."

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He might not have been that excited about socks when he was a teenager, but he certainly was as a child. When I see the videos on FHV of children having temper tantrums when they don't get what they want, I want to reach through the TV screen and jerk a knot in their young, unappreciative tails. I, being curmudgeonly, obviously, do not find their antics humorous.

Are you a good gift-getter? Do you smile and tell your grandchild you will use the rock he just gave you, as a paper weight on your desk or do you ask, as my mom did, "Now what am I gonna do with this?"

I had to teach Kalisha, who is blatantly truthful, how to be appreciative even if she already had 6 of the exact same thing. I didn't teach her to lie, but to say thank you and leave it at that. If she doesn't like it or it is a duplicate, she will give it to someone who will use it.

One more thought: Are you a good gift-getter of the most precious gift of all time? When God gave us his one and only Son, he really didn't want to hear, "What am I supposed to do with this?" or "Thanks, but I already have something similar." or "I really don't need this and don't think I will ever use it." or "Can I please exchange it for something a little more fun?"

It is the same with the spiritual gifts he has given each of us. Enjoy your gifts, embrace them, make use of them and be as happy with what you have been given as Kirk was, with his brown socks.

Merry Christmas and God's blessings to you.





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Don't Talk To Me That Way

12/12/2013

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I was reading a book today that had me laughing so hard, I was wiping tears. That may not be so unusual, but when I returned home earlier in the day, I was upset enough to be in tears, but not the 'joyful' kind. It made me think how important laughter is for our well-being. There are so many things in our world to cry about, we lose all sense of perspective if we don't add a little humor. To that end, I am going to tell you about an event that happened this summer. I was saving this for a speaking engagement some day because it is so much better with facial expressions, but you will just have to use your imaginations, okay?

I came downstairs to the sight of many official cars blocking the street 2 blocks from my front door. There were unmarked police cars, state, county and city police cars, and a large white van; all in front of an apartment building. As I watched from my front porch (this kind of activity is worthy of a Mrs. Cravits rubbernecking), I saw men in haz-mat suits carrying boxes from the apartment building to the van. Ah-ha. Must be a meth lab. There has never been that kind of activity anywhere close to my house on PUTNAM STREET, (it's important  to this story that you remember my street name) but there is a first time for everything and meth has no socio-economic boundaries.

I went back in the house. Thirty minutes later, Kalisha finds me and says, "Mom, there's a couple policemen on the porch and they want to talk to you."

My thought was 'Well, crap, what do they want?' One was in a city policeman's uniform and the other was still in his haz-mat suit, minus the head gear. This is our ensuing conversation:

"Do you live here?"

"Yes." (I wanted to say, No, I just thought I would hang out here for a while and answer the door when you came.)

"We have a report that a man from that apartment building came to this house today." (Now I wanted to say, Sir, I have been divorced for a very long time and I assure you if a man was in my house, I am pretty certain I would know it.)

Instead, I said, "No. There has been no one here today except the people who live here."

"And who lives here?"

"Me, I'm Gloria Doty, my daughter, Kalisha Doty, my granddaughter, E.S.(I gave him her full name) and her girlfriend, who is staying here for a few weeks."

"And what is the girlfriend's name?"

"Megan, ummmm, I don't know her last name."

"You have someone living in your house and you don't know their last name?" he said rather unbelievingly.

"Well, give me a minute. Oh, wait, yes, I do know her last name. It's Putnam."

Now, he looks at me like I am a doddering old fool and says, as condescendingly as he can, "LADY, that's the name of the street you live on."

I wanted to say, 'No S---, Sherlock.' "Yes, It is, but it also happens to be her last name."

There is more to this story (nothing bad) but I won't bore you with it. I was laughing so hard by the time they left, I was about to wet my pants. First, I want to say there is nothing funny about using meth or meth labs and these officers were doing their duty. The whole scenario was hysterical to me and the fact that I never even thought about her name and my street being the same until he acted as though I was too senile to remember either one.

Laughter is good for us even in non-funny circumstances, sometimes. If we don't find a little humor in everyday things, we turn into sour old prunes.

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    Author: Gloria Doty

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