This morning’s TIE O’ THE DAY pic was taken at SLC International Airport in late 1974. Dad had returned from a big-game hunt in Alaska. His hunting adventure was scheduled to keep him occupied for two weeks, but he slayed his caribou, moose, and bear within just a few days. Of course, he came home early. But I think it had less to do with bagging his prey quickly, and more to do with the fact that he missed his pillow and was getting tired of his smelly guides.
And then there was always the Helen Factor calling to him when Dad was on the road. It wasn’t just that he missed Mom. It was the fact that whenever Dad was gone for more than a few days, he would come back to a new home improvement Mom had constructed. When he was out of town, she might have painted, or wallpapered, or worse. One time when he was gone, she tore up their bedroom sub-floor and replaced it by herself, then she had new carpet installed. Seriously, I think Dad thought he should hurry and get his Alaska hunting list taken care of and get back home ASAP, out of fear he wouldn’t recognize the house after Mom had it alone for two entire weeks.
But now you’re trying to figure out what this welcome home photo has to do with me and neckwear. Look closely. Those are my arms around Dad’s neck, and my feet are dangling– like a tie. Obviously, I was impersonating a Tie o’ the Day! And I didn’t even know it at the time.
In our first snapshot, the incomparable Grace Anne Blackwelder shows off her precious noggin, bedecked by her Bow Tie o’ the Day. Bishop Travis and Bishopette Collette are obviously teaching Gracie the bow tie way to live. (This pic was taken on her three-month birthday a couple of days ago.)
Next pic. I displayed my disco ball Tie o’ the Day at the grocery store this afternoon as I rolled my shopping cart up and down the aisles. Some of these young shoppers have no idea what a disco ball is/was all about. I gave one uneducated young buck a brief 70’s music history lesson after he asked about Tie. He seemed quite fascinated by the cultural icon known as a disco ball, and he told me he was gonna google “disco” when he gets back to work. His boss will love that, I’m sure.
And finally, this Newchic ad showed up in my email today. You know how I never owned a purse in my life until I bought my Saddle Purse last March? And you know how I vowed that The Saddle Purse will be the only purse I ever own? Well, I saw the bow tie be-decked leather purse in this advertisement, and I was actually tempted to break my own purse vow. But just for a sliver of a second. I got over my brief brush with purse greed. I came to my senses about purse-ness. Although this purse sure enough sports a nifty bow tie, I did make a vow to my Saddle Purse, and to me, that it will be my one and only– forever and always. I chose the right. The purse in the ad is now just a wispy, never-made memory of another purse-y road not taken. I am a one-purse woman.
Rowan found some time to grace us with his presence last evening. He had been to the dentist, where he was admonished to floss more– just like every dentist appointment recommendation he’s received at every dentist appointment he’s ever had. Suzanne and I still believe that one day, it will “click” in Rowan’s head that he should floss more. Anyhoo…Fortunately for us, we live right on Rowan’s route home from our dentist, so we got a surprise visit from our now-grown wee one. He will turn 22 next week. He is not one wee bit wee anymore. But you parents know how that works: It doesn’t matter how old they are, they are forever your babies.
It’s obvious Rowan also has style too. I wrangled up a kids’ Tie o’ the Day for him to wear while I took pix of him, so he could guest-star here. Somehow, he ended up wearing three Ties o’ the Day from my collection. I also found myself giving him the three ties to take home– a sort of TIE O’ THE DAY doggie bag. I never give away my ties! Such is the dynamic power of Rowan’s soul. It was as if he mesmerized me into forking them over. Which I’m sure he did.
Loud Tie o’ the Day is doing a pretty good job of seeing me through what I consider to be a traumatic whirlwind o’ recent bow tie change. I know this bow tie business move isn’t traumatic to anyone else, but to me and my gaggle of bow ties, it’s a bigly deal: Beau Ties Ltd. of Vermont, the company that is my biggest and most favoritest maker o’ handmade bow ties, has been sold! New owner. Newly renovated website. No more t-shirts, pint glasses, coffee mugs, hats, Christmas ornaments, or other do-dads covered in bow ties for sale! It’s making me dizzy to think that the Beau Ties Ltd. of Vermont water bottle I have will now have to last me the entire rest of my life. That’s a scary thought. How much should I insure my Beau Ties water bottle for in case it gets damaged, stolen, or lost– even though it can’t be replaced? That precious light blue, bow tie-emblazoned water bottle just got bigly more valuable to my heart.
I am a bit offended Beau Ties Ltd. of Vermont didn’t consult me and my TIE O’ THE DAY operation before selling the biz. I mean– they sort of know me. When I first discovered them about four years ago, I ordered some “butterfly jumbo” style bow ties from their factory. I liked the style so well that I didn’t order any other style for my first few purchases. A few months into my online customer-hood with them, I ordered a bow tie made in a “slimline standard” style. A few hours after I hit the return key and sent that order, one of the good folks at Beau Ties gave me a call. A few of them remembered I had never ordered a “slimline standard” style of bow tie before, and they were calling me to make sure I hadn’t ordered the “slimline standard” by mistake. They knew me and my orders almost from the start. By now, they know I order all the styles they offer. The sad thing about them knowing my neckwear likes and dislikes, though, is that we don’t have a need to chat on the phone anymore. But still… They could have checked in with me before selling the company.
It’ll probably be just fine. The company’s name remains the same. The Beau Ties seamstresses remain the same. The bow ties will still be handmade. But I guess I won’t be able to order any more Beau Ties Ltd. of Vermont t-shirts and mugs. I do hope the new owner decides to offer those kinds of things again. I like to order bow tie stuff I don’t need. How else am I gonna clutter-up the house?
I am not against change. I am against that period of time you have to go through between the moment you find out the change happened and that moment when you finally know exactly what the change is really going to mean for you. And by “you,” I mean “me.” How is the change going to affect me, me, me? And I don’t think I’m the only “me” who feels that way about change.
Please, excuse our recent absences. Sometimes we layabouts actually engage in endeavors which require our single-minded, serious attention. Everything this week has been all about Mom, who suffered a health setback a few days ago. She seems to finally be “getting her rally on,” so we are cautiously contemplating the old dame sticking around for another 88 years. At least. Mom’s tough and spunky, and still loving the party atmosphere at Millard Care and Rehab. But we also know even the toughest Energizer Delta Rabbit Oak City-bred Gal has a finite amount of “rally.” Apparently, Mom’s still got some in her reserve tank. Yahoo! You, go, girl!
When we visited Mom yesterday, Skitter wore her new patriotic Tie o’ the Day. I sported my lavender, floppy Bow Tie o’ the Day. As Skitter and I were winding down our visit with Helen Sr., Gracie waltzed in for her turn to be the center of Mom’s attention. As you can see, Grace Anne wore her own Bow Tie o’ the Day for the occasion.
Gracie happily brought Bishop Travis (in his Tie o’ the Day) and Bishopette Collette all the way from BYU-ville to visit Mom. I thought Gracie’s allowing them to come with her to MCR was an incredibly thoughtful gesture for such a young bambino to display. You know how selfish some babies can be, especially about driving! Clearly, Gracie is not all about Gracie, Gracie, Gracie. See, she’s learned one of Mom’s Top 10 lessons already in her teeny life: Be generous.
BTW When I tried to exit Mom’s room yesterday, Skitter refused to leave her. She was determined to lie on the bed at Mom’s side. At least three times, she fought the leash as I tried to drag her from the bed. I finally had to lift her down to the floor and skedaddle with her. She and Mom are sooooo connected to each other.
Tie o’ the Day is also Bow Ties o’ the Day. They’re all being a little matchy with my raggedy cowboy Hat o’ the Day. I’ll survive the matchiness just fine cuz it does look snappy.
I dressed for going out today, although I never actually went anywhere. Instead, I did all kinds of house chores in my good duds. My efforts don’t show, however. My choring ended up being mostly tasks which must get done, even though no one else will notice them. My list was full of things like the following: de-squeaking the doors (which took longer than it should have cuz I had to find the WD-40); untangling the cords under my computer table; putting new light bulbs in the high ceiling fixtures; and dusting baseboards. I swear, the work is more interesting when you dress up to do it.
A day like this is not uncommon for me. And when I have one, I begin to feel really guilty about what I did, or didn’t do, all day. This happens to me right around the time Suzanne is on her way home from work. Today, I feel the need to apologize for doing only the “invisible” housework. I will most likely apologize to her when she walks into the house, before she’s even hung up her keys. And then she’ll tell me to quit apologizing for it. I know she doesn’t give a darn what I do with my days, but I still feel like I should apologize for EVERYTHING not getting done EVERY DAY. Apologies and excuses just fall out of my face. I know it annoys her sometimes. Heck, it annoys me too.
I’ve been mulling it over. Why do I apologize for being unable to do the impossible? I know you do it too. How is it that we can know that “x” can’t ever be perfect, but we still feel the desperate need to apologize for not making it perfect, 24/7?
Maybe part of it is because we know we really could do a little better at whatever it is we do. Maybe another reason is we appreciate what someone does for us, but we don’t feel like we are doing nearly as much. We feel inadequate, but instead of thanking that person for what they do, we apologize for the x, y, and z which we didn’t get perfect. We take it out on ourselves. Maybe we need to appreciate our own efforts a bit more. Mostly, I think we need to remind ourselves we’re as imperfectly human as anyone we apologize to.
Hey, I’m gonna try an experiment. For the next 24 hours, if I feel like I need to apologize to someone for something I didn’t get done (or something I did get done but not perfectly), I’m not going to apologize. Instead, I’m going to thank that person for something they do. This experiment will be disastrous or enlightening. I’ll report how it worked out. If you don’t ever hear from me again, you’ll know my behavioral experiment was a dangerous, failed undertaking which Suzanne didn’t appreciate. 😬🙀
The TUMS were necessary. The whole event made me queasy. And the red, white, and blue TUMS were appropriate to the situation because they help me make my patriotic point.
Lavender hanky Bow Tie o’ the Day warned me, so it was my own damn fault. I went against my own recent “rule.” A few years ago, I decided it was best for my own happiness to not “talk politics” on social media. I don’t make a judgment about those of you who choose to talk politics on social media. If it’s your thing, keep doing your thing. In fact, I’m glad when anyone feels they have a responsibility to participate in the political life of our country. I wish more people would feel it is one of their responsibilities as a citizen to actually be a responsible citizen and to participate. We need to speak out, but we also need to actually do something.
Anyhoo… I lost my mind for a moment recently, and I began to read snippets of a political Facebook post and its comments, which had been accumulating for a couple of hours before my reading eyeballs came along. I then commented a correction to a “fact” which was in the post, which immediately eliminated the need for any of the political argument to continue. (Fortunately, these people accepted a fact for a fact.) Checking the veracity of that one, major fact would have kept the person who wrote the post from feeling the need to write and post it in the first place. And the dozen people who spent two hours becoming angry with each other about the politics they were arguing– well, they would have been able to spend that time more productively and more happily doing anything else. During said online conversation, participants were called vulgar names (including me); profanity was used (even at me); people were falsely accused of being traitors (as was I); more inaccurate “facts” were treated like God’s word. It made me sick to my stomach.
Rhetoric like that is why I made my no-politics-talk-online rule. Some people post things that have very little to do with the actual topic they are discussing and more to do with tearing down others for concluding something different than they themselves believe. That is not “discussing politics.” That is cultivating incivility, anger, and fear. Unfortunately, this is what most of the “political discussion” you can find in any media is like. And I must add that most of what you hear politics-wise in coffee shops, bars, the check-out line, and in living rooms is far too similar to the sketchy yelling and mocking you read and hear online. It’s not well-informed, and it’s not civil. I try to extricate myself from those kinds of conversations.
But I dig history and politics. I dig having conversations with people who see issues very differently than I do. I also believe it’s my duty as a citizen to participate in the workings of our relatively young country. I believe it’s my duty to spend time getting my facts straight, making sure what I have to say is logical, and then presenting my thoughts in a civil manner– even when arguing against something. Civility means you treat people in such a way that shows you don’t think you’re better than everyone who might disagree with you.
When I first made my rule, I couldn’t think of any situation where I could talk politics in civility at this time. Seriously. But I thought about how important it is to me to participate in real political discussion, and I thought about how much I’ve enjoyed these conversations my whole life. I have learned from those conversations. I have grown to respect people’s thoughts and ideas, even as they were world’s away from mine. I have learned to see how and why they came to their understanding of the issue. And they have learned from my thinking. If we hadn’t been friends before a “nice” discussion, we were friends after it. We could work together at that point.
I like to talk politics. I’ll continue to be fascinated by it. I’ll continue to be a responsible citizen, educate myself, and participate in the political process. But I won’t touch politics on social media. And I won’t discuss it in groups. I will sit with you, one-on-one, so we can look each other in the eyes and have a civil conversation about the current state of the US of A. I’ll even make you Rice Krispie treats if you want.
Dad’s carrying Tie o’ the Day this morning. I’ve posted this photo before, I’m sure. And I’m sure it had a sermon or a true tall tale of a story with it. I’m just giving y’all the photo today. I simply feel like I want to be six-months-old again for a few minutes– sitting on my mother’s lap, with my dad rockin’ a skinny tie right beside us.
Tie o’ the Day is only one delightful part of my carefully chosen ensemble. I had to hie to a speshul Homeowners Association (HOA) meeting at the Centerville Branch of the Davis County Library system a few evenings ago. Suzanne was attending her book club, so I was on my own. People, if you have never been to a HOA meeting, consider yourself lucky.
No matter how important any topic on the agenda of these meetings might be, the meetings are kinda dull. I have not yet fallen asleep in one, but as I get older, it gets harder to keep the old eyeballs and earballs on the task at hand. I mean– there are pages of numbered articles, rules, laws, bylaws, and notes to suffer through. Snore. So I came up with this clashy attire, hoping to keep me and my fellow meeting-goers awake with the warring of my fabric patterns and colors. You’ll just have to use your imagination about how the cut-offs and cowboy boots added to the look. I didn’t think to take a photo of them. And don’t think I didn’t have The Saddle Purse on my shoulder.
I could have skipped the HOA meeting altogether, but I don’t want to take the chance the other owners might vote for something stoopid. In fact, there is one old bat owner (the truth hurts, but it’s still true) who seems to read the HOA bylaws as religiously as some people do their daily scripture study– and she wants everyone to know it. Her interpretations of the rules often do not have anything to do with the real legalities involved. In fact, the simpler the rule, the more she seems to have to fuss about it.
As a responsible member of my community, I consider it part of my duty in life to cancel out this woman’s wacky HOA vote, whenever necessary. And I want to be in the meeting to see it canceled. I take no glee in her defeats, but canceling out her HOA vote ensures the rest of us reasonable community regulations.
At this particular meeting, she piped up about the inadequate length of the towel hooks hanging on the swimming pool restroom doors. She spent a bigly chunk of time on that “issue.” I had to suppress my urge to hand her $10 so she could go across the street to Home Depot and buy a screwdriver and whatever size towel hooks she wants on the pool restroom doors. I wanted to tell her I’ll even switch out the hooks myself if she just won’t make us spend one more boring moment of our collective time listening to her talk about this “calamity.”
But I sat there, quiet and polite. I always do. I listen to her with an open mind every time, hoping for an important and/or useful idea to come out of her mouth. There’s nothing “wrong” with the woman. I think the woman wants to contribute. I think she wants to be knowledgeable. Most importantly, I think she wants to stretch out the length of the meetings because she is just plain lonely. That the woman is lonely is an assumption Suzanne and I share, after spending many HOA meetings with her.
Folks, there’s always more going on with people than meets the eye, and you might not always be able to learn exactly what it is. Simply be patient, always. Simply be kind, always. And remember: You’re not dead yet, and you just might find you’ve become a lonely old bat in your own belfry one day, in need of the exact right towel hook and a friend who knows how to really listen and not be rude. Just sayin’.
Dad’s Tie o’ the Day sets the tone. Today, we honor the 71st anniversary of the marriage of Mom and Dad, in the Manti Temple. Mom– and the rest of Dad’s family– wishes he was here to celebrate. Helen and Ron had been able to observe their anniversary together for 59 years. Mom’s had to handle the rest of them on her own. She misses him deeply. He was an unforgettable gentleman.
[Yes, that is the actual CHRONICLE announcement of their engagement.]
