"May All Your News Be Good News"

May All Your News Be Good News

By Diana Joyce Ingram

AuthorHouse™

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© 2012 Diana Joyce Ingram. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 1/8/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-3777-2 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-3778-9 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012900141

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Contents

Dedication

Introduction

Holidays

Life Stories

Animals and Pets

Faith

Parables

Human Nature

Ron

As I Close,

Until Next Time

Dedication

TO MY FAMILY

LARA, LESLIE and BRETT

Amanda, Samantha, Jake, and Jessica

Without whom I would not

Have the inspiration to go on

THEY ARE ALWAYS MY GOOD NEWS

SPECIAL THANK YOU

This book would not be a reality if it were not

for two special women

My daughter, Lara Olson, who has helped me by

editing my column all these years

My dear friend, Wendy Barker, who edited this book

which took endless hours

I am blessed.

Introduction

For nineteen years I have written a weekly newspaper column called Around Town. In that column, amidst the news and activities of the week, I have been privileged to include many of my own stories, poems, thoughts and inspirations. These have been my way of sharing with you who I am. It is a way we can get to know each other as friends. At times I have been brutally honest. I have tried to be open so others can feel comfortable with their own emotions as well.

Many times I have been told how my columns have helped or inspired others. The response from our community has been over whelming. So after years of requests I have agreed to make a small sampling of these writings available, snippets from eighteen years of partnership, you as reader, me as writer. It is my hope that this book will inspire and make you smile as well as reflect. Enjoy it as a labor of love, and as always, until next time, may all your news be good news.

Holidays

God Bless Holidays. They are like special markers in our life. Each holiday is a chapter in itself, with subtitles for our memories. They are milestones of the passage of time. They are goal marks each year that give us hope to look past those darker days. These holidays are true celebrations filled with tradition. These are the days set aside to commemorate our gratitude such as Thanksgiving. They are days set aside for remembering or honoring such as Fathers Day, Mothers Day, Fourth Of July, Veterans Day, Memorial Day, Labor Day, Presidents Day, Martin Luther King Jr. and Veterans Day. There is even a day set aside to show affection for our loved ones with Valentines Day. There are religious days of great celebration such as Easter and Christmas. We get a fresh new start, (and who doesn’t need that?) once a year on New Years Day. When we review our lives, so many of the banner moments are connected around these days. We hold these days so high, we call them Hol (holy)idays. As this section displays, many times these special days have been motivational to me. There are another group of special days that are perhaps all the more special because of their specific significance to you personally. Those days such as birthdays and wedding anniversaries are happy ones. There are also bittersweet days when someone died that will forever be part of your own emotional calendar. Everyone has their own list of joys and sadness. My son was born on my father’s birthday. My father died on my brother’s birthday. We put things together in our own special way. We are all unique, as is each day. It is a shame we do not keep more conscious of the gift that each day brings. We too often wish REGULAR days away, anxious for the SPECIAL ones. The older I get the more folly I see in that practice. How many days did I not look at the sky and notice its majesty? How many times did I just walk by and not notice some of nature’s beauty? How many times have I taken a day for granted? As I enter this section on holidays I remind myself to be ever mindful of TODAY.

1998

THOSE WERE THE DAYS

The liturgical time of year known as Advent often is marked in homes by Advent calendars with windows with little shutters that are opened daily as Christmas draws closer. There is such a feeling of expectant joys as the day of our Christ’s birth approaches. A popular saying on cards is Jesus is the reason for the season. That is a good reminder for us as we scurry around seeking the perfect present, decking the halls, and writing out our greeting cards. Way before Santa or Frosty, before fruit cakes, and tinsel was that night of nights when the Star of David shone high in the sky and beckoned the shepherds and three wise men. Before credit cards, department stores, office parties, or gift exchanges, we were given the ultimate gift with the birth of the Son of God. Born in the lowliest of mangers, surrounded by barn animals, and straw, there came the King of Kings. At Christmas time, we are filled with awe and joy for the promise of that infant child. God gave us everything. This season that marks the birth of Christ, as we hustle and bustle about, let us also remember to keep the true meaning of the day on our heart. Let us, with our busy schedules, with places to go and parties to attend, make room and time for the birthday child. Let us keep him in our thoughts and celebration with true meaning of the season.

2010

ADVENT IS BORN A NEW

The holy season of anticipation, Advent has begun. It is a time of preparation for the birth of our Savior that we celebrate on Christmas Day. Each week a candle is lit as we head towards that birth and that time gives an opportunity for rebirth as well. We can promise to cleanse ourselves of old grievances, petty judgments, and feelings of defeat to begin our life renewed, fresh as a newborn child. That way, our emotional garbage discarded, we will be lighter and fresher as we face the New Year with promise and hope. As we begin to jump into the hurry-scurry of the holidays, lost in a whirlwind of shopping, wrapping, cooking, card sending, and party attending, let us pause to remember the reason for the season. My wonderful daughter, Lara, brought that true message home to me the other day. I remarked that I was hesitant to get involved with Christmas this year because I am so sad about Ron’s death. Lara said, We’ll, what is Christmas about Mom? Quickly I said, the birth of Christ." And I felt hit, smack in the middle of my forehead. Here my husband was going to spend Christmas with Christ himself, and I was wondering how to celebrate it. Now, freshly mindful, I plan to use the days of Advent well, and prepare for the joy of our greatest gift. I may just sing Rudolph, and have a glass of eggnog. Ron would want me to.

CHRISTMAS

2003

THE NEVER SATISFIED TREE

We have probably all read the story of the little fir tree. In the forest as a mere seedling, it looked around at the larger trees around it and felt frustrated and angry. Why did it have to waste so much time being little? It wanted to grow up fast and be like the other trees that surrounded its young frame. No matter how large and beautiful he grew, he was never satisfied, because he always saw someone who was taller. He shook away the birds and other animals when they tried to decorate his branches and resisted their attempts at friendship. He would bark at them, can’t you see I am busy growing big? Then he noticed that many of the big trees were being taken down and carried away. Where were they going, he inquired? He was told stories of Christmas trees being decorated in the center of majestic homes where people sung great praises and treated the tree as an honored guest. From that moment on that was all he could think about. He wanted to be cut down and taken out of the boring old forest where he had been stuck for so long. Finally the day came. He was in a house, decorated and with people singing around him. Soon he was whining that the decorations were way too heavy and the people’s voices were way too loud. Oh, when would he move on to what was next for surely it would be better? Eventually, but surely not soon enough for our angry tree, the decorations were removed, the singing stopped. The tree lay outside on the cool grounding wondering now what? Then he started complaining about the rabbits that would nestle in his drying branches and he would shout at the birds to stop their endless flight. Once more his wishes were met, the tree was taken to a pile of other dried wood, and he saw a spark of red light that at first felt warm and good. Then the heat began to make his beautiful self disappear in flames. As the tree disappeared, he sighed, and thought of all the days he had wished away. How he wished he could have been young a little longer, or could feel the birds on his branches, or be tall and bask in the sun, or even be decorated and sung around. Those voices weren’t so loud after all. But for the tree, his time was over. He faded away saddened with the knowledge he had never enjoyed who he was at the moment.

The next time we are frustrated, bored, or wishing away time, let us remember the story of the foolish tree. No matter where we are at the moment, let us enjoy it, for we will never be here exactly the same again. So enjoy the present that is the present.

2001

A CHRISTMAS MEMORY

Returning home, over the Pacheco Pass, if I time it just right, I see the lights as they are being turned on all over the valley. For that magical instant I am a little girl again. I am transported from our Central California home, back to the Michigan of my youth. My grandfather Day, on my Mothers side, was a remarkable man. He had been given the gift of magic, or as my mother often called it, the Blarney touch. To me, always at his side until his death when I was eight, his words fashioned my life. They still do. It was not all frivolous talk he spoke, no he filled my head with words that you could use to help juggle life’s mysteries. One Sunday, he spoke to me about his special rule, Grandpa’s commandment he called it, Joycie’, for that is what he called me, It is not enough to do no wrong in your life, any coward can go through life doing no harm. If you have an opportunity to make someone happy, and you don’t, then pumpkin, that is a sin. Those words often whisper in my ear, Give joy! Give joy! Joy was something my Grandpa knew a lot about. His joy created `Franastan’. One particularly cold December day, my Grandpa and I had been banished from the house. He decided we should go on an adventure. We drove the long, dark, scary world of the tunnel that connected Detroit and Canada. At that age, I did not understand this architectural marvel of transportation. I shuddered fearing that any moment the waters would cave in on us and I would drown and miss Christmas. To stay calm and to be brave, I listened to my hero’s words, Joycie, soon we will enter the other world. It will be all shimmering in beautiful colors. as if the stars themselves had come down to dance before you. It is the world of Franastan, where all good dreams come true. They have the sweetest sweets and silver money grows in their snow. Just as he promised, when our ’55 Dodge made it out of the tunnel, before me was a dazzling color light show. The rays of light danced off the snow, and they did seem to dance before my eyes. We stopped at a shop with a soda fountain. My grandfather whispered something into the ear of the kind lady behind the counter. Soon before me stood a giant glass filed with some wonderful pineapple, ice cream and gobs of whipped cream, and cherries. It was indeed the sweetest sweet. When we left the sweet shop, Grandpa said, Now look for your treasure, dig in the snow!

One by one, to my amazement, I pulled out dimes, nickels, and quarters, until my pockets were full. A yawn crossed my face and we headed home, which is when my Grandpa told me his secret. Joycie, this is Franastan, you can only visit her once. When you leave it jumps inside your heart. Whenever you are sad or lonely, just close your eyes and let your heart remember. Every time you see a dancing color light, remember. The magic of Franastan is with you now! More than forty-five years have passed since that trip under the sea to that special world. My grandfather was to die just two years later. Yet his stories live on in me. I hear his voice every time I tell his stories to my grandchildren. And every time I see these lights as I come home to Los Banos, I know that Franastan is alive and well inside my heart.

Note: Those who come to my front door see the sign that says Ron and Diana’s Franastan and on Ron’s marker at the cemetery the words Franastan Forever is engraved.

I think that makes Grandpa Day happy.

2007

SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE

I remember so well a Christmas many years ago that was supposed to be pivotal in my development. Every year, Grandma Bohr, my father’s mother, gave each of us girls a beautiful doll. I loved those dolls; Mona Lisa and Revlon dolls were my favorites. I had a lot of cousins, and it was easier for her to buy the same item for all her grandchildren in a certain age bracket. Well, this particular year she announced we girls were getting older and would not get a doll, but a dress. I cried. It was not that I didn’t like dresses; it was just that I still loved dolls too. My father told me to stop crying, that I was growing up, and that it was time for me to act like it. I was sad, but as we drove over to my grandmothers house that Christmas day, I kept telling myself, I was sure the dress would be very pretty. One by one, we opened our gifts. All my cousins got pretty dresses and so did I. Then my grandmother asked me to go into the other room where she presented me with a second box. In it was a beautiful doll. I hugged her and she smiled, saying, This is our secret Joycie. Sometimes it is hard to go over the next bridge. The next year I received a beautiful dress I loved, and I did not miss the doll. But I will never forget the wisdom of my grandmother who knew sometimes it is hard moving on. May you enjoy your Christmas memories!

1998

FOLLOW THE STAR

It is easy to get lost today. Lost in the hurry and scurry of have to dos and have to go’s. Lost amid a barrage of negative news on the air, and frustration in lines of ever increasing busy stores, we can get lost