Friday, September 24, 2010

All dogs go to heaven

Our friend Mary Parker is disturbed -- and rightfully so -- because some religious authority told her there will be no dogs in paradise. She is reconsidering her plan to go there when she dies.

In all seriousness, sweet M.P., for a animal-lovers like me and you, that is a hard thing to hear. Surely "you can't take it with you" does not apply to our beloved Toby, Hershey, Eli and Sadie. The satanic, psycho-cat? Well, he made his own choice.

If good works got you into heaven, then Toby would be first and the psycho cat would be last.

Toby, a cream-colored labradoodle who dog-smiles while doing tricks for treats, visited at the hospital in Hattiesburg yesterday. And in so doing, went pro with his hobby of standing beside the road and being a friend to man.

It was a glorious day as Toby, red bandana flying, visited first floor, rehab, the oncology wing and pediatrics. Between elevator rides, he made friends and influenced people.

A precious 12-year-old surgery patient smiled through her pain as she gave Toby a treat. A one-year-old stared in awe as he watched Toby's majestic lumbering. An elderly man called Toby over to his wheelchair: "This is my dog," he said. "I raised him from a pup." Who were we to argue? All we could say was: "You did a great job!"

The nurses welcomed Toby and the patients begged him to come back soon. One doctor inquired about Toby while boarding the elevator. "He is here to meet patients and let them pet him," Toby's people explained.

Sounds like a great line of work for a dog.

Toby can't deny that. Though he knows works don't get you into heaven, he puts his hope in a higher power.

And with the love of God in his heart, he keeps on workin' for the kingdom.





Monday, September 20, 2010

Put on your red dress mama


Win or lose, there was some pretty fun game-playing on Saturday. Most of it not on the football field.

Way up north at THE University of Mississippi there was a party going on in the Grove. And, thanks to fashion directives from Coach Houston Nutt, we were seeing red.

Typically, Ole Miss is a place where we don't really dress in team colors... nothing obnoxious like those purple and gold scrubs I've seen my neighbor wearing in support of the LSU Tigers. But Coach Nutt asked the fans to wear red, so lots of fans rallied.

The Grove is a place to see and be seen, to perspire moderately and fan heartily. It is the place where we dig our manicured nails into tradition and stubbornly cling to Col. Reb, even if he's NOT an officially sanctioned school mascot. (Come on! Who wants their picture made with "muppet-like" characters Hotty and Toddy? Puh-leeze!)

At Ole Miss, we wear our dresses and high heels on game day and wonder why the rest of the country marvels -- and hates us for it. It's all part of the game: brownies and chicken strips, tabletop televisions, overworked lawn chairs, over-told tall tales and, occasionally, a fabulous little red dress.







Wednesday, September 15, 2010

You better shop around

Guys are always talking about learning life lessons on the football field. Pshaw, I say. The place you REALLY learn is at the outlet mall or the boutique or the fabric store ... at Dirt Cheap or T.J. Maxx.

Know what I'm talkin' about?

These are the shopping skills to live by:
examine the advertisements,
know what's real quality,
seek out a bargain,
get what you really need,
count the cost.

And here's where the shopping advice gets its best use ... shopping for a mate.

Coach Barlow was telling me the other night that, during the 70s, most every student came from two-parent homes. I lived the 70s. I had not one friend whose parents were divorced. It was another time and another place.

Today, in this place, my favorite people in the world are divorced. I could name them and put them in the top ten. I love them and the pain that has made them who they are.

I've been through hell with them and, like Winston Churchill said, "when you're going through hell, you just have to keep going."

If you want to see that hell live and in color watch "Sixteen and Pregnant." The tears and the trauma are gut-wrenching. There are joys, of course, along with the terribly difficult stuff.

But for the grace of God, I'd have been there...or my daughters.

So I ask my precious 16-year-old friends.

Will you look for flaws and cracks that weren't repaired? (Everybody has some, but some are deal-breakers.) Will you exhaust every shopping place until you are struck by the beauty of the perfect thing? Will you get the most for your money, or will you settle?

Most important, will you only buy the thing you cannot live without?

Because, in shopping for a boyfriend or girlfriend -- a husband or a wife, you need to follow the advice of that renowned philosopher, Smokey Robinson:

Gotta get yourself a bargain
Don't you be sold on the very first one
good-lookin' guys (or pretty girls) come a dime a dozen
try to find one who's gonna give ya true lovin'

True Lovin' ... now that's a priceless thing. Take your time shopping for it.
















Tuesday, September 14, 2010

I don't want to be a raisin

My good friend Jon is "Alice in Wonderland."

She can't help it. She's beautiful and always feminine and amazed and excited. "Alice" fits perfectly on her name tag.

But when the name was bestowed, it didn't sound so adorable to her.

"Alice in Wonderland" labeled her as lost and unaware and living in a fairytale. The name hurt in the way words can always hurt you ... even if they never break your bones.

Several of my friends told of other sticky names that were clinging -- unwelcome -- to their hearts: Fatty, Jerk, Stuck-up, Liar, Irresponsible.

Just to name a few.

"Julius, the Baby of the World," could be my all-time favorite kid book. In the book, Julius's parents goo and coo over him, but his feisty sister, Lily, calls him "a raisin" and says "a raisin tastes like dirt."

We, like baby Julius, don't want to be a raisin OR taste like dirt.

If you listen to the names other people give you, you will be crippled and handicapped. Take those to heart? You'll never feel good about yourself. You will always be insecure. You will hear voices -- those seventh-grade girls whispering: "high waters" or "greasy head" or "loser with a big L."

My friends had to get some new names.

A little bit of looking revealed some welcome name tags written by the God of the Universe.

Some of our favorites:
Friend of God
Better than an Angel
Expensive
Brand New
Powerful in God
Wise Person
Extra-terrestrial

And here's one for Jon:
"Straight-up Royalty."

But please, your highness, just every now and then, can we call you "Alice"?