Welcome to My Ol' World

This rooster says, "Welcome to my ol' world!" This tin rooster was and maybe still is situated next to an old house in Northwestern Wisconsin. It welcomed visitors, usually family, to my parents home. I started to write house instead of home, but thought better of that. To my parents, unlike me, that house is their HOME. It's the first house they bought after many years of marriage and renting. They have lived in that home for 43 years. I only spent four years of my life living there full-time before I went to college.

I chose this picture today, because this morning I happened to pick up a book, "Come Read With Me." This book is a collection of stories and poems written by members of the Northwest (Wisconsin) Regional Writers club, of which I was a member. Many of the writers in this club are people of my parent's age and they often write of their youth and things that occurred then. One story told of an old house and the happenings there for several generations. For some reason, it brought on a sense of nostalgia and sadness, perhaps homesickness, in me. That's OK, because as the story implied, things change. Even thinking back to my own history, I have memories of fun, happiness and sadness. We all do. That's OK, that's life.

I have this photo of the rooster framed and setting on my kitchen counter for several reasons. I like the oldness of it with the rust showing. The stars remind me of the Texas stars that prevalent down here. The deep red of the rooster comb and the flowers is my second favorite color and it matches my granite counter top. :) I have to put a smiley face here, because I value color coordination. Also, the word WELCOME is not commonly used in a greeting, but for some reason, I have often used that when visitors arrive. "Welcome!" Another reason I like the photo is that it reminds me of my parents. It's not great photo, technically, but to me it's a symbol of my ol' world. Welcome!

The Rest of the Story

Paul Harvey used to (maybe still does) have a radio show that he would tell about a person and then leave you hanging for disclosure of the person while a commercial was aired. Then he'd come back on and say something like "And now for the rest of the story."

Hubby & I made a quick trip to The Island yesterday, South Padre Island that is. We were not able to drive onto the beach as usual as we took the smaller, lower-to-the ground car, so parked and walked out to the beach. Right in front of us were two red roses laying on the beach. One of the roses was in good shape (see picture) and other was rather mangled. Hubby said exactly what I was thinking, "I wonder what the story is behind these roses laying here?"

It makes a person wonder, right? I have a vivid imagination and these kind of scene/scenarios really get my juices a-flowing! Who left them? Where did they leave them? Was there a lover's quarrel? How long had they been laying there? Questions, questions and no answers except what we could imagine. As we walked down the beach, we tossed out ideas and thoughts. I thought maybe it was a candid-camera sort of stunt to see what people would do with two red roses laying on the beach. Upon returning to that spot after our walk, the rose pictured above was gone and the "mangled" one was left. Now it got our interest.... Did the waves wash the other one away? Did someone pick it up? Regretfully, we will never know the rest of the story.

However it got me thinking about my actions recently. My anger came out sideways and I basically gave someone a black, wilted "rose." They were not expecting it (my anger) and I know they were questioning what was the "rest of the story" behind my actions and words. What kind of roses do we give people? Do we give a beautiful red rose that makes them wonder with pleasure what they did to deserve it? Or do we give a mangled black rose that makes them wonder with anxiety what they did to deserve it?

We make the choice of what kind of rose we will leave for people to find. Each and every day, we make choices. Too bad, that we're human and sometimes our choices are not the best. I need to remember the "red rose on the beach" and think about what I'm giving or leaving to people before I speak and act. What will they find after I've left?