Life Stories and Beyond

Lisa Batten Kunkleman

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September 24, 2016
lisakunk

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My News Addiction

My News Addiction

IMG_4689By Lisa Batten Kunkleman

Okay. It’s confession time. I need to explain why my housework is more Oscar than Felix, my fridge contains six-day-old rotisserie chicken carcasses, and supper may be breakfast food again. I need to admit the reason I haven’t published a book isn’t lack of fodder or writer’s block. It’s my news addiction. Morning, noon, evening and bedtime news is available, just like medication timelines might say to take one pill at mealtimes and bedtime. That’s how often I need my news fix. Like a nosy person afraid to miss a thing, most times I am rewarded with interesting news on TV, online, or on my smartphone. Sometimes it’s the same old thing but more often, it’s breaking news. Between the craziness of the presidential campaign, terror threats, unsettled weather, and local updates, there’s never a dull moment.

 

When I hear folks say they don’t know about the latest terror attack or a sudden gas shortage, I can feel my eyes widen in disbelief. Although I can understand not wanting to hear all the bad things happening in the world, there are certain things we should all be aware of. Such as, an impending severe storm warning, so you can prepare your yard for high winds; the gas shortage caused by a ruptured pipeline in the southeastern US. These seem like important things for people to know about before their furniture blows into their window or they’re stranded beside the road with no gas.

 

As a teenager, my dad always wanted me to watch the news with him. I politely declined. He also enjoyed reading the newspaper to our family, trying to keep us all aware of important events. We were less than attentive, I’m sure. The only news I remember watching with him involved famous people dying, marrying, or being memorialized. I wonder if my current fascination with world affairs came from him or if age and wisdom has anything to do with it. A curiosity that I certainly didn’t have as a high school student is almost a passion in middle age. Perhaps it has to do with my interest in non-fiction stories, whether my own or someone else’s. I love life stories. The world and all its stories is my current school, my continuing education.

 

My addiction to news likely started with 9/11 where I trusted Peter Jennings to keep us informed of all that happened and possibilities of what might happen next. Whether fear, disbelief, or anger fueled my “need to know” I have no clue. However, with the convenience of VCR recordings at that time, and now keeping my DVR set to record Good Morning America and the Nightly News, I’m rarely out of the loop. And if that’s not enough information, there’s always CNN, MSNBC, NPR, and don’t forget social media like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and more.

 

It seems to me that it’s much harder to be out of the loop than in it. It takes purposeful unplugging, a power outage, or a vacation away from it all to be in the dark about current affairs. Everywhere in daily life there are banks, restaurants, and many other work places with TVs playing news channels, perhaps even with a scroll on the bottom if the sound is turned down. It seems like too much work to avoid the news. I’d better close now. The six o’clock news is about to start.

 

September 23, 2016
lisakunk

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Not my post. One I shared by a college student friend and neighbor from Charlotte. Her sentiments speak for so many. “I am afraid.”  — Finding My Happy

I am afraid for my hometown. I am not afraid for this place because there are riots. I am not afraid of the people whose skin is a different color than my own. I am not afraid of nighttime in a bad area. I am not afraid of an emergency. I am not afraid of […]

via I am afraid.  — Finding My Happy

September 14, 2016
lisakunk

11 comments

Aging Breeds Patience to Deal With the Unexpected: The Unexpected Can Be Wonderful

 

By Lisa Batten Kunkleman

 

If there’s one thing my husband and I are learning from aging, it’s patience. We’ve learned to take things as they come and work around inconveniences. To adjust plans. Fretting and freaking out over life’s interruptions serves no purpose except to turn a person into unpleasant company. Our latest such event is a prime example of how things often work out better than we could have imagined.

 

In a hurry to leave the beach and meet family for lunch a few towns inland, my husband and I were not thrilled to find his big red truck dead. The six-wheeled work truck uses two batteries and both were dead. Thank goodness for AAA and the promise that they’d arrive at the condo’s parking garage within the hour. Lunch would be delayed but not cancelled.

 

Instead of waiting in the dark, dreary garage listening to our stomachs growl, we returned to the empty tenth floor condo to enjoy the ocean scenery a little longer, running a few minutes past check-out time.

 

With smartphones in hand, texting those who needed to know about our delay, we noticed out the ocean front window, a crowd walking along the strand. Thinking it was the usual excitement that accompanies a fisherman catching a young shark, we looked more closely. There was no shark.

 

The group wasn’t heading toward the water’s edge but continuing parallel to the water, a parade traveling along the length of the beach. Two small beach vehicles flanked the group in front and in back, surrounding the people who were led by uniformed firemen bearing American flags. As they moved, people joined in the procession. Other beach goers stood and cheered as they passed.

 

It’s uncanny how annoying occurrences or disruptions in our schedule can turn into moments worth remembering. Even worth sharing. Once again, patience to adjust to a situation paid off.

 

We felt honored to watch a 9/11 parade that we never would have known existed, had our truck cranked. On the fifteenth anniversary of a day we will never forget, we witnessed something we will always remember.

September 9, 2016
lisakunk

25 comments

Lives Worth Remembering, Stories Worth Telling

By Lisa Batten Kunkleman

My hometown lost a treasure recently. A popular music teacher and friend to so many,  Carol’s unexpected death left people speechless, unable to fathom the senselessness of the loss. Unable to accept that someone took her life. For those of us fortunate enough to know Carol, we each have cherished memories and stories to share about how she affected our lives.

In the 1970’s, as our young, energetic Baptist church youth and choral director, Carol worked diligently to keep all her teens involved. She provided us with opportunities for learning and service. Here’s my story.

Although there certainly were far better pianists to choose from in our church, she recruited me to play piano for the children’s choir. She also founded a close harmony sextet named Starshine, consisting of five of my friends and me. She taught us to appreciate some lovely pop ballads, like Cherish and More, that we performed for adult functions, civic groups, and for our own church. We performed as an a cappella group before that was a popular style of singing.

Fortunately, I didn’t procrastinate in telling our friend how much she meant to me in those teen years. Twenty years later, I told her how influential she and Starshine had been in my life. I told Carol how she nurtured my love of music by encouraging me to sing solos in church. Assuring me that the more I did it, the less I’d be nervous, she was always a smiling face or a winking eye in the audience helping me through my fear.

I explained that her nurturing of me had trickled down into the lives of my own kids who  sang, played instruments, and performed in our family’s current church. When I told her that our oldest daughter majored in music, she lit up with my story of gratitude, so proud and pleased, yet humble. Always humble.

I was not alone in feeling her support. We all received her attention and nurturing. She went on from her church work to teach public school music for twenty-five years. I cannot imagine how many lives she affected, undoubtedly making every student feel important, special, like they mattered.

Our friend passed away this week. Someone took the life of one of the kindest, most talented people many from our small town will ever know. My hometown is in shock and disbelief. Murder does that. People wonder how such a horrendous event could happen to a lovely, caring person, one who lived her Christian beliefs, always putting others first. Carol’s pure kindness and caring made the world a brighter place.

I’ve decided there are Three Truths in Life: We’re all born. We all live a life filled with stories. We all die. The last part is difficult to accept. Whether by natural causes, accidents, old age, or tragedy of any kind, celebrating a life well lived is a positive and affirming way to deal with grief and sorrow. Sharing life stories and memories keeps people “alive” with us. Carol’s stories are well worth sharing. People’s stories tell so much more than how they died. Their stories show how they lived.

August 17, 2016
lisakunk

13 comments

Pre Speech Aphasia Comedy Storytelling: Daddy Was a Talker and Would be 93 Years old Today

Goldilocks and the Seven Dwarfs Meet Rudolph With the Big Red Snout

By Lisa Batten Kunkleman

Before strokes and who-knows-what caused speech aphasia leaving Daddy (Papa Carl) with only about twenty-one words, he was a funny fellow. Downright embarrassing to his wife and kids at times with his humor. He liked to watch us squirm.

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A salesman with a women’s apparel and shoe business, and a talker, he was energized by an audience, especially when it included his grandchildren. This video treasure from 1995 popped up from my archives and I just had to share it. I’ll call it:

Goldilocks and the Seven Dwarfs Meet Rudolph With the Big Red Snout

I say, “While you’re standing there, tell Danielle the story of Snow White.”

Papa Carl begins, “Did you know about Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs? There was Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and they went down the road and they saw Goldilocks. And Goldilocks didn’t know what they were doing there and he says, ‘Well I followed Tom Sawyer down there.'”

“Well what’s Tom Sawyer doing?”

“Well he’s going to look, look for Huckleberry Finn.”

“And so Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer and Goldilocks and the Little Red Hen, they all got together and they had a celebration.”

Danielle says, “That isn’t it. Tell me the real thing.”

Mama Lois says, “You don’t like this version? Well let’s hear the end of this version.They had a celebration.”

Papa begins again, “And Paul Revere came down. He came by on his horse. You remember Paul Revere and his ride? Listen my children and you shall hear the midnight ride of Paul Revere. On the 18th of April in ’75, hardly a man was now alive. Dodoodle lay. (a little dance move by Papa)

“And did you know this song? Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy, a kid’l eat ivy too, wouldn’t you? OOOO”

Mama Lois asks, “Did they find the seven dwarfs somewhere?”

“They didn’t ever find the seven dwarfs but they found Rudolph, you know the one that was kin to Santa Claus. And he had, he had a red snout or something.”

(Laughter and Danielle goes wild.)

“And Santa Claus says, ‘I won’t bring you any vegetables.'”

Danielle looks concerned and asks, “To Rudolph?”

Papa Carl says, “Cause you, you look like you’re healthy enough Rudolph, with that big red snout.”

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The good news: that granddaughter, our daughter Danielle Todys,  was inspired by her grandfather’s loss of speech, to become a speech therapist.  Also inheriting his salesmanship and love of pretty things, she’s also a jewelry designer and businesswoman. http://www.Woodlandwraps.com . She had wonderful inspiration. He used his few words to make people smile until he went on to entertain in heaven. There’s more to this fractured fairy tale but that’s enough for today.

Happy Birthday, Papa Carl.

August 9, 2016
lisakunk

14 comments

My Clothes Aren’t Consignment Worthy?

By Lisa Batten Kunkleman

What’s a person to do with the unworn clothes smothering the air right out of the closet? It’s a common dilemma, or so I hear. Tossing them is out of the question, as landfills are always a last resort for me. If it can be handed down, sold, donated or refurbished into a tee-shirt quilt by my daughter, I’m all for it. Clear that closet. But I refuse to thoughtlessly toss usable items into the trash.

 

Recently, I recruited that same daughter to help me weed out some unnecessary apparel. She was firm but kind. Together we purged dozens of items from my overstuffed closet. Even after purging, the racks and shelves look plenty full and will need further clearing soon. But at least my clothes can breathe again.

 

As I tried on every single piece of clothing, my daughter rehung, or folded the clothes and separated them into bins for donation or consignment. I’m ashamed to admit several tops had tags still adorning their sleeves. Loading three laundry baskets and lugging them to the van, I envisioned making a few bucks off many of those tops and bottoms, so off I went.

 

The first consignment store’s young clerks took my baskets with what looked like genuine grins, suggesting I might look around the store while waiting for their decision. Perusing the store, I noticed several items showing obvious wear and a most unattractive green leatherette vest that was cracked around all the seams. I might leave with enough money for a nice family dinner out. Oh yeah. My stuff is much better than this, I thought.

 

Receiving a text from the girl across the room announcing, “Inspection complete,” I went to the desk expecting to retrieve my mostly empty laundry baskets and a “nice little piece of money”, as my mother would say.

 

Instead, I heard, “Thanks so much for coming in. Unfortunately, we have plenty of these types of clothes, but please continue shopping and come back again. You might also try the consignment place across the parking lot.”

 

After closing my mouth, and stumbling out the door hauling the rejected wardrobe to my car, I drove across the parking lot to consignment store number two. I’ll admit my clothes are not expensive name brands and are often great deals purchased impulsively from Kohl’s at thirty percent off of thirty percent off. But I’m slightly offended that the teenaged clerks deemed my perfectly fine clothes not consignment-worthy. Even those items with store tags still hanging on their sleeves.

 

Leaving my loot in the car, I went into the other place. The nice gentleman there said, “We only look at clothes less than two years old, on hangers, and they cannot be from Gap, Old Navy, Kohl’s, or Banana Republic.”

 

I thanked him and headed for my van. Choosing to ignore the hanger rule, I retrieved a couple of neatly folded Talbot’s, and J Jill tops and took them back into the store to see if they were acceptable.

 

“The Talbot’s lettering must be black, not red or white and everything must be on hangers. But it looks like a couple of your things might do,” the nice man said.

 

I thanked him again, strolled back to my hot car, and drove my three full baskets home. He didn’t need my “couple of things”. Consignment rules galore meant my impulsive shopping choices from over two years ago were pretty much worthless.

 

It was back to donating for me. After researching many options, I chose a fairly new charity, Zab’s place, in downtown Matthews, NC. A well-organized thrift store, Zab’s hires young adults with special needs, and provides them with vocational rehab and job coaching. After donating my clothes, I enjoyed shopping there and checking out with a smiling young man who was learning to wrap and bag.

 

Satisfied for Zab’s Place to sell my clothing, I noticed that among their variety of goods was a greeting cards section. I remembered a stash of cards tucked behind empty technology boxes cluttering my office cabinets. Too hot to work in the closet trying on more things I forgot I owned, I decided to tackle those cabinets. Those empty laundry baskets sure came in handy.

Bed full of decisions
Post Purged Closet
Clothes about to be rejected

July 17, 2016
lisakunk

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Not my blog but wanted to share: The $1.00 Car Wash — vanbytheriver

After a week-long road trip, it was a welcome sign. CAR WASH $1. A group of about 30 people, all ages, all races gathered with sponges, hoses, soap- filled buckets and towels and did an amazing job. As I approached to pay, there was a surprise. I was paid the one dollar by an older gentleman. […]

via The $1.00 Car Wash — vanbytheriver

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July 16, 2016
lisakunk

9 comments

What’s in Your Drawers?

 

By Lisa Batten Kunkleman

“I found five clippers and got stuck twice by the same pushpin while searching for one paperclip in your top desk drawer. I took the change for pain and suffering.”

 

These are the words my husband texted to me while I vacationed by a lake. He included a photo of the offending drawer and contents where he was punctured. I’m surprised he didn’t mention the out-stretched, hazardous rubber band atop my pens, pencils and Sharpies, a multi-color array of writing implements.

 

What could I text back except, “I love office supplies. About that $2.08 in change? Don’t spend it all in one place.”

 

Once I arrived home and settled into my desk to write, I pulled hard on the top drawer to find an assortment of useful items the hubby didn’t mention. Nail files, sticky notes, tiny notepads, and my grandfather’s one-hole punch. I saw large clamps and clips, my old auto-inking address stamp, and a pack of Stim-u-dent plaque removers. The plaque removers are little more than thin slivers of wood, basically, fancy toothpicks introduced to me by my father-in-law.

 

The best find was fourteen dollars squirreled away for pizza delivery tips and other such emergencies. The hubby swiped my change but left my bills. Guess he didn’t have all that much pain and suffering.

 

Don’t you just love other people plundering through your messy drawers? Nobody wants to feel shame about his or her treasures. Everybody needs a junk drawer. What’s in your drawers? I’d love to see a real photo before it’s all organized.  OK people, minds out of the gutters. We’re adults here.

 

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Pizza Money and Essentials

 

 

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June 30, 2016
lisakunk

16 comments

The Good Old Days of Tanning

By Lisa Batten Kunkleman

Dang, it used to be fun in the sun. Life was simpler when we could tan all day and our only worry was getting a sun burn. Yes, sunburn hurt, but it was usually worth it. There was no mention of skin cancer back then so ignorance was bliss. Our skin got red as ketchup before we knew it. I have to admit, my mother knew best, warning me of sun damage before the world warned us about it. But did I listen?

Growing up near the beach, my buds and I spread our towels between the sand dunes. This was way back in the old days when it was still legal to walk on sand dunes. Nobody knew about turtles nesting in the soft sand or worried about erosion of our wide beaches. I never saw a turtle. Only an abundance of annoying little crabs we called sand-fiddlers. The dunes served as wind blocks when it was too cold to “lay out” on the beach, which was normal for early spring in North Carolina.

With no wind to bother us, and the sun bearing down, we were bathing beauties or at least tanning teens and tweens soaking up the rays. We had a transistor radio. It stayed tuned to the beach station that tended to our skin safety with a DJ telling us every twenty minutes, “Time to turn before you burn.” It didn’t matter if the station played seventies rock or beach music, the DJs were the resident skin care specialists.

In spring, getting sunburned was our goal for going back to school the next Monday. Here’s a disclaimer. “Kids of today, please do as we say, not as we did.” Even if our skin peeled like an onion a few days later, it was worth the, “Ouch, I’m sunburned,” laments when someone touched our shoulder. Worth all the pain when the sheets touched our fiery red skin that first night. Worth dodging the teasing touch of friends poking each others’ skin to watch the poked spot go from white back to red. Sometimes we’d try to ease the burn by putting concoctions on our skin like milk, vinegar, or aloe plant slime. The best was Solarcaine to deaden the pain for a little while.

Why didn’t we just use sunscreen? The answer is, there wasn’t such a thing. We had Coppertone and Sea and Ski suntan lotions and other such brands that might moisturize the skin, but did nothing to protect from a burn. Hawaiian Tropic Dark Tanning Oil was life changing. We all smelled like coconut oil and the sand stuck to us like flour to chicken ready for the fryer. There were some die hard tanners who mixed baby oil and iodine together to enhance their tan, but I think the iodine just dyed the skin a nice reddish-brown. I knew a few people who used actual motor oil for tanning lotion and they were as dark as a white person can get. Perhaps I shouldn’t share that and give any young people ideas they don’t already have. Like that could happen.

My proudest attempt at tanning was with one of my best friends, whom I’ll name so she can share credit for our ingenious idea. Mimi and I decided since cocoa butter was a new thing for tanning, and butter browned toast, butter should brown us. Yep. We got out the Mazola and slathered ourselves in buttery spread. Laying on our beach towels atop our ski boat sitting on a trailer on dry land in my back yard, we proceeded to roast ourselves. I can still smell the buttery aroma rising off our long white legs cooking in the sun. Let’s just say coconut oil smells lots better.

Thanks to sun damage days, age spots and skin cancer, carefree days of “laying out” are gone for most of us. Sunscreen is a must pretty much from birth, yet we need Vitamin D to combat all the deficiencies many of us face. It’s a dilemma. Dune tanning is illegal these days. Now I can only dream of a stroll through a sand dune without damaging the earth or a turtle nest and lying there to feel that warm sun on a cool spring day. Working on my spring burn. Watching out for those dang sand-fiddler crabs.

June 26, 2016
lisakunk

1 comment

3 Day Quote Challenge:2. “I have made this letter longer than usual because I lack the time to make it shorter.” Blaise Pascal

  1. “I have made this letter longer than usual because I lack the time to make it shorter.” Blaise Pascal
  2. “We learn something every day, and lots of times it’s that what we learned the day before was wrong.” Bill Vaughan1.
  3. “I’d rather live with a good question than a bad answer.” Aryeh Frimer

Today is the third and final day of my 3 day quote challenge. I would like to thank Shahz at surescribbles.wordpress.com for nominating me for the challenge.

To continue the challenge I nominate some more of my favorites:

This, that and the other thingsustainabilitea.wordpress.com

Muddling Through Leukemiamuddlingthroughleukemia.wordpress.com

Susie Lindau’s Wild Ridesusielindau.com

If you have time in your busy schedules and want to pick out some quotes you like, the rules are as follows,
1.Thank the person who nominated you,
2.Post 1-3 quotes for 3 consecutive days.
3.Nominate 3 blogs each day for 3 consecutive days.

If you choose to accept the challenge, I hope you’ll enjoy the process as much as I did. There are great quotes out there. Happy posting. If this is too much of a task, I understand completely. Consider it a compliment from me that I added your site since I enjoy your blog.

Lisa Kunkleman Life Stories and Beyondlifestoriesandbeyond.com

 

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